#same prompt fic party

[jmflowers]

For hygge (sorry if I misspelled it). Maya and Carina having to go appliance shopping (washer, dryer, dishwasher, etc) broke while Maya was on shift. Her and Carina decide to go after Maya’s shift. Maya is checking out all the appliances and seeing which one has the better deal, better warranty, uses less electricity & or water. Carina is tired and pregnant and trying to keep a toddler entertained and just wants Maya to hurry up. Maya finally decides and tries to make it up to her wife by stopping by her favorite fast food restaurant to grab dinner and something sweet for Carina.

I am so not used to getting really detailed prompts, so I didn't follow this exactly. But I hope you like it just the same!

~~~

August 2025

“This one has a five-year warranty,” Maya calls out, reading the information tag hanging on the side of the washing machine. “But that only covers repairs, not replacement.”

“Mhm,” Carina hums from somewhere behind her.

“That three-year warranty might be a better deal,” Maya continues, looking between the two indecisively. “Except, that other one without the warranty is more efficient than both of these.”

“Bambina,” Carina huffs, finally drawing Maya’s attention away from the row of appliances she’s been perusing for the better part of an hour. She’s holding tight to the handle of the shopping cart, her body tipped just enough to relieve some of the pressure on her spine. Her free hand rubs at the tight muscles in her lower back, the weight of her 36-week belly clearly getting to her.

Maya pales, suddenly cluing back into reality.

“I do not care if it breathes fire,” Carina hisses, laying a hand atop Andrea’s beloved stuffed ostrich before he can launch it out of the shopping cart��� again. “Please, please just pick one so we can go home.”

They’ve been in their new house for only a couple of weeks. Already, the laundry has piled up – new bedding and Andrea’s mud-covered clothes from afternoons spent in the new backyard and stacks of baby clothes that need to be folded and put away before their daughter arrives. And, of course, the ancient washing machine that had come with the house had decided it was perfect timing to officially fall apart.

Maya recognizes that realistically, she’s not being overly rational. She doesn’t need to study efficiency and water usage and warranty details to make the correct choice. The selection of machines before her are all acceptable, all financially-sound decisions.

But there’s a baby in Carina’s belly – her  baby – and that fact alone seems endlessly capable of making her spiral.

It feels like they’re living the weeks before Andrea’s birth all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Maya swears, stepping towards Carina. She holds out her hands, an unspoken offering of the massage or belly-lifting Carina’s been gratefully accepting lately.

Carina shakes her head, though, her frustration and exhaustion evident. She catches the stuffed ostrich again, sighing heavily as Andrea wails loudly at the betrayal. “We will be in the car,” she says, maneuvering the shopping cart back towards the front of the store.

~~~

“I’m sorry,” Maya repeats as she climbs into the driver’s seat.

Carina has reclined the passenger seat as far as it will go, the pillow she takes everywhere now shoved beneath her lower back. Her eyes are closed, but she winces still as Andrea roars a little too loudly, one of his toy dinosaurs flying across the backseat and crashing roughly against the rear passenger window, mere inches from Carina’s head.

“Andrea,” she scolds without opening her eyes, “Non lanciamo giocattoli.” (We don’t throw toys.)

“’dactyl!” Andrea yells, as though the fact that the toy he’s thrown is a pterodactyl  is explanation enough for its flight.

“Inside voice,” Maya reminds him, turning in her seat to catch his eye.

He nods, pressing a finger to his lips as he smiles. “’dactyl,” he whispers. “Mama sleep?” he asks a moment later, brows furrowed as he looks at Carina.

“Yeah,” Maya answers, smirking when Carina’s own brow furrows. “Mama needs something yummy to wake her up. What do you think?”

The suggestion splits Andrea’s face into a wide grin, one of his little fingers tapping against his chin in his learned rendition of thinking. “’Misu?” he suggests.

“Good idea,” Maya praises him, smiling even wider when the corner of Carina’s lips lift. “And maybe some eggplant parmigiano, to make up for how long Mommy took in the store?”

“Long,” Andrea echoes.

Carina’s hand drifts across the console, landing gently on Maya’s thigh.

“Hopefully,” Maya continues, “Mama will forgive Mommy when our brand new washing machine gets delivered tomorrow, and Mommy can get back to work washing everything for baby Pip?”

Andrea’s brow furrows again, that little finger drifting back up to his chin. “Maybe,” he repeats, clearly trying to gather the words for whatever else is on his mind.

Carina peeks an eye open, watching him, too.

“Maybe,” he says again, “Mama get rub, rub, rub.”

Maya laughs, reaching into the backseat to grab hold of Andrea’s shoe. Their little boy squeals, delighted but immediately pulling himself out of the grasp. “I think you’re right,” Maya agrees, enamoured with his intelligence. “I think Mama does need a massage, too.”

[selfetishizing]

Congrats on 100 followers! Can you do Twilight and Thorn Princess encountering eachother for the prompt request?

After several games of cat and mouse with his target, Agent Twilight takes charge.

Third floor reception.

Twilight could hear them vie for her affection from the library: they competed over who had the loudest volume and the most interesting tale to tell out of the realm of stocks, equestrianism, losing bets, and psychoanalysis—topics a woman could only smile and nod at but add nothing more. She’d throw in a few comments here and there as fodder—spells that had her admirers burst out in laughter.

Gus Glooman—pharmaceutical tycoon—whooped and hollered at her coyish mannerisms of hiding curses behind a satin glove. Edgar Elman—recreational boat conglomerate—weaned off his pipe as he undressed the woman from her black evening gown. He ran his eyes down the graceful curve of her naked spine, holding her waist with phantom hands, pulling her in to carve his bulbous body. Other middle-aged socialites bit down hard on their knuckles, their rubied fingers, to refrain from acting on impulses unbecoming of husbands and fathers.

One would never guess that she was an assassin. The woman Twilight had been trailing for nearly four months would have dispelled the hot-blooded entourage of men with a glare, but the woman before him now was an alluring stranger—a stone cold fox clad in satin armor. She was dressed to tempt, trap, and kill. Garters were not for stockings, but for knives; heels not for stepping, but for stomping. She knew the power she held and zapped it through the tips of her pointed fingers, turning men into toads. Twilight scrupulously observed from afar for signs of aggression, dodging her laser-pointed gaze whenever her eyes darted his way.

Twilight, in the interval of time he set for himself to avert her stare, blushed at the realization that perhaps he was the one actively seeking her attention. It was one matter to trail a target and another to ogle a woman who could command a room with the tilt of her head. 

Twilight, subsumed by determination and idyllic visions of peace, did not falter this time. She held his gaze, coaxing, challenging him. Come get it.

So he did. Tilted his head back and downed his courage. Straightened his back and walked with an assured stride, entering the forbidden garden that existed in the liminal space between East and West. Chandeliers dimmed and lavenders grew beneath the soles of his shoes, leading him toward the glow of moonlight that reflected on her skin. He marched like a man meeting his demise.

“Loid Forger.” She drew out the last syllable as if she were testing the way the name tasted on her tongue. It was much too sweet for her liking. She raised her glass, watching him from the cloud of her Chardonnay. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“Gentlemen,” he said, voice commanding in some newfound vibrato. “If you’d give me a moment alone with Miss...”

“Moriticia.” Twilight almost scoffed. How self-important she sounded! “Now, I’d really hate to break up our merry group. Do join in on the fun with us.” A hike of grunts surrounded them, fearing a monopoly on their shapely whet.

Impatient and frankly vexed by her uncharacteristic nonchalance, Twilight whisked her away, hand tight around her wrist, and led her to the balcony overseeing the sprawling plot; out in the evening chill, alone, reunited.

“They are married. Have children. Where are your virtues?” Twilight whispered sharply.

“A spy teaching me about morals.” She leaned back on the marble banister, tilted her chin up, and laughed mockingly. Wine stained her gloves as she set her glass on the surface behind her.  “That should have been the least of your concerns, Moonlight.”

“Twilight.”

“They were the ones throwing themselves at my toes, by the way. Ask where their virtues lie. They deserved whatever was potentially coming to them.” She moved to fix his bowtie. Twilight clenched his jaw, unsure of what to make of this strangely intimate gesture. “Don’t give me that cross face, Mister Agent. I was going to be good tonight. I promise. I wasn’t looking for a fight—not when you look so… So…”

“So?” He leaned in, placed both of his hands on the marble surface to coerce the answer out of her. It only emboldened her.

“It pleases me that you took my advice,” she said, fingertips trailing down his chest. “I was right: tuxedos look much better on you. I’d call you dashing if you weren’t so serious all the time.”

“You were extracting classified information from those men to gauge their use to you. Their life’s worth.” He shivered as she pressed herself against his body. Soft. It took everything in him to not give into her wiles and press back. “Don't think that I won't force my hand to stop whatever plans you have to disrupt international diplomacy. Human lives are not for you to gamble with. Consider this your final warning.”

“Your third final warning in a row,” laughed the assassin. “How I wish you’d place your hands on me. It’d be infinitely more exciting than what we’ve been doing. Sidelong glances. Hot pursuits. Mess-ups. Clean-ups. Rinsing. Repeating. I think I’ve had my fill. I’m sure you’ve had yours too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he seethed, peeling her hands off of him.

“Oh, but you love this. The chase. The danger. You love what little control you think you have—control that you think you have over yourself. Over me.” She grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down to her level. Twilight could smell the sin on her lips. “Go ahead. Consider this an exercise in power.”

“Enough.” Twilight’s heart raced, mind meandered. She knew just what to say, how to say it. Knew just the right inflection to get his mouth to dry, get him weak at the knees, to finally give.

“Diplomacy, he says. Such a big, fancy word for a simple emotion. Call it what it is, sweetling,” she whispered hotly in his ear. Twilight could have burst into tears. “Jealousy.”

Their chests flush were against each other, his hands firm on the curves of her waist. He memorized the intervals in which her lungs expanded and contracted; imitated it until they were one, breathing being beating in tandem. In a moment, their noses nudged, and they pushed, pulled away, devoured. Twilight lingered as she caught her breath, kissed the skin—there, on her shoulders, the slope of her neck, swells of her cheek—that ought to have been ruined with bruises, burns, and cuts. Her mouth parted and called out for his alias, begging for kindness, for mercy. Twilight, caught in her cunning, tangled himself in black thread and supped the mead from her split lips. Her wine glass shattered as they fought.

[hannieehaee]

BED CHEM (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: when chan's friends decided to start a betting pool on how long it'd take him to lose his virginity at the start of college, none of them expected him to remain a virgin all the way to senior year. desperate to prove them wrong, chan goes to his best friend in hopes you'll take him out of his misery (and maybe fall for him in the process) OR when chan uses a stupid bet as an excuse to get his pretty bestie in his bed.

content: virgin!chan, f2l!chan, sub!chan, mutual pining, college au, chan is characterized as a fucking loser but what else is new, some will they wont they, the rest of svt bully chan, afab reader, smut, dry humping, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.1k (teaser); 11k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: november 18th

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: yet another loser!svt fic on the way. sorry<3

masterlist | patreon

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a virgin!"

— lied Chan for the nth time.

"It's been years and it's still not believable. Plus, Vernon told us you were whining about it at Soonie's party last Friday," responded Jeonghan nonchalantly.

"Vernon!", Chan turned to him, betrayal in his eyes.

His whines were only met with chuckles from all the other men surrounding him, most of which were nursing some different variant of an alcoholic beverage as they lounged around uselessly.

Most weekends were spent like this.

Chan had the misfortune of being the youngest in his large thirteen member friend group, one which was also well known throughout school due to a few of his friends' reputations. Chan, however, did not live up to that idea.

Unlike all his other friends, — well known to be either heartthrobs, or at least, you know, not virgins — Chan found himself as an outlier.

On the outside, he may have easily emulated that same popular and charismatic persona all his friends held and lived by, but he truly had no idea what he was doing. Sure, he knew himself to be likable and attractive (at least he liked to think so), but his sexual prowess was still very much below average (is anything lower than zero?).

Luckily for him, this was not known by anyone outside of his friend group. To everyone else, Chan was as pursued as his older friends such as Mingyu and Wonwoo, except it was all a lie.

Hell, even you, being his best friend since middle school, were blissfully unaware of his virginal state. And to be quite honest, this was something he wanted to keep that way.

You see, Chan had hopes of airing out his not-so-discreet crush on you one day ('maybe not today, but someday!', he'd tell himself). And the knowledge of him being a loser virgin would probably not help matters when that day came.

His virginity was such a hot topic among his friends that a running bet had tormented him since his first weekend at university. With all his friends being merely one year older, he was the victim of constant teasing as they watched him crash and burn any time a girl showed interest in him, only for him to psyche himself out of actually getting down to anything.

His constant failures only prompted more teasing throughout the years, especially in the form of Jeonghan and Seungkwan berating him about losing his virginity and confessing his pathetic crush on you. Sometimes Dokyeom and Mingyu would join in, insisting he could kill two birds with one stone if he'd only play his cards right.

The mere thought never failed to make Chan blush. To think of you in that context always had a physical effect on him. His palms would become clammy, his face would redden, and sadly, his hardness would make an appearance.

But he'd be lying if he hadn't wanted to will the thought into existence.

The two of you never really spoke about such things, but he was still painfully aware of how opposite of him you were in that aspect. It was no secret to him that your virginity was long gone. To his knowledge, you'd spent your freshman and sophomore years basking in all the attention you received, landing in a few beds in the process. You had this charisma that Chan envied (and was simultaneously extremely attracted to). In your junior year, however, you'd calmed down a bit, spending your Fridays nights cuddled up with Chan in the corner of one of his friends' frat parties rather than out on your own.

"Okay, so are you giving up? You're losing the bet?," Jeonghan piled on, calling Chan's attention away from his internal monologue.

"Giving up on what! I never participated on that bet. You guys came up with it to bully me!," he responded, exasperated.

Joshua rounded the couch to take a seat on the arm of it, patting Chan's shoulder condescendingly as he sipped at his beer with a chuckle.

"We could set you up with someone, you know?", he suggested, knowing Chan would deny his suggestion but trying anyways.

"N-no. I don't want someone to fuck me out of pity," Chan grumbled.

"And that'd be cheating. We're not supposed to help him," added Vernon.

"You guys made up rules?!"

"Shh. The adults are talking," tsk'd Seungkwan.

"You're still a junior. You have time to lose it before graduating still," aided Wonwoo from his side of the room.

"We decided against that. It has to be before we graduate or else it doesn't count," said one of the many seniors in the room.

"Okay, maybe queue me in on the rules if I'm going to be the main character of this bet, guys," grumbled Chan, giving up.

"That's still four months til graduation, Channie. C'mon, it'll be good for you. Maybe you can find a girlfriend and then you won't be all alone after we graduate."

"Yeah, man. Why do you have no friends your own age?" poked Mingyu, chuckling along with the rest of the seniors currently picking at a defeated Chan.

"It looks like I have no friends at all."

Vernon laughed, getting up to sit next to a slumped-back Chan, completely defeated on the couch. He patted his back, though unlike Joshua, he seemed to do it in solidarity.

"Listen, man. Just ask Y/N out. She likes you. We all see it. Just be a man and ask her out. We've told you before — two birds, one stone," encouraged Vernon.

Chan sat back up at the mention of your name, now having you back in his mind.

Should he?

Should he throw all caution to the wind and go on a limb? He'd sensed some more-than-friends vibes from you before, but he'd never been sure enough to actually try and go after you.

Annoyed and confused, Chan stood up with a huff, heading for the door before turning around to grumble at his friends.

"You all suck!," he began his tipsy rant, "I'm going to go out there and prove you all wrong. I'm going to lose my virginity ten times harder than any of you ever did," he declared, his intoxicated brain not realizing he wasn't making much sense, "And then you'll all owe me that stupid betting pool. You'll see," he went to point at Jeonghan, "Specially you!"

Jeonghan gaped at him in amusement, which only provoked further laughter from all the drunk men who had already been laughing at a pent-up Chan. Chan made his exit with this last statement, annoyed enough to disavow his friends for the rest of the night.

Still tipsy and with frustration charging through his veins, Chan made his decision. He knew his next destination for the night and marched there decisively.

...

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[elixirfromthestars]

Lines Crossed

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warning(s): 18+ mdni / drinking / jealousy / forced proximity / smut / female reader / drunk jerk (stranger) / tension / will they won't they oh they will 🫣❤️‍🔥 / sex w/protection / pet names / sprinkles of possessive + protective Bucky so be prepared / there's a build-up so enjoy ❣️

Prompt: oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

a/n: Please be kind this is my first time writing something like this. 🥺🩶 I decided to challenge myself and join @mercurial-chuckles‘ smutty September fest. A tad late on the deadline because Hurricane Helene decided to take the power out. 😭 This is a standalone fic, but you can most definitely read it (and is intended to be) as a continuation of the events of A Night of Frights & Delights. Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! ❤️❤️

part one backstory // divider // ambiance 🤍

You step into the foyer of the Stark Manor, a grand staircase greets you, its golden railing glowing underneath an ornate chandelier. Various guests mingle around the manor, the buzz of conversation accompanying the music that pulses throughout. Everything about the sight in front of you screams old wealth and elegance. 

Your eyes scan the luxurious home with an expression of awe. Despite being invited before, you had never come to one of Tony’s parties. Choosing the comfort of your bed and your favorite show instead. However, this time knowing a certain captain of the baseball team would be here—and your history with him—well you just had to come. 

As you take it all in, your gaze locks on a pair of beautiful blues. The very same ones you were thinking of all day. And by the way he was looking at you, you knew he was awaiting your arrival just as much as you had been waiting to see him. 

There was no denying he most certainly had been. 

Bucky had arrived about half an hour earlier with some of his teammates. His impatience grew by the second at your absence. He was dying to see what you wore for the party. You denied him any sneak peeks, which only fueled his excitement. He tried distracting himself by greeting anyone he could and making conversation, but he continuously gravitated to the foyer, waiting for the moment you stepped in through those doors. 

When you finally did, Bucky knew with the utmost certainty that the wait was worth it. When his eyes met yours you knocked the air straight out of his lungs with the black dress you were wearing. The satin dawning your body accentuated your silhouette perfectly—and the high slit at your right leg showed off the right amount of skin. The way you did your hair and your makeup complimented you perfectly, and Bucky was losing his goddamn mind because of it.  

Sincerely, he was close to whisking you away and keeping you all to himself. 

You looked nothing short of beyond stunning. Bucky had been holding back for months, staying within the lines you drew that night in the tent, and honestly, he deserved a medal for that. It’s the hardest thing he's ever done. What he felt for you couldn’t measure up to anything else in his life. Never had he felt so over the moon in his feelings for anyone. Yet, you brought on those sentiments by just being you. He was sure if he wasn’t in love with you yet, he was damn near close to it. 

And right now, seeing you in that dress, his mind is going to places it shouldn’t. Places that only belonged to him and his bed on those nights you left him wanting more. Thoughts and scenarios where the night ends with him tearing that dress right off you and showing you just how serious he is about wanting you. 

He’s not so sure he can be on his best behavior tonight. 

Bucky discards the drink he had been holding and saunters over to you. Your heart races in your chest when you see the way his blues darken when he rakes his eyes over your form—shamelessly drinking you up. You take in his figure as well, the all-black suit giving him an aura of class and sophistication that was stirring something dangerous within you. 

Bucky cleaned up good, real good.

He stops a mere foot away from you, his eyes twinkling with intentions both of you long for. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until his voice broke you out of your trance. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you leave my side tonight, not in that dress,” Bucky’s voice is deeper than usual, contrasting the charming grin on his face. You roll your eyes playfully, “I don’t need a babysitter, Bucky,” you reply amused at the thought. Having Bucky by your side all night would definitely lead to you two enjoying each other’s company in other ways. 

Not that you would object if it did. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more as a light chuckle escapes him. “Maybe not you sweetheart, but I might. Someone’s going to have to keep me in check tonight. I already have a hard enough time keeping my hands off of you and now you walk in looking like a masterpiece and I'm supposed to keep my hands to myself?” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, almost as if to stop himself from saying too much. 

“Something tells me you’re going to lay it on thick tonight, aren't you?” You tease him, all the while your body thrums with the way he compliments you. Bucky always knows exactly what to say to make you feel like the only girl in the room. An effortless gift he had only when it came to you.

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.  

The spell you two were under was suddenly broken by Darcy, who rushed over to where you were standing and linked your arm with hers. “Sorry! I’m going to steal her away for a bit there Bucky!” She says unapologetically as she tears you away from the man who looks like he could have devoured you if your friend hadn't interrupted. Your protests fall on deaf ears so you're left waving a small—but not definite—farewell to Bucky. 

It seemed Bucky’s friends had been waiting for the right moment to steal him away too. As soon as you were in another room Sam and Steve went up to Bucky and dragged him to whatever antics the baseball team was up to. His disappointment matches yours, but if there was one thing he had proven all these months was that he had a lot of patience. He knew you two would end up crossing each other’s paths more than once tonight. It was only a matter of time. 

“You forgot you promised to stick by my side tonight. My ex is here, I need the support,” Darcy reminds you with a slight pout. She looks like a ball of fire with the way she pulls you through the crowd in her crimson dress. Her eyes dart to every guest looking to avoid her ex at all costs.

“I didn’t forget. I was just saying hi to a friend,” you explain emitting a snort from Darcy, “A friend? If he’s just a friend than I’m the Queen of England.” You roll your eyes, a small huff of a laugh leaving your lips. Darcy wasn’t wrong. You and Bucky weren’t just friends, but you also weren’t anything more—and that was by your account. 

You and Bucky have fallen into a grey area of what you are to each other. At first, after the camping trip, you tried avoiding him. Not because what happened upset you—but because you couldn’t trust yourself around him after that. Making out with him in that tent made you realize that what you thought had been an annoyance towards Bucky was actually the beginning of a deep-rooted crush. One that bubbled to the surface after that night. 

Avoiding him altogether was an impossible task when he lived in the other apartment in the duplex you rented. Especially after he insisted on giving you rides back and forth from campus with the excuse that now that you two were friends it's only natural for him to be more friendly. By his definition, it also included things like buying you food on days he knows you’ve been too busy to get something for yourself, walking you to your classes whenever he has the chance, and going with you to art exhibitions to dabble in your passion with you. 

Oh, and it also included kissing you mercilessly during tutoring sessions. 

Around the time that fall semester began, Bucky asked you if you could tutor him on a few subjects. He hadn’t done the greatest academically last semester and he wanted to keep his grades up before baseball season started. You were hesitant at first, but ultimately gave in when you realized how sincere he was about needing the help. 

Tutoring Bucky meant spending lots of time with him after classes. The sessions were innocent at first, but after the first time kissing on your bed, Bucky made it a tradition to have his lips on yours, and his hands wandering your body at every session. He even stopped hosting parties at his place, preferring being in your room and getting drunk on the taste of you. 

Bucky was too infatuated by you to ever want to do anything else. Studying was an afterthought whenever you were around, and yet he was doing better than he ever had before in all his classes. Being someone you could be proud of was honestly the best motivation he could ask for. 

Deep down you knew you were falling for him. There was a bit of apprehension on your part as you hadn’t known Bucky to ever have a girlfriend. From what you can remember, ever since you’ve known him, he was the kind of guy who preferred flirting and casual encounters. And there was no guarantee you would be the one to break that. So to keep yourself safe you drew those lines—built those walls up high to guard your heart. Bucky respected those lines and never crossed them. No matter how badly he wanted to. 

Some days, like today, made you want to say screw the lines and just give in to what you desired most. However, when that desire included lowering those walls you put in place, you weren’t brave enough to risk it—so you didn’t. Instead, you and Bucky danced around those lines until it drove you both mad. 

Your thoughts follow you for the next hour as you stay by Darcy’s side. Bucky has this natural way of consuming your mind lately—and your sketchbook. You wish you had it with you right now because when your feelings decide to overflow you channel that intensity onto the paper. For months, every page had been filled with graphite drawings of Bucky. His smile, his eyes, his determined expression when studying, his confident stance during baseball games, and everything else that sparked the creative fire in you. You found a lot of solace in drawing him. 

Bucky was undoubtedly your favorite muse. 

You're so lost in your thoughts you don’t register you’re in the kitchen of the manor until the guests around you cheer. It seems Darcy and Thor have fallen into a friendly competition of sorts to see who could down more shots than the other in one minute. A group of spectators and friends have gathered in the kitchen to watch the showdown go down. Your eyes dart to Jane who only gives you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. She is not looking forward to having to drive those two home later.

Contrary to your friends, you weren’t drinking much tonight. Bucky’s lingering presence at the party was all your senses needed to feel like you were in a daze. For appearances, however, you decide to grab one of the red solo cups to blend in with the rest of those around you. 

“Hey, Y/n! Enjoying the party?” A male’s voice comes from your right and when you turn to see who it is a friendly smile appears on your face. It was Ian Boothby, a fellow art major at your university. You’ve had him in enough of your classes to consider him a friend. 

“Hey, Ian. Yeah, I’m having a good time. Are you?” Your question is a catalyst for a much longer chat with Ian. The two of you fall into light conversation about the semester, art, and other relevant topics. It's a nice breath of fresh air compared to the thoughts that had been consuming you tonight. Especially when he tells you the story of one of his painting mishaps causing you to laugh along with him.

Soon after, a hand snakes its way around your waist, and when you smell that familiar woody muskiness you know exactly who it is. 

“Having fun without me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice has a slight edge to it as he speaks, his lips forming a smirk. You face him and the look in his eyes stills you. 

Bucky does not look pleased. 

“Bucky, hey man. How’s baseball prep?” Ian beats you to it by addressing Bucky first. Bucky's eyes flick between you and Ian before he presses you into his side by the hold on your waist. This does not go unnoticed by Ian.

“Boothby, it's going good. How’s the cross-country season treating you?” Bucky asks, his tone giving away how uninterested he is in continuing this conversation. If Ian picks up on the animosity he doesn’t show it as he goes on and on about the sport. Bucky’s impatience grows the more he speaks and his hold on you gets a little more firm. When Bucky’s expression finally gives way to how he genuinely feels Ian finds a way to excuse himself and exit the conversation.

A beat passes before you finally speak, “Ian’s my friend. You didn’t have to scare him off like that,” you say with slight annoyance. Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

“Oh? And how was he looking at me?” 

“Like in the way only I should be.” 

The possessiveness in his voice catches you off guard. The air electrifying around you both at his words. You weren’t going to drink, but you suddenly felt the need to. You take a sip of the substance in your cup, the bitter liquid doing little to ground you. Bucky can tell how he’s affecting you and joins you with his drink. His eyes never leave yours as he gulps some of it down. 

You have to stop yourself from inhaling the entire thing in one go. 

“Ian’s harmless. He’s just comfortable with me because he’s an art major too. I’ve had a lot of classes with him,” you do your best to continue the conversation and ignore the way your body heats up when Bucky gives your hip a possessive squeeze. Massaging the area afterward in gentle strokes.

“You do a lot of bonding over paint?” Bucky’s response is slightly mocking, licking his lips to catch a drop of alcohol that wanted to escape. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he relishes the way you're looking at him now. Your gaze trained on his lips. When you realize he’s noticed, the heat from your body goes straight to your face.

You wouldn’t let him have the upper hand though. Never. 

“Well, when you have to sketch someone’s naked body you obviously become friendly,” your reply causes Bucky to choke on his drink, the hand at your hip falling as he uses it to grab a few napkins from the granite counter behind him to wipe at the mess he made. You hide a wicked grin behind the rim of your cup. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Excuse me? What does that mean?” He knows what you mean, but he’s giving you a chance to tell him you're joking. He’s not hiding the jealousy that crawls up his spine at your revelation. 

“It means Ian’s a nude model for some of my classes. He may not look like it but underneath those layers, he’s got the most gorgeous—” Bucky cuts you off with a fierce kiss, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you into him. There’s been plenty of times you’ve shut him up with your mouth and it was his turn to return the favor. Because hearing you talk about the naked body of another man gets under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to.  He wasn’t going to just stand there and hear another word of it. 

The kiss catches you by surprise, but soon your drink is discarded in favor of pulling him closer by his blazer. Not caring who sees or what anyone thinks, since it’s the first time you’ve ever kissed in front of others. Your craving for him was far too loud to ignore anymore. Your lips stay locked until your lungs burn begging for air.

Bucky pulls away with a smug smile, his voice an octave lower as he moves to whisper in your ear, “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. I know you love getting a rise out of me, but just so we’re clear—next time you want to mess with me like that—I’ll make sure you can’t even stand after I’m through with you,” his declaration causes a shiver to make its way up your spine. 

You swallow hard, your mouth opening to say something, but no sound comes out. Bucky lets out a rough chuckle, ghosting his lips against your cheek before pulling away to stare at how speechless he’s left you. He’s blatantly savoring every second of it. 

You want to say something—anything. Something witty or playful, but the thought of him making good on his promise—the image it conjures in your mind—keeps you silent.

“Buck! You’re needed at beer pong! Tony’s team is winning and the bet is up to five hundred,” Steve rushes into the kitchen, breaking through the bubble you two were in. His eyes dart between you and Bucky with a knowing look. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the sight of you two. 

You start to register there’s still an extravagant party happening around you.  

Bucky sighs with slight irritation as he once again gets his moment with you interrupted. He reluctantly tears his attention away from you to call back to Steve, “I’ll be right there!” Steve nods in approval before going back the way he came. 

Now’s your chance to say something, but Bucky pulls away from your body before you can. A coldness replacing where his touch used to be. “Hold that thought, baby. Looks like my team needs their star player,” he winks at you before placing a tender kiss on your forehead, “you keep thinking about what I said while I’m gone,” he says in a gruff whisper, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip in a barely there touch. 

He knows he needs to leave before he takes this somewhere you can’t go back from. 

Bucky doesn’t give you a chance to say anything as he makes a smooth exit. Heading out of the kitchen in the direction of the beer pong game. Your body prickling with an ever growing sexual frustration. You were embarrassingly close to snatching Bucky away and giving in to all your desires in one of the many rooms of the manor. 

“You two need to get a room,” Jane seems to read your mind as she teases you. Appearing from behind you once Bucky was no longer in sight. You can’t deny her words, letting out a small huff, “I don’t know what good that would do. I’ve been clear about not wanting to take things further.” You explain to her, not sure if you could go back on your words for the sake of giving in to what you want now. Jane has had this conversation with you a few times before, and it appears she's hit her limit today. 

 “That man is absolutely head over heels for you. How can you not see that?” Jane shakes her head at you, wondering how she can make you realize what you already know yet deny. There's a vulnerability that overcomes you when you reply, “It’s not that I don’t see it. I just—I’ve never seen him be serious about anyone. The only thing he’s ever serious about is baseball.” Jane looks like she’s about to do something drastic at your denial. 

“Y/n, Bucky is serious about you. He’s literally all about you—he’s chosen you over baseball many times. I’m not around him like you are and even I can see it clear as day. Do you know Thor and like half of the baseball team thinks you two are secretly dating? Stop denying what you know deep down is true and just give in—be happy,” Jane tells it like it is, her tone leaving no room for argument or denial. 

For so long Bucky has shown you another side of him—one not many get to see. He’s given you priority and importance when he didn’t have to. Care and consideration when you needed it most. A shoulder to lean on and a steady support to rely on. Time and time again Bucky has demonstrated how much you mean to him.

Perhaps, you both have been something more to each other for a long time and Bucky’s kept his wishes at bay to make sure things developed at your pace. 

When it finally hits you, you almost feel exposed by how skillfully Jane can read you. At how easily she can see the situation for what it is and not for what your worries twisted it to be. If Bucky had made it clear to you how he felt, what was stopping you from taking things further than they had been before?

At this point, nothing, nothing was stopping you but yourself.

This realization follows you to the dance floor. A very drunk Darcy had pulled you to it along with Jane, babbling tipsily after losing the drinking competition to Thor. You had never seen a living room with such high ceilings before or enough room to host a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth. The living space had been stripped of its furniture and supplied with top-notch equipment to make it resemble the inside of a club. 

At least in the near darkness, it resembled one.

You’re in a huddle of your closest friends, all of them letting the music guide their movements to their heart’s content. You sway absentmindedly, so you're not merely standing there awkwardly. The kaleidoscope of party lights strobe and kiss your skin with an array of colors as the music thumps around your body. 

A loud cheer catches your attention, the source of the sound coming from a table on the far left end of the room. Tony and his friends were boisterous as they made a shot against their opponent's team in beer pong—Bucky’s team. You had a clear view of it all from where you stood. 

Bucky’s team seems to be taking turns on who drinks every time Tony’s team makes a shot. They look amongst themselves until Bucky steps up and chugs the liquid in the red solo cup. It's like he can feel the shift in the air because as soon as the cup is away from his lips his eyes scan the space and find you, and suddenly it's like you two are the only two people in the room. 

You want him—all of him. You enjoy the teases, the banter, the back and forth, but you know you’d enjoy calling him yours more. 

The music picks up in tempo as your boldness grows. Keeping your eyes trained on him, your hips begin to sway provocatively, tempting him to say screw the game and make his way towards you instead. Bucky’s not even paying attention to the game anymore his eyes soaking up your every move as it fans the flames of desire between you. The atmosphere around you buzzes as the ground shakes due to the sea of dancing bodies, and yet nothing thrums within you more than your need for Bucky. 

The little show you’re putting on for him continues as you roll and wave your body in ways that seduce him. Ghosting your hand along the curves and dips of your figure showing him exactly where you’d like his hands to be. Bucky’s mind is reeling with everything he wants to do to you and none of it involves the dance floor and all of it involves you and him in some private corner of the manor where he can show you exactly what his hands are capable of. 

You are making it impossibly hard for him to concentrate on anything else. 

Slowly and with shady intentions a group of drunk guys circle the huddle of you and your friends like vultures. Finding their way to snake themselves into any corner or crevice they can fit into. Their bodies bumping and grazing against yours. There’s one guy in particular that has his sights set on you. Getting closer to you on the dancefloor and creeping his hands along your waist. You swat his hands away, but he doesn’t disperse immediately. The alcohol on his breath fanning your face causing you to gag. The more you dismiss him the more adamant he was about keeping you close to him. 

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused.

Bucky glares at the drunk guy, his gaze cold and unapologetic, “Alright, that's enough.” The drunk guy sneers, his words slurred, “What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,” Bucky’s reply is sharp and menacing. He directs it to all the men that had swarmed you and your friends. 

Shifting you so you stand at his side, Bucky steps forward to let the guys know he’s not messing around. Your hold goes to his right arm where you’re watching the exchange unfold anxiously. You hope things don’t escalate, not wanting Bucky to get into a scuffle. You know he can handle himself, but the idea of him getting hurt in any way caused your heart to ache. 

The guys size Bucky up and it seems some of them think they can take him on. Until the strobing lights illuminate Bucky’s darkened gaze enough that in their drunk haze, they finally recognize him as captain of the baseball team. That means that fighting Bucky meant taking on the entirety of the team. And with the way Sam and Steve were looking over to see if they needed to step in, and Thor was already storming over—they knew they didn’t stand a chance.

It was comical the way the drunk men scramble to get away as fast as they could. Muttering incoherences and apologies under their breath. They don’t get far as Tony’s hired security for the night promptly kicks them out. 

Thor comes up to check on everyone, giving special attention to Jane who keeps assuring him she’s fine. You turn to Bucky, who’s already inspecting you to make sure you are alright, “Bucky I—” You almost tell him not to worry, that you had things under control, but in reality, you’re glad Bucky stepped in. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, Bucky’s tense demeanor softens at your words. He moves to get a better hold on you, his grip at your waist protective teetering on possessive. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. I got you—always,” Bucky’s genuine response makes your heart flutter and your pulse quicken. Your senses are awakened by his proximity, completely enamored with the way he looks at you. 

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you. There’s a sparkle in your eyes as you stare at him, Bucky’s heart racing at the sight of it.

 “You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response. Bucky has never felt more elated knowing that maybe finally you two can go to places he’s only dreamed of. 

“Yours?” You question him playfully, which causes him to chuckle, the sound a low rumble, “You and I both know you are, sweetheart. I told you I had all the time in the world to make you fall for me—and I meant it,” he smiles, an intense fire in his eyes that only accumulates when you respond, “You don’t have to wait any longer, Bucky.”

He wastes no second to connect your lips, kissing you with a loving purpose. His lips have a slightly bitter taste to them from the beer that still lingered there. And yet, the bitterness disappears when one kiss turns into two and then three. His arms encircling you to pull you into his chest, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck.

Bucky pulls away to ghost his lips against your jaw until his lips brush against your ear, “Those little moves you were doing for me earlier, do them again,” his husky tone sends a shiver down your spine as he tugs you in to dance with him. Your bodies mold to one another, hips swaying in rhythm with the vigorous music. The beat allows you to gyrate and grind in ways that drive him to the edge of his control. 

His hand rests on the small of your back, holding you close, fingers splayed out as if making a silent claim. You can feel the way his gaze burns into you, the air getting hotter making it harder to breathe. Your hands trail up and down his arms as need be. The rest of the party fades away leaving you two alone in this space of this charged energy. Every lingering touch and longing glance is layered with unspoken urges that would soon intensify to the brink of madness. 

“You have no idea what you do to me do you?” 

“I do. I’m not immune to what’s going on between us, Bucky.”

Your body, your voice, the way you plead with your eyes for him to take this further—it causes a stirring within his pants—the fabric getting tighter the longer the dance goes on. He needs to get you away, to get you alone. Bucky needs to satiate this hunger for you that threatens to consume him or he is going to end up doing something Rated R on this dance floor. 

The throbbing between your legs agrees. 

An idea pops into Bucky’s mind when he glances at his group of friends. He increases the volume of his voice so you can hear him over the music, “The baseball team was going to host a game of hide and seek. Should we play?” Playful mischief glimmers in his eyes as he asks you. 

“Hide and seek? Seriously?” You raise a brow, wondering how that was going to work in a mansion full of a million rooms.

“Yeah, come on. It'll be fun,” Bucky draws you away from the dance floor and over to where his friends are mingling and taking a few shots. Steve sees Bucky approach and they have a quick whispered exchange. Your eyes dart between them, curious as to what they're discussing.

“Seems like we’re getting a head start,” he comments to you as he leads you away from the main party and down a few intricate hallways. His hold on your hand is firm, yet careful—almost as if he’s afraid you’ll get lost in one of the many corners of the manor. The thrum of the music fades the further you slip away from the party. Your pulse spikes, both from the adrenaline of the game and the heat that still simmers between you.

Bucky has been to Tony’s parties plenty of times before, so he knows the layout of the manor pretty well. The clicking of your heels along the marble floors echoes at the pace of the beating of his heart. He tries to focus on the expensive artwork that lines the halls instead of the way your hand perfectly fits in his. The artwork is what’s guiding his path through the manor and you are the best distraction he could ask for. 

“Where are we going?” Your voice echoes down the endless hallway. 

“Somewhere no one will find us,” he winks at you, your heart skipping a beat at his words, his pace steady and purposeful as he turns one more corner and slips you two inside a room. You're encased in darkness, blindly feeling for a light switch until Bucky uses the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the space. You faintly make out your surroundings. You seem to be in one of the many guest rooms of the manor. The attention to detail in the room was no short of the attention paid to the rest of the place.

You knew Tony’s family had money, but seeing how they splurged for a mere guest room, meant his family was beyond loaded. 

Bucky whispered something to you, but you didn’t catch it as he took you by the hand and ushered you into the room’s closet, clicking it shut behind him. He reaches up to turn on the small lightbulb to cascade the enclosed space in a soft glow, turning off the flashlight on his phone and putting it in his pants pocket. The tension is now thicker and more palpable in the small space, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

If you had a dollar for every time you and Bucky ended up in a tight space together, you would have exactly two dollars. While maybe strange, it somehow seemed fitting for you two. 

Bucky steps closer to you, your bodies inches apart, the dim light doing nothing to dull the intensity in his eyes, “Now that I’ve got you here—I think I did a good job with the hiding spot, don't you?” His heated whisper brings your breath to a hitch. 

You have to clear your throat to compose yourself, “I don’t know…We had a whole mansion to hide in, and you chose a closet?” You can’t help but tease him, trying to lighten the unbearable tension. 

“Would you rather go hide in the library? The wine cellar? The arcade?” His voice is dripping with mirth taking another step closer to you. He knows what you're doing, but he’s not going to let the tension die down—not this time.  

“The arcade sounds fun,” you quip, leaning back against the wall. 

“Hm, maybe, but I prefer the closet. It’s a lot more private and it has its…advantages,” he reaches out to pull your hand up to his lips, planting a soft kiss across your knuckles. You go to use that hand to lightly push at his chest, but he catches it in time and intertwines your fingers instead. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. 

“Maybe the closet isn’t so bad, but these heels…Worst decision I made tonight,” you shift slightly, not meaning to change the subject, but your heels are torturing you. In the quiet of the closet the pain begins to creep up on you, begging to be acknowledged. After hours of walking on them, dancing, and standing overall—your feet were killing you. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stand upright while hiding. 

“Are they hurting you?” 

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Lets get them off then,” Bucky slides his hand underneath your right thigh, eyes locked on yours, as he hikes it up against the outside of his leg. Your hips brush up against his front, your breath catching at the intimacy of the moment. He watches your every reaction as he slides his hand down the underside of your leg until he reaches the strap of your heel. He’s able to undo it effortlessly, relieving you of the discomfort, his fingers grazing your ankle as he slides your right heel off. His every touch leaves heat in its wake. 

“Bucky you really don't have to—” he cuts you off with a soft smile and half-lidded eyes, switching his hold from your right leg to your left one, “I want to, sweetheart. Just let me help, ” he removes the other heel with the same tantalizing tenderness he used for the first one. Putting them to the side where they won’t get in the way.

The relief you feel is immediate.

“Better?” 

“Much.” 

“Good.” 

A moment passes before he speaks, his voice quiet with an underlying devotion, “You don’t get the hold you have on me, do you?’’ His right hand dances along the outside of your thigh while his left plays with the strap of your dress, twirling it between his fingers. The hand at your thigh traces patterns onto it. Trailing intricate swirls across the flesh, along your hips, ascending to your waist, and all the way up to the space between your breasts. The touch lingers there when you let out a soft sigh. 

You honestly forget how to breathe. 

“Say the word and I’m all yours, Y/n,” his voice is rough as his lips ghost against yours—seductively grazing against them. Going so far as licking his lips with an invigorating grin to really drive you crazy.

Bucky is waiting for you to make the deciding move. When you realize this, you throw all caution to the wind, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. You waste no time in granting him access to deepen it. Bucky follows your lead ardently. His hands snake down your body to cup your ass and pull you impossibly close to him. 

Your hands get lost in his hair, a groan rumbling through him at the way you tug at it. You two aren’t sweetly kissing, you're devouring each other. Yearning for the other all night leaves no more room for taking things slow or holding back. You’re both now giving in to what you want most—each other. 

The heat between you intensifies until it crescendos to a boiling point. The aching between your legs imploring you to do something about it. You reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants, causing Bucky to let out a husky laugh. 

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck. 

“Bucky….I…” your words are cut off by a soft moan when Bucky’s left hand sneaks its way through the slit of your dress until he reaches the inside of your thighs. He massages the flesh there, his thumb brushing against the hem of your panties. 

Your arousal pools impossibly more, and the lustful haze only increases at the way you feel his hardened cock straining against his pants—right against your hip. 

“Mm? What was that, baby? Couldn’t hear you over those pretty noises you're making,” his every word drips with cockiness. 

“You're insufferable.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Bucky kisses your neck with more fervor. Sucking and nipping at the skin hard enough to leave marks. Your thighs involuntarily close together at the way he calls you his girl. He eases them back apart with his deliberate touches. Kneading the soft flesh in his hands as his breathing goes ragged along your neck, tickling your skin. He was on the brink of losing what little control he had left. 

You suck in a sharp breath, losing what little semblance of control you had left the higher his touch gets. He only goes so far, barely brushing across your clothed cunt to give you a taste of what he can do if you just let him hear it. You were desperate for more and he knew it. 

 “Fuck me, Bucky,” you manage to whimper out, hooking your fingers into his empty belt loops and yanking him towards you. Bucky lets out a low growl at the brief friction, his eyes darkening to an almost unrecognizable color. For a moment, his brain short circuits at your words, processing that you really said that to him accompanied by that alluring sound. He’s heard those sinful noises from you before, but never like this. Never with the assurance of more. 

“Say it again.”

“Bucky, please just fuck me already.”

You don’t have to tell him another time. Bucky crashes his mouth onto yours with a new intensity, mumbling lustful promises into your mouth. How he wants you, how badly he aches to make you feel good, how he yearns for his pretty girl to lose herself with him, and so many more things that make you dizzy. 

He moves to bunch up your dress, hiking it up your legs until it's bundled at your waist. His breathing strains at the sight—your black lacy panties luring him in—his muscles tensing at the growing need to be inside you. His left arm reaches down to hook his forearm under your knee and bring it up to his hip. You wrap that leg around him, steadying yourself on your other foot as you grind against each other. You can feel the way his cock aches to be freed and it causes you to arch deeper into him. Your moans mingle into one, the slight relief overwhelming you. 

Bucky takes his free hand and splays it at the small of your back, offering strong support as your bodies continue to grind against one another. A chorus of moans and yearnful whines erupt from you both. All of the pining and hunger for one another amalgamates into one as you continue to rub against each other. You swallow each other’s sounds, tongues tangling carnally as neither of you leaves any room for air.

“Do you have—?”

“Back pocket. Wallet.”

Your lips barely disconnect at the brief exchange. You reach behind him, patting down his backside until you feel the outline of his wallet in his pocket. You take hold of it and bring it forward. Meanwhile, Bucky decides to leave wet kisses along the valley of your breasts. You can barely contain yourself and your soft moans as you pull out the condom. The wallet almost slips from your grasp as the attention to your breasts causes you to tremble. 

You hold it tighter intending to put it back in his pocket when something catches your eye. In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

You love this picture. You have a copy of it taped to your bedroom mirror back home.

At your stillness, Bucky looks up to see what’s going on. When he notices you staring at the picture, he smiles fondly. " It's the only picture I had of us,” he utters softly, causing a warmth to spread throughout you. You gaze at him in tender awe, marveling at the fact that Bucky is real.

Why had you ever doubted he was anything but yours? 

You kiss him this time with all the unspoken feelings you’ve bubbled up and kept inside. The wallet falls from your hands, but it's no matter as Bucky kicks it to the side with his foot, and shudders at the way your lips claim his. This goes beyond lust. Your heart beats with reason, and that reason is the man in front of you. 

“Bucky, I want this. I want you. All of you,” you whisper passionately, your hands lowering to help him unbutton and unzip his pants, the foil neatly tucked between your fingers. A guttural moan leaves him when you push the layers of fabric down and free his cock, pumping it a few times to get a feel of it. His head falls to your shoulder, sighing softly in a near whine as you tear the foil open and roll the protection down his length. It twitches in your hands, his hips bucking at the contact. 

His arms are preoccupied with keeping you close and steady, so you gently guide him to your center. Moving your panties to the side as he tantalizingly slides along your folds before he slowly enters you. Your mouth goes agape at the sensation while Bucky has to do everything to make sure he doesn’t cum right then and there.

This was so much better than what he had imagined in his dreams. 

It's been too long since you’ve done this and the burn at the stretch causes you to cry out quietly. Bucky peppers your face with sweet kisses and whispers of devotion. Trying to do his best to comfort you as he lets you adjust inch by inch. The hand at the small of your back rubs circles into it with his thumb, your own hands shooting up to grip his biceps for support. 

“I’m not gonna last if you tighten up like that sweetheart,” he hisses a groan at how tightly your walls envelop him. You’re really making it hard for him to not come undone in a short amount of time. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby, just relax for me.”

His gentle words are accompanied by thrusts that are slow with a deliberate purpose. He’s careful with his pace as he wants this to go at whatever speed you need. It takes a bit, but his soft kisses and comforting touches coax the burn away until you're left with the ardent ache of needing more. 

“Faster, Bucky,” you plead breathily. He rests his forehead against yours.“Can you handle it, baby?” His question is full of loving concern, prioritizing your pleasure over everything.

“I can…fuck…please,” you assure him, your leg pulling him in tighter causing him to bottom out. Bucky curses and moans all in one. At your assurance, he picks up the pace of his hips, rocking them against you with a fiery velocity. The lewd sounds bouncing off the walls of the closet in waves. 

He gives it to you exactly how you asked him to. That man would do anything for you—just say the word and its done. 

Bucky is on cloud nine at the way you take him. The way your bodies mold and arch into one another’s like you can’t get enough. As if all you ever needed to consume to live was each other. When he goes to kiss you, you can barely kiss back as you’re too lost in the way he slams into you.

“Fuck, baby, if only you could see yourself. You’re so fucking gorgeous making those pretty expressions for me,” Bucky grunts out, drinking up the sight of your face. A string of mewls leaves your lips at the keen attention he keeps on you. Everything about you right now is a work of art in his eyes he wants framed and kept at his bedside. A constant reminder he’s the one who gets to make you look and feel so damn good.  

“Don’t stop, please don't stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to, sweetheart.” 

Your words egg him on to go harder, causing your back to press tightly against the wall. Hiking your leg just a tad bit higher to thrust into you at another angle. This was the best decision he ever made as he hits the perfect spot within you. One that leaves you clinging onto him desperately as your walls tighten on the brink of release. 

It takes a few more fierce drives into you until your orgasm hits you and you're cumming with a feverish intensity. Moaning Bucky’s name in a euphoric mantra that’s music to his ears. It's what brings him over the edge and he stills at the force of his orgasm, his head collapsing into the dip of your neck as he releases into the condom. 

“My girl. My sweet girl. You feel so good, baby,” Bucky softly whispers against your neck. Planting small kisses as both of you come down from your highs. Your arms wrap behind his neck to embrace him and keep him close to you. Bucky continues to mutter sweet praises along your skin, as your hands thread through his hair tenderly. Both of you steadying your breaths as you come back down to Earth. 

If it weren't for Bucky holding your right leg up, it would've fallen from its position at his hip long ago. You’re even more grateful for it now as your body felt completely boneless. And when he pulls out, its the grip he has on your body that keeps your knees from buckling.

Bucky lifts his head so his gaze locks on yours. His blues are swimming with a vehemence that steals your breath and causes your pulse to race.  

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you. 

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s not hearing it, afraid you’ll want to go back to a place that would devastate him. “Wait, just hear me out. Everything I ever did was to get you to notice me. From the moment we met there was just something about you that kept pulling me in. And I knew—I just knew I had to get to know you. And then one thing led to another and I fell for you—hard. Now I can’t imagine my life without you. There's only you. It’s always been you. Give me a chance, let me prove it to you every day, that I’m yours. That I have been for a long time,” Bucky’s tone borders on pleading, you give his hands a light squeeze to ease the worry in his features. 

“Bucky you have nothing to prove—”

“Y/n—” 

This time you stop him by clamping a hand over his mouth. 

“Bucky, you have nothing to prove because I’ve felt the same way for a long time. I just fought it for so long out of fear that maybe you weren’t serious about me. But I can see now I was wrong. I’ve been yours for a long time too, Bucky. I just pretended I wasn’t—and I’m done fighting it. I’m done being in denial. I want to have something serious with you. I’m ready for it,” your heartfelt confession immediately melts away the tension in Bucky’s shoulders. 

You wanting this as much as he did made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He mumbles something into your hand, the biggest grin on the other side of it. You laugh adoringly at the sight as you remove your hand to replace it with your mouth instead. Both of you sink into the kiss as a deeper devotion is exchanged. 

“Whoever is seeking is horrible at it,” you remove yourself with a light giggle, taking a jab at whoever the seeker of the hide-and-seek game is. A game that was long forgotten by Bucky until you mentioned it. 

Bucky smiles sheepishly, “About that…there's not actually a hide-and-seek game. And if there is they don't know we’re playing,” he confesses with a twinkle in his eyes. You shake your head at him, laughing in disbelief, “Bucky, then what were you and Steve whispering about?” Your curiosity is met with a boyish grin from Bucky, “I was just letting him know not to come looking for me. I wanted to get some alone time with you,” his hands find your hips again to give them a gentle squeeze.

Bucky is far from done with you yet. 

You roll your eyes lightheartedly at his revelation. Of course, he’d come up with a way to get you all to himself. Can you blame him? 

After a few more stolen kisses and lingering touches, you both start to compose yourselves. Adjusting your outfits and collecting your items from the ground. Thankfully, the guest room has its own bathroom where the two of you can clean up much better than in the small closet. Tousled hair, smeared makeup, and sweaty skin required a deeper attentiveness.

You both take your time in freshening up. The bathroom lighting does wonders to reveal every piece of evidence of your sexual encounter. You can now clearly see all the red marks that would eventually turn into hickeys that scattered your neck and chest. Bucky beams pleased at the markings he’s left as you scold him for making them so prominent. 

Bucky doesn’t give a damn. He’d gladly make more in an instant. 

By the end, all that's left is to get your heels on, which Bucky insists on helping you with. He offered to carry you for the rest of the party or even giving you his shoes, but you declined both options. You paid good money for these heels so whether you liked it or not, you were forcing yourself to wear them. 

Bucky helps you up onto the expansive marble counter. Lowering down onto his knees in front of you to slide your heels back onto your feet. Nimble fingers work the straps into place, making sure they're not too tight at the ankles. When he looks up at you, a devilish grin appears on his face. That spark of desire is back in your eyes when you see how good he looks knelt between your legs. Your mind was reeling with ideas as the heat once again pranced across your skin. Bucky’s gaze bore into yours, almost as if he could read your mind. He can’t help but get turned on again. 

You were in the same boat. 

“You know, I have a big stats test on Monday. I could use an emergency tutoring session right about now,” his tone is laced with suggestion as his fingers trace along your ankle. You hum, “Hm? Do you? I think I could accommodate that.” Your reply gives Bucky the go to start kissing up your legs until he reaches your knees. He never breaks eye contact as he places a tender kiss on each one before standing up and giving that same attention to your mouth.

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here, sweetheart,” Bucky mutters against your lips, the kiss a promise of the fun awaiting you for the rest of the night. Now that the lines were blurred beyond recognition, into something deeper, something real, you were both completely all in. 

[thebluester2020]

[GI] Kinktober Day 10: "Exhibitionism"

Summary: After your stunt with Tartaglia, you are forced to deal with the repercussions of Capitano's not-so-well-hidden jealousy.

Warning(s): Reader is fucked in front of an audience, Dub-Con, Degradation, (Probably a whole slew of other warnings that I can’t think of rn).

Side Note(s): Okay so—I switched it up last minute to exhibitionism because I realized that I get confused easily between that and voyeurism (+ I have more of a love for exhibitionism anyway).

Also, this is kinda an unofficial pt. 2 to the "Sharing" fic I posted? I mostly kept to the same "storyline"(?) because it was easier on the brain for me.

Your relationship with Capitano has been in a...weird spot, to the least, ever since that day between yourself, Tartaglia, and Capitano.

At the end of it all, the men didn't even get what they had originally wanted. You were far too fucked-dumb to even decipher who was who, much less come up with enough letters capable of yelling out a name. But, for the sake of being tired himself, Tartaglia had admitted "defeat" and carried on his merry way! Eventually, he left Capitano's war band and continued on his own personal mission, leaving you behind and working for Capitano permanently like you were originally supposed to.

But it's been awkward.

Capitano was curt with you, only speaking to you when he needed to. If you were caught taking a moment to relax, you began to pray that Capitano wouldn't happen upon you, he'd only immediately order you to get back to work!

No longer did he greet you warmly and no longer did he seem to care about your well-being. When the entire war party moved, he no longer expected you to be by his side, nor did he constantly check to see if you were! You could've been at the very back of the party and he wouldn't have given a single damn.

You had a mind to call your boss out on his behavior, pull him aside, and ask what the issue was and...whether or not there was still something between you both.

Although, you already had a mind to think that any feelings that may have started to blossom had long since been crushed underneath heel and foot.

Until today that is, when you were in your tent and finishing up some reports.

. . .

You quickly rose to your feet when Capitano suddenly entered your tent, bowing your head as you murmured a respectful 'Lord Capitano' in greeting.

He responded with a gruff noise of acknowledgment. "There will be a feast held tonight," Capitano said.

Your brow cocked, a feast? You hadn't heard anything relating to a feast at all. "Our efforts and missions have been going smoothly, I figured it's overdue to reward everyone in this camp. Even you." You bit the inside of your cheek at the cold way he addressed you. Had you known that accepting Tartaglia's offer—that rogue ginger-headed charmer—would lead to such an awkward tension between you and Capitano, you would've never allowed Tartaglia to trick you!

"...That's...that's kind of you." You said before sighing.

He nodded his head before turning to leave, prompting you to quickly stop him. "M-My Lord," You started off. "About that day...are you still—"

"I'll be taking my leave,"

"Lord Capitano!" You said more firmly this time, walking around your desk and beginning to close the distance between the two of you. "You can't continue to avoid me, n-not to mention treat me as I—" You stopped in your tracks when the first harbinger turned his head to look at you. And although you couldn't see his eyes, nor his expression behind that dark mask...the danger that oozed off of him. It made you audibly gulp as you took a few steps back.

You bowed your head in silent apology. "...You will come to my tent before the feast officially begins." Then, he walked out. A cold bead of sweat dripped down your neck at the vague order. Either it would be nothing aside from more work, Capitano deciding to kill you, or...hopefully, he'd finally get over his attitude and talk to you.

You couldn't stand how things were at the moment.

So, when the time finally arrived and the feast was ten minutes away from the beginning. You found yourself in Capitano's tent, your hands resting neatly in front of you as you stood at the entrance of his lavish tent. "My Lord, the feast will begin soon." You gently reminded him. "Shall I alert the soldiers of anything before it begins?" You continued.

You didn't receive a response until Capitano emerged from the covered part of his tent, adorned in the usual attire he wore when he appeared during important Fatui functions or battles. "No," He answered. "Simply follow me." Your brow rose as he walked past you, but nonetheless, you dutifully followed after him outside and back into the steadily warming air thanks to the bonfire that had just been set up.

As the soldiers began to gather, however, Capitano clearing his throat before he broke out into an, admittedly, very admirable speech as he thanked and showed gratitude towards his soldiers. Certain things started to stand out to you as your eyes washed over the crowd. Such as...the doctors and nurses of the camp weren't present, surely they deserved some praise and appreciation too? Too many times have soldiers or even your boss himself had come into the camp injured from head to toe! They'd quickly patch them up and almost seem to perform magic, you've heard soldiers state that one doctor in particular was good at numbing the pain!

There were none of the cooks, blacksmiths or even the younger soldiers that were fresh into the party, tasked to simply stand aside and watch.

All this boiled down to this "feast" being composed of nothing more than the more experienced soldiers, simply leaving you with a number ranging around the hundreds.

As pieces started to merge together although...a heavy hand placed itself on your shoulder, and then, you tuned back into the conversation. "...You will all bear witness as to my secretary learning who she truly belongs to, hopefully with an audience, she will learn not to be so easy for others."

What had just happened?

. . .

"Apologize." Capitano gruffly ordered you as the loud sound of your squelching cunt echoed through the camp. Not even the whistling winds could muffle your desperate panting as Capitano fingered your soaked cunt, taking special care to not knick you with his claws. "Apologize for being such a desperate whore..." He hissed out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "...for being so easy to fuck, not even having the courtesy to quiet yourself down despite being in a camp full of my soldiers."

Your cheeks burned with shame as you could feel hundreds of eyes on you. You didn't know whether you wanted the soldiers to be disgusted at the sight and turn away or if...you preferred this in a sick way, although there were some women amongst the crowd, the heavy sound of panting amongst the men made you clench around nothing, your slick beginning to drip and run down from your cunt and onto Capitano's lap.

Something that the ever-vigilant Captain didn't miss.

"You shameless whore." He snarled in your ear, your body shuddering at the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing the skin on your ear. "You're getting even wetter at being watched?" The harbinger nearly had a mind to laugh at how your legs twitched, as if you wanted to curl into yourself at his cruel words. He almost allowed himself to feel bad, until he smelled how your arousal grew at his words.

Oh...so you liked this.

Well...that explained everything.

Slowly, he took his fingers away from your cunt, a string of arousal still connecting him to you as he brought them up to his face. "So that's why you fucked my fellow harbinger." He sneered, opening and closing his index and middle finger, playing with your slick.

"H-Huh?" You moaned, both in disappointment and confusion. Despite the cold, your body burned with desire, one that grew more potent by the passing second as you felt Capitano's obvious hard-on behind you. You were grateful for your tears blurring your vision, for as Capitano continued to let you sit in his lap exposed to his soldiers, you at least could fool yourself into thinking that no one was paying attention.

But only for so long.

A scream tore from you as the Captain's fingers returned to your sex, his fingers dipping into your pussy before they had quickly found your g-spot whilst his other hand wrapped around your torso to begin flicking rapidly at your clit. All the air in your lungs were nearly knocked out of you at the rate of how quickly you were approaching your climax, your hands fruitlessly clawing at Capitano's forearms as drool started to dribble from the side of your mouth, your eyes starting to roll into the back of your skull.

"C-Captain..." You moaned. "O-Oh Archons...!" You keened.

He didn't relent. "Take it," He ordered as if he were ordering a soldier. "Considering you've taken me and Tartaglia at the same time...you should be used to the pleasure." He chuckled gruffly.

He tightened his hold on you as you squirmed. "Slut," He spat. "Quit squirming."

It was only when Capitano suddenly bit down on your shoulder were you pushed off the edge, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body stilled and your vision turned completely white. For a long while, you drifted on that cloud of sheer bliss...until you were brought back down by the feeling of something hard slapping against your cunt, snapping you back to reality before you were face to face with the harbinger's cock.

Starting off at a lighter color at the base before turning into a dark purple towards the middle and upwards at the tip. You shuddered when you remembered that Capitano's cock was inside of you...not even a whole two weeks prior! The ridges along his dick were intimidating, especially with the way it twitched and oozed pre-cum.

You gasped when he parted your cunt wider with his fingers. "If you won't apologize with your mouth..." He started off before he lifted you a little, as easily as he would carry a sack of flour before the tip of his cock pressed against your opening. "...Maybe you'll be more apologetic with your pussy."

. . .

Capitano didn't waste any time to wrap a hand around your mouth, although, the sheer size of his hand nearly engulfed your entire face. As he pressed you impossibly closer to him, he made sure to get really close to your ear as he spoke to you. "Make sure to look my soldiers in the eye as you apologize to me with this cunt of yours." He said before he slowly pushed himself into you.

Immediately, you broke his command, your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head. Something that Capitano quickly corrected with his free hand slapping the side of your thigh. "Look at them." He reminded you. As more of his dick sunk into you, your eyes blurry and struggling to focus as you looked at the soldiers before you. You accidentally made eye contact with one of them, all before...your eyes glimpsed at his noticeably hard cock.

In fact, you noticed how all of them were hard.

Your cunt clenched tighter around your boss' dick at that realization. "Fuck—" He whispered. "You must've noticed, hm? How they all yearn to fuck you? My secretary." He continued.

When your pussy twitched at his words, he lightly pinched your side in punishment. "Greedy pussy...still eager to take more cock despite having me inside of you?" A muffled yelp resounded against the harbinger's hand when the rest of the Captain's dick was suddenly pushed into you. More moans followed suit as his fat tip began to poke and prod at your sweet spot, deep inside of you. "Don't worry, I'll curb your greediness soon." He whispered, the sheer possessiveness in his deep voice making goosebumps pop up all over your skin and down your spine.

More than you cared to realize, you loved when your boss was possessive over you. And that love only grew more when he started to move, his balls slapping against your skin as he took up a brutal pace almost immediately. You tried your best to keep your moans quiet when he suddenly released his grip over your mouth for it to take up stationing itself on your waist, aiding in pulling you down faster and harder against his pelvis. But it was so fucking hard to be quiet when he was fucking you like he was afraid of loosing you. As if you'd be gone the second this was all done.

"C-Captain..." You groaned. "F-Feels so good...!" You continued to cry out, blissful tears running down your face as you lost yourself in the feeling of his cock. Delicious sparks ran up and down your spine at the feeling of the ridges alongside his cock rubbing against your walls, your arms coming to loop themselves around the back of the Captain's neck as his groans started to become more and more audible.

His cock was touching all the right spots inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyes. "Fuck—" He snarled. "Archons...your cunt is squeezing me so tightly." He groaned, his head coming to bury itself in the crook of your head before he whispered more words you were too cock-drunk to decipher. You whined when he sped up the pace of his thrusts against you, your cock-drunk babbles turning from moaning to pleading for him to go easier on you, much to the harbinger's amusement. "Too much?" He mocked, faking sympathy as he fucked you harder in turn. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

He was suffocating you in the best way possible as each time his cock slid into you, it practically punched the air from your lungs, the scent of sex in the air making it feel like it was hard to breathe. But you loved it. You assume that's why your second orgasm snuck upon you so suddenly, the presence of people watching your boss fuck you silly on his lap...the degrading words he whispered into your ear in combination to the pleasure. It was all making your mind spin. "You're fucking tightening up on me..." Capitano grit his teeth together, his claws beginning to dig into your skin.

"Gonna cum?" He asked before he kissed the side of your neck, lightly nipping it as he felt his orgasm begin to approach as well. "Cum all over my cock then." He cooed, the feeling of his twitching dick battering against your cervix making you let out a few more strangled moans before you froze again him with a loud cry.

"Fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck." He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm for a few more thrusts until he stilled against your still twitching pussy with a loud hiss of his own. You moaned softly as you struggled to come down from being dicked down, a dopey grin plastering itself onto your face as you looked behind you with both a happy expression and a shy one.

The harbinger, although dazed and hidden behind his mask, smirked confidently, the way he moved to run his fingers through your hair shockingly gentle.

He doubted you would want to go and find someone else to fuck after tonight.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, love your work.

I was thinking a maybe a break up and make up fic with:

Angst Prompt 31. “You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?”

Fluff prompt 7. “You’re the only person I want to spend my life with”

With Eddie Munson/Y/N Henderson or Y/N Wheeler. A sister from one of the main party.

Eddie and Y/N have been together before season 1. Season 1 happens, Y/N was there. Resulting in her getting closer to Steve or Jonathan, to which Eddie thinks Y/N is cheating on him. Even catches Steve/Jonathan comforting Y/N and gets the wrong idea. They break up. The younger brother of Y/N tells Eddie off and makes him rethink things. Leading to them getting back together.

Thank you so much! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Friends? Or something else?

Y/N Wheeler was quite different from her sister, Nancy. Nancy liked the boy next door vibe, and Y/N liked the rebel bad boy. Y/N didn't see what Nancy ever saw in Steve in the beginning. But he turned out to be a sweet guy when Nancy stomped on his heart.

She felt bad for Steve, but Y/N wanted to spend her free time with Eddie. It was no shock that the two fell for each other. Eddie was exactly her type, the leather, the attitude, and the nasty mouth he kissed her with.

Anyone could see she was smitten with the boy. She kissed the ground he walked on. She would do anything he asked, and do it happily.

It was a shame all he did was doubt her love for him

~~~

Eddie and Steve didn't really get along. Back when Nancy and Steve were together, the sisters loved double dates.

As Y/N fed Eddie fries and shared chocolate milkshakes, Nancy and Steve would argue across from them. Half of their double dates ended with Eddie and Y/N sneaking off.

Eddie didn't like the way Steve carried himself. He thought he was so superior compared to the rest of them and that didn't sit well with Eddie. And Y/N thought the same. She hated the way he treated Eddie.

Y/N just couldn't get along with Steve.

Until Nancy broke up with him and he finally showed his true self.

She couldn't lie. She felt bad for Steve. He showed up to their house with flowers but Nancy was already out with friends. Y/N couldn't leave him outside and alone. She let him in and before she knew it she was comforting him.

He cried into her arms as he talked about how Nancy was all he had left.

"I'll be here for you, I promise."

And she meant it. Whenever Steve called, she listened to what he had to say. Nancy was a little bothered at first. She found it weird her ex-boyfriend was using her little sister as a shoulder. But then Steve began to change, in a way Nancy thought wasn't possible.

The friendship helped Steve and Nancy accept that. It even helped get them back on normal speaking terms.

Eddie hated it, though. He hated having Y/N in his lap, rocking her hips against his. His tongue battled hers as the music played through his shitty speakers.

"Wheeler, call for Wheeler."

Steve's voice cut through the moment like a knife. The static voice worked its way through the talkie and Y/N pulled back.

"One second," she whispered.

Eddie felt his stomach turn as she grabbed the talkie and went outside. He wanted to trust her, he so badly did. But it was so hard when she'd always leave the room to talk to him. Why can't she talk to him in front of her boyfriend? It meant she was hiding something.

She had to be cheating on him.

And the thought of it broke his heart.

The one time he was in love, she found someone else.

~

What Eddie didn't know was that Steve and Y/N found themselves thrown into some type of supernatural portal. Something called the upside down? She wasn't quite sure what it all meant yet, but all she knew was that she and Steve fought hand in hand for months on end.

The world seemed to be back to normal and they wanted to keep it that way. She didn't want Eddie to get dragged into all of it. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to him. So she demanded every single one in the gang keep what happened a secret.

It was sworn that Eddie never found out what happened a few months back.

As a result of being at war with Steve, meant their friendship grew so strong that they truly became best friends. They leaned on each other when they needed it the most.

Eddie didn't understand how one minute she hated Steve and the next, she ran the second he called. He knew something happened between them. He tried to piece together a timeline, but he drew blanks.

~

She bounced back into the trailer with an apologetic smile on her face.

"Steve needs to talk some stuff out. He got in a fight with his dad. Can we raincheck the movie?" she asked

Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't surprised.

"Sure thing," Eddie smiled. He was good at pretending that nothing was wrong. So well that she had no idea she was ruining their relationship the more she picked Steve.

~~~

"Do you think you'll come to the hideout tonight?" Eddie asked as he wrapped his arms around Y/N. Her back to his chest as she crammed books in her locker.

His lips kissed her neck as he swayed them back and forth.

"Ew, get a room." Nancy gagged, but a smile on her face. Nancy loved seeing her sister in love. She was the main reason Nancy ended things with Steve.

Nancy wanted what Y/N and Eddie had, and she didn't feel like she did with Steve.

"Um, I'm sorry but I don't think I can." Y/N cringed as Eddie's touch was gone in a second.

Nancy sensed the air change and quickly left them alone. Nancy knew tonight was a meeting with the gang, they were worried the upside down was opening again. But Eddie couldn't know.

"Don't even tell me it's because you'll be with Steve." Eddie snapped.

Y/N felt nervous to turn around. She gulped as she turned around, that same apologetic look in her eyes.

"Why now? Can he just go to fucking therapy and stop using my girlfriend?"

"Eds, be nice," she tried, but she could tell by the look on his face that he was strongly irritated.

"What's wrong?" she asked, she reached to wrap her arms around his neck. She didn't hide the pain she felt when he backed away.

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that my girlfriend doesn't seem to give a shit that I exist." Eddie spat, he wanted to keep his anger in check but he couldn't help but sound pissed.

"Of course I do! Tonight I just had prior plans."

"Cancel and come with me," Eddie said, his voice soft as he grabbed her hand. He turned his puppy eyes to her as he begged.

"I can't cancel, Eds." She sighed sadly

The anger washed up as quickly as it washed away.

He dropped her hand like it burned. Her hand was dead against her side as it dangled.

"Why not?" he challenged

"They all need me, baby," she said softly

Eddie shook his head and chuckled darkly.

"They do or Steve does?"

"Eddie, you know it's not like that, right?" She said, her heart broke as she watched the insecurity flash across his face. Had he been upset about Steve all this time? Was she a horrible girlfriend for not noticing?

"Just sometimes I need my girlfriend too," he said sadly, then walked off.

"Eddie, no wait," she said, she grabbed his hand. She felt her throat close up as he sniffled.

"Forget it. I'll tell you about the show whenever I see you."

"Eddie, please. I'm sorry." she tried, she wanted to tell him the truth but she couldn't.

"I know, I'll see you later," he said, his mouth in a tight line as he walked away.

~

Y/N couldn't focus during the meeting. Her brain focused on the little fight with Eddie. Had she been neglecting him? She would never intentionally hurt him and she hated that she still did.

Steve was listening to Dustin when he heard sniffles. He looked beside him and watched as Y/N silently cried. Her head down as she used her shirt to catch the tears.

"You okay?" Steve whispered in her ear

"Course," she said, putting on a fake smile as she looked at him

But looking at Steve made her think of Eddie. And thinking of Eddie caused a loud sob to escape.

The gang all looked in her direction. Nancy and Mike watched with concern as she stood up.

"Sorry, need a minute." she apologized, she raced up the stairs and closed the basement door behind her.

She dropped her body on the front step and let the sobs take over her body. She cried into her hands as the afternoon played through her head on an endless loop.

Steve followed behind her, he sat next to her and he wrapped his arms around her. She turned her body into his and sobbed. Her wet tears soaked his shirt as she sobbed.

"What is going on?" he whispered, he gently rubbed her back as she tried to get ahold of herself.

She told him everything that happened, Steve felt a puddle of guilt in his stomach. He pulled her away, it was his fault Eddie was upset.

They were lost in their own world, no idea that as Steve placed a comforting kiss on her forehead Eddie was in the driveway.

Eddie's heavy feet stomped towards them. They jumped apart hearing his boots crunch the sticks below.

Steve stood up and held his hands in defense

"Munson, I swear it-" but he didn't get to finish his sentence.

Eddie went at him, a huge right punch connected straight against Steve's eye. Steve crumbled to the grass instantly as he held his eye.

"EDDIE!" Y/N gasped, she quickly jumped in front of Steve as Eddie went to charge forward.

"Not like that right?" Eddie spat, his voice filled with venom as he shot her words right back at her.

"Eddie," Steve groaned as he stood up. He looked at Eddie with one eye, holding the bruising one. "It's not what you think, I swear."

"I don't give a single fuck about what you have to say" Eddie hissed as he pointed at Steve over Y/N's shoulder.

"Steve, can you give us a second?" Y/N asked, but her eyes never left Eddie.

Once she heard the front door shut, she took a deep breath.

"How could you do this to me?" Eddie asked, his voice cracked as the first round of tears fell down his face. "We were so in love. You used to love me so much. You used to never leave my side and now? Now I can barely remember the last time we even had sex."

"Oh Eddie," she whimpered as she stepped forward and held his face in her hands. She cried seeing him cry. "We are in love! I still love you. I love you more and more every day. I'm sorry I've gotten so caught up with Steve but I promise you it is not because I have feelings for him. I didn't know you were missing me so much."

"How could you know? You won't see me for more than ten minutes." he snapped, he grabbed her hands and shoved them off of his face. She tried to ignore the drop of her heart.

"You're right. I am so sorry. Talk to me, let's talk it out."

"I don't think I even want to anymore," he confessed. YN shook her head as she panicked.

"No, baby, You can do it, just tell me what you are feeling, please," she begged, she fought hard not to touch him. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around him but she couldn't tell if he wanted her to touch him.

"You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?" Eddie said, he lashed out as his tears turned into anger. His voice rose. "For Steve? I mean how could you even do this to Nancy?"

"She doesn't care because she knows we are just friends!" Y/N argued. "Like I've told you! There is nothing between him and I."

"YOU AND I USED TO BE FRIENDS, SHIT CHANGES Y/N!" he screamed, no doubt letting the neighbors know a fight was breaking out

"That's different." she cried, tears falling down her face.

"HOW?" he screamed as he stepped closer. Right in her face as he demanded his answer.

"BECAUSE I WAS ALREADY IN LOVE WITH YOU, ASSHOLE. I KNEW I LOVED YOU AND I HAD TO PRETEND I DIDN'T BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO LOSE YOU AS A FRIEND. THAT IS WHY IT IS DIFFERENT. I'VE NEVER WANTED TO KISS STEVE OR WONDERED WHAT HE TASTED LIKE. IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU!" she cried, it hurt to have him so close and not touch him. She wanted to have the right words to say.

"Then why has it only been Steve, lately?" Eddie asked, breaking down as the words left his tongue. More tears fell as he looked into her eyes. He used to see through her, but something happened and her eyes never told him the truth anymore.

"I can't tell you because it would kill me if you got hurt because of me." She watched as he nodded and choked back his tears. His red eyes looked into hers.

"You've been hurting me for months, and you are still breathing," her heart shattered as he began to step back, "Steve or not, it's clear you don't have the time for me. Take me off that full plate you have."

"Eddie, please don't" she sobbed as he kept stepping back. With each step he took, she made that step forward.

"If you ever truly loved me, you'll let me heal from you. I don't deserve to feel second best by my own girlfriend."

With those words, she stopped. She planted her feet in the grass as he turned around. She covered her mouth as he got in his van. Before he closed the door, she yelled his name.

He looked over at her

"I need you to know that I'm doing what you asked. I'll leave you alone and give you the space you need because it'll prove that I love you. Even if it kills me to never be with you again."

She watched as he didn't say a word, just closing his door and taking off down the road.

~~~

Mike had seen both his sisters experience breakups, but nothing as bad as Y/N.

It's been a week since the breakup, and Y/N barely leaves her room. She came out to use the bathroom, sometimes she'd sit in the kitchen and stare at the phone. She'd pray that he would call, but she knew he wouldn't. After a few hours, she'd go right back up to her room.

"Poor girl. I've never seen her so heartbroken." Karen said as she sat down at the dinner table. "Has she done any of the schoolwork she missed?"

"Barely, I've turned in a few of her assignments." Nancy said, "She won't even talk to me about it."

"Shame on that boy for hurting her," Karen said as she shook her head, "I wish I could smack some sense into him."

His mom's words gave Mike an idea.

~

The next morning Mike biked to Eddie's trailer. It was a Saturday morning so he knew Eddie would be rotting in bed.

He was done seeing his sister lose herself

and he was done with Eddie's cranky ass during Hellfire.

He threw his bike into the dirt as he raced up to Eddie's trailer. He pounded on the door.

"Wheeler?" Eddie said confused, his eyes half open as he yawned.

"We need to talk," Mike snapped, letting himself in the trailer and sitting on the couch.

"Great, another fight with a wheeler," Eddie mumbled to himself.

"What can I help you with?" Eddie asked as he stood.

"Why does it look like you are sleeping on the couch?" Mike asked with sass as he pushed the bundle of blankets out of his way. "Bedroom reeks of all the random girls you've been sleeping with?" he hissed.

"Woah, little Wheeler. What I do in my bedroom is none of your business. What makes you think I'm sleeping with random girls? Is that how your sister is dealing with the breakup?" Eddie asked, he couldn't help but get mad at his own words.

"Oh shut your mouth," Mike snapped, "my sister isn't this whore you claim her to be."

"I know, that was uncalled for," Eddie said, "how...how is she?" he couldn't help but ask. It had been eating him up all week. He hadn't seen her once, hadn't heard her voice, and it killed him. He had no idea if she was breaking apart or completely fine with Eddie gone.

"Answer my question first," Mike demanded, he got off the couch and walked to Eddie's room. If there was a girl in there, Mike swore he'd kill Eddie before the upside-down had the chance.

"WHEELER!" Eddie yelled but Mike carried on. He flew Eddie's door open. And it was empty. The bed set is perfectly made, with a flower on the pillow with a note attached.

"And what slut is this for? Moving on already?" Mike snapped. He reached forward and grabbed the note.

"Give me that!" Eddie snapped back, snatching the note from his hands. "I'm not sleeping with anyone, okay? I haven't been in here since the breakup. She made my bed that morning and wrote me a note, and this was the first flower someone had given me. I just wanted to leave everything the way she touched it." Eddie explained. The room held too many memories, and it smelled of her.

"Can we talk in the living room?"

Mike nodded, knowing not to push Eddie further.

They walked back into the living room as Eddie closed his bedroom door. Eddie took a seat next to Mike.

"She's heartbroken," Mike said, Eddie looked over at him. "She doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and stares at the phone the second school ends until she knows you are asleep. She's miserable and it's all your fault!" Mike said, pissed at Eddie for hurting his sister. Mike stood up so he could tower over Eddie, by a little.

"You broke her and you better fix it!"

"I didn't do anything, Mike. You are too young to understand, but our relationship wasn't the same." Eddie sighed. He did feel awful hearing about how bad she was doing. Guilt in his bones as he pictured her staring at the phone.

There were so many times he wanted to call. At one point he didn't care if she ever had feelings for Steve, he wanted to be with her anyway. He'd watch her kiss Steve a thousand times if she still picked Eddie to come home to.

"I might be young, but I'm not an idiot. Steve never liked her, he is still hung up on Nancy. And Y/N never liked Steve more than a friend. Hell, she barely understood what Nancy saw in him because he wasn't you. She is so in love with you that you are literally the only guy she sees worthy. I don't blame you for wanting to protect yourself. But she has been killing herself to protect you."

"But I don't understand why she can't tell me! We've been in a relationship for over a year, and she still has these secrets!" Eddie argued.

"It's not her secret to tell! It's mine, okay?" Mike said, Eddie looked at him confused. "What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. But you have to believe me. It'll explain why Y/N thought it would protect you to keep you out of it."

Eddie sat and listened as Mike explained what happened over the past year. The upside down and the battles. How Y/N and Steve got thrown together and they could only turn to each other because of it. But it all made sense. She kept promising she couldn't tell because if he got hurt, it would kill her. Because if Eddie got hurt, he wouldn't survive.

~~~

Eddie waited a day before he picked up the phone. He felt nervous as he dialed the number he knew by heart.

It rang for a second before a voice appeared on the other end

"Hello, Y/N speaking,"

Eddie closed his eyes at the sadness in her voice.

"Hey, darling. It's, uh me, Eddie." He stuttered out

"I knew it was you by the first word," she laughed sadly. She hated how hard it seemed to talk to him. Like she didn't know what to say.

"Right," he chuckled, "I was hoping we could talk? Maybe better in person?" He drummed his hands against the wall as he heard her breathing heavily through the phone.

"Yeah, um when and where?" Her voice cracked as she blinked back her tears. This was the final moment, he wanted to break it off officially. She gave him his space and he was ready for it to be forever.

"Please don't cry, sweetheart." He begged, choking up himself as he listened to her.

"I'm fine!" She lied, "Just tell me when and where."

"My place and the sooner the better."

He clenched his eyes in pain as she whimpered and let out a soft okay before the phone went dead.

~

She drove over to his trailer, unable to keep the tears back.

She was scared to see him again. She barely kept it together hearing his voice again. She didn't want to cry when she saw him, but it was all she had been doing for the past week.

Eddie was against his trailer smoking a cigarette when she pulled up. She took another deep breath as she turned off the car. Even having that small glimpse sent her head into a spiral.

Eddie smashed his cigarette as she walked up to him. She wore one of his old hoodies, and a pair of sweats she stole after their first movie date. Her eyes were majority swollen and red. Her nose was red as she rubbed it with his sleeve.

"Hi, sweets" Eddie cooed, as he opened his arms. Within seconds her body crashed into his as she wrapped her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on her head, inhaling her scent. He kissed her head, and every painful feeling in his body melted away.

She sobbed as she inhaled his clothes. All she wanted was to be with him again, and she was. She kept squeezing him tighter, hoping he'd feel closer.

"Don't cry, my love," he said into her hair, rubbing her back.

"I missed you so much," she sobbed, "it was so hard to give you the space you wanted."

"I missed you too, baby girl. I'm so sorry I made you give me space. I'm so sorry for the mess I made since I didn't communicate when I should have. Let's go inside." He let go of her body but laced his hand with hers as they walked into the trailer. Eddie led her to his room, he opened the door and closed it behind him. She refused to let go of his hand, but he didn't ask her to.

She wasn't sure how long she'd have before he wanted space again. He sat beside her as she looked around his room. She noticed it was the same as a week ago, but she didn't say anything.

instead of sitting next to her, he dropped to his knees and rested his head on her lap. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, she scratched his head in the way he loves.

"I'm sorry for fucking this up. I should have trusted you, I'm sorry I didn't. I thought I needed space, but all it did was make me miss you." He melted into her touch as her fingers continued to run through his hair. "I'm so in love with you. I wasn't used to sharing you and I felt like I was losing you." His puppy eyes looked up at her as he sat up on his knees.

He laced his hands with hers and rested them on her lap

"I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you. You are the only boy I'd ever want. I love you and that won't ever change." She said she unlaced their hands so she could cup his face. Her thumbs rubbed his wet cheeks as she leaned in and placed her lips on his.

Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist, his palms resting on her back as he kissed her back. Eddie straightened himself as he deepened the kiss. He kept his lips on hers as he pushed her back and stood up. Her back was against his mattress as he climbed on top of her. The kiss grew more intense and hungry as her hands moved to his stomach. His right hand rested on her cheek, he moaned as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.

The kiss sent goosebumps rising on her skin. The feelings she felt when she kissed Eddie never went away, it was always butterflies and needing more.

Eddie pulled away for air, his eyes soaking her in. She was slow to open her eyes but when she did she was staring into Eddie's.

“You’re the only person I want to spend my life with” she whispered

"Just like the note said." he smiled

"Just like the note said," she laughed. Already missing his lips, she placed her hand on the back of his neck and brought his lips to hers. She frowned when Eddie pulled back a little, not letting their lips meet.

"Before I get carried away with you," Eddie winked, she blushed and bit her lip. "Will you be my girl again?"

"I never stopped,"

Eddie smiled and smashed his lips back on hers. They hungrily touched each other, showing how much they missed it and never wanted space again.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[seresinhangmanjake]

Becoming His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x concubine!reader

Summary: Feyd chooses you as his concubine

Notes/Warnings: Smut (but not an overwhelming amount), so 18+. Possessiveness (ownership of other human beings and whatnot). It changes from third person perspective to second person, so i’m sorry if that irritates some people, but I just thought that it expressed the feelings of the story better, considering the tonal switch. This is based on a request. Sorry if there are typos.

It can be read as stand-alone, but it goes along with the following fics: His, Don't Touch What's His, and Only His. This fic takes place before any of those.

Words: 2400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Feyd was sent for peace. The Baron sees use in House Wallach and very specifically instructed his favorite nephew to arrange a deal. With House Wallach’s planet producing items of value, the Baron would not attempt domination over their world in exchange for those items. That seemed fair—as fair as the Harkonnens get—but if one party fails to deliver, consequences follow. Sometimes, that means the taking of other items of value.

They aren’t prisoners of war—they can’t be considered such when war did not actually occur—but they’re close enough: women taken from their home planet after their leaders failed to protect them, leaving them weak and vulnerable and unprepared for what their new lives will thrust upon them. For the first time in their blip of existence, they are a foreigner's property; the most humiliating of circumstances for women of their status: three high-ranking handmaids, the live-in bene gesserit, and the daughter of their Lord and Lady. And Feyd has to choose one. 

“It’s within your right,” the Baron tells him. “And expected. To turn them away without taking one for yourself would be a showing of weakness.”

Feyd scans each one. He supposes they’re all appealing in their own ways. The handmaids were raised to obey, an ability Feyd would have them exercise often. The bene gesserit has knowledge beyond her years. And the benefits of owning an heir of a Great House can be summed up by title alone. 

However, they have their faults as well. The handmaids aren’t particularly beautiful, and as they stand there, shaking, huddled together, with their eyes down and chins tucked into their chests, Feyd finds them grossly undesirable. If he wanted a mouse, he would take one of his own servants. 

The bene gesserit, regardless of appearance, is a witch whose most vital loyalty will belong to the Reverend Mother and her followers before House Harkonnen—a traitorous snake in the making. He cannot have a woman in his bed that he will be unable to trust.  

The one remaining, the Lady, she’s fearless. He can see it already in the set pout of her pretty lips. He doesn’t like fearlessness; it’s disrespectful, potentially disobedient, but at the same time, she encapsulates everything else he could want: a face he doesn’t hate to look upon, to say the very least; nobility, a reminder that he claimed something invaluable to an entire planet; and perhaps most intriguing: she’ll be a challenge—not easily torn down—and the more he looks at her, the more the others fade into nonexistence. 

Feyd steps closer to her, drawn in by delicate features, and waves of hair, and luscious curves. 

“This one,” he says. 

With those two words, a spark shoots across her irises. Her knitted brow soothes. Her mouth, now unburdened by the weight of the pout, twitches up in the corners. There’s a hint of a dimple in her right cheek that is there and then gone, taken from him before he can fully understand why his heart thumped at the sight of it. 

“Fine,” the Baron replies. 

Commanding his guards, he says, “Rid of the others,” prompting gasps and tears of fear, and even Feyd is unsure what will become of them. Slaves? Entertainment in the arena? Perhaps his uncle will let him feed them to his pets.

To his servants, the Baron says, “Clean her up.”

And to his nephew, he says, “She’ll be brought to you later,” just before two small Harkonnen women take her by the arms and lead her away.

—

He thought all afternoon of the noises he would soon be forcing from you. The yelps, the squeals, the cracking from your grinding teeth. Everyone’s flesh makes a unique sound when sliced open, and he imagined what sound your flesh would make. The masterpiece your face would be after your tears melt your makeup he’d be proud to claim as his work. 

But then his servants bring you to him. They push you through the door and position you in front of him before skittering away, and in the silence they leave behind, Feyd can only detect his own heartbeat. 

He liked you in the pinkish-toned clothing traditional of your house—it made you stick out amongst the darkness surrounding you, like uncorrupted sweetness in its last moments—but in Harkonnen black, you’re something else entirely. 

He’s read of goddesses and angels, deities and divine spirits lost with those who once worshipped them, and he always wondered how such beings cultivated mass devotion without the consistent doling out of immense pain. But he gets it now. He understands the draw of the ethereal. 

After minutes of staring, his eyes feel dry, scratchy; he needs to blink, he needs to close his parted mouth, but he can’t, nor can he form a coherent thought separated from the way your hair frames your face and how the silk cascading down your body doesn’t do a perfect job of hiding everything underneath. Touch. He wants to touch. Run hands over soft skin. Press his lips to–

He stops himself. That’s wrong. He is meant to sink his teeth into you. He should be digging his nails into flesh, draining blood, staining sheets, licking tears from cheeks like the men before him have done to their concubines. 

She’s yours, so train her well—that’s what his uncle said, and Feyd knows for a fact that the Harkonnen method of training a woman is devoid of anything but pure torture. Harkonnen training is rough, crude, brutal on the body and mind to break someone down. Only the strong build themselves back up into warriors—like he did—and concubines are not meant to attempt that feat.

“Am I going to stand here all night?”

Your voice sends a chill down his spine, yanking him out of his head. He finally blinks. As his eyes meet yours, he swallows and says, “Do you want to stand there all night?”

“Not particularly,” you tell him. “And I don’t think your servants spent hours fixing me up just so I can take post like a statue at the foot of your bed.”

He wouldn’t mind a statue in your likeness, actually. He’d feel a lot less conflicted if he had two of you at his disposal; one for what a concubine is meant for, and one unaltered from the way you are right now—no pain in your eyes, no quiver to your lip, no marks marring your skin. 

“They did not,” he confirms. 

He pushes off the desk he had been leaning against and uncrosses his arms as he steps toward you, stopping just before colliding with your body. Your head tilts back, and he knows he is supposed to smirk at your powerlessness; his eyes should be pouring with the promises of a painful future, but he can’t access that otherwise always-accessible emotion. The hatred is not quite there. The vile pool of black sludge that has resided within him from the moment he pierced his mother’s throat with a blade has started to drain because of the doe eyes that stare up at him. 

“I’m not scared of you,” he hears, and for a second, he cannot tell if the words came from your mouth or from his. But you don’t reply, so that must be his role.

“It's stupid not to be scared of me.”

“Maybe,” you say, your head cocking, “but you don't look at me like you want me to be scared of you.”

That right there—he should kill you for that. You see too much. He wonders if you see his thoughts as well. He doesn’t need a woman with eyes that see more than what is tangibly in front of her. 

Instead of his body operating on its own, he has to force his hand to wrap around the neck of the threat before him. But five seconds of the delicate column in his grasp goes by, and then ten, and then fifteen, and his fingers have yet to squeeze any tighter. Surprise is etched onto your face, but it’s different. It’s not the look of a woman suddenly in a vulnerable position. By the way your eyes trail from his face to bicep to forearm, it’s more like you’re shocked that his touch is as warm as it is, as if you expected the paleness of his skin to mean hot blood does not course through his veins. 

Tentatively, your hands reach up until your palms are cupping his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to jerk away as your tongue slides out to wet your lips and you rise on your toes. You gently tilt his head down to yours, and then you brush your mouth over his. 

Feyd’s lungs tighten in his chest as you do it again. The hand around your neck slides into your hair, holding your head in place so he can take more, kiss harder. But it’s not long that he’s devouring your taste before he comes to his senses and shoves you away. 

“Stop that,” he spits, his brow drawn. “I did not tell you to do that.” 

Your teeth trap your bottom lip. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“Lay on the bed,” he says, then quickly adds, “On your stomach.” It’s better that way. If he isn’t focusing on you, your eyes, your lips, then he won’t be distracted from his own pleasure.

You don’t hesitate to do as he says, and you walk past him to the mattress. He doesn’t turn to watch you shed your thin gown, fearing what the combined vision of face and bare body will do to him, so he works on removing his own clothes, facing you only once he hears the shifting of the coverings on his bed. 

Your arms are bent, hands overlapped under your head as you wait for him to join, and after taking in the curvature of spine and the dip in lower back before the swell of bottom, he does, settling behind you. 

He doesn’t know where to start. There’s so much to take in and he does his best to memorize it all until, eventually, he lets his palm slide up the center of your back. When it causes you to shiver, he rips his hand away.

“It wasn’t bad,” you tell him. “I’m fine.”

Feyd hums in a manner intended to come off much more displeased than it does. He didn’t ask if you were fine, and a scolding is on the tip of his tongue for even suggesting the idea, but the piece of him that knows he would’ve stopped if you had said the opposite keeps the words from reaching past his throat.

Feyd tries once more, this time placing his hand at your hip for purchase as he guides himself inside of you with the other. With great effort, he swallows his gasp before he falls forward on clenched fists that press into the mattress on either side of your breasts. 

You’re warmer than he expected. Tight and slick and warm, and amidst the sensations that take over his entire being, he somehow manages to find enough clarity to question the normalcy of your body. 

Harkonnen women aren’t warm like this. Warm, yes, but your warmth is more comforting, more engulfing. He’ll feel an unpleasant chill when he removes himself from you and so decides it might be best to stay right there inside of you for as long as he can. But after he hears the little sound you make through the ringing in his ears, he doesn’t know how much longer that will be.

He pulls out slightly and then pushes in, and he receives another of your sounds, louder this time. Your hips lift an inch off the mattress, pushing back into his. He thrusts again and his brain fuzzes. When he shoves in deeper, you yelp at the spot he hits and he loses his mind entirely, left with the sole desire to see how many notes he can get you to sing for him. He finds there are many more, and as you continue to belt out a chorus along with each of his movements, he suddenly thinks: fuck everything else. Fuck the things he is supposed to be doing to you. Fuck the lessons he is supposed to be teaching you. Fuck the training that is supposed to be putting you in your place. He needs to see you. 

Your head lifts and you look back at him as best you can when he leaves your body. “Why did you st–”

“Turn over,” he demands with heavy breaths.

“What?”

You’re not fast enough. His hands firmly grip your hips and he flips you onto your back, spreading your legs and stuffing himself back inside of you. You moan. Your eyelashes flutter. Your mouth stays perfectly parted as you reach over your head to tighten your fingers into the pillow. 

That’s exactly what he wanted, and that’s all it takes to shun his cares for anything other than the way you look beneath him. His chest meets yours and he darts his tongue out to lick the bottom of your upper lip before capturing your mouth with his. You kiss him just as much as he is kissing you. You touch him as much as he is touching you. Your legs wrap around him, taking everything he has until his hips stutter and he’s coating the walls that are milking him with each pulsating squeeze. 

He pulls out with ragged breaths, body falling beside yours, and as you both stare at the ceiling, his mind finally clears with the sudden realization that what he just did might’ve stolen some of his power and handed it to you. You know of the Harkonnens’ cruelty—everyone does—but what he gave you was not that, and he cannot allow you to get the wrong impression.

“You're mine,” he reminds you. “I own you. You follow my orders. Don’t irritate me. Don’t speak unless I am the one speaking to you. You go where I tell you to go. You do what I want you to do. And don’t get any ideas that you’re not disposable to me.”

Minutes pass in silence, but then you say, “What happens if you end up liking me?”

That question hits him right in the gut. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what the fuck happens if he likes you more than he already does. It won’t do him any good; he knows that. 

His back teeth clench. “I won't,” he says. “So don’t ever ask me that again.”

[themultifanshipper]

hatesex with Daniel Riccardo x reader 🟠 reader is a sister of either max or Norris lol whatever works for you but they're at a party then Daniel and reader get to a huge argument max/Lando told them to settle it privately so they went to the guest room to talk it out and I guess you know where the story goes from here (reader getting absolutely railed by Daniel)

It’s hard to make a name for yourself in motorsports when your last name is already famous, in the form of a three time formula one world champion.

Warnings: driver!reader, Verstappen!reader, bickering, Daniel is a real dick in this one guys, but so is reader, rancid vibes, smut, PinV sex, rough sex, kinda dubious consent at first, choking, y’all know the drill, basically fighting and fucking at the same time, it's something

(Also I forgot to put the first prompt in the fic but it's the viiibe)

You'd trailed behind him, following his every step (with a few years difference) and at the age of 21 you were starting your second year driving for VCARB.

You had met Daniel back when he and Max were teammates, and you immediately disliked him.

He flirted with everything that had a pulse, and he'd jokingly made a pass at you, and you'd gone straight to tell your brother.

You were 15.

It didn't go down well, at all.

On both sides. Max was furious at him for flirting with you, and Daniel was furious at you for snitching given that he had no idea Max was your brother.

You'd always been a hot-headed child. Using your mouth before your brain was your biggest flaw.

Then Daniel moved to Renault and you didn't see him again much after that.

But you vowed that if he was still in F1 by the time you got there, you would make his life a living hell.

And it was just your luck, Perez got fired at the beginning of 2023, Yuki was promoted, and your teammate Nyck was dropped mid season. Which meant that through some kind of fucked up twist of fate, Daniel Ricciardo was now your teammate. And to make matters worse, Redbull's circus pony also had the seat the year after.

You were the Verstappen project 2.0, and Daniel was a deeply resentful motherfucker.

Forget Senna and Prost, forget Brocedes, forget the old Verstappen-Ricciardo rivalry.

There was a new Verstappen in town, and she was worse than the last.

More aggressive, more petty, more youthful, and more talented (although Max would disagree with that last one).

Daniel didn't stand a fucking chance.

You'd even tried to buy each other out of the team, unsuccessfully.

But you did have one thing over him, and he didn’t even know it yet. Max was retiring after his 4th title, and you had been given his seat.

Max of course was good friends with Daniel, which made social situations quite awkward sometimes.

Like the party you were currently at.

You had won the last race, in Australia of all places, and there was a two week break during which Lewis (coming off the high of a p2 in a shitbox of a Mercedes) decided to throw a massive party in his penthouse.

Lewis knew how to throw a party, no one could deny that, but he seriously needed to be more careful what kind of scum he let through his front door.

That was your alcohol addled mind talking as you spotted Daniel walk in, stupid shirt open showing his stupid toned chest and stupid pants accentuating his slutty waist and stupid thick thighs…

That was also the alcohol talking.

Somehow you both ended up in the same circle on the patio along with a few other drivers.

The conversation inevitably steered towards Daniel's future in F1 given that he didn't yet have a contract for the 2025 season.

“So how does it feel being outperformed by not one, but two Verstappens in your career?”

You knew the question was petty and stupid and could only lead to another one of your regularly scheduled shouting matches, but you didn't give a shit.

He stopped mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes at you.

“And, how does it feel that you're in a backmarker team 14 years into your career, being overshadowed by someone in their second year?”

The silence was palpable, the other drivers were sipping their drinks and pretending they weren't listening.

Daniel was staring at you as if he couldn't believe you would dare start this shit in front of the others.

But you were drunk and loose lipped and right now you were capable of saying anything to rile him up.

Such as-

“And, hear me out, wouldn't it be funny if I got the Redbull seat before you do? And I didn’t even have to suck Christian's dick to get it!”

The fact that you were getting the other seat next year hadn't been revealed to the public yet, or the other drivers, or Daniel.

The words hit the group like a freight train, and you almost regretted opening your mouth, but the look on Daniel's face made it entirely worth it.

His nostrils flared and he slowly got up, didn't say a single word, and went back inside.

 The circle let out a collective breath.

“No comeback” you sighed, disappointed, downing the rest of your glass.

Lando, who was sitting next to you stared at you “Is it true about the Redbull seat?”

You smirked at him.

“Maybeee”

You stood up, brushed yourself off and followed Daniel inside, with the intention of getting another drink, when you were stopped in the hallway by your brother.

“What the fuck did you say to Daniel?” he hissed as he pushed you into the kitchen. “He’s angrily ranting about Christian and I just know you have something to do with it!”

You crossed your arms defiantly and stared at the neck of his polo shirt, avoiding his eyes.

“I might have mentioned something about him being washed and not being considered for next year’s Redbull's seat…” you shrugged “He's only angry because it's true”

Daniel chose that exact moment to walk into the kitchen, and when his eyes landed on you he scoffed.

“Getting scolded by your big brother now? Must be hard living in his shadow”

Once again, your mouth reacted quicker than your brain.

“That's rich coming from Redbull's talentless cash cow”

“You only just turned 21 and you're already drinking so much everything out of your mouth is bullshit-”

“Okay, that's it!” Max yelled.

He slammed his drink down next to yours on the counter and dragged you to the nearest guest room, motioning for Daniel to follow you.

“You two are actually driving me up the wall with this shit! I don't know why you hate each other so much but I am sick of the constant bickering. You are not coming out of this room until you find some way to get along!”

He slammed the door shut on his way out and you and Daniel were left in silence.

You just stared at each other, full of contempt.

“I hate you”

“Oh, I know! You’ve made that abundantly clear!”

Silence once again fell upon you because neither of you had anything constructive or remotely helpful to say, so you sat down on the bed and picked at your nails.

He just scoffed again and started pacing around the room.

You didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it felt like it stretched on for at least ten good minutes before you decided you’d had enough.

You stood up abruptly, planning on storming out of there without a word, your brother be damned, when you stopped by Daniel speaking up before you’d even made it halfway across the room.

“Is true about the RedBull seat?”

You realized for the first time how shitty his situation actually was. And it probably wasn’t made any better by your constant insulting him. And breaking the news to him like that, in front of everyone was probably humiliating, and quite frankly a very shitty thing to-

“Because if it is you definitely don’t deserve it. It should go to a driver that’s earned it with experience, not Max’s second rate bitch of a sister”

Okay, never mind then.

You turned around to face him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem” he started, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning against “is that you don’t deserve that seat, I do.”

“Well despite you sucking Christian’s dick for a decade, he doesn’t agree.”

Daniel stepped towards you, towering over your frame menacingly but you continued “I’ve scored double the points in the first half of this season that you scored in your entire time at this team, so whether you like it or not, I’ll be taking Max’s seat next year.”

He growled and leaned down so that there was barely an inch between your faces. “Say that again, I dare you.”

“Which part? The part about me being better than you? Or the part about how you’ve been bending over for any team boss that’ll have you? It’s not exactl- mmf!”

He’d grabbed your neck and crashed his lips to yours, silencing the onslaught of painful truths he couldn’t accept.

You reflexively grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him closer, other hand weaving into his hair and pulling, making him grunt as he easily slipped his tongue into your eager mouth.

Fuck it felt good. It had been a while since you’d been able to find a random person who didn’t know who you were to have sex with, so you were slightly pent up. You could feel your body temperature rising as you started getting breathless, and Daniel bit your bottom lip.

You suddenly realised where you were and pushed him backwards roughly.

"I won in Australia"

“Fuck you” he panted.

“Never” you spat at him before attempting to walk past but he intercepted you and pushed you roughly onto the bed.

“Fuck you, fuck your trophy and fuck this fucking dress”

He took advantage of your disorientation to climb on himself and turn you over, hiking your hips up and shoving your dress up. 

“The fuck are you-“  you were interrupted by your panties being dragged down unceremoniously.

You gasped as a finger came to dip between your folds to feel the dampness that had pooled there. “Daniel don’t you fucking dare-“

“Pretty fucking wet for someone who claims to hate me” he slipped a finger in easily pumping it and out a couple of times before adding a second.

“I do hate you, and if you think anything you could possibly do will change that then you’re even more delusional than I thought” you managed to say through gritted teeth as he added a third, before undoing his belt and pushing his pants down just enough to get his hard cock out.

He popped the tip inside and slowly, inch by inch, slip into your tight heat.

I took everything you had in you to not make a sound, you refused to give him the satisfaction.

When he nudged your cervix you shuddered, but your lips stayed firmly sealed.

“Say the word and I’ll stop, sweetheart” he said, voice cracking with how good your walls felt around him, he’d waited for this moment for a long time.

You didn’t make a sound though, and he chuckled as he pulled out halfway.

“Thought so”

He thrusted back in roughly, making you choke on a moan as he continued at a relentless pace and his hips slapped against yours.

You whined quietly and he leaned over you, hips never faltering, to whisper in your ear “what was that beautiful? I didn’t quite catch it…”

After a particularly hard thrust you moaned properly for the first time and he laughed.

“Fuck you” you spat and his hand went to wrap into your hair to pull your head back as he mouthed at your neck.

“I am fucking you, and you’re going to come on my cock. Because even if you get the seat, I’ll get the satisfaction of knowing I have something Max doesn’t. This sweet fucking pussy, drooling helplessly around my cock while he’s in the other room.”

Each thrust was harder than the last, and your eyes were rolling back into your skull as you tried to maintain some sort of control.

But you were failing miserably, Daniel somehow hitting all the perfect spots as your legs gave out and you were forced to lay flat on the bed while Daniel pushed your head down into the pillows and he bullied his cock into your weeping cunt mercilessly.

“Daniel, fuck!” you whimpered, you high quickly approaching after the change of angle “Shit, I’m gonna…”

You were right on the edge, but Daniel pulled out suddenly, ripping your orgasm from your grasp.

“What-!”

He turned you over and pressed you into the mattress by your neck and shoved his cock back into you before you could protest further.

“I want to see you come undone on my cock, see your pretty face as you lose control.”

You gave him the most hate-filled look you could muster, but it quickly slipped away when he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder to deepen the angle.

Small whimpers escaped you despite you biting your lip to keep quiet.

That displeased Daniel greatly, so he grabbed your jaw and leaned over you.

“Open.”

He was so forceful you had no choice but to comply and he shoved two fingers in your mouth and pressed down on your tongue to stop you from concealing your noises.

“Wanna hear you baby, I want Max to hear how his precious little sister is actually a whore. How Christians new driver is fucking ruined on my cock. How despite how much you think you hate me, you’re going to scream my name while I fill you up.”

Your hands were scratching down his back at this point, only encouraging him to go harder, and your abandoned high quickly came back full force.

You moans got higher in pitch and Daniel used his other hand to rub messy circles over your puffy clit, essentially throwing you over the edge as your orgasm knocked the wind out of you.

Your cunt spasmed and clenched around Daniel and there wasn’t much he could do to hold off his own high as he came inside you, head falling to the crook of your neck as his hips finally grinded to a halt.

He didn’t move for a while as you both lay there catching your breaths, slowly coming to terms with what you’d just done.

“Max is going to fucking kill you” you said, and he snorted before pulled out.

“Oh please, Max is in love with me. Besides, who’s gonna tell him? You?” he raised a cocky eyebrow as you pursed your lips.

He was right, you sure as hell weren’t going to tell your brother about this.

“Whatever, you’re paying for my plan B. I’ll send you the bill.”

He just chuckled as you quickly got to your feet to pull your dress down and straighten yourself up in front of the large mirror in the corner (God, Lewis was a freak) before going off to find a bathroom to clean yourself up properly in.

In the corridor, you ran into Max, who crossed his arms and blocked your path.

“Well? Did you two sort it out?”

“No” you growled and he sighed dejectedly.

You didn’t have time for this though, you could feel Daniel’s cum leaking out of you and running down your leg, so you pushed Max out of the way and rushed to the nearest bathroom.

Unbeknownst to you, Daniel came out of the bedroom right after, and just as Max looked at him he was still putting his belt back on.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what that meant, Max saw red as Daniel froze, the older man noticing him a beat too late.

Well, so much for keeping it on the down low…

The rest of the season was going to be interesting…

[surielstea]

A Sudden Elopement

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Reader and Azriel suddenly get married without telling any of the others, the silently watch while every one figures it out for themselves.

Warnings: just fluff.

A. Note: just a short fic because I feel bad for being inactive as of late :c but the good news is, is that I’ll be very active for Eris week!! So keep an eye out for more Vanserra content 😻🙏

1.7k words

My eyes drooped with exhaustion as I attempted to keep my focus on the book I was reading. I was seated between my mate's legs in his lap, leaning back against his chest while he combed his scarred fingers through my hair. I sighed and closed my book, deciding I didn't have enough energy to read another chapter. I tossed it to the side of the bed and shifted lazily, flipping around to meet his hazel eyes gazing down at me.

"How was your book?" He hummed and I mumbled something he couldn't decipher while pulling myself up and stuffing my nose into the crook of his neck.

"That good, huh?" He teased, his arms moving to wrap around my waist.

I nod, tightening my grasp on him, needing him closer, lazily clinging to him like moss to a damp wall, infectious and dependent. But he didn't seem to care, only returned my embrace with the same tenderness "We should get married," He said softly and my eyes widened, now fully awake.

"What?"

"We should get married," He repeated with a casual tone.

"As in, right now?" I tilt my head, raising a brow at him.

"Well," He gave me an incredulous look. "Not right now, eventually, I want to marry you," He reiterated. A soft smile pulls at my lips.

"We've only been dating for a few months," I argue and even in the dim lighting I can see him blush.

"Yes, and we've been best friends for a decade," He argues and my smile widens, I straddle over his hips, sitting up and debating it.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd marry you now if I could, but do you really want to go through the hassle of planning one?" I speak logically but it's as if he only heard the first half of my sentence.

"Let's get married, right now," He grinned wildly and I flushed pink. "We don't have to do the hassle, you hate parties anyway. It can be just us, somewhere far or close I don't care. I just want to marry you," He expressed, intertwining our hands as I debated the irrational and sudden decision.

"Though I love how eager you are, I don't have a dress— much less, we don't have rings," I explain. "And as rich as you are, your funds are not bottomless," I say but he remains looking at me with the same loving look.

"Tell me exactly how you want to do it, and that's how it'll be done," He prompts and lets go of my hands, favoring placing them on my waist as I leaned down on my elbow, propped up against his chest.

"Well, it being just us doesn't sound too bad," I say, tracing shapes on his bicep with my free hand. "And I'd want to have a pretty gown, and I'd want to have our ceremony somewhere beautiful." I flick my eyes up to meet his unfaltering gaze. "And rings, I want everyone to know we belong to each other," I add quickly and his smile grows.

"Anything else?" He tilts his head but I shake mine, cupping his face and leaning down, kissing his lips softly. "I think, I just want to be your wife," I finalized and that seemed to have pleased him because the next thing I know he's flipping me over and kissing down my neck. And despite my exhaustion, I knew sleep wouldn't come until dawn.

—————

"So, how was your trip?" Feyre said excitedly, settling into the barstool beside me.

Azriel and I had gotten back after a month's vacation only a day ago, but everyone was eager to catch up. So we landed ourselves at Rita's, a local bar beloved by the citizens of Velaris. "As romantic as it sounds," I say with a soft blush, propping my head into my hands.

"Gods, I wish Rhys would take me on a surprise trip like that," She sighed dramatically and my smile grew. We hadn't told anyone why we actually went, that our trip was more of a honeymoon, less of a vacation.

"I know," I turned back in my stool to look at my husband who was surrounded by his two brothers. "It's all still such a daze," I smile dreamily, looking back to my friend who was frozen in her seat, staring directly at the cut sapphire on my fourth finger.

"Are you engaged?!" She practically shouted and I giggled, shaking my head.

"Az and I decided to get married while we were gone," I shrug as if it was a casual thing. I didn't want it to be a big deal, because it wasn't really, we were the last of the group to tie the knot.

She just stares at me, slowly, she shifts her head back to the three males at the other end of the room, right at that chain around Azriel's neck, a silver ring hanging from it. He couldn’t wear rings because of his scars, but he still wanted to have that physical element of our marriage, as if to display how taken he was.

She nearly fell out of her chair at the realization, then tackled me into a hug, holding me tight as I giggled at her antics. "My gods, congratulations, I would have been sending gifts all week!" Feyre claimed and I shook my head at her nonsense while she pulled away.

"It's not a big deal Fey, if they haven't figured it out yet— you're the only one who knows," I smile broadly, looking back at Azriel, who happened to already be staring at me.

I brought my hand up, gesturing to the ring on my finger, then to his brothers. Silently asking if they notched yet. Azriel shook his head with a mischievous smile and I turned back to Feyre with a smirk. "I can't believe you guys didn't tell us," She huffed as if she'd failed me as a friend.

"As much as I would've loved for you to be there, it was hilarious watching how clueless you all were," I claim and she gives me a sidelong glare.

"Oh cmon," I lean over in my stool and bump her shoulder with mine. "Now you can be in on it. Who do you think is going to be last to figure it out?" I ask, gesturing to the group behind us who were all mingling with Azriel.

Feyre turned to look, the three-winged Illyrians all chatting with Morrigan, Nesta, Lucien, and Elain all accompanying them. "Cassian," She bets and I smirk, narrowing my eyes on the group.

"I think Rhys," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Feyre cracks a smile. "Whoever's right pays the tab," She says, slipping out of her barstool and I nod, agreeing to the challenge even though I knew damn well Rhys would be covering the tab regardless.

We saunter over to the group, wicked smiles on our faces. Feyre goes to Rhys, intertwining their hands while I come to stand between Cassian and Azriel, my husband putting his arm around my shoulders. "What's that look for?" Azriel asked me, noticing the mischievous glint in my eyes.

"Feyre and I have a bet going, and that's all you need to know," I shrug and he arches a dark brow but doesn't say anything more while silky shadows swirl up my calves as if they were trying to beckon more information out of me but I didn't budge, just leaned into his side and watched Feyre as she tried her hardest to get her mate to realize the wings on me and Azriel's fingers, eager to win our bet.

It took much longer than I thought it would for them to realize. Lucien and Elain had spotted it that night, pulling me to the side to ask about it. Morrigan and Nesta had done the same one night later, interrogating me and Azriel as if we'd committed a crime, they seemed to think not telling them was against some friendship code.

But Rhys and Cassian hadn't noticed that night, or the next, or the next. It wasn't until I was training with Cassian and punched him square in the jaw that he caught sight of the ring on my finger. He brought his fingers to his cheek, wincing as he saw blood when pulling his hand away.

I cringed. "Sorry, I forgot to take my ring off," I murmured shamefully, taking the sapphire off my fourth finger. He paused, staring at me curiously, with no malice in his eyes despite the fact that I just drew blood.

"Where did you get that?" He tilted his head. I froze. Would it be considered cheating me and Feyre’s bet if I told him Az gave it to me?

"I'll give you one guess," I sent him a wink and his brows shot up.

"No way," He whispered. "He proposed?" His arms went out wide and shock. I fought back a laugh. "Well, yes, but we got married already, when we took that month off to go to the Summer Court? That was our honeymoon," I shrug and his eyes nearly bulge from their sockets.

"He didn't tell me!?" Cassian exclaimed as if he was the one to be married.

"We didn't tell anyone, everyone else already figured it out." I chuckled and his eye twitched. "Rhys doesn't know, me and Fey had a bet going to see how long it'd take," I shrug. "Turns out longer than expected." I hummed and he scowled.

"Well, you think you know someone," He huffs pathetically and I laugh.

"It's not like that Cass," I roll my eyes while walking over to my water and placing my wedding ring down beside it. If he was actually upset I don't know what I'd do, and I found myself thanking the gods when he cracked a smile, unable to keep the facade up for too long.

"Me and Az are going to have a long talk about this," He warned and I chuckled, getting back into my fighting stance on the mats.

"All I ask is that you return my husband in one piece," I say, smiling at the sound of calling Azriel my husband.

"Fine, but only if I get to be the one to tell Rhys he lost the bet." He hummed, getting into his own stance.

I grinned wildly, Feyre was going to rage. "Deal."

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[homestylehughes]

4 times luke wanted to kiss you and the 1 time he did.

pairing(s): luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: 4 times luke wanted to kiss you and the 1 time he did.

warning(s): absolutely none. pure sweet fluff.

wc: 2.1k

an: hi loves!!! back with another Luke fic...are we surprised? I'm a big fan of this little prompt, I was stuck between writing this for 3 different players, so I had google pick a number between 1-3 and 3 was Luke so here we are!! I love writing for luke, especially, cute and soft luke. more coming very soon!! I hope you guys enjoyed, like and reblog if you do! much love as always.

happy reading <3

1.

The first time Luke saw you, he thought he had experienced love at first sight. He was running late to practice, waking up only 5 minutes before he had to be there. quickly throwing on random clothes, slipping on his shoes and running out of his dorm at lightning speed. 

Not paying attention to his surroundings, his only focus was getting to practice on time to avoid having to do extra drills on the ice, given to him by his coach. Just as Luke turns the corner, he feels something or another person slam against his chest. Quickly pulling back to see the prettiest girl he's ever seen on the ground, with her books surrounding her. 

“Oh my gosh. I'm so so sorry '' Luke gushes out to the nameless girl in front of him. Quickly reaching down to help her grab her books. 

“Its okay, i should have watched where i was going” she says softly

“No it was completely my fault, I was in a rush, '' Luke says, offering a hand to help pull the girl from the ground.

“Oh, thank you” she says smiling as he takes his offering hand. Getting up, she brushes herself off before looking up at Luke, who's holding her books tightly in his hands. The pair staring at each other before Luke clears his throat, suddenly remembering he has a practice to get to, that's definitely late for now.

“Here's your books” he says handing her the stack, “again I'm so sorry for crashing into you” he finishes. 

“It's okay, things happen. No worries” she says, pushing a piece of hair behind her ears as she looks up at him.

“I'm really sorry to cut this short, but I have to go to practice, which I'm already late for..” he says, Luke's voice trailing off in embarrassment. 

“Oh! Of course! You better run” she giggles out 

“I'll see you around!” he shouts out as he begins to jog away from her. 

“My name's y/n!” he hears her shout from behind him 

“Luke!” he yells back to her, turning around quickly to find her standing there with a smile on her face, sending her one last wave. 

Luke couldn't help but have the same smile on his face as he ran the rest of the way to practice.

 Not caring about the ear full he was going to get from his teammates, and coach, or the drills he was going to have to do after practice. The only thing on his mind was you. wanting to know more about you, and maybe, but maybe how it felt to kiss you. 

2. 

Ever since Luke ran into you, 5 months ago, it's like gravity had forced you two together. Luke immediately looked you up on instagram the same night, following you instantly, hoping he'd have the chance to talk to you again. 

It seemed like god heard his wish, because now here is he with you in a spirit halloween as you guys try and find matching costumes for a halloween party, that you two had gotten invited to last minute.  

“Luke, what about this one?” you ask, holding up an adult sized mario costume. 

“Absolutely not” 

“Why not?? I think this fits you” you say giggling 

“WAIT. I have a better option.” turning around on your heel, picking up another costume, “Luke you are sooooo luigi” she says laughing

“Why do you hate me?” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“I do not! Stop being dramatic” yn sighs, “you've hated every option I've shown to you, this is the best option we have so far. If you don't want to go, just say so” 

The sound of your tone, towards the last part of the sentence is enough to make luke lift his head up in confusion. 

“Woah woah. I never said I didn't want to go, I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like that” he says, his hand finding your arm pulling it slightly, so you look up at him. 

“I'll love and wear anything you choose for me. Hell, I'll even wear a paper bag, if that makes you happy” he says, looking into your eyes. 

“Really?” 

“Yes really, now let's be the best mario and luigi the worlds ever seen” 

A smile spreads over your face, as you register his words, Luke can't help but get lost in your eyes, the plump of your lips, taking in every part of you, as you look up at him. 

Not caring if you were in the middle of an aisle in spirit halloween, in that moment luke really wanted to kiss you. 

3. 

Luke's hands couldn't help but shake as he sat on the couch with his brothers, today was the day. A day that could change his life for forever, the NHL draft. Everything he’s done, all of the blood sweat and tears he put into the sport, that he considered his life. it all came down to, today. 

The pressure of following in his brother's footsteps, wanting to be as good, even better than them. to play at the same level as them, had always been a goal of his. Now that he’s finally here, he can't help but be scared of what's to come. 

The lights and cameras are making it harder for him to calm his nerves, he knows he’ll get drafted, he knows he's good at what he does, but is he good enough for the NHL? 

His heart starts to beat even faster as the devils are about to select their pick for the draft, it would be a dream come through to be able to play with one his brothers. When they call his name, Luke can't help but be in complete shock. His family, and friends are all cheering and yelling around him. He can feel Jack jumping beside him yelling in his ear, as he stands up. Hugging his family, cheering with his friends. 

Turning around he sees you standing with his friends, cheering and clapping for him, seeing a few tears fall down your face, looking at him with the biggest smile on your face. Luke begins making his way to you, weaving through the crowd of people that separate you two. 

When he finally reaches you, your arms instantly wrap around him, his arms finding your waist as he pulls you off your feet, spinning you around before sitting back down you. 

“I'm so so proud of you luke” you say with a wide smile on your face

“I wouldn't have been able to do it without you, thank you for standing by my side” 

“There's no one else I'd rather cheer for than you,” you say, running your hand across his cheek. Luke couldn't help but feel a rush of heat spread through his body, as you touched his face. Wanting nothing more than to pull you into him, because he really really wanted to kiss you. 

4. 

With the hockey season coming to an end for the devils, after a rough year, luke wanted nothing more than to be in michigan away from all things hockey. Most importantly he wanted to be around you, only seeing you about 5 times a year was taking a toll on him. He missed you more than he’d admit, so when he had asked you to come to the lake house for two weeks during the summer, it was an offer she couldn't turn down. 

Pulling up the Hughes lake house was like a dream come true. The bright sun hitting yn’s skin, taking in the smell of the lake and the view around her, the summer breeze blowing on her face. As yn makes her way to the trunk of her car, she hears the front door open, turning around to see Luke running towards her with a smile on his face. Pulling her into a bone crushing hug as soon as he reaches her, your body feeling like home against his. 

“I cant believe youre actually here” luke says looking down at her

“Well you invited me, of course I'd be here. I wouldn't trade it for the world.” 

“I missed you so much” he says softly leaning down loser to her face

“I missed you more luke” yn counters, their faces are so close together that luke can feel yn breath fanning his face, from each breath she takes. 

Just as he's about to connect their lips together, he can hear Quinn and Jack run out the door, interrupting their almost kiss. Luke pulled away quickly, before his brothers could see. 

“LOOK WHO IT IS '' Jack shouts to yn, before jogging over bringing her into a hug. 

“So glad you're finally here, moosey here has been whining about how much he missed you.” Quinn teases him, wrapping his arm around yn’s neck pulling her towards the house, as both him and Jack begin to talk her ear off. 

“Hey! That's not fair you're taking my guest away from me "Luke shouts to him, a slight pout paints his lips and he watches them walk away with you.

“Oh suck it up lover boy, you'll see her everyday for two weeks straight.'' Jack quips at him as they head into the house. 

Luke lets out a loud sigh in response, turning around to grab her bags out of the car. Thinking only a few minutes ago, you guys were so close, so close. Luke really wants to kiss you, and he doesn't know much longer he can go without it. 

1+

Luke thinks he's going crazy, being around you for a little over a week during the heat of summer, seeing you walk around and tiniest swimsuits, and barely any actual clothing, was beginning to play tricks on his mind, or maybe it was the heat he couldn't tell. But what he did know was it was getting harder and harder each day to not pull your lips against his. 

Everyone always seemed to be in the way of Luke getting you alone, so he can tell you how he feels. Whether it was his brothers, his friends or family, something always got in his way, and he's had enough of it. 

“Luke, do you wanna go on a walk?” yn asks standing in the doorway of the kitchen as luke grabs a bottle of water from the fridge

“Yeah of course, let me grab my shoes” he says smiling at her

Turning around, Luke makes his way to the front door, slipping on a pair of beat air forces, “ready?” he calls to yn. 

“I am” she says, trailing behind him as he heads out the door. 

They walk in silence for a few moments, before Luke breaks the silence that surrounds him, “is everything okay?” he asks 

“Yes everything is fine, I just wanted to be around you alone. I feel like I've seen you, but not at the same time?” 

“I definitely get that, I just want you all to myself.” luke responds 

“You must really like me huh?” 

“More than you even know” Luke says before he can catch himself, his words causing her to stop dead in her tracks, turning to look at him.

“What do you mean” yn asks 

“I-i like you” luke quickly says 

“I like you too luke” 

“No yn, I mean I like you, I love you. I've loved you for the past 2 years, ever since I ran into you. You know the first thing i thought when i saw you was gosh this girl is so beautiful. I was so tempted to skip practice, just to talk to you more. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to admit that you '' he finishes, yn’s eyes wide as she looks at him. 

Luke can feel his heart almost beating out of his chest as he waits for her response. 

“What do you want to do right now?” she asks 

“What?” luke asks confused by her question 

“What do you want to do right now luke.” she asks again, her eyes still locked with his 

“I'd really like to kiss you” he says slowly

“What's stopping you?” she says, with a small smile on her face

Luke wastes no time leaning down and connecting their lips together, her lips are warm against his, as they move together. His hands are on her hips, pulling her closer to him, as their lips continue to move together as one. Pulling back, Luke rests his forehead against hers as they catch the beaches looking at each other. 

“I love you” yn says softly, luke cant help but smile at her words, before connecting their lips back together again. 

Because all that luke hughes wanted to was kiss the girl that he was in love with, and this time he was. 

[pomefioredove]

If you don't mind, could you do for Flirty prompts event: "Trouble never looked so goddamn fine." with Riddle?

absolutely o7 I had a lot of fun with this one

summary: "trouble never looked so goddamn fine" type of post: short fic characters: riddle additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, maybe a little ooc, riddle being a repressed victorian LOL a part of this event

"Are you done yet?"

Riddle knows, logically, that you're only doing this to get on his nerves. No matter how he chides, shouts, threatens (and makes good of those threats), you keep coming back for more.

You flash him a big grin, strawberry staining your teeth red.

He grimaces. You either have a death wish, or you're stupid enough to think that he won't punish you.

"We're on a schedule," he says, though you're already well aware.

"The unbirthday party ended an hour ago. You can't possibly still be eating."

"And let this go to waste?" you gasp, pointing your fork at the last remaining slice of tart. "That would be rude, Housewarden."

You're clearly being sarcastic.

Death wish, it is.

"There is no rule about having to finish an entire tart by yourself," Riddle crosses his arms. "Let alone one about having to stay after an unbirthday party has ended for it."

You roll your eyes. Testing his patience once again.

"I didn't say it was a dorm rule. It's just common courtesy. I'm sure Trey will be flattered once he sees the entire plate licked clean."

Riddle shivers at the mental image of that. "That is wholly unnecessary,"

"Maybe if you help me finish, I'll be done faster," you hum.

It's a trap. He knows it is. But...

"If it will get you back to your room, so be it," he sighs, taking a seat beside you. "I suppose I have room for half a piece. Shall I c-"

He turns, and is met with a forkful of glistening strawberry, mere inches from his lips.

"What is this?"

"Tart,"

He sighs. "No, what are you doing?"

"Sharing, like we said,"

You address him as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Riddle narrows his eyes.

"I'm not eating off that. Your mouth was on it,"

You shrug, eyes brimming with barely-restrained mirth. "I cleaned it,"

And he's supposed to believe that? He crosses his arms, glaring, but you still don't back down.

You're nearly as stubborn as he is. After an agonizing eternity of staring, he closes the distance between himself and the tart, eating off your fork.

Only to be met with another piece.

"I am not a child. I can feed myself," he mutters. He can feel his face turning red, and not from anger.

"Sure, you can, but I bet this is much better, right?"

Riddle sighs, taking another sweet bite. He really shouldn't entertain you; he doesn't want you getting any ideas...

You hum, clearly pleased with his compliance, and then take bite off the same fork.

He pales. "That's disgusting,"

"I actually quite like this tart, thank you," you say merrily, talking through a mouthful of strawberry.

Such a clear disregard for table manners... It makes his heart skip a beat.

"That is clearly not what I meant. And I'm not having any more,"

You scoff. "What are you, five? Afraid of cooties?"

Riddle's face turns redder than the tart itself. He stammers pathetically for a moment, at a loss for his usual sharp words.

"I-I am not! It's unsanitary to share utensils!"

"Is that a rule?"

He simmers, crossing his arms again. "As you put it, it's just common courtesy,"

You draw another forkful up, letting it linger in front of your lips for a moment. "Fine, I'll leave..."

Your hesitance turns into mirth, and you point the tart towards his own mouth. "But... just one more bite."

Riddle scoffs, studying your expression. He hopes you're joking.

You're not.

He knows he really shouldn't indulge you. You're enough of a troublemaker as it is... but...

...He leans forward and takes the bite. Trouble never looked so goddamn fine.

[slvttyplum]

hii plum ! 🎀💕 can u pls write a fic of the reader with a split tongue and gives gojo head 🥹

satoru loved everything about you, everything you did, even down to the way you walked. but something recently that he became very infatuated with was that tongue of yours. you didn't have an ordinary tongue, let alone just one, but two instead, which sent satoru over the moon whenever he would feel it drag over his skin.

being completely honest, he thought it was weird at first, but it was apart from you, so it grew on him, along with a lot of things, one of them being that whenever you gave him his head, it was nothing new, but the way you used your tongue was like nothing he had ever felt before; it was different yet felt the same, if not better.

doing grabby hands at anything he could find because of how well your tongue was moving over his length, squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to cum right in your mouth, but you were driving him crazy, swallowing hard as he threw his head back. he couldn't put his finger on what you were doing differently than any other time, but all he knew was that he couldn't keep his cum down whenever you had his dick in your mouth.

you never got tired of sucking satoru off, so he had to get used to having your tongue slide every which way on his dick. he was so sensitive, it was cute. his dick twitching whenever you came up for air and his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to divert eye contact, knowing if you looked up at him sliding your tongue and both tips of your tongue up and down, he would cum not in your mouth but on your face.

his stomach sucking in whenever you licked the tip. two things happening at once but doing the same thing added extra stimulation and prompted him to finish not only faster but more times in a row. seeing that hazy, dulled-out look of his whenever he finished got you turned on; it was sexy, and you wanted to see it more, so you sucked him off more until he was physically exhausted. 

it was a party trick that only satoru could see and feel, but it was a damn good one. once he got used to the feeling of it and knew no matter what he did, he was going to cum fast, he just let it be, because it felt too damn good for him to be whining about. placing his hand on your head as you delicately worked your tongue, it had his squirming, and that's exactly what you wanted—for him to curl and whimper under your touch. 

you wouldn't say you got your tongue split just for him, because that was nowhere near the case, but the effects that it had on satoru had your cheeks getting warm and the space in between your legs whimpering as well. it was cute to see different reactions whenever you slid your tongue over his dick. you've never seen him so submissive whenever you were on your knees for him, yet there he was, whimpering and moaning before finishing in your mouth or on your face.

even when he tried to show dominance while he was inside your mouth, it just didn't work because he would finish in only a few seconds. the view itself was already too much to handle sexually, especially when he saw his cum dripping off your tongue, but the feeling was even better. 

[bunnys-kisses]

Hello, can I order an powered sugar donuts,profiteroles and pull-apart bread and to drink an hard lemonade and Tonic Water served by Fernando Alonso with Stroll! Reader?

bakery menu!!

like the menu! then check out the menu! i'd love for you to submit your own prompts! i've been really happy by the influx of attention to my fics, and thank you for the lovely comments i get! it's really funny because i recently posted a stroll!reader fic with fernando, and i really like the concept. give it up for the newest rookie fernando alonso, he deserves some fun <3

powered sugar donuts: "marry me." + profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go." + pull-apart bread: "i love you" + hard lemonade: possessive behaviour

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/40s), possessive behavior, stroll!reader, in love!fernando, doggy style, tease!reader

maybe this was a tease. you knew you had fernando alonso between your delicate fingers. the older man was obsessed with you. it didn't help that you were a stroll. the boss' daughter and the sister of his teammate. technically he was already family.

so of course he was invited to the house in montreal for a pool party during the summer break. you were still off from your courses at concordia so you were a frequent at the stroll house. and maybe you could've put on one of your swimsuits that covered your up a little more.

but where was the fun in that?

"he's staring." your brother said as he leaned in towards you.

"when is he not?" you replied with a shrug, "i literally could wear anything and he'd still be staring."

lance sighed and leaned up against the arm level patio table you were both by, "sometimes i think you like fucking with him. it's not fair, we are still on the same team."

you looked at him and gave a small pout, "i do love him, lance-y. don't worry. it's just a lot of fun to mess with him. it's funny!" you laughed a little.

lance sighed. the family knew about your relationship and while it was something to raise an eyebrow at. but, fernando was sweet to you. he was kind in a way that you hadn't had with other boyfriends, so your family was a little bit more forgiving.

"here he comes." your brother said before he picked up his drink and went back to the others at the get together. you soon felt fernando's hand against your bare lower back.

you giggled and looked at him, "hello, handsome."

"are you enjoying yourself? you look a little lonely." he said as his hand lingered while he got close to your ear. he intentionally pushed you further against the table, not enough to make a scene however.

"well my brother was just here so i'm far from lonely." you chuckled before you took a sip of your drink. there was something that you couldn't predict when you got involved with fernando. that his sexual thirst could be insatiable.

"you're looking a little warm." he touched your face and you smiled. you knew what that was code for. get out of the party and somewhere more quiet. it didn't help that your swimsuit left little to the imagination. and while no one would try anything you didn't want, you knew that fernando was a little jealous.

what a possessive old man.

you put your drink down and licked your top lip before you turned to go into the house. you remarked to your father (and fernando's boss) that you were feeling a little heated and were going inside to cool down.

once you were in your bedroom, you started to undress from your bikini. you felt warm all over both from the knowledge that fernando was approaching, but also because of the sun on your skin all afternoon. your heart leapt when he came into bedroom. you rested on your elbows and gazed at him lovingly. you were naked and fernando enjoyed the sight of that.

"now tell me, my love. why were you wearing that? if front of your family? in front of me?" he approached as he started to undo the front of his button up. his gaze was hungry on you, "you know, i love you. but i don't like to be teased."

you giggled, "i also know you want to marry me." you said coyly as you shifted further up on the bed to give your lover room as he took off his clothes and got into your bed. this wasn't the first time he fucked you in your bedroom and it wouldn't be the last.

he wrapped his arms around you and kissed across your features. his hands groped onto whatever skin he could. you squirmed a little against him as his lips found yours. the kiss was passionate and it made you run hot. you couldn't deny, fernando was hot when he got worked up.

there was something about an older man just being rough with you that made your core hot. he once told you tha your entire life you had been handled like glass. delicate and soft. but fernando wasn't afraid to mess you up a little. to watch your skin grow bruised from his spanks or decorate your throat with his bites. hear you softly moan and squirm. and a deep, dark part of you was excited by that.

fernando soon had you on your stomach with him behind you with his cock up against your pussy. you called to him, and he yearned for it. "i love you." he said, his voice heavy with want.

you buried your head into the pillow as he pushed himself inside of you. you'd have to be quick before you family started to question where the both of you were. even though lance was painfully aware (poor guy).

"no more wearing that bikini, alright?"he asked as he worked your sopping, achy pussy, "you don't need to make me jealous." he could feel the possessiveness in his gut.

your noises were small and muffled against the pillows. your back arched a little from the feeling. your heart raced in your chest from how it filled you. it didn't hurt that he was impressive between the legs. he was unlike any man you had ever been with.

you held onto the covers under you and arched your back a little more from the feeling of him. you panted heavily as you felt the heat lead to sweat on your skin. he continued to thrust and you felt the stammer in your chest. it felt like all rational thought quickly turned off as he fucked you.

there was little time for gentle pleasantries, but the last thing you needed was your dear family catching you in the act with a man much older than you. you clawed at the covers.

"fernando." you whined.

"so beautiful." he said as he really worked himself against you. the bed creaked under you. it was nice to fuck you in your bedroom. where you grew up. he knew that long before you met, you'd often steal the racing magazines from your brother and touch yourself to images of fernando. you said you always wanted to fuck him with his driving suit on. even rub your slick pussy up against his helmet.

but he'd rather have the taste of your pussy in his beard as he got ready to race. he bullied his cock into you at a quick pace and watched you arch your back with an insistent want. he watched your ass shake with each of his movements and felt the pleasure in his gut.

it wouldn't be much longer before he finished inside of you. your back arched further and he felt his cock clamp around your pussy. you made a soft string of noises as you felt the pleasure overtake you.

"i love you." you whined.

he responded, "i love you too. come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go." he promised as he leaned in to kiss you on the middle of your back which made you shudder with need.

you came from his words and practically clawed at the covers as you panted heavily into them. you were just perfect weren't you? beyond measure you were perfect. and fernando knew that he needed to have you for a life time.

"we'll go somewhere spain? before the season starts again." you whined as he continued to fuck you. your brain felt a mess as he picked up the speed.

"yes, and you'll be the most beautiful woman in the entire country." not that you'd be seeing a lot of it, fernando would rather have you see the place from your hotel room as he fucked you up against the window. only the best for his beautiful girl.

a few more heavy thrusts and fernando finished inside of you with a heavy sigh. he could feel his heart rate climb as he pushed himself all the way in and painted your insides with him. it was hot and heavy and it made him groan through grit teeth.

you were a tease, but you were his tease. he slowed to a stop and pulled out before he groped your ass for a moment. he then leaned forward to kiss you on the back of your neck.

"we'll cuddle next time, but people might get curious. you cool off and i'll see you outside." he got up and started to get undressed.

you laid in bed and smiled with your head on the pillow. when you got up. you noticed that the bottoms to your bikini were gone and you wouldn't see them again until you saw the hint of blue peeking out of fernando's pocket.. as he casually spoke to your father. <3

[diremoone]

quiet kisses | r. sukuna

prompt 2 — “I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe.”

requested by @yuujispinkhair :: Heyyy babe, your Christmas prompt post is so cute 💗💗 If you feel inspired, can you please write a little something for Sukuna + prompt 2 or prompt 7 (whichever you prefer)? 💗💗

a/n: AHHHH thank you so much for sending this in Winter! 🤩 I can’t tell you how much I nearly exploded seeing your request in my inbox! I went with prompt 2 because that’s the one my brain started working for the fastest. I hope you like it and I did your request justice :3

w — alcohol mention, fluff, everyone is 20+ in this fic, modern AU, mentions of prompt 7 heehee, softie! sukuna, sukuna cooks at the end lmao but it’s not related to the chef! sukuna fic

[ Christmas Prompt List ]

[ Christmas Event Masterlist ]

Nobara putting on this Christmas party was anything but unexpected. She was a party girl at heart, but nothing like what you’d see at a frat house or a club. No, she was the party master (or so she likes to call herself). And you kinda had to agree. Her parties weren’t over the top, but they definitely were anything but boring.

This time was no different: catering, along pizza and wine delivery, along with some of the more higher-rated Christmas movies playing on the TV with English Christmas music playing on the background, just loud enough that it wasn’t obnoxious.

You knew your boyfriend had to agree, even if he hated attending social events and parties.

What an introvert, you muse to yourself. You wonder how many people realize that as much as Sukuna seems like it, he doesn’t actually like parties. Nor anyone but himself and you at said parties.

You and Sukuna are off to the side against the bar that separates the kitchen and living area, deep in your own little world of each other. You’re leaning on him, his big arm wrapped around your shoulders comfortably.

You nudge him. “This isn’t so bad. See!”

Sukuna scoffs. “That’s what you said when you forced me into that Santa costume last year.”

“But you had some fun, didn’t you?”

“In the suit? No. Terrorizing children in it? Absolutely.”

You slap his chest. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. You grumble. “You idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he remarks with a grin.

Suddenly, like magic, the party suddenly gets loud. Jingle Bells comes on the playlist set up, and everyone has begun to sing as loud as they possibly can. Sukuna grumbles and plugs one ear with a finger, rolling his eyes. He keeps on ear open, and you know it’s just to listen to you as you attempt to sing your way through the giggles.

When the song ends, everyone cheers. Sukuna unplugs his one ear and sighs, taking another sip of the hot chocolate you’ve made for him. They all quiet down, giggling and giddy from the sudden excitement of the old but catchy tune.

But why is everyone now looking at his and your direction?

And then everyone starts chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You and Sukuna look up at the same time, seeing a mistletoe being hung over your heads by a fishing rod, but none other than the Party Master herself. Nobara grins sadistically with an evil glint in her eye.

Sukuna cusses and downs the rest of his drink before saying, “I think that’s our cue to leave. Nice party, Kugisaki.”

You attempt to down the rest of yours before he grabs your hand with his bigger one and leads you out the front door, almost stumbling over your own two feet.

Behind you, everyone complains about Sukuna being a “party pooper” and leaving. Before you two leave, he turns back to them and gives them the finger.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t the only couple here. Maybe Geto and Gojo should finally shack up,” Sukuna says with an evil grin. The two men next to each other go redder than tomatoes in record time. Sukuna isn’t done though, looking at his little brother. “And maybe you and Fushiguro should finally get a room, too, baby brother.”

The chaos from your boyfriend’s words gives you the chance to leave without trouble, the two unspoken couples now being the main attention of Kugisaki’s evil fishing rod-mistletoe.

Maybe they’ll be together come New Years, you think happily.

Sukuna drives you both home. One hand on the wheel, the other intertwined sweetly with yours. But by the time you get home, you’re halfway asleep in the car, hot cocoa being the perpetrator of your tiredness. You attempt to blink and wake up, but Sukuna’s gruff, “Stay put.” halts you as he turns the car off, keeping his keys in one hand.

You have no idea what he’s doing until he opens your door and slides his arms under your back and legs. You squeal and giggle as he effortlessly picks you up from your seat.

“Goddamn, you got the giggles tonight,” he mutters.

Like he’s done it a thousand times (he’s at least done it a couple dozen), Sukuna unlocks the front door with you in his arms with pure ease. He carries you over the threshold like a husband would his bride and doesn’t set you down. He hoists you up, readjusting your position closer to his chest. And then you see the cunning look in his eyes.

“Sukuna, what are you— mmph!”

He dips his head and captures your lips with his. He’s warm, so warm and comforting. You feel so safe and loved in his hold and damn do you love him. Your arms naturally tighten their hold around his neck as you two kiss in your home.

When Sukuna pulls away, he chuckles. You’re slightly breathless from the sudden kiss, but grinning nonetheless.

“You couldn’t do that at the party?” you inquire curiously.

“I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe,” he replies honestly. “Especially at a party in front of people. Not my thing to make such an intimate spectacle of ourselves.”

Your heart flutters and overflows with love at his desire to keep his affection solely for your eyes to see. Sukuna has never been one to kiss or do intimate things in public beyond hand holding or wrapping his arm around your shoulders. For him, he considers that to be sacred; any acts of love he prefers to be behind closed doors, kept between the two of you and not in front of people to be fawned over or talked about.

“You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” you say. “I’m so lucky. I really got the best man ever, didn’t I? Thanks, Universe.”

Your boyfriend’s cheeks tint red. A rare sight.

“Fuck. No, I’m the lucky one.” Sukuna gives you a fat smooch on the lips, the adds, “But I don’t have the universe to thank. I got you all by myself.”

You toss your head back and laugh at his indirect proclamation of arrogance. Or maybe it was just unshakable confidence, who knows?

Sukuna sets you down on the couch and asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

You think for a moment before replying, “Didn’t you say wanted to make some penne vodka the other day? That sounds good.”

“Penne alla vodka,” he corrects you with a stern eye.

You toss your hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.”

But as Sukuna gets to work on the dish, you can’t help but stare at him as he works. He could be a master chef like Gordon Ramsey, if not better. But you’re kinda glad he’s not, not if you get to see him in your kitchen every night.

Yeah, you’d trade any party and PDA for his quiet kisses and love at home any day.

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss | @missmuffinr

[thebestofoneshots]

Waiting For a Girl Like You | wolfstar x reader

Pairing: R.L.. x S.B. x Gn!Reader (originally written as a woman but then I discovered I hadn't used any pronouns, and the reader was not particularly feminine, so it became my first official GN) Word Count: 5 k Warnings: None Prompt: Unbeknownst to many, your birthday has always been a quiet affair, you don't often celebrate it and you certainly weren't expecting for things to change the moment you met those two, enimagtic boys on your Creative Writing course. You could have not been more mistaken.

I got two requests a couple of weeks ago and I could not fulfil them on time for the life of me. Dear @msblacklupin and @propertyofrjl sent me similar requests about a certain birthday fic and first of all, Guys your birthdays are on the same day, How cool is that!?! Second, I'm so sorry I took so long, but it's finally here!

I decided to combine the prompts since I thought it would be really cute for the story, and this is what I've come up with.

Hope you enjoy, darlings! I'm wishing you all the best! xx Lils

Written for @msblacklupin and @propertyofrjl

You hadn’t had the best experience with birthdays so far. Back in your hometown, it was the same day as a special celebration of the discovery of the mines and they held a huge, town-wide party for it. The party was great, a fair, balloons, cotton candy, everything great, everything kids loved. Unfortunately, it was so good that people tended to forget about your birthday since they were excited about Mining Day. 

Of course, people close to you remembered (your parents), but even though you had told your friends plenty of times that your birthday was on the same day, it had slipped their minds a good deal of times. You tried to make parties and people would prefer going to see the guest singer invited to the festival. You'd make them the next day and they were too tired to come. 

Eventually, you just gave up on celebrating your own birthday and decided to join the rest on Mining Day, enjoying the candies and everything in between. It might have not been your special day but it was a special day and that was as good as you’d get. Or so you thought. 

When you moved to London for university, you didn’t even think about telling your friends about your birthday, and they hadn’t asked either. That was until you took that Creative Writing side course and met them. You had been on time but the room had been filled to the brim with students, and there was nowhere to sit. You’d huffed and were about to leave to ask for a chair from a different classroom but when you turned around you bumped into the prettiest person your eyes had ever laid eyes upon, piercing grey eyes, long wavy hair, and features so elegant he looked royal.

He smiled, such a pretty smile. “Hey, you were going for one of these? I brought extra,” he said as he pulled one of the chairs up to signal what he was talking about. 

“Yeah,” you said shily. 

“Cool, come along then,” he said and you moved out of the way as he moved with the chairs. He moved his chairs all the way to a table where there was another stunning person sitting down. “What’s your name, Luv?” You replied with your name, soft and polite. “Pretty,” he said, flashing that same smile your way, meaning both you and your name, not that you knew. He accommodated the chairs, one next to each other, wiped his hands on his black jeans and then extended his hand to you. “Sirius Black.” 

You shook his hand and then the other boy’s warm smile caught your eye. “Remus Lupin,” he said with his hand extended as well. He had scars all over his body, but it didn’t make him any less handsome. Were you curious about them? Of course, you were. Were you gonna ask? No way in hell.

The boys had met each other at a boarding school in Scotland and had moved to London recently. Remus wanted to take a lit class and tried to convince his friends to join him but Sirius didn’t love the idea of a class where he’d have to read and analyse books, so he suggested taking something more on the creative side. 

Remus found the Writing Course and Sirius had been more than happy to join him. You and Remus actually had a lot in common, you discovered as the class went on. You had both read a lot, and you veered towards the same authors and storylines. You had an insane passion for Oscar Wilde and he loved Mary Shelly. You sometimes wondered if he liked her so much because of the way she described the Fiend, you truly hoped that wasn’t it, because while you could see how Rem would relate to the monster, you hated the idea of it, since you considered him absolutely stunning. 

Days had gone by, and while you always sat with the boys and hung out with them every time you saw them at school, you hadn’t really seen them outside of it, that was until you got a group assignment and Sirius was quick to place his arms around both you and Rem and claim you as his team. 

Remus scribbled your names on a piece of paper and handed them over to the teacher before she assigned each of you a different subject for your story. You got fantasy. The boys seemed to be diverted when you started talking about mythical creatures and wizards, and you assumed it had something to do with an inside joke they developed through the years of knowing each other.

They invited you over to their apartment that was just next to a corner cafe cleverly named “The Corner” and you had stopped by to get something for you and the boys, since you weren’t sure how long it would take and were now waiting just outside the door to their apartment complex. 

“We’re coming, Sweets,” Sirius’ voice said through the speakers as the door buzzed open to let you in. 

You used your shoulder to push inside and carefully moved the carton with the three coffee cups inside as you entered, your backpack strap got caught in the door and you were forced to turn around to and you opened the door again, placing the paper bag with fresh bread on your mouth to free one of your hands and pulled the strap free. 

When you turned around, you were shocked to find a smiling Sirius right in front of your face. “You shouldn’t have bothered, Luv!” he said and extended his hand towards your mouth, taking the paper bag and then the carton with the coffee from your hand.

“I wanted to,” you said simply. 

Sirius and you went up the stairs, Remus was waiting by the door and the two of them welcomed you in. For an apartment belonging to two boys, it was surprisingly neat. Remus had arranged his coffee table with a few cushions over the rug so you all could sit together, he had a couple of pens and pencils, his notebook and a stunning Remington Typewriter. 

You almost walked straight to look at it when you spotted it on the table, “This is her, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Remus said as he sat beside you. “Wanna try it?” 

“Can I please?” you asked, you had a Brother one at your apartment, and you adored her, but Remingtons were classics. His was from the 50s and it looked brand new. Rather than responding, Remus placed a paper through the platen and pushed it towards you. 

Since you didn’t actually have a plan to write something, you just typed the boys’ Name and then yours, right at the top of the paper. 

“What are we going to write then? Any ideas?” 

“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk about wizards?” Sirius asked with a smile. 

“But do you want to?”

He chuckled, “Of course, Sweets, we’d love to go for that.” He reclined his head on the sofa. “We’ve actually discussed it, and we have some ideas, don’t we Moony?” 

Remus shot a look at Sirius, who winked in return. 

“Yeah?” You asked as you turned your gaze to Sirius. “For the plot?”

“Mhm… hear me out. It’s a hidden school for wizards, you get there by taking a secret train hidden at King’s Cross. The school is full of magic and mysteries and ghosts and other magical creatures.” 

You frowned, “I don’t know… it sounds a little too surrealistic, doesn’t it?”

Sirius laughed at your statement and Remus threw pillow towards his face, you squirmed in your seat a little uncomfortably and then Rem placed his hand on your shoulder, “It’s okay, Dove. We don’t have to go for Sirius’ idea.”

“But he said you wanted to write about it too…”

“I’ll be happy with whatever we make. I know with our writing skills and Sirius’ creativity we’ll make something brilliant.” 

You pulled out your notebook and checked the list of ideas for the story you had to write. It had to be at least 50k words and you had three weeks to finish it. So the three of you would have to get writing as soon as possible, which meant you had to define the story and you had to define it fast. Most of your ideas were either unfinished, not doable in such a short time or had the opportunity to be integrated into Sirius’ magic school. 

“Okay, tell me more about your Wizard’s school.” 

Sirius smiled, threw a look at Remus –a satisfied sort of look– before turning back to you, “Okay, so the name is Wartshow: School for Wizardry and Witchcraft, and–“ 

“Doesn’t Witchcraft and Wizardry sound better, though?” 

Sirius licked his lips and smiled. “All right then, Wartshow: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” You wrote it down in your notebook. 

“It’s the story about a boy, a boy that thought they wouldn’t be able to assist even though he was a wizard.” 

“Sirius,” Remus said in a warning tone. 

“Shut up Moony, you’ll kill my inspiration.” 

“Why did he think that?” You asked. 

“Because he was bitten by a werewolf when he was 4.”

 Remus scoffed and stood up, “I’ll bring the snacks.” 

“Is he okay?” you asked. 

“He’s not a fan of my story,” Sirius said. “He says the main character is not a hero, but I differ.” 

You hummed in response. “What’s the boy’s name?” 

“Re- Andrew,” he said, “Andrew Renault.” 

“Renault? Is he french?” 

“No, I don’t– he is not.” 

“Okay, then we should go for a more English name, like… Remington?” 

“Andrew Remington? Sounds posh.” 

“As if  Sirius Black sounded less posh,” you joked and he scoffed playfully at you. He continued listing his ideas, telling you Remus’ story although he had changed the names of almost everyone. “Will there be dragons?” you asked after he had laid out the basic idea.

 “Dragons? Those are dangerous!” 

“Of course they are, but it’s more exciting than the…ugh” –you checked your notes– “boggart monster you mentioned.” 

“Dragons are definitely more exciting than Boggarts,” Remus said as he sat on the floor next to you. You couldn’t help but notice his scars, perhaps Sirius had used those as inspiration for Andrew. 

“Okay, so we’ll add dragons. What if there’s a dragon in the dungeons?” 

“No, in the dungeons there are snakes,” Sirius said as if it were a fact. He had clearly thought this out. 

“Okay… what about a secret room in the castle that has dragons? It’s magical, right? It could be bigger on the inside, like the TARDIS.” 

“The what?” Sirius asked, confused. 

“The TARDIS! From Doctor Who?” you said as if it were a fact, he still looked confused. “You do know what I’m talking about, right Rem?” 

“Is it a book?” he asked. 

“A book? How do you even call yourself Brits if you don’t know about Doctor Who? That’s it, Sunday, my house, we’re watching a marathon.” 

“Whatever you want, dove,” Remus said and handed you a piece of chocolate. 

“So, going back to the story. A room that’s bigger on the inside. Like a… Chamber of Secrets?”

“Sirius,” Remus warned again. 

“It’s what she said!” Sirius said defensively. 

After that, you finished plotting the small story in between the three, even with the slight reluctance you detected from Remus, you got around to defining all of your main characters, the challenges they’d go through and the resolution of the story. 

“By the way, tomorrow is our flatmate James’ birthday,” Sirius said as he closed the notepad he’d been writing on. “Wanna come to the party?” 

“I don’t think I’ve met James, though.” 

“It’s fine, he’ll love to meet you I’m sure,” Remus said. “When is your birthday?” 

“I–“ you hesitated, “I don’t really celebrate it.” 

“Why not? We should definitely celebrate the day you were brought into this world,” Sirius said. 

You smiled, Sirius could be the sweetest sometimes. “I don’t do parties…” 

“Because you don’t want to?” 

“No! It’s just… long story, don’t bother yourselves with it.” 

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Sirius offered. “In exchange, you give me your birthday, how about that?” 

You laughed, Sirius wasn’t the type to care too much about things, so you walked towards him and whispered the date in his ear. 

“Now yours?” you said as he leaned closer to you. 

“It’s all real, we are magicians from the school in our story,” he whispered. 

You laughed. “I thought you’d tell me a real secret, should have known,” you added as you shoved him, he just laughed and shrugged in response, as if he was saying it’s your loss, for not believing his lie. 

After that day, you hung out with them almost all the time, be it to watch movies, to continue that Doctor Who marathon, or to hang out with the boys on their birthdays. In fact, it was almost odd if you didn’t see each other in more than a couple of days, since they would find almost any reason to meet, Sirius would call and say ‘Hey, there’s a new movie I want to see, you coming with us?’

Or Remus would leave a note on your mailbox telling you to come with him to a library later that day since he had just finished the book he was reading and you were always the best at finding the right books. 

So. of course, you thought it was odd when, on the morning of your birthday, you called their apartment and got no response. Now you weren’t expecting a grandiose party, you weren’t even going to get a cake or anything, but you wanted to see them, maybe go out for dinner, or have a cinema night. You rang them again and still no answer. 

You sighed and walked towards school. You didn’t have that creative writing course today so you weren’t expecting to see them there, but perhaps on the lunch break, you’d find them in your usual spot. 

Your classes were rather tedious, an old professor that spoke very quietly and you had to sit at the very front to even hear him, and then another professor who almost always went over the same thing you’d seen in the first class. Always, round and round the same thing, with nothing new. At least you’d have a class with Professor Almain before lunch. It was your favourite class of the semester –aside from the writing course– and so far, you thought it’d be the highlight of your day. 

But when you got to his classroom, the room was empty and there was a short note on the board: Professor Almain is indisposed today. Study Chapters three and four of your book, you’ll be discussing them next class. The note was signed by Tobby Klein, his assistant. 

You sighed and sat down on one of the chairs, sulking as you took out the book mentioned and started to read. Someone else tried to enter the room a few minutes later, and when they realised there would be no class, they left the classroom instantly. Perhaps they had something better to do, you didn’t. 

You had taken that class as an extracurricular, so you barely knew the students in it, and your classmates were in a class you had taken online, so you couldn’t exactly go search for any of them. You could have gone to the library, but it also seemed unnecessary when you had a perfectly quiet classroom all to yourself. 

You were about halfway through the chapter when you heard someone knocking on the glass window. When you turned you spotted Sirius waving his hand at you with a bright, pearly smile. He looked as dashing as ever. It was ridiculous how pretty you still thought he was even when you saw him all the time. 

He entered the room shortly after. “What are you here all alone?” he asked as he pulled a chair next to yours and pressed a short kiss on your cheek as a greeting. Sirius did that all the time, you’d assumed it was because he was half French. 

“Class was cancelled,” you said as you pointed to the board. “Had nowhere to go. Aren’t you supposed to be in class too?” 

He hummed in response. “It’s that stupid advanced maths class Moony convinced me to take, I was falling asleep and asked to go to the bathroom to throw some water at my face when I spotted you.” 

“You should go back.” 

“To maths? Rather than staying with you? Yeah, right!” 

A small smile appeared on your lips as you stared at him while shaking your head in disbelief. “What if you fail, though?” 

“I’m not going to fail,” he said with a shrug. “Moony can tell me what it was about later. Wanna grab something to eat? My treat.” 

You nodded and pulled your bag from the ground. “I was actually going to invite you guys over tonight,” you said as you opened the zipper and placed the book inside the bag, “I mean I’m sure you don’t remember, and I don’t really want to make anything big but–“ 

“That today is your birthday?” Sirius asked. 

You turned to him in shock, “You– you…” 

“How on earth would I forget?” he said with a smile. “It’s the day my best girl was born. They should make a fucking parade for you.” 

You felt your cheeks warm at Sirius’ grandiose attitude. “Come on,” he said as he stood up and offered his hand. “It feels like a day for ice cream, want some?” 

You nodded and he dragged you towards the parking lot, his hand not leaving yours at all, you tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest since you suspected he had a thing with Remus, but it was almost impossible when he looked at you with his stunning grey eyes. 

He took out the helmet they’d gotten you when they started offering to take you on rides from Moony’s bike and handed it over. It was a full-face black helmet that matched the one the two of them wore almost perfectly, but while Moony’s had a half moon and Sirius’ had a star, yours had both. 

It had been Remus who added the matching moon, and Sirius –who instantly got jealous over it– painted a star right in the middle, he was exceptionally good at painting, sometimes you wondered why he didn’t study art. Then again, you weren’t sure what exactly they were studying, since they had taken classes from more than four different degrees as if they had only picked the few classes that they were interested in.

 You took the helmet in between your hands and hopped on Sirius’ bike. He drove you to the small park that was just a couple of minutes from the school and got you your favourite ice cream from the small ice cream shop James had discovered a while back. 

“So, about tonight?” 

“Moony has a thing,” Sirius said with an apologetic smile. “He has a big presentation tomorrow and he’s working on it with his team tonight, they’ll be using the rooftop of our apartment for it, I believe.” 

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment. 

Sirius bit his lip, “Why don’t you come over?” 

“I wouldn’t want to be a distraction, I mean–“ 

“I don’t have to work on any projects,” Sirius said. “We could play chess, watch a movie while he finishes and then we order something to eat.” 

“You– do you really think that’s a good idea?” you asked, uncertain, as you brought your ice cream to your mouth.

“For sure,” he said. “We could get a cake and–“ 

“No cakes.” 

“But you like cakes!” 

“Not on my birthday.” 

“That’s ridiculous! You have something on your face.” 

“Where?” you asked. 

“There,” he said as leaned his finger close to you and smeared some of his ice cream over your cheek. You gasped in shock. 

“Sirius!” you admonished.

“Yes, Luv?” he responded, as if you had just called him.

You used the napkin wrapped around your cone to clean your cheek, “That was uncalled for.” 

“I don’t know about that, your cheeks looked like they needed some ice cream,” he said while trying, and failing to hold back a smile, he pulled a napkin from his pocket, much like a magician would do, and handed it over to you. You were about to take it from his hand, but he shook his head and wrapped his fingers around your chin and turned your head to the side softly. “Allow me.” 

He took longer than needed while whipping your cheek, but he didn’t exactly want to pull apart, and you didn’t want him to pull apart either. 

“There you go.” 

“It’s sticky now,” you teased. 

“Nothing can keep you happy, can it, Sweetheart?” he said dramatically and wrapped his arm over your shoulders and leaned his head on yours. 

You just laughed. Sirius convinced you to skip the next class and stay with him at the park and then took you home. 

“Want me to pick you up?” He asked as you got down from the bike. He had propped the small side stand down and was leaning on the handlebar. You could hardly believe he had driven you all around looking that handsome, with his leather jacket, and high boots. Sirius was pretty all the time, but sometimes he felt more like a fictional character than like an actual human. 

You saw a girl eyeing him as she passed by, and you couldn’t help but smile at him and nod. “Yeah, that would be lovely. At 7?” 

He smiled, gave you a short wink, and put his helmet back on. “See you soon, Sweetheart.” He said, voice slightly muffled by the helmet before he drove off. You entered your apartment shortly after, and it took you a whole minute to recover. It’s not that you hadn’t gone out with Sirius plenty of times, but this one seemed a lot more like a date than all of the previous ones. 

You took a snack bar from your pantry, went for a shower, and asked your classmates about the class you’d missed. A friend of yours told the teacher that you were feeling sick to cover for you and he said he wouldn’t count the absence (it was the first time you missed that class anyway), and you had always been rather participative. 

After that, you grabbed the book you’d been reading and read until it was 7. The light outside had already gone out, and you took some chocolates you’d bought for Remus last week and placed them in your backpack, it was then that you heard the familiar honk of Sirius’ Triumph.

You walked downstairs and met him outside. He switched his band tee for a snug turtleneck sweater that fit him obscenely well and was still wearing his leather jacket. You had kept your helmet and put it on as you approached his bike. 

“You smell nice,” you said as you sat behind him.

“You think?” he asked, playing dumb. “Maybe it’s the aftershave,” he added as he pulled the side stand up and drove into the street. You eyed him suspiciously, not that you could see much while he had his helmet on but you still did.

By the time you arrived at their apartment, you had forgotten all about your suspicion and were just leaning onto Sirius as much as you could, since the night had grown a lot colder than you expected it would. Sirius parked his bike just outside and the two of you walked the three floors of stairs to their apartment.

You expected to see James lounging around like he often did, but he was not there, and Sirius told you Remus was on the terrace at the top, doing his thing, so you walked towards the sofa while Sirius offered to make you a cup of tea.

“Remus bought the one you like,” he said, pulling out a box with the tea you had tried a while back. You had fallen in love with the flavour, but you never found it in the supermarket –it was from a small tea shop at Diagon Alley, so really, there would be no way for you to find it.

“Okay,” you said, “got milk?” 

Sirius nodded towards the fridge and you helped him by pulling out the milk and some biscuits. When your cup was ready, he handed it over to you and took a sip of his own. He glanced at the clock quickly, so quick you barely even noticed and then smiled. It was that mysterious smile of his that told you he was up to something. “We should go see Remus.” 

“What? I thought he was working on his project.” 

“He probably is, but you haven’t seen him all day, I’m sure he wants to at least give you a birthday hug.” 

“A birthday hug?” you asked in disbelief. 

“Yes! A birthday hug! We’ll bother him for a bit and then we come back and you tell me about that book you’ve been reading. The one with the character you said reminds you of me.” 

“You’re so full of yourself,” you said with a laugh as you nodded and followed along with him. 

As you reached the top of the stairs you heard some shuffling on the other side of the door. Sirius was the one to open it first, but none of the lights they normally had were up. 

“Maybe they went to do their homework at the Corner Cafe,” you told Sirius as you turned to him. Suddenly all the lights turn on, including candles and the hanging fairy lights at the top. 

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices sang.

You were startled, Remus and James were right in front of their small table, and there was a cake right in front of them. They had invited their friend Lily, who was dating James and with whom you were fairly close to. She was the first one to approach you.

“I can’t believe Sirius was the one to tell me when your birthday was, Luv! He used to forget mine all the time!” She turned to Sirius with an accusing gaze and then back at you. “Happy Birthday,” she added as she hugged you. 

James gave you a short squeeze after and Remus wrapped you in his arms and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. Sirius joined the hug right after. 

“You’re squeezing me, boys!” you complained in a laugh. 

“It’s a birthday squeeze, deal with it,” Sirius responded, and pressed even closer. 

“Remus?” you tried, he was the most reasonable one between the two. 

“You heard Sirius, Dove. It’s the birthday squeeze.” 

You must have stayed like that for at least a minute before either of the two let go of you, you were certain Lily had whispered something to James, but you were too busy basking on the wrath of the squeeze to bother. After that, you would have sworn the lights of the cake turned on by themselves as Lily walked over to you with it. They sang Happy Birthday while Sirius pulled you to sit on his lap, using the terrible excuse that there was no other seat available. 

You had cake and then they handed over your gifts. A book from Lily and a chocolate frog from James, although he warned you not to open it until later. You didn’t know what that was about but decided to do what was told. Eventually, Lily said she had to go and James offered to walk her. 

Although he said ‘I’ll fly you’ getting a look from Remus that you missed entirely. The boys had extended a pair of matts over the deck and you were all laying on them while gazing at the stars. 

“It was lovely, thank you for the surprise,” you said as you looked at the waning moon. 

“It was nothing, Luv,” Rem said.

“Remus was really eager to celebrate your birthday. We actually have a little present for you,” Sirius added. 

“Really?” you asked, turning to Sirius.

“Mhm,” he nodded. 

“Open the frog,” Remus prompted. 

You leaned forwards and sat on the mat, pulling the frog from the table and doing what told. Suddenly the Frog that looked like it had been made out of chocolate jumped and fell near Remus’ leg. You gasped and stared at the moving frog. It looked like chocolate, but it moved as if it were alive. 

“What– did James give me an actual frog?” 

“No, it’s chocolate,” Remus reassured and picked it up. The frog stilled in his hand. 

You stared at it in disbelief, “Is this some sort of trick?” 

“It’s magic,” Sirius said. 

You frowned at him.

“Remember the story for our class? The one that we worked on together?” 

“Wartshow, Andrew, yeah of course.” 

“Well, It’s sort of real.” 

“What?” 

Remus pulled out his wand and handed it over to you. You stared at it, it looked like a wand, it felt like a wand, but there was no way it was magic because magic– “Is this some kind of trick?” 

Sirius laughed and pulled out a different wand from his pocket, he whispered something and red sparks blew out from the tip. You swallowed and took it from his hands. Checking on it to see if there was some kind of trick, or cannon dust or something inside of it, but it was just a stick, fancy, but a stick. 

Remus took his wand and with another set of words, levitated the small frog right in front of your face. You looked at it with eyes wide open and moved your hand all over it to make sure it really was floating, and it wasn’t some kind of invisible string trick. It was right in front of your eyes, and it was still too fascinating to believe.

“But… in our story, wizards couldn’t tell the non-wizards about their existence. It was meant to be a secret… I mean… Why are you telling me?” 

Remus smiled, his hand searched yours and he leaned his head on top of yours and sighed. “Because we trust you,” he said while looking ahead, at nothing in particular.

Sirius searched for your other hand, making sure to turn it around and interwinning his fingers with yours. He placed his head on your shoulder. “Because we like you.” 

You hadn’t had the best experience with birthdays, but this had been one of the nicest birthdays of them all, more so when your two crushes admitted what Sirius had meant by his words. That they liked you –romantically– not just as friends. 

A/N: I am so, SO sorry for taking this long to finish your gift, but I made it a bit longer than initially planned to make up for it.

Hope you both had the most amazing birthday and that you're having a wonderous day today. Sending you lots of love, hope you enjoy this little thing <3

[randomdragonfires]

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part One

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him. 

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of substances and alcohol.

PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader

WORD COUNT | 10k

A/N | This is a repurposed version of an old story of mine. I sort of lost all the connection I felt to the plot somewhere along the way but now I've written some 32k words. Point is, I will complete it this time. Please be kind, this is NOT beta read and I haven't posted a fic in a long time - I'm a little rusty. Thank you!

Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!  

She’s swaying, with no sense of what’s happening around her. 

One too many drinks. She’s never been much fun at parties, preferring to stay away from the heart of it all and slinking to the sides, sticking her back to the wall. But tonight, she drinks and she dances and she moves like she’s made of air, like it’s something she’s done for years. When she stops, her head spins for a moment before she gathers herself. As her vision clears, her eyes settle on a pair of mismatched eyes that see her.

He doesn’t look. He sees.

The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him. 

She’s not quite sure when the feelings started. She supposes that whenever she’s with him, the air is charged with something electric, better, ready to bubble up to the surface and spill over. It’s always been there. He’s always been there. It makes sense.

She’s not quite sure when she fell in love with him. But if anyone asks, then she’d say the story goes something like this.

She and Daeron have been joined at the hip ever since she moved to the private media-haven city of King’s Landing, where the who’s who of Westeros came to live quiet, uninterrupted lives. The Targaryens were gracious enough to reward her father’s loyalty with a seat on the board of Targaryen Consolidated, and Jasper Wylde made the move to be closer to the headquarters with great haste. Viserys Targaryen appreciated his promptness and made sure to have his wife help the Wyldes feel at home. Next thing she knows, she’s seamlessly made herself at home with the Targaryen-Hightower kids.

Around the same time, their youngest son with a boyish charm steals her heart - even before she was old enough to understand what it meant to fall in love.

They’re kids when Aegon lets her stand on his toes as he guides her to take his lead. They dance clumsily, in that wholesome way that older brothers do with their sisters - he is the closest thing she has to a brother, she supposes. There is no shortage of Wylde siblings, oh no. Just that they’re all old enough to have fled the nest, while she, at the tender age of six, still stays with her father - close enough to Maegor’s Holdfast, where her friend and his family live.

Helaena sips on her juice with one hand as she watches the centipede move slowly on the back of her left hand. It is clear to anyone who sees that neither Aemond nor Daeron - sitting on either side of her - share her interest. The latter is comparatively more horrid at hiding his discomfort than the former, who even at that age, would bite his own tongue before he made Helaena feel bad.

She laughs as Aegon jokes before spinning her around, much like the princesses in her stories. He’s always been this way, jokes and all light-hearted happiness. She feels like she’s light and airy and flying as he moves her, and soon enough, despite a lack of breath, she wants Daeron to dance with her.

He’d be the prince in her stories, always. Whenever she reads those head-spinning tales of love, it is always Daeron’s face that she sees. Nobody is more bashful or shy than a little girl who gets to dance with the boy she likes.

Daeron seems unaware of the red blooming on her cheeks, laughing as both pudgy little children made their way through the hall as they danced. The sunlight falls through the windows in thin streaks and Daeron’s hair catches the light, making his hair look like it was made of molten silver. His eyes brighten up and she cannot help but smile.

They keep going round and round until she tires herself out and lands on her bum, laughing without a care in the world as Daeron plops himself next to her.

Neither of them notice Aemond watching them from afar.

They're eight years old when Lucerys Velaryon harshly tugs at her pigtails as she sits under the old oak tree on the school grounds, engrossed in her book. The playful mischief on his face isn't new, but today it stings more than usual. Before she can react, Daeron charges at him, fists flying as he ignores the football game he was a part of. 

The scuffle draws the attention of everyone nearby, and she watches, heart pounding, as she begs them to stop. Normally, Luke's antics wouldn't escalate into a full-blown fight, but things have changed since that summer. The incident with Aemond, where Luke's careless shove left him with a scarred face and a damaged eye, has created an invisible line between the Targaryen-Hightower kids and their nephews.

Mr. Strong, one of their teachers, quickly intervenes, breaking up the fight. As Daeron lets go of Lucerys, his eyes find hers. "Of course, the Strong boys' grandfather would help them out," he mutters, his voice thick with frustration. It's in that moment, seeing the anger in his usually cheerful eyes, that she realizes - anger is an emotion that is so out of place on him.

Later that day, she sneaks into the infirmary with a handful of colorful band-aids, her small act of kindness in response to the cut above Daeron's brow. While his mother and sister argue in the Principal's office, she offers him the band-aids, her fingers trembling slightly. He grins, selecting the blue one with bright stars on it, and they sit together in silence, waiting for the adults to finish.

Daeron wears the band-aid for weeks, long after the cut has healed and the adhesive has started to wear off. He keeps adjusting it, ensuring it stays in place, as if it were a badge of honor. Every time he sees her, he flashes that full-toothed smile, a silent thank you for her support. It's a small gesture, but to her, it's everything.

She now knows what love is.

They’re thirteen years old when she begins resenting the girls around her - especially the ones who grow into themselves, with perfect tits and fuller bodies. Not because she’s yet to come into it herself, no.

Because Daeron looks at them longer than he ever did before.

She watches him watch them, her heart sinking each time his gaze lingers on another girl. Of all the girls, she hates Floris fucking Baratheon the most. 

Floris - a senior of theirs by a year - with her perfect hair and confident walk, her infectious laugh and me-me-me personality. Daeron’s eyes follow Floris as she moves through the hallways, and it makes her blood boil. Sometimes, in the privacy of her room, she grumbles about how she hopes Floris - a perfectly nice girl - would get run over by a truck or trip and fall to her death. 

She doesn’t mean it, not really.

She tries to distract herself, throwing herself into her studies and extracurricular activities. She spends more time with Helaena, who is wonderfully oblivious to the typical teenage drama, and finds solace in their quiet moments together. But every time she sees Daeron looking at Floris, the pang of jealousy returns, sharper than before.

Months pass, and she begins to notice changes in herself. Her body starts to develop, her hips widening and her chest filling out. She thought that maybe, just maybe, Daeron would start to look at her the way he looks at the other girls. But he doesn’t. His gaze doesn’t linger on her; he doesn’t see her the way he sees them.

It’s the first sign, the first painful realization, that perhaps Daeron’s feelings don’t match her own. She tries to push the thought away, but it’s persistent, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

She remembers one day in particular. It’s gym class, and she’s standing with a group of girls, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Floris is there, laughing and joking. Daeron is among them, his eyes bright as he listens to her, hanging onto her every word. 

She feels a sharp pang of jealousy and looks down at herself, wondering why she isn’t enough.

As the weeks go by, her frustration grows. She tries to get Daeron’s attention, hoping he’ll notice the changes in her. She wears new clothes, styles her hair differently, even tries to engage in conversations that might interest him. But nothing works. He’s friendly and kind - he always is - but he doesn’t look at her the way he looks at Floris.

One afternoon, she’s walking home with Daeron. The sun is setting, casting a glow over the neighborhood. They talk about school, about their plans for the weekend. It’s comfortable, familiar, but there’s a distance she can’t bridge. She wants to tell him how she feels, how much it hurts to see him look at other girls, but the words stick in her throat.

Instead, she says, “Do you think people change?”

Daeron glances at her, his expression thoughtful. “I think so. Why?”

She shrugs, trying to keep her voice steady. “Just wondering. Sometimes I feel like I’m changing, but nobody notices.”

He stops walking and turns to face her. “I notice.”

Her heart leaps at his words, but it quickly sinks again as she realizes he means it in the same friendly, brotherly way he always has. She forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, Daeron.”

They continue walking, but the conversation feels hollow. She knows now, with a painful clarity, that no matter how much she changes, she’ll never be the one Daeron looks at with longing. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but she forces herself to accept it.

Back home, she retreats to her room, the place where she can let her guard down. She sits on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and allows herself to cry. The tears come slowly at first, then faster, a torrent of frustration and heartbreak. She wishes things were different, wishes she could make him see her the way she sees him.

As she grows older and explores her own body, the journey of self-discovery becomes a personal and intimate experience. In the quiet of her room, late at night, she begins to understand her own desires. In these private moments, her imagination often drifts to Daeron. Just as his face was the one she envisioned when she read about princes and kings, it is his face that fills her thoughts now. His warm smile, his soft eyes, and the way he laughs—all these details become a vivid part of her fantasies. 

As her fingers move gently over her body, drawing out soft gasps and whimpers, she imagines his touch, his presence, and the way he might hold her. The intensity builds, her breaths becoming shallow and rapid.

The name she whispers into the silence is his.

She loves him. She hates him. 

She never wants to see him again.

They’re seventeen when prom comes about.

She’s dreamt about this for years - of her in her pretty blue dress on Daeron’s arm, making their way into the room as all her classmates looked.

Only that’s not how it happens.

Floris and Daeron have been going out for years now, and it comes as no surprise that he asks her to be his date. They’re sitting at the dining table at his house as he recounts how romantic the moment was, and how happily she’d said yes. He has all but stomped over her heart by now.

It takes everything in her to not stab him with her fork. Instead, she nibbles on the chicken nuggets that Criston Cole had made for them to snack on - that’s a new development, really. Soon after the divorce, Daeron’s mum began dating the bodyguard; though he suspects they’ve been together for longer.

But Alicent Hightower smiles brighter and shines more than she ever did in Viserys Targaryen’s presence, so her children don’t find it in themselves to be angry. If anything, they’re very supportive and leave them to be.

When he turns to her with that familiar, probing smile that she loves and asks if she will be going, she murmurs Jason Lannister’s name with a casual disinterest she doesn’t fully feel. Daeron’s smile widens, his eyes glinting with mischief as he pokes and prods, clearly trying to coax a blush from her at the mention of the blonde-haired boy.

She wants to love him, but Jason Lannister simply isn’t Daeron Targaryen. No matter how charming or cute this boy - their senior by a year, a classmate of Aemond’s -  might be, he can’t compete with the phantom of a dream she’s harbored for years.

She finds it increasingly difficult to maintain her composure. The weight of her crushed dreams feels almost unbearable, and the cheerful tone of his voice only worsens the heartache. Unable to endure it any longer, she mutters something about needing to get some fresh air and stands up abruptly. Daeron, oblivious to her distress, casually mentions that he’s planning to meet Floris soon. The words hit her like a cold wave, and she forces a tight-lipped smile before making her way outside.

The air is cool and quiet as she walks along the gravel path, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her mind is a tumult of emotions—sadness, frustration, and a deep-seated ache that she can’t quite put into words. Absently, she kicks at a small stone, sending it skittering across the ground.

The stone makes a sharp, clinking sound as it collides with a metallic object. Startled, she looks up to see the stone has hit Aemond’s motorbike - the pompous prick even gave it a name:  Vhagar. The sound of the impact echoes in the stillness, and her heart skips a beat as she sees a shadowy figure emerge from behind the bike.

It’s Aemond; he’s preparing the motorbike to take with him to university at Oldtown - where she and Daeron will soon follow, with their long-term plans to go to college together. His face, illuminated by the faint light, is a mixture of annoyance that turns into something unreadable. She quickly murmurs a shaky “sorry” before the swell of emotions becomes too much. Her eyes well up with tears she’s been desperately trying to hold back.

He’s curious, but he doesn’t ask why she’s crying. He simply watches her walk away.

Hours later, when Floris Baratheon drives to their house in one of her father’s cars, he sees his brother kiss the girl like she’s the very air he needs to breathe.

Now, he knows what’s happened.

Nothing goes to plan.

Far from it, really.

In all her dreams of prom, she always imagined that she’d dance the night away with Daeron, empowered by all the spiked drinks she knows she’ll love to have. They’ll keep spinning as they did when they were kids, until they’d slow down in tiredness and he’d lean in and kiss all her teenage heartbreak away.

Instead, she sits with both her legs on the same side on Vhagar, with Aemond Targaryen.

Wrong, it’s all gone wrong.

Her dress is blue and pretty and all that she hoped it’d be, but by the Gods, she wants nothing but to shred it to pieces and never see it again. The neon lights of the diner sign that he’s parked under buzzes and she hates the sound. She’s got coffee in her hands, and she holds onto the cup tight as she lets the warmth seep through her. She’s put on his jacket, and it smells like cigarettes. He’s got her bracelet in his pocket, allowing for the wounds on her wrist to breathe.

He’s leaning on the motorbike right next to her, and she chances a look at him. She wonders what she’d have done, what would have happened to her, if he hadn’t been around. She thanks the Gods that he was.

He lifts the cigarette onto his lips and she sees his bloodied knuckles. She clocks the blood on his shirt and the red stains on his signet ring, one that his father gave him when he turned eighteen. She can’t bear to look at the red any longer; she can’t look at any of it without hearing the sounds of him punching Jason Lannister to near death. 

“You could have killed him,” she says. Her voice is devoid of any emotions. She speaks like she’s simply inquiring about the weather.

“He’d have deserved it.” The smoke billows, fades, goes into the air.

He flexes his free hand over his thighs and she lets out a long sigh. “It’s nothing, really. Nothing happened. I���m fine.”

“Wylde.” The anger at her denial is obvious, but he doesn’t push. His mismatched pair of blue and violet eyes flare like never before, but she knows Aemond. She knows he simply wants her to not lie, even if she’s not ready to say anything. “Where was Daeron? He’s always with you like a lost dog, isn’t he?”

She can’t blame Daeron for choosing to spend the night with his date. She won’t blame Floris for keeping him all to herself - she’d do the same thing if he was hers. She can’t blame them at all, but she can’t bring herself to stop the bitterness from making its way. “Busy shagging his date, I think,” she spits out.

“Hm.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please.”

She hates the idea of having to explain to anyone at all what had happened. How Jason had his hands up the skirts of her dress, how she kept nodding no, how he continued despite her saying no a hundred times over. She remembers how he’d pressed her hands against the wall, her charm bracelet poking and prodding and searing as it pressed into her skin and drew blood. All of a sudden, she can’t breathe. 

She grips the cup tighter, causing the coffee to spill into her hands and it stains the sleeves of his pristine leather jacket too and the tears fall and there’s nothing she can do and she’d helpless again and-

“Wylde.”

“Don’t tell.” She all but chokes the words out, and hopes and prays that he’ll listen.

“Okay.” 

They sit in silence for a time, the city moving silently in the twilight as they take it in. Neither of them says a word, and she finishes her coffee in peace. She notices the steel - Valyrian steel, she thinks - bracelet on his right wrist too. When had he begun wearing all this?

“Your mum won’t like it if she finds out you’ve been smoking, you know.”

“What mum doesn’t know…” he says, the sentence left incomplete for her to get that she isn’t to say a word about any of this.

“Okay.”

Many moments of welcome silence pass, and then she hops off the seat of the bike. The message is clear: she’s ready to be taken home.

The engine hums to life beneath her as they merge into the stream of twilight traffic. She wraps her arms around him, feeling the coarse texture of his leather jacket beneath her fingertips. With each breath he takes, his back expands and contracts, a rhythm that grounds her in the present. The bike vibrates gently, its mechanical purr harmonizing with the distant murmur of the city.

The air is thick with the scent of motor oil, mingling with the subtle aroma of leather and something uniquely him. She breathes it in deeply, letting it fill her senses as the city lights stretch out into the dusk. The streets are bathed in the golden glow of street lamps, their light flickering through the trees that line the boulevard. 

As they weave through traffic, the sounds of the city become white noise. The hum of engines, the distant chatter of pedestrians, and the occasional blare of a car horn create a backdrop that feels almost surreal. She leans into him, her cheek pressing against his back, feeling the solid reassurance of his presence.

The wind tousles her hair, cool against her skin, as they take a turn onto a quieter street. The city fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic click of the bike’s gears and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. She closes her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to be fully immersed in the sensations—the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the steady thrum of the engine beneath them.

They soon stop at her house, and she steps down. He glances back at her, his eyes shadowed with concern. He scans her from head to toe, his gaze lingering on her face. She sees the struggle in his eyes, the words that he cannot bring himself to say. His brows furrow slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he's about to speak but then thinking better of it.

She meets his gaze, her own eyes softening with understanding. Despite the fear still rippling through her, she offers him a small, reassuring smile. “I'm okay,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the city's din. She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath her touch. 

He doesn’t speak, but his eyes search hers, silently asking if she’s truly alright. She says nothing, simply leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, the gesture full of gratitude and something deeper, something she doesn’t dare name. He won’t mind; it’s just a thank you for being there, she tells herself.

He watches her as she steps back, his gaze following her movements. She pulls his jacket tighter around herself, feeling the comforting weight of it, the lingering scent of him enveloping her. As he revs the engine and rides off into the night, she watches the trail of smoke he leaves behind, her heart full and heavy all at once. The jacket feels like a hug, as though he’s the one holding her, even from afar.

When she goes to bed that night, her dreams are tinged with shades of violet and blue.

Her bracelet, one that he’d gently removed and kept in his trouser pocket doesn’t cross her mind at all. Not once.

She doesn’t see much of Daeron anymore.

She stops visiting Maegor’s Holdfast, though she does show up for Sunday lunch at Alicent Hightower’s insistence. She steps into the house as Criston welcomes her, sunny smiles and easy disposition making her welcome. She momentarily forgets why she’d stopped coming- how Daeron didn’t bother with spending a single moment with her at the prom that he knew she was at, how he’d not bothered to check in afterward. She never even got a chance to tell him herself what Jason had tried to do. 

He’s still in the dark about it all, acting like nothing’s gone wrong when she’s slowly removed herself from his orbit. It means Aemond hasn’t told anyone, just as he’d promised.

She looks over Criston Cole’s shoulder and sees Floris Baratheon laughing with Daeron and Alicent, and her scowl deepens immediately.

When the raven haired senior sees her, she comes to her with a kind smile and an outstretched arm that takes her into a hug immediately. 

She’s grown weary of strangers touching her since that night, but she holds her own.

The bitterness that engulfs her at Floris Baratheon welcoming her to a house that has essentially been her second home all her life, never quite goes away.

Her feet shuffles and she cancels out all the noise as she absentmindedly makes up bullshit excuses for her absence. She’s seated at the table between Aemond and Helaena, who’d come back home from university to visit for the weekend. The conversation flows smoothly as the juice she has a lot of - the sun is sweltering and she can’t bring herself to eat.

She won’t blame how nauseatingly happy the two of them sitting opposite her are. That has nothing to do with her appetite.

She’s learnt to make her peace with it, how she’d never be the girl that he’d want to be with. She’s content with being his best friend, but lately it seems as though she isn’t even half of that to him. She’s learnt to live her own life without him, but it hurtles her backward and her feet tapping becomes incessant as she watches him break her heart with his next words.

“Floris is going to KLU this summer, I think I’m gonna go too, next year.”

And just like that, their childhood dream of attending college together’s been broken, and it seems as though he doesn’t care one bit.

He looks at her like she’s the only person that exists in his world - she may as well be, at this point - and her anger knows no bounds. She wants to dash out the door and go to her room and take down all her Oldtown University posters and damn it all, damn it all to hell-

Aemond’s hand settles and presses into her thigh, keeping her from tapping her foot any further.

Everyone else at the table seems oblivious to her growing annoyance.

Her eyes meet his and he moves his head, almost as if he is warning her to stay put - but it is calming too, at the same time. She heeds him and somewhere along the way, the hand on her thigh is taken away. She misses the warmth of it, weirdly so.

She leaves with half hearted goodbyes and buries herself in the sheets in her room. An entire tub of icecream is swiftly eaten up as she holds her book in the other hand, willing herself not to cry.

He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve her tears-

The bell rings, and the head housemaid of Rain House swiftly makes it to her room and knocks on the door. “It’s Master Daeron for you, miss,” she says, her voice laced with a slight Essosi accent that she still holds onto after years. Her grip on the book is frightening, her knuckles going white.

She walks down in careful, slow steps - her legs feel like jelly as she makes the descent on the staircase. 

She takes a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest, as she finally reaches the bottom of the staircase. Daeron stands there, looking unsure and nervous. The sight of him stirs a whirlwind of emotions within her—anger, hurt, betrayal. She steels herself, determined to say everything that’s been building up inside her.

"Why are you here?" she asks, her voice colder than she intends.

"I... I wanted to talk," he says softly, trying to meet her gaze.

"Talk?" she scoffs, crossing her arms. "Now you want to talk? After everything?"

He takes a step forward, but she steps back, putting more distance between them. "I've been busy with—"

"Busy?" she interrupts, her voice rising. "Busy ignoring me? Busy replacing me with Floris? Busy planning a future that doesn't include me?"

"That's not fair," he protests, looking pained. "Floris is my girlfriend, and—"

"And what? That means I don't matter anymore? That our friendship doesn't matter?" Her voice is shaking now, the floodgates of her emotions bursting open. "We had plans, Daeron! We were going to go to Oldtown University together. We talked about it for years. And now you're just throwing it all away for her, a girl you’ve known for what, two minutes?"

"It's not like that," he tries to explain, but she cuts him off again.

"Not like that? You didn't even tell me! I had to hear it at the table, like I'm some stranger! You made me feel like I don't matter, like I'm just... second best."

"You're not second best," he insists, looking desperate.

"Then why do I feel like it?" she yells. "You’ve been treating me like I'm nothing! Do you know what it's like to be ignored by your best friend? To feel like you're losing the one person who meant everything to you?"

"Please, just listen—"

"No, you listen!" she screams, her eyes blazing with fury. "Jason Lannister... he... he fucking  tried to rape me at prom." Her voice cracks, the memory of that night overwhelming her. "Aemond found me. Of all people, Aemond saved me. And where were you? With Floris, having the time of your life, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in hell."

She knows it’s wrong to blame him. What happened that night had nothing to do with him, but she can’t help herself. The floodgates are open after years of quiet, and she is on a roll.

His face pales, and he opens his mouth to speak, but she doesn't let him. "You promised we'd go to college together, you promised we'd always be there for each other. And now you're breaking that promise for her. You're betraying our friendship for someone you've known for a fraction of the time you've known me."

"I didn't know," he whispers, tears forming in his eyes. "I didn't know about Jason. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" she echoes, her voice dripping with bitterness. "Sorry doesn't fix this. Sorry doesn't undo the pain you've caused. I hate you, Daeron. I hate you for making me feel worthless, for betraying our friendship, for everything." He steps back, stunned by her words, and for a moment, they just stare at each other, the weight of her anger and his guilt hanging heavily in the air.

If she says any more, she may tell him she’s been in love with him all this time and embarrass herself further.

"I fucking hate you," she says, her voice icy and final. 

He looks ethereal even in his sadness, and she hates herself for thinking about how beautiful he looks even then.

He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then he closes it, a quiet apology dying on his lips. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving her standing there, her heart shattered but her resolve unbroken. As the door closes behind him, she collapses on the staircase, tears streaming down her face, the enormity of her outburst sinking in.

The days that follow blur together in a haze of bitterness and exhaustion. She clings to Elinor Beesbury and Ellyn Baratheon, doing her best to go about her business without causing a stir. She avoids Daeron at all costs. The pitying, sad look he gives her from afar makes her consider forgiving him, but then Floris Baratheon sits right next to him and his attention is stolen. In those moments, she remembers why they fought in the first place.

“I’m sorry about you and Daeron,” Ellyn says one afternoon. “Floris said you had a fight and don’t speak to each other anymore.”

“Floris says, huh?”

“She is my sister, you know.”

“Hm.”

She never lets these conversations go on for too long, cutting them short before the pain seeps through her facade.

In truth, though, she’s tired of holding onto her grudges. She deserves to be a little hateful, but she’s never been the type to be angry for too long. But she’s not a Septa either, not quite as forgiving. This half-in, half-out approach exhausts her more than she wants to admit. Each day feels like a battle, her energy sapped by the effort of maintaining her cold indifference.

Summer break comes soon, and with it, the promise of rest and a new year of school that would follow. She doesn’t call her father - Jasper Wylde is often on trips for work that she never asks about. Summers used to be filled with laughter and adventure when her mother was alive, but there hasn’t been much joy in the house since her passing. So she wallows, feeling the oppressive weight of solitude and grief.

Usually, she’d spend her summers with the Targaryens. Alicent never minded having her around and even loved entertaining her like her own child. The Targaryen household was a second home, a sanctuary filled with warmth and belonging. But she’s got her pride, and she won’t go now. Not after everything that’s happened.

The Targaryens often retreated to their summer house in Oldtown, where the Hightowers lived. The memories of those summer vacations flood her mind, making her want to double down and cry. She recalls the grand manor with its sprawling gardens, the scent of salt in the air from the Sunset Sea, and the endless days of sun-drenched bliss.

They’d spend hours lounging by the pool, with lemonade and cold treats while the children splashed and played. Evenings were filled with elegant dinners under the stars, laughter echoing through the hallways, and the comfort of a family that, despite their flaws, loved deeply and fiercely. She’d felt like she belonged there, like she was part of something bigger than herself.

But now, those memories are tainted by the ache of loss and betrayal. She’s haunted by the image of Daeron and Floris, their laughter and closeness a stark contrast to her own loneliness. The joy she once felt in the Targaryen household now feels like a cruel reminder of what she’s lost.

She tries to distract herself, diving into books and mindless TV shows, but nothing can truly drown out the emptiness inside her. The isolation gnaws at her, a constant, nagging pain that she can’t shake off. She misses the days when she could simply be herself, without the heavy cloak of anger and sorrow weighing her down. She misses the carefree summers, the feeling of being loved and wanted.

Tears often come unbidden, hot and angry, as she lies in bed at night. She curses herself for caring so much, for letting him cut her so deeply. She tells herself she’s strong, that she doesn’t need him or anyone else, but the ache in her chest tells a different story.

He’s just some boy, she tells herself. But she’s also quick to fight her own words: He’s more, more, more.

She wishes she could turn back time, to before everything fell apart. To when Daeron was her best friend, her confidant, her rock. When her mother’s laughter filled the house and summers were something to look forward to. But those days are gone, and she’s left to navigate the wreckage on her own.

Her heart feels heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved pain. She’s tired of being angry, tired of feeling like she’s fighting a losing battle. But the hurt is too deep, the wounds too fresh. So she puts on a brave face, holds her head high, and tries to move forward, even though every step feels like she’s walking through quicksand.

She sits on her bed, staring blankly at the pages of a book she isn't truly reading. Her mind is far away, lost in a whirlpool of memories and pain. The house is eerily silent, amplifying her loneliness. She feels as if she’s adrift in a vast ocean, with no shore in sight. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand, but she ignores it, knowing it's probably another call from her father that she won't answer.

A sudden knock on her bedroom door startles her. She wipes away the tears that have been silently streaming down her face and tries to compose herself.

"Come in," she calls out, her voice weak as she expects the house help to call her for food.

The door opens and Aemond steps in, holding a box. His presence is a mix of comfort and awkwardness, as if he's not sure how to approach her in this state.

"Cole made Tiramisu," Aemond says softly, holding out the box. "Mum asked Daeron to bring it to you or call you over, but he rambled on about how you’re angry at him and won’t speak to him."

Her room is a blend of organized chaos and personal touches. Bookshelves line one wall, filled with novels, textbooks, and sketchbooks. A stack of half-read books sit on her nightstand, and her art supplies are scattered across a small desk in the corner. Posters of Oldtown University adorn the walls. A few framed photos of her and her mother and happier times with the Targaryens are interspersed among her drawings.

Aemond walks slowly, his eyes taking in the details. He runs his fingers lightly over the spines of the books, glancing at the titles. He pauses by her desk, picking up a sketchbook and flipping through a few pages. He sets it down gently and moves to the posters, studying them as if trying to understand what they mean to her.

"Your father called this morning," Aemond continues, his voice gentle. "Your staff picked up and said you’re here, but you refuse to pick up his calls. He practically begged Mum to send someone to check in on you. He’s worried."

She sighs, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. "I don’t want to talk to him. Or anyone, really."

Aemond places the box on her bedside table and sits down next to her, his expression one of genuine concern as the mattress dips. He doesn’t look at her directly at first, his eyes wandering over the room as he gathers his thoughts.

"You don't have to talk if you don’t want to. But you can’t shut everyone out forever."

She looks at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I’m just so tired, Aemond. Tired of feeling like this. Tired of being angry and hurt."

His gaze finally settles on her, and for the first time, he sees her, well and proper. She’s not quite sure how to feel about it all.

He passes the box to her wordlessly, and she picks up the spoon on top of it before holding the box with her other hand. 

She looks down at her full hands, not quite being able to summon the courage to look him in the eye. "I just... I don’t know how to move on from this. It’s like everything is falling apart, and I can’t fix it."

“Eat,” he demands. So she does. She smiles at how good it is.

“So Criston’s been cooking a lot, huh? He’s gonna put all the kitchen staff at your house out of business.”

“Yes, from bodyguard to personal chef. Quite the promotion,” he says, but there is a soft smile that follows. “He makes mum happy.”

“Good. She deserves that.”

She extends a full spoon to him, but he declines with a shake of his head. Neither of them say anything, and she continues to eat. The silence is deafening but comfortable by all accounts. The only sounds are the soft clinking of her spoon against the box and the distant hum of life outside her room.

Aemond shifts slightly, making himself comfortable on the edge of her bed. He watches her with a quiet intensity, his presence a steady, grounding force. He’s never been one to fill silence with meaningless words.

His eyes wander around the room again. He notices a framed photo on her nightstand, half-hidden behind a stack of books. It’s a picture of her with Daeron, taken during one of those sun-drenched summer vacations. They’re both smiling, their faces bright with happiness.

She sees his pity, and she chooses to ignore it. 

Her expression hardens for a moment, then softens into something more reflective. She sets down the Tiramisu and reaches for the picture, moving across him. She chooses to not focus on how warm his breath is on her as she moves, instead focusing on her fingers tracing the edges of the frame.

"Do you remember this day?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond nods. "Two years ago?"

She sighs, a mix of nostalgia and sorrow in her eyes. "I miss it. I miss how simple everything was." I miss when I felt wanted.

“Hm.”

Turning her gaze to Aemond, she finds herself filled with a deep sense of gratitude. "Thank you for coming, Aemond," she says softly. "I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to be here with me until you actually did."

He lets out a noiseless, subtle chuckle - as is his habit. She continues, feeling overwhelmed by how thankful she is. "I’ve pushed everyone away. I thought it was easier to deal with everything on my own. But now... I’m just so grateful that you came.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, the weight of her grief and anger easing with each passing moment. She feels a sense of clarity she hasn’t felt in a long time. Her head feels heavy, however - she leans on his shoulder, and he lets her.

Somewhere along the way, their hands entwined had been left to rest on her thigh. She doesn’t give it much thought apart from how warm her hand is in his hold.

Almost an hour later, they stand in the living room as he readies himself to leave. She looks out the window and sees Vhagar parked outside, and she quickly remembers. Darting to her room, she comes back with his jacket from the other night. She wordlessly hands it to him, and he smiles by the corner of his lips as he puts it back on.

“When do you leave for Oldtown?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“So this is goodbye then?”

“Only for a time, I think. Or have you changed your mind about Oldtown now that-”

“Daeron’s ditched me?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing to not extend her invitation for a pity party. 

“I haven’t given it much thought lately. I probably should. I just… college was an experience that we were going to take on together, you know? I never thought of what it would be like if I had to do it alone.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll learn. Just… not right now. I’m just going to lick my wounds for a bit.”

He begins scratching at his cuticles and she grabs the hint. “You should get going. Lots of packing to do, I bet?”

“The staff took care of it.”

Of course they did. He’ll never have to lift a finger, silver- haired Targaryen prince that he is.

“Economics, huh? And then an MBA along with an internship at one of Targaryen Consolidated’s major divisions before your father puts you in one of the high chairs?”

He blushes at how predictable his path seems to her.

“If it counts for anything, I feel like you were made for this. Born for this.”

He nods, letting her words of affirmation wash over him as he finally makes a move. “You take care of yourself, yeah?” He murmurs, his lips warm against her brow as she stands, basking in his welcome warmth.

He withdraws too quickly for her liking.

Once again, she watches him ride the motorbike away from her as she stands on her front porch.

He'll miss her when he goes. 

The realization strikes him with the force of the cold wind that stings his cheeks as he rides. It’s a sharp, undeniable truth that cuts through his thoughts, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He had come to return her bracelet, a simple task with a clear objective. He should have done it when she’d returned his jacket. Yet, standing before her, seeing the familiar glint in her eyes and the way her hair framed her face, he found himself unable to follow through.

The bracelet's weight was a physical discomfort, pressing against his leg as if to remind him of her.

Perhaps that’s why he chooses to take it with him to university too.

Months later, she doesn’t know what to expect when she bumps into Daeron at the library - but it’s certainly not this.

It’s not quite bumping, to be honest. She’s off in the corner studying, the same corner that they used to share. It seemed that he still favored the same table, because he came to it too, only to freeze in her presence.

Neither of them says a word until he weakly mumbles.

“Hey.”

She gulps and quickly stands, the awkwardness pervading her very senses as she - for the first time in her entire life - feels uncomfortably clueless around him. “I was just leav-”

He’s quick to cage her, and her breath is knocked out. She remembers a time when she’d have killed to be this close to him.

“You’re not going anywhere till we talk.”

She’s tilting her head to the side in a defeated motion but he does not deter, so she sighs and gives in.

How bad could it possibly be?

They’re on the sidewalk, walking together but as strangers - a stark contrast to how it used to be. The reminder is sharp as a horrid pain shoots through her skull, a dull headache forming at the thought of all that has happened coming back. Her hands clutch onto the straps of her backpack tighter than ever before, knuckles going white.

She buys them their drinks as he gets what used to be their regular table at Nightblooms, the quaint cafe near the school that she loves. His Sunspearino and her King’s Landing Iced Tea are cold in her hands as she takes them over to the table. She pushes his glass to him wordlessly as he mutters his thanks.

She absentmindedly stirs with her straw, eyes trained on the floor. The awkwardness is seemingly never ending, but he’s always been quite the seamless crowd puller.

“How have you been?”

Her nod is all over the place as she focuses on the wall behind him, and he sighs. “Seriously, how long is it going to be like this?”

Her nose flares at his apparent impatience - what did he expect?

“I know you. I know you. You’re not the kind to be angry for long. So why are you being like this with me?”

She still says nothing, now sipping on her drink as she looks out the window, watching the herd of vehicles passing by. She counts two green cars before he continues.

“I miss you. I miss… my best friend.”

There it is. The words she’s hated her entire life.

“You seemed to be doing fine without me earlier.” She’s bitter and it’s pointless, she knows. She’s perhaps even taking it a bit far. But she feels the way she feels and there’s little she can do to make it go away.

“I made a mistake. I am sorry for it. Do you really not want to forgive me?”

She shouldn’t. She hates how he treated her. She hates how he left her behind. She hates how after all this time, he can still pull her in like nothing’s happened. She hates him, him, him-

Most of all, she hates how little it takes to get her to forgive him.

She hates how much she misses him too.

“I was in love with you, you know.” The words tumble out before she can even make sense of what she’s saying.

And there it was.

She’s dreamt of saying this to him a hundred different ways - not one of her dreams involved them seated across each other like this, with her barely holding onto her sanity.

It takes all of her patience to not pull her hair out right then.

“I know.”

Words are usually wind, but these are a boot-clad foot; they threaten to crush the life out of her with each moment that passes.

“I asked him why he never said anything, and he said he didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Hm.” She hears the sound of a lighter click on the other end, and she knows he’s smoking. She can picture him clearly. His black t-shirt, hair in a slick man bun, his leather jacket probably slung to the side or left haphazardly on his bed on a throw. The smoke would billow out in small puffs as he flexes his knuckles like he always does.

“And then we just… I don’t know. Just sort of sat there for a bit. “

“Hm.” 

“We didn’t say much after. I was much too embarrassed to continue and he seemed tired as well. Just finished our drinks and he insisted on walking me home.”

For what seems like a long moment, Aemond says nothing. The silence stretches between them, but it's not uncomfortable. She can hear him exhale slowly and there's the soft rustle of his jacket as he shifts. She knows Aemond is there, just taking his time to process everything. The distant hum of the city is barely noticeable against the rhythm of his steady breathing, the occasional flex of his knuckles making a soft, almost imperceptible pop.

She stretches on her own bed before shifting to her side and finally asks, “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice softer now. There's a pause before he continues, “Are you… do you still have feelings for him?”

Her breath catches slightly. She hasn’t been asked this directly, not ever. “It hasn’t completely gone away,” she admits. “There’s always going to be something there. But no, not quite as I used to.”

He hums again, and she imagines him taking another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him. “Good. Maybe it’s time to focus on other things. Other people.”

She smiles at his gentle nudge. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” She takes a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Speaking of other people, have you made any new friends at university? Meet anyone interesting?”

Aemond hesitates, and she can almost hear him weighing his words. “Yeah, a few people.”

She grins, sensing an opportunity. “Anyone special?”

He’s silent for a beat too long. “Hm...”

“Is that a yes?” Her excitement is barely concealed.

“Perhaps.”

Her grin widens. “Oh, come on, Aemond. You can’t just say ‘perhaps’ and leave it at that. Tell me!”

He sighs, and she can tell he’s trying not to smile. “There’s someone, but it’s nothing serious.”

Her curiosity piqued, she presses on. “What’s their name?”

“No.”

She laughs, teasing him. “Give me something!”

“Hm.”

“Just a hint?”

“No.”

She pouts, though she knows he can’t see it. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Nothing much to say. It’s… too soon.”

He’s never been one to divulge at her insistence, but she can’t resist one last playful prod. “Fine, but you owe me details eventually.”

“Maybe,” he says, his tone somewhat lighter than before.

She smiles, feeling closer to him despite the distance. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

She can’t see him, and he’s quite far away - but she’s convinced he’s smiling, in that arrogant, self assured way that he always does.

She’s two months away from completing school for good when her acceptance to Oldtown arrives.

She’s under no illusions about any of it. She may be smart and have great grades, but it is her family’s faint traces of aristocracy and their connections to the businesses of some of the greatest families of Westeros that makes the stick fall in her favor.

She’ll just have to make sure she’s worth it.

I’m in, see you in 3 months, she texts him. The waving ellipsis forms in his chat almost instantly, and she knows he’s happy for her.

Congratulations . Happy for you.

Moving away for university and starting fresh is her only motivation to keep going, she finds. The idea of a clean slate is too enticing for her own good, but she cannot help it. She is excited at the thought of Oldtown - the architecture, the weather, the libraries and the cafes can only be much more beautiful now than when she saw it all as a baby on vacation.

And there’s Aemond too.

There are many happy things to look out for. But as months pass and the time to leave dawns closer , there’s simpler pleasures - like her father being back in the city to see her graduate.

The graduation ceremony at the Visenya Targaryen Memorial School unfolds with all the grandeur one might expect from such an exclusive institution. Nestled amidst meticulously manicured gardens, the school buildings stand tall. Ivy-clad stone walls, expansive lawns, and ornate iron gates contribute to the atmosphere as some of the most prestigious and richest families assemble to see their children mark their first major milestone.

Students clad in crisp white dresses and tailored suits gather in anticipation. The scent of blooming roses mingles with the soft murmur of excited chatter, creating an air of expectant joy. The girls’ dresses, delicately embroidered and paired with modest pearls, and the boys’ sharp suits, complete with silk ties make them all look perfectly ready to step into their generational wealth.

The ceremony takes place in a grand marquee set up on the main lawn, its white canopy fluttering gently in the breeze. Inside, rows of elegant wooden chairs are adorned with satin ribbons, and an aisle carpeted in red velvet leads to a stage draped in the school’s colors. The stage itself is framed by two grand, blossoming floral arrangements. 

"You look so much like your mother in certain lights," he says softly, kissing her good luck on the cheek before taking his place among the other parents. He tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear before he goes.

The Targaryens, of course, occupy the front-row seats, a privilege owed to their immense donations to the school, their status as the wealthiest family in the country and the name on the school gates. However, Criston is notably absent from their midst, instead seated among the other parents. An image must be maintained, and hell would break loose before Alicent Hightower is seen in public with the man who was once her bodyguard, especially in the company of Viserys.

She feels a pang of sympathy for Alicent; Criston spent far more time with Daeron than Viserys ever did and deserves to be at the front more than his father. The politics of appearance, however, dictate otherwise.

Helaena has come back to watch her brother graduate. Having begun her master's in microbiology at Oldtown, she is soon planning to go into research. Aegon and Aemond, however, are off on a trip. Despite his absence, Aemond sends her a text, offering his wishes and congratulations. The text is followed by a drunk jumble of letters that she manages to decipher as ‘Thank fuck you’re done with school,” which she assumes is from Aegon.

The graduates are called to the stage one by one, their names echoing through the marquee, accompanied by held back and dignified applause. When her name is finally announced, she takes a deep breath and walks up the aisle, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. She receives her diploma with a graceful nod, her gaze briefly meeting Headmaster Strong’s in a moment of shared respect.

As she returns to her seat, she catches her father's eye, his expression beaming with pride. She also notices Daeron watching her, having already received his diploma. The fleeting glance between them doesn’t make her angry or tired anymore, and she knows a conversation between them is due.

After the ceremony, she mingles with her classmates, posing for pictures with Elinor Beesbury and Ellyn Baratheon. As the photographer captures their smiles, she catches sight of Daeron across the lawn. He stands with his hands on Floris' waist, speaking animatedly to Borros Baratheon and his wife. They look happy, their faces lit with genuine smiles and laughter.

The crowd around them seems to blur as she and Daeron finally walk towards each other. She notes the easy way Daeron holds Floris, and a surprising realization dawns on her: she doesn't care as much anymore. Perhaps this is what closure feels like, or maybe she's simply over him. The certainty eludes her, but the weight on her heart feels lighter.

"Congratulations," she says, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

“You too.”

“So, KLU?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, uhm… I am happy for you, you know?”

“I know. You never had it in you to be angry for long at me.”

She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or wring his neck for making her feel taken for granted. She chooses to smile instead.

“I think it’ll be good for us,” she says. “This time away.”

“Suppose so. Guess we’ll have quite a few stories to tell when we meet again.”

Floris’ laugh is distinctly light and they hear it from where they stand. “You’re happy.”

“I think so,” he says. She doesn’t know what to make of his uncertainty.

“Last chance to come with me to Oldtown,” she chuckles, a brazen attempt at a joke.

He chuckles. “Are we laughing about this now?” The sound of a camera clicking them makes them both turn. It is Helaena with her polaroid camera, and they’re both quick to swarm her to take a look at what she’s captured.

The visual slowly comes to life as she shakes the ever loving life out of the photo. Daeron is laughing with his head up to the sky, and she’s slowly chuckling with the back of her hand covering her mouth, her eyes looking at him.

It’s almost as if they’re best friends again.

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