#sincerity charming white | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cbeargyu · 6 days ago

Text

lettre pour toi

summary: a shy high school senior accidentally slips a love letter into the wrong locker, thinking it belongs to her crush park sunghoon — but instead, it ends up in the hands of lee heeseung, a notorious delinquent who takes the letter seriously and declares them a couple on the spot, starting an unexpected and chaotic love story.

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

genre: high school au, romance, fluff, crack, slowburn, light angst.

warnings: delinquent!heeseung, possessive behavior, kissing, stolen first kiss, mild language, emotional tension, misunderstandings, power imbalance.

wc: 5k

love was in the air at mok-hae high school, quite literally, and maybe even overwhelmingly so. the long-awaited valentine’s day festival had finally returned after years of being nothing more than a forgotten tradition, and this year, it felt like the entire campus had bloomed with rose petals and heart-shaped confessions. students wandered the decorated halls hand-in-hand, lockers were covered in pastel-colored post-its with anonymous messages, and every classroom buzzed with excitement and hushed whispers about who had confessed to who. it was only halfway through the day, and already a third of the school had somehow ended up with an official partner, flowers in hand and bright smiles on their faces.

and you? well, you had made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t let this day end like all the others — watching from the sidelines with a heart full of longing and a mouth too afraid to speak. no, this time would be different. this time you were going to confess. and not to just anyone — to him. park sunghoon.

he was a year older, part of the senior class, and although you’d barely spoken more than a few words to him since you met, he had quietly occupied the center of your world for longer than you cared to admit. tall, graceful, effortlessly charming with that soft black hair and soft eyes that somehow managed to look cold and warm at the same time, he was the kind of boy you only read about in shojo manga or saw staring out the windows in coming-of-age dramas.

girls liked him, boys respected him, and teachers always gave him that subtle look of admiration. but you? you worshipped him. silently, from afar. like a secret you folded and refolded in your chest so many times it had started to fray around the edges. he was everything you weren’t — confident, eloquent, easy to notice — while you were soft-spoken, painfully shy, the kind of girl who always chose the back corner seat and barely raised her hand in class. even your friends sometimes forgot you were in the room unless you were directly spoken to.

you remembered the exact moment your feelings for sunghoon began — it had been almost a year ago, a rainy monday afternoon when you had clumsily dropped your entire backpack just as the dismissal bell rang. your notebooks had scattered across the hallway, papers soaked in the puddles of muddy water students had tracked in, and no one had stopped. no one, except him. sunghoon had crouched down without a word, helped you gather everything with quiet precision, and gently handed you your favorite pen, the one you thought you'd lost, as if it were something precious.

he hadn’t smiled, not really, but he did meet your eyes and said, "be careful next time, yeah?" before disappearing into the crowd like some angel sent to rescue you for no reason at all. your heart hadn’t been the same since.

so now here you were, clutching the result of three sleepless nights — a love letter. a real, handwritten, hopelessly sincere love letter on soft pink paper, tucked inside a plain white envelope decorated with heart-shaped stamps you had spent an embarrassing amount of time aligning perfectly. it was all there, every single one of your feelings spelled out like an open wound, raw and trembling. how you’d admired him from afar, how much that single moment of kindness meant to you, how much you dreamed of him possibly — maybe — liking you back. you hadn’t dared to sign it with your full name, but you hoped he’d know. or maybe you hoped he wouldn’t. you didn’t know which would be worse.

"wait— a letter? you’re seriously going to give him a letter?" yoojung’s voice was almost a screech, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline as she stared at you with a look of horror. she had nearly combusted when you showed her the envelope, her hands flailing like you had just told her you were about to perform open-heart surgery on yourself in front of the entire school. you felt your chest tighten and the tears sting the back of your eyes, your already-fragile courage crumbling under the weight of her reaction. it wasn’t even her fault — you knew this about yourself. you were sensitive. too sensitive. years of being teased, of being told you were too quiet, too weird, too invisible had turned your shyness into something permanent. you were the kind of person who apologized for existing too loudly. how could you ever hope someone like sunghoon would even remember your face?

"i can’t just say it to his face! i’d start stuttering and then probably start crying in front of him, and then i’d die, yoojung!" your voice cracked, cheeks burning in humiliation, hands tightening around the letter like it was both your salvation and your doom. you could already imagine it — your voice barely audible, his polite but confused expression, the silence stretching too long before he gave you that gentle, apologetic rejection that would haunt you for the rest of the school year. yoojung sighed, dramatically, tossing her head back like she was starring in her own soap opera, but you knew she didn’t mean it cruelly. she just didn’t understand. she was loud and brave and spoke without fear. you weren’t like that. never had been. and maybe never would be.

it had taken you everything — absolutely everything — to walk down the quiet corridor, envelope clutched tightly to your chest like it was a ticking bomb rather than a simple piece of paper filled with shaky handwriting and hearts drawn in red ink. locker number 151 sat at the very end of the hallway, beneath the slanted sunlight coming through the windows, looking strangely ordinary for something that belonged to the boy who had taken up residence in your dreams every single night.

you told yourself, again and again, that no one would be there to see you, that no one would notice or care, that it was just a letter and people left letters all the time, especially on valentine’s day. but your body refused to believe your thoughts — your hands trembled uncontrollably, your knees felt weak, and your heart slammed against your ribs like it was trying to escape. it was pathetic.

even now, in this empty hallway, with no one watching, the simple act of slipping a piece of paper through a locker vent made you feel like you were committing some kind of crime. you hesitated. once. twice. three times. until finally, with one last breath and eyes squeezed shut, you shoved it in through the thin metal slit and turned on your heel, running back toward your classroom like your life depended on it.

you had told your teacher you needed to use the bathroom, a lie that came too easily when your stomach was already twisted in knots. luckily, the hallway had been deserted, a rare miracle in such a busy school, and no one had seen you sneak out or rush back.

you reached the physics lab just as the bell rang, your breath caught in your throat, palms damp, the image of locker 151 burned behind your eyelids. the festival was over now — the booths were being taken down, students were returning to their regular classes, and reality was setting back in like a cold breeze after a dream. it was done. the letter had been delivered. whether sunghoon would read it or toss it without a second glance… well, that wasn’t something you could control anymore.

but the shaking didn’t stop. even as you sat back in your seat, trying to focus on the board, your fingers still twitched, your heart still raced. it was stupid, really. you hadn’t even spoken to him. you hadn’t done anything brave. and yet it had felt like tearing your own chest open and handing your soul to someone who probably wouldn’t even look at it. part of you wanted to cry — not because anything had gone wrong, but because even this, this tiny, invisible thing, had taken so much out of you. what kind of girl breaks down from something so small? what kind of girl can’t even confess properly?

you were still deep in those thoughts, staring blankly at your half-scribbled notes, when it happened.

"YAH!" the voice was loud, sharp, cutting through the ambient hallway noise like a blade. you barely registered it until another voice followed — harsher this time, irritated. "why the hell are you ignoring me? i’m talking to you!"

a loud thud echoed against the wall next to your head, and you flinched violently, your body freezing on instinct as you turned to find the source of the sound. there, towering just a few inches away, stood a boy you had never seen before. his hand was still pressed against the wall, palm flat where he had slammed it next to you, caging you in with his presence. his eyes were dark, unreadable, but piercing in a way that made your breath hitch. something about him was wrong, or maybe just too much — like staring into the sun for too long. he wasn’t smiling, not exactly, but there was a curve to his lips that felt amused, twisted, like he was already in on some joke you hadn’t been told yet.

“you’re y/n, right?” he asked, voice smooth but indifferent, almost bored as his gaze slowly traveled down the length of your body and back up to your face. you nodded before you could stop yourself, throat too tight to speak. your heart pounded again — not with nerves this time, but with something closer to fear.

he clicked his tongue, then reached into the pocket of his uniform jacket and pulled out something that made your stomach drop straight through the floor.

"‘i’ve liked you for so long… your eyes, your smile, the way you helped me that day… please, just once, give me a chance to be by your side. i promise i’ll make you happy…’” he read in a flat, mocking voice, and your blood ran cold. your letter. your letter. in his hands. being read aloud like a joke. your eyes widened in horror as you stared at the page — the pastel paper, the little doodles, the goddamn bunny stickers. this was supposed to be private. it wasn’t even his. how the hell had he gotten it?

“wh–what the—? give that back!” your voice cracked, raw and panicked, but when you lunged forward to grab the letter from his hands, he casually stepped back, raising it just out of reach like he was playing with a child. your hands fisted in frustration, tears welling up again, but this time they weren’t from shyness — they were from rage. humiliation. shame. he was laughing now, not loudly, but with a quiet scoff that made your skin crawl.

“so you did write it,” he muttered, stepping in close again, so close that his breath hit your cheek and you instinctively leaned back. “cute. kind of dumb, but cute.”

“i said give it back! that’s not yours!” you shoved at his chest with both hands, and he finally slipped the letter into his back pocket like it meant nothing, like your heart wasn’t bleeding inside that fold of paper.

“you’re so average it hurts,” he said, eyes still locked on yours with a strange intensity. “but sure, why not. i’ll go out with you.”

you blinked, stunned. “what—?”

he winked, shameless. “you heard me.”

then, without another word, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, trembling, humiliated, confused, and still empty-handed. you didn’t even know his name. you didn’t even understand what had just happened.

you didn’t remember how you made it back to the classroom — just that one moment you were standing frozen in the hallway, the aftershock of humiliation still rattling through your bones, and the next you were pushing the door open with trembling hands, your head low, your throat tight, your eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill the second anyone looked at you. yoojung was the first to notice the state you were in. she turned to you with a lighthearted comment already forming on her lips, but the second she saw your face, the words died in her throat. instead, she stood up, eyebrows knitting with concern as she grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the back of the classroom, where hyojung was hunched over her notes.

"what happened?" yoojung asked, voice sharp but careful, her grip tightening slightly around your sleeve as you sat down next to her with shaking knees, trying to breathe through the panic swelling in your chest. hyojung looked up too, alarmed, and you hated the way their eyes widened when they really saw you — the red around your eyes, the way you couldn’t quite meet their gaze, the way your hands fisted in your skirt like you were trying to stop them from flying to your face.

"he—he took it," you croaked, voice barely audible, and even though you tried to steady it, your lips quivered. "he has my letter. he read it out loud. he… he said he’d go out with me. but i— i didn’t even write it for him."

yoojung blinked, her mouth opening slightly. "wait— wait, slow down. who took your letter?"

"i don’t know his name," you confessed, swallowing hard, your voice trembling more with every word. "he just… he showed up. he slammed the wall and scared me half to death. he said my name like he already knew me, and then he pulled out the letter— my letter— and started reading it, right in front of me. and then he said... he said i was too normal, but he’d date me anyway. and then he walked away. like it was nothing. like—like i was nothing.”

your voice cracked again, and hyojung instinctively reached across the table to squeeze your wrist gently, her thumb rubbing a small circle on your skin. yoojung was already digging for tissues in her bag, pressing one into your hand as you tried to hide your face in your elbow.

"jesus…" yoojung muttered under her breath, her tone darkening with anger. "what the hell. describe him. did he say his name at all? maybe he’s from another class—"

you shook your head weakly. "no… i’ve never seen him before. he was tall. kind of broad-shouldered, but not huge. he had black hair, like… kind of messy. his eyes were really intense. he just stared at me, and it felt like i couldn’t move. like i was frozen. he had this— this smirk. like he was enjoying it."

the room felt too bright, the voices around you too loud. even though you were surrounded by people, all you could feel was that stupid, smug look on his face, the weight of his body so close to yours, the letter being read like a script in some cruel prank show. you wanted to disappear. vanish. melt through the floor. you hadn’t asked for this.

"wait a second," yoojung said suddenly, narrowing her eyes. "start from the beginning. where did you put the letter?"

"his locker. i— i snuck out during class and put it in locker 151. that’s sunghoon’s locker, right? i mean, i thought it was. i’ve been walking past it for months now…"

"locker 151…?" yoojung turned slowly to look at hyojung, who was now frowning deeply, tapping her chin as if trying to recall something.

"i’m in the 140s," hyojung said. "mine’s 148. and i think… if i’m not wrong, 151 doesn’t belong to park sunghoon. sunghoon’s locker is like… down the other wing, near the gym. the upperclassmen lockers are split by hallway."

your heart dropped. no. no, that couldn’t be right. you’d walked past that locker for weeks — you knew where sunghoon usually stopped, where he tied his shoelaces, where he sipped juice before practice. it had to be his.

"then whose locker is 151?" yoojung asked cautiously.

hyojung paused for a moment, then her expression darkened. "i’m not one hundred percent sure, but i think it belongs to lee heeseung. class 4. you’ve heard of him, right?"

you shook your head, mouth dry. "no… i don’t know any lee heeseung…"

they both looked at each other, their expressions shifting from confusion to dread in seconds.

"shit," yoojung whispered. "that guy. i’ve heard about him. he got suspended two weeks ago. got into a fight in the boys’ bathroom with one of the second-years. busted the other guy’s nose. i thought he dropped out or something. but he’s back?"

"yeah," hyojung added, voice low. "people say he’s… trouble. like, the kind you don’t want reading your love letters."

you stared down at your hands, your brain trying to piece together the horror of it all. it wasn’t even sunghoon’s locker. the letter had gone to the wrong person. and now heeseung thought you were in love with him. that the letter was for him.

you felt sick.

"you guys have to help me," you said suddenly, your voice shaking harder than before. "please— please help me. i don’t know what to do. i’m so scared. he’s going to think i’m serious. he’s going to mock me even more— and he won’t even give it back— and i didn’t mean to—"

"hey, hey— it’s okay," yoojung said quickly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close as hyojung moved to your other side. "we’ll figure something out. maybe… maybe you can just talk to him. explain that it was a mistake. tell him the letter wasn’t meant for him."

"he didn’t even let me speak," you murmured into your sleeve. "he wouldn’t listen. he smirked. he said… he said i was ‘too normal’ but he’d go out with me anyway. like it was a joke. like i was some boring girl that didn’t matter."

they didn’t know what to say to that. they just sat with you in silence, the weight of it all sinking in. you didn’t know lee heeseung. but now, because of one stupid locker mix-up, he knew you.

you should’ve waited a little longer. maybe asked yoojung to walk out with you or just stayed inside until most of the school was empty, but you were too anxious to think straight, too desperate to be away from everyone and forget the burning humiliation that had stained your entire afternoon. you clutched your bag close to your chest and kept your head down, pretending you were invisible as you moved with the crowd of students heading toward the gates. it was almost working. almost. you were just a few steps from freedom when—

"hey."

his voice, low and unmistakable, cut right through the noise of the hallway, making your blood run cold. your body stiffened as you caught a glimpse of him leaning casually against the front gate, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly like he’d been waiting specifically for you. your instinct screamed to run, to blend into the crowd and disappear, but the second you turned your head the other way and picked up your pace, you heard his footsteps—slow, heavy, deliberate—following behind.

you didn’t get far. his fingers hooked into the strap of your backpack, tugging you back without much effort, and you gasped, stumbling slightly as he pulled you to a stop. when you turned, he was right there, closer than you wanted, eyes sharp, brows knitted—not quite a glare, but certainly not a smile.

"what’s your deal?" he muttered, tilting his head. "first you write me a letter with all that cheesy, sappy crap, and now you’re acting like you don’t even know me?"

you opened your mouth to speak, to tell him—again—that it was a mistake, that the letter wasn’t meant for him, that you didn’t even know his name until today. but before the words could form, he cut you off.

"and just so you remember," he added, tapping the side of your head with two fingers in a way that made you flinch, "i already said yes. you confessed, i accepted, so we’re dating now. that’s how this stuff works, right?"

you blinked at him, completely at a loss. what. you felt the heat rise to your cheeks again, this time from a mix of panic and absolute disbelief. "w-we’re not dating! i didn’t— i mean, the letter wasn’t for—"

"yeah, yeah, excuses," he waved a hand dismissively, then started walking. you stood frozen for a second before realizing he wasn’t leaving—he was walking with you. "come on. i’ll walk you home."

"you don’t need to—" you began, trying to protest, but he suddenly reached out and grabbed your hand. your hand. like it was the most normal thing in the world. you immediately pulled back out of reflex.

he didn’t look surprised. only raised a brow and muttered, "fine. don’t hold my hand. we can do it the lame way." then, before you could react, he gripped your arm just above the elbow and started walking again, dragging you along like some stubborn little kid being pulled to detention.

"y-you don’t have to walk me— i don’t even live close—"

"shut up," he said flatly, not looking at you. "i asked you where your house is. you’re gonna show me or you want me to guess?"

your mouth opened and closed a few times, but ultimately you surrendered, muttering your address under your breath. he nodded, keeping his pace steady, still holding your arm as if afraid you’d try to bolt.

the walk wasn’t long, but it felt like an eternity. the whole time, your brain was running laps trying to figure out what he wanted from you. was he mocking you? playing some kind of joke? trying to get back at you for the letter? his grip wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t exactly gentle either. still, he didn’t push or tease you as much as you expected, just walked quietly, sometimes glancing at you from the corner of his eye like he was thinking hard about something but refusing to say it out loud.

about halfway there, he suddenly stopped, causing you to stumble slightly. he released your arm and looked down at you with an unreadable expression.

"you don’t like being touched, huh?" he asked. there was no sarcasm in his voice, just a blunt observation.

you hesitated, then nodded. your skin was still tingling where his fingers had been, and not in a good way.

he let out a sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets. "fine. i’ll walk next to you. happy?"

you blinked, unsure how to respond, and he began walking again, this time matching your pace instead of pulling you along. the silence returned, but it wasn’t heavy like before. if anything, it felt like a strange kind of… effort. like he was trying to not be too rough. which, for someone like him, probably took energy.

just as you were starting to feel slightly more at ease, he dropped another bomb on you.

"i get that holding hands is too soon or whatever," he said casually, looking ahead with a blank face. "but you better get used to the idea. later on, we’ll be doing more than that."

you stopped dead in your tracks, heart leaping into your throat. "w-what?!"

he turned to you slowly, eyes glinting with that same smug expression from earlier. "you heard me."

"what do you mean 'more'?!" your voice cracked, and he stepped closer, bending slightly so his face was only inches from yours. the way he smiled this time was less mocking, more… mischievous. and it made your stomach twist into a thousand knots.

"who knows?" he whispered, then chuckled softly, like he was enjoying the way your brain was spiraling. "kissing, maybe. sleepovers. sneaking out. things couples do."

your face was now burning red, and you nearly tripped trying to take a step back. "i-i told you— the letter wasn’t even for—"

"yeah, yeah," he said again, walking ahead like he didn’t care about your explanation, like he’d already decided it didn’t matter. "too late now. you picked me, so you’re stuck."

you wanted to scream. cry. evaporate. but deep down, beneath the panic and confusion, something else stirred. it wasn’t attraction—at least not yet—but something dangerous. something you didn’t understand. lee heeseung wasn’t just a school delinquent. he was unpredictable. and you’d just become his new favorite game.

you were still trying to recover from the sheer chaos that was walking beside lee heeseung — heart racing, cheeks on fire, trying to process the absurdity of everything he’d said — when he suddenly reached out again, this time gently tugging on your sleeve. “where is it?” he asked, glancing at the rows of quiet houses as the late afternoon sun started to melt into soft pinks and golds. you swallowed nervously and pointed to the corner, your voice barely above a whisper as you mumbled, “just past that turn, the grey gate with the vines.”

he didn’t respond right away. instead, as you reached the last stretch of the sidewalk, he suddenly grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks with a firm pull. you gasped in surprise, turning to look at him in confusion just as he took a step forward and used his grip to pull you toward him — so suddenly, so carelessly, that you lost your balance and stumbled right into his chest. before you could fall completely, strong arms wrapped around your waist and caught you easily, holding you steady like it was the most natural thing in the world. you barely had time to blink, your face only inches from his shirt, your breath caught in your throat.

“h-heeseung?” you started, your voice small, confused, your body stiff against his. “what are you—”

but you didn’t get to finish the question. he was already lifting your chin gently with one hand, his fingers warm against your cheek, and before your brain could catch up with what was happening, his lips were on yours.

your eyes widened, breath trapped in your chest as time seemed to slow down around you. his kiss wasn’t tentative or shy — it was confident, unhesitating, filled with a kind of raw emotion that made your legs tremble. his hands were firm, one cupping your face with surprising care and the other still resting against your lower back as he leaned in closer, deepening the kiss slowly, as if he was tasting you like something rare. your heart was thudding so loudly you could feel it in your ears, and your fingers clutched at the fabric of his uniform jacket, unsure whether to push him away or hold onto him tighter.

it was your first kiss. your very first kiss. and it had just been stolen by the most unpredictable boy in your entire school — the delinquent, the troublemaker, the one who scared half the campus and had probably never said anything sweet in his life. lee heeseung. of all people. and yet… it wasn’t harsh. it wasn’t cold. it was… dizzying. warm. overwhelming. and you hated that a part of you — a very quiet, hidden part — didn’t want it to stop.

when he finally pulled away, it wasn’t abrupt. he lingered close, your foreheads nearly touching, his breath mixing with yours in the tiny space between you. your lips were tingling, slightly swollen, and you lifted your hands to cover your mouth instinctively, your cheeks now painted with the deepest shade of red. your eyes were wide and glossy, still trying to process the heat, the softness, the unfamiliar ache in your chest.

heeseung looked pleased. no — he looked smug. he licked his bottom lip slowly, like he was savoring the taste, then murmured, “you taste sweet.”

you blinked rapidly, face aflame, your heart barely holding itself together inside your chest. “w-what—?!”

“mm, i wanna kiss you again,” he said bluntly, already leaning forward as if ready to do exactly that. you squeaked in panic, stepping back quickly and trying to escape, but he was faster, his arms wrapping around your waist again and pulling you close with one smooth motion that made your breath catch. “nah, don’t run,” he muttered against your temple, his tone lower now, almost affectionate, like he was getting used to having you near. “not when you look this cute after a kiss.”

you squirmed a little, still overwhelmed, but his arms were strong and warm around you, and somehow… you didn’t feel unsafe. flustered? yes. humiliated? probably. but not afraid. not when he held you like that — like you were his. like it was normal.

he dipped his head and kissed you again, this time slower, softer, like he wanted you to melt into it, and you nearly did. your hands hovered between your bodies before settling gently against his chest, not pushing away this time, just staying there, holding onto the reality that this was happening — this impossible, ridiculous moment was real.

and when he finally pulled away, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “you better get used to this,” you couldn’t even bring yourself to argue. you just stared at him, breathless, stunned, and a little enchanted despite yourself.

he let you go at last, stepping back with a lazy stretch and a grin that could only be described as devilish. “see you tomorrow, girlfriend,” he said casually, already walking away like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down. you stood frozen on the sidewalk, one hand still over your mouth, heart racing as you watched him disappear down the street.

and just like that, without meaning to, without even realizing what you’d started — you found yourself at the center of a strange, twisted, confusing story. a story that began not with a confession, but with a letter meant for someone else. a story that shouldn’t have happened.

and yet, it did.

that was how your very first love — strange and chaotic and sweet in the worst possible way — began with lee heeseung.

and somehow, you had a feeling… this was only the beginning.

#enha #enhypen #heesung x reader #lee heesung x reader #heesung enhypen #heesung enha #enhypen heesung #lee heesung #heesung fluff #heesung fanfic #heesung romance #heesung x you #enhypen scenarios #desire unleash

1K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 8 months ago

Note

could i request poly!wolfstar or poly!jily where they’re pursuing reader and reader accidentally matches with them (like matching costumes) at a halloween party?

i think the teasing and flirting would be so cute!! 🥰

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of alcohol, smoking, Sirius makes lame and humorously objectifying jokes

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You arrive to the party late, the Gryffindor common room already bustling by the time you and your friends have finished doing your last-minute costume alterations. There are glowing pumpkins floating on the ceiling, someone has charmed the room so that a thick layer of fog drifts along the floor, and the air already smells slightly of booze and cigarette smoke.

You lose Lily’s attention immediately, but that’s to be expected. You’re more than accustomed by now to her searching for her boyfriend whenever you enter a room. What’s unexpected, however, is her reaction when she finds him.

“Uh oh.”

“Uh oh?” You look at her, following her gaze to the couch across the room. “Oh. Oh, no.”

Lily laughs. “It sort of seems like fate, doesn’t it? I think it’s sweet.”

Sitting on their usual couch are the marauders. James, predictably, is wearing a costume matching Lily’s; they’ve both come as cowboys. Unfortunately, Sirius and Remus are sitting next to him dressed as pirates.

You’re also dressed as a pirate.

“It’s not sweet,” you moan. “If I go back up, do you think Marlene will make me some of her fake blood? I can change and be a vampire instead.”

Lily hums. “Think it’s too late for that, babe.”

She’s looking back towards the couch, where the boys have already caught sight of the pair of you. Sirius is beaming something atrocious, and even Remus looks amused while his boyfriend waves you over exuberantly.

Lily takes your hand in hers, tugging you with her as she goes to them.

“Howdy, darlin’.” James puts on an exaggerated southern drawl as you approach, opening his arms to his girlfriend.

“My, my,” says Sirius as you sit between him and Lily, “don’t you look nice.”

You ignore the warmth that brings to your face. “The point wasn’t really to look nice.”

Your costume is thrown together from things you already had, the only thing that really distinguishes you as a pirate being the bandana you’ve tied around your head. Remus appears to have gone a similar route, although the white shirt he’s tucked into his pants looks a bit more on-theme than yours and he’s clearly been forced to wear an eye patch which is currently flipped up so that it’s not covering anything. Sirius, of course, does nothing halfway. He’s wearing a billowy black top that’s been unbuttoned nearly to his navel, more belts and buckles than you knew one person could have, and a captain’s hat he surely bought just for the occasion. Altogether, you make a fairly fearsome group.

“Not sure you can help it, gorgeous.” Sirius winks at you. “You always look nice. Did you plant a spy to find out what you needed to wear to match us, then?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I should probably be asking you that.”

“Must’ve just been fate,” Sirius says. It’s so close to what Lily said that your cheeks blaze, but you also don’t know if you quite believe him. Remus, too, turns to give his boyfriend a questioning look.

Sirius catches it and scoffs, holding up his hands. “I didn’t! Honestly.”

Remus nods, appeased. In a less booming voice than his boyfriend’s, he tells you, “You do look very nice.”

“Thanks.” You catch yourself fingering the ends of your hair like a nervous schoolgirl and tuck your hands underneath your thighs. “So do both of you.”

Sirius grins knowingly, and you have to fight the urge to shove your face into Lily’s shoulder for refuge. He knows as well as you do that for all of his brazen flirting, it’s Remus’ quiet sincerity that flusters you the most. You’re not sure when it started, exactly, but it’s been clear for some time now that both boys are interested in you. You’re not sure in what capacity—they could want to take you to bed for one night, integrate you into their relationship, or anything in between—but as of yet you’ve neither encouraged nor discouraged their advances.

“Thanks, dollface.” Sirius gives a winsome crack of a smile. “You know, I’ve already acquired some booty, but I wouldn’t mind winning some more.”

“Sirius…” Remus groans.

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Some what?”

“You know, like pirate’s loot? My booty.” Sirius sidles closer to Remus, giving his thigh a solid pat.

Remus’ eyes narrow. “I will leave you here and go back upstairs right now.” It sounds as though this is not the first time this has been threatened.

“I worked hard for it!” Sirius defends himself.

You cover your mouth against an appalled giggle. “It?”

“I toiled, and I fought, and I had to battle many other fearsome ships! It’s mine.”

“Remus,” you stage whisper, “blink twice if you need help.”

Remus’ smile blooms, but when he starts to blink Sirius objects, “Oi!”

“No,” you correct him, “you’re supposed to say ‘arr.’”

Sirius is grinning again, too, clearly chuffed that you’re joking around with them even if it is at his expense. “If I say ‘arr,’ you’ll agree to be my second booty for the rest of the night?”

“I won’t make any promises. But it would be persuasive.”

He growls enthusiastically, “Arrrrgh!” and slams his fist down on the table. The sound it makes is enough to tear James and Lily’s attention away from each other.

“Merlin,” says James. “Did’ya hurt yourself there, Pads?”

“No,” Sirius replies, but he gives his hand a little shake.

Remus, rolling his eyes, takes it and kisses the side. He brings it into his lap for safekeeping. Your heart gives a painful little throb.

You must have some stupid lovestruck look on your face, because Lily peers around James to see you better, a smile playing on her lips. She knows about your crushes on the two boys, just as well as she knows that you haven’t decided what to do about them yet. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to help you along.

“Come on,” she says to James, standing and taking him with her. “Let’s dance, and I’ll let you pretend to lasso me.”

James beams. “Yes!”

You watch them go while Sirius seizes the opportunity to move to your other side, the three of you taking up the entirety of the couch.

“Phew,” he sighs, swinging his feet over the armrest.

“You may want to take your legs out of the fog,” Remus suggests, also using the new space to bring his feet onto the couch. “It gets sticky after a while.”

You frown but do as he says, pulling your feet from your shoes so that only your socks are on the couch. And sure enough, when you touch a finger to your ankle it feels like there’s an odd sort of coating over it.

“I thought it was just fog,” you say.

“It was supposed to be,” agrees Sirius, “but James entrusted the task of making it to Marlene, and there are some who think she might’ve laced it with some sort of drink.”

“I’m some,” Remus owns.

You smile. “So is the point that you should be able to…drink the fog?”

“No clue.” Sirius leans over the edge of the couch. “Let’s find out.”

“Sirius, no,” Remus says weakly, trailing off when it’s clear the other boy won’t be deterred. You both watch as he sucks in what fog he can, closing his mouth around it. “That’s disgusting, everyone’s been walking around in it.”

“I think it might be brandy,” Sirius muses. “It’s faint, though.”

Remus frowns. “I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth.”

Sirius grins. “Yes, you are.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

“Wouldn’t you rather just get your own drink?” you ask Sirius. “Rather than sampling the faint traces of brandy that have been touched by other people’s shoes, I mean.”

“Oh, rest assured, gorgeous, I’m all covered.” Sirius picks a cup up from the table. He seems to notice at the same moment that you don’t have a cup of your own. “Would you like one, though?”

You glance to the table cluttered with alcohol and mixers, a throng of students clustered around it. “I’ll get one in a bit.”

“Let me.” Sirius stands. He edges around the table, stopping to pinch your chin affectionately and give his boyfriend a kiss. “Rem, my love, keep her company, would you?”

“You don’t have to,” you object. “I can get it.”

“No, don’t be ridiculous. A pirate has to take care of his booty, hasn’t he?”

“I never agreed to that!” you call after him. In a quieter voice, you add, “And I don’t think that’s how the relationship between a pirate and their booty works.”

“Let him go,” Remus advises you. You startle a bit when his hand finds your knee, resting there in fond commiseration. “If he’s going to degrade us like this, he can at least bring us drinks.”

You feel your lips tilt. “Are you really going to let him call you his booty all night?”

“Probably.” Remus shrugs, his eyes finding his boyfriend across the room. “Anyway, it’s nice not to be alone in it. As far as he’s concerned, you’re already his as well.”

2K notes · View notes

coolemmasulivan2 · 10 months ago

Text

The Woman Next Door

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: After winning the Dutch Grand Prix, Lando returns home to Monaco, eager to prove his genuine feelings to his neighbor, especially after their bet.

Word Count: 4181

You're my downfall, you're my muse My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues I can't stop singing It's ringing in my head for you

Lando had been your neighbour for nearly two years, a friendly presence in the building. But with you, his charm seemed to intensify. He flirted casually, his eyes sparkling with a playful passion. "You're my type!" He'd always say. Yet, your heart remained unmoved. The women he brought home were a strong contrast to you: tall figures in designer heels, showing their immense beauty. You, however, were a simple person who preferred simplicity over expensive clothing and felt most comfortable in jeans and sneakers.

Lately, his flirtations had intensified. He always ensured you knew he was single and was waiting for you. His promises of making you happy and treating you right were sweet, but you weren't fooled. Deep down, you couldn't deny a flicker of attraction, but you kept it hidden. Lando was a handsome man, but you'd seen enough to know he was more than just a pretty face.

"How was your family?" Emily asked, turning to you as she drove. She'd picked you up from the airport in Nice.

You smiled. "They're fine! It was great to be back home. I missed them."

"You know who else missed you?" Emily teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Who?" You asked, confused.

"Your hot neighbour! I ran into him yesterday at the supermarket and he asked about you."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Did he?"

"Yeah! He said, 'How's Y/n? I haven't seen her for a while. The building seems quite boring without her.'"

You crossed your arms. "He didn't say that!"

"I'm serious! I told him you were coming back today, so maybe he'll be waiting by your door, ready to confess his feelings. And then... BANG! Happily ever after."

You couldn't help but wince at Emily's over-the-top dramatic gestures. Despite her tendency to go overboard, you couldn't help but love her for it.

"You've been watching too many films."

"You're going to end up together. Mark my words." She replied and you made a gagging sound that made her laugh.

As she dropped you off at your apartment building, you grabbed your luggage and thanked her with a tight hug. You entered the building and pressed the lift button.

As the liftdoors opened, you stepped inside, dragging your luggage behind you. You were admiring your reflection in the mirror when a hand stopped the doors, causing them to reopen.

You turned to see Lando, dressed in a McLaren white vintage t-shirt and black jeans. His curls were perfectly coiffed, and a smirk played on his lips. Like always.

"Look who's back!" Lando's voice filled the cramped lift. "Good to see you."

"Hi, Lando." You replied.

The two of you lived on the top floor, making the lift feel even smaller and slower. "How were the holidays?"

"Fine! Too short." You admitted, the tension palpable. "What about you?"

Lando studied you from head to toe, his gaze lingering on your face. "They were good. Family, friends, good weather. But I'm glad to be back to work." The lift seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. "And happy to see you again."

"Here we go!"

Lando chuckled. "What?"

"You know what! You know that flirting with me isn't going to work. I'm not interested."

"But I am!" He said. You quickly looked away, praying for the elevator doors to open. "I'm very much interested."

"To how many girls have you said that?" You asked, your voice laced with scepticism.

"None, believe it or not." Lando replied, his tone sincere.

As the lift doors opened, you stepped out and fumbled for your keys. Lando leaned against the wall beside you. "What can I do to convince you to go on a date with me?"

You took a deep breath, finally finding your keys. He was starting to make you nervous. "I don't think your fans would like to see you having dinner with a woman."

"That's not a problem for me." He said confidently. "I'll have dinner with whoever I want." As you unlocked your apartment door, he continued, "But if that's the issue, we can have dinner at my place, eat McDonald's in my car, anything to make you comfortable."

You pushed your luggage inside and faced him. "Lando…" You began, your voice soft but firm. "I'm not looking for a one-night stand. I want a relationship. A public relationship. I want to go out with my partner, have dinner, eat ice cream, have meaningful conversations on the balcony. I want trust, and I don't want to worry about being cheated on. I want kids and I don't want to wait until my thirties. Marriage isn't essential, but I want this person to be my last. If you want me to go on a date with you, prove to me that you're that person." Lando listened intently, his expression serious. "Bye, Lando!"

You started to close the door, but Lando's hand quickly stopped it.

"Uh, when was the last time you saw me bring a woman home?"

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure. "What?"

"I haven't brought anyone home since I told you I liked you. Four months ago! I never told you I was looking for a one-night stand. I've always been open about my past relationships and I've never cheated on anyone. I also want to have a family and I'll convince you to change your mind about marriage." You stared at him, speechless. "But if I have to prove myself, I'm up for the challenge!" He said, winking as stepped away. "Bye, Y/n."

You closed and locked your door, your heart pounding in your chest. Your cheeks were flushed. For the first time, he had left you speechless. You'd always dismissed his flirting as a joke, but now you realized that maybe it was more than that.

Later that night, you invited your friends Maria and Lisa over for dinner and a movie night. You didn't want to be alone with Lando next door, and you needed to talk about it.

"He's so into you!" Lisa exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's the classic boy-next-door story."

You set the popcorn and wine on the coffee table. Maria, already a bit tipsy from dinner, was making the most confident comments you'd ever heard from her.

"Just go on a date with him. He's handsome, rich, and lives next door. What more do you want?"

"I want stability, honesty, and someone who makes me happy and laughs with me." You replied.

"He already does that!" Maria insisted. "He was honest with you, you laugh with him, and I'm sure he'd make you happy, if you know what I mean." She chuckled, and Lisa joined in.

"You're drunk!" You teased.

"I am, but I'm still the wiser one." She retorted. "Why don't you just sleep with him? See how that makes you feel."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You know I'm not like that. When I'm with someone, it's because I like them."

"But you do like him." Lisa argued.

You rolled your eyes and stood up. "I'm going to the bathroom."

Lando was engrossed in a game with Max when the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock, surprised by the late hour. He wasn't expecting anyone and it was unusual for someone to just walk into the building and ring his bell.

"Someone's at the door." He told Max, removing his headphones. The doorbell rang again. "Give me a second."

He was taken aback to see your friend, Maria, standing there. Her cheeks flushed and the scent of alcohol was strong.

"Lando, hi!" She slurred.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. One of your other friends was watching from your apartment door.

"Hi, Maria! What can I do for you?" Lando asked, his tone polite but curious.

"Quick!" Lisa whispered to Maria.

"Look, I'm going to the point. Y/n wants to go on a date with you, but she's afraid you only want to get in her pants." Maria blurted out.

Lando crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Is that so? Does she know you're doing this?"

You were nowhere to be seen, and he couldn't believe you'd ask your friends to do something like that.

"Of course not! But we're her friends and we know she really likes you. She doesn't show it, but she does." Maria insisted.

You dried your hands and glanced in the mirror, adjusting your hair before opening the bathroom door.

To your surprise, the girls were gone from the living room, but you heard giggles coming from the door. As you approached, you realized what was happening.

"So, about the date…" You pushed past Lisa, finding Maria deep in conversation with Lando.

You quickly stepped out and grabbed Maria's hand. "What are you doing?" You were panicking.

"I'm helping you!" She whispered, but everyone could still hear her.

"You're not. Come on!" You started walking her back to your apartment, but Lando stopped you by gently grabbing Maria's wrist.

"You can't take her now. She was about to tell me what I need to do to convince you to go on a date with me." He said, smirking. You resisted the urge to slap the smirk off his face.

"She's drunk. She doesn't know what she's talking about." You argued.

"She clearly does." Lando insisted.

Maria nodded in agreement. "Yes, I do. Lando, you just have to win."

You and Lando looked at her, each holding one of her wrists.

"What?" You asked.

"She'll go on a date with you if you win the next race." Maria announced.

Lando smirked and looked at you. You opened your mouth to protest, but he was quicker. "We have a deal!"

"No, we don't!" You said, but no one seemed to be listening.

Maria extended her hand for Lando to shake. "Deal! You better win, because I won't be able to help you again." She winked and went inside your apartment.

You looked at Lando, your arms crossed. "That's not going to happen, you know that right?"

"Why? Are you afraid I'll win?" He challenged.

"No!" You replied.

"So, let's do it. If I win, you go on a date with me--"

"And if you lose, you'll stop asking me to go on a date with me!" You added. Lando stood still, considering. "What? Are you afraid you'll lose?"

After a moment, Lando extended his hand. "Fine!" You grabbed his hand and shook it.

The weekend arrived sooner than you'd expected. Lando had qualified P1, making you question your decision to agree to the bet. You were a Mercedes fan, but deep down, were you rooting for McLaren? It was great to see him win again, but was this really the best time to root for him?

You sat on Emily's sofa between Lisa and her dog, Zeus, watching the race. You wore your Mercedes cap, while Lisa and Maria sported their Ferrari t-shirt. Neither of your friends was a McLaren fan, but today they couldn't stop shouting the name of the British driver.

"Oh my god, he's going to win!" Lisa exclaimed.

"Don't jinx it." Emily replied, slapping her arm.

You slumped on the sofa, unable to say anything. Only when the race ended did you let out a sigh you didn't realize you were holding. He had won the Dutch Grand Prix. He had actually won.

Your friends jumped in the air, celebrating his victory. You ran your hands through your hair.

"Guess who's going on a date with a hot British driver!" Lisa mocked, pulling you up from the sofa.

"You are!" Emily repeated, jumping around you.

An hour later, you were walking home alone. The Monaco weather was pleasant, and the streets were bustling with people.

As you arrived at the building, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out to see a message from Lando.

Lando: Hope you're free tomorrow night! I can't wait for our date.

Fuck, you mumbled to yourself.

On Monday, you left the apartment earlier than usual. The night before, Lando had knocked on your door, hoping to talk to you, but you couldn't bring yourself to answer. The next day, you woke up an hour earlier and left for work, hoping to avoid him on your way out. But the universe had other plans.

As you were leaving the building, you bumped into Lando, who had been out for a run.

He chuckled. "Leaving earlier to ignore me?"

You cleared your throat. "No, I just have a big project going on… and have to go earlier."

"Okay." He said, clearly not believing you. "So, I hope you're excited for tonight."

"I don't-- I don't think I have time tonight." You stammered.

"Well, I already reserved our table, and I don't think you'd back out of a bet. So, I'll pick you up at 7 pm. Wear something orange if you have it." He whispered in your ear before walking away.

You'd been thinking about Lando all day, your mind racing with anticipation and nerves.

Upon returning home, you immediately took a long shower and emptied your closet to find the perfect outfit. A nice orange summer dress caught your eye. You couldn't remember the last time you'd worn it, but you recalled how flattering it was with your tan.

When you put it on, it looked even better than you remembered. However, doubts crept into your mind. What if he just wanted to get in your pants? What if this was all a joke to him?

Lando knocked on your door at 7 pm sharp, and a few seconds later, you opened it. Lando struggled to contain his astonishment at your appearance.

You were wearing a cute red dress and heels. Your long hair was wavy and you looked stunning. You always looked amazing, but tonight there was a special glow about you. It was a shame you weren't wearing orange.

"Wow!" He said, taking in your appearance. "You look... beautiful."

You blushed and looked away, trying to hide it. "Thank you." You whispered.

You closed your apartment door, and Lando called for the lift. The ride to the garage was silent, surprising you that Lando hadn't said anything flirty or teased you.

He guided you towards his Lamborghini Urus, and you muttered a silent thank-you that he chose the Urus. Of all his cars, it was the most "normal" on the streets of Monaco.

As you left the garage, you broke the silence. "Where are we going?" You asked over the soft music of the radio.

Lando glanced at you. He looked good in his black pants and white shirt. You loved a man in a white shirt.

"It's a surprise."

"I hate surprises!" You said.

Lando laughed. "You hate surprises or you hate my surprises?"

You looked away. "Look at the road, Lando."

After a minute or two, Lando spoke again. "You look really beautiful."

Once again, you blushed. Thankfully, it was starting to get dark. "You already said that."

He stopped at a red light, gazing intensely at you. "And if you allow me, I would say that to you every single day." For a moment, his intense gaze made your legs feel like jelly.

The tension was broken only by a car honking behind you. Lando raised his hand in apology and pulled away. Three minutes later, he pulled up at the marina.

"I agreed to a date with you, not to run off." He said, getting out of the car.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and Lando opened your door. He gently placed his hand on your back, barely touching it, and guided you towards a large yacht named Aurora.

"It's from a friend of mine." Lando said as he pulled you towards the yacht deck. "He named it after his baby daughter. He let me borrow it for a few hours." Your mouth gaped open in surprise at the sight of the table for two, beautifully set with roses and candles. "I thought you'd be more comfortable alone." He explained. "Without the prying eyes of strangers or paparazzi."

Once again, he'd left you speechless. The candlelight, the city view, the soft music, and the sound of the water hitting the yacht created breathtaking scenery.

"I didn't picture you as the romantic type." You said.

Lando put his hands in his pockets and looked at you. "I can be romantic… when I have to." You didn't respond, just stared at him. He had two buttons undone, revealing the tan of his chest and the necklace he wore. "Let's sit?" He suggested and you nodded.

He pulled out your chair, demonstrating his gentlemanly side. He sat down opposite you, and a moment later, a man in a black suit approached with a bottle of wine.

The man poured the wine for the two of you. You could tell it was a very expensive wine just by looking at the bottle.

"Cheers!" Lando said, raising his glass. You clinked your glass with his and took a sip. It was delicious. "Do you like it?"

You nodded. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

Lando chuckled. "Far from it. I want you to stay sober and experience firsthand how great of a date I can create for you."

"You're really taking this seriously!"

"When I like someone, I always take things seriously." He said, his face turning serious. "I fight for what I want. And it's no lie that I want you."

You swallowed hard, trying to hide your emotions. Before you could respond, the food arrived. It was a pepperoni pizza for you and a prosciutto one for Lando.

"How-- how did you know--?"

Lando smiled. "You order a lot of pizzas. Like… a lot. So one day, I stopped the delivery guy and asked him what you had ordered. He said you always ordered the same one."

You tried to suppress a laugh at his silliness. "Not creepy at all." You said sarcastically.

Lando laughed. "I know, I know. But I wanted to do something nice for you."

You kept on talking and eating, and you both laughed a lot. You had to admit that you had never felt so comfortable with someone before. After you finished eating, Lando and you walked to the car.

"I'll take you home." he said. He turned on the car but paused. "Unless you don't want to go home yet." For a moment, he seemed shy, which was unlike him, at least around you.

You thought for a moment. "I don't know..." It surprised you that you were considering spending more time with him than necessary. "I'm not going home with you if that's what you're thinking."

Lando laughed. "Well, I guess I'll have to call you an Uber if you're not going home with me. Like, to the same building." You blushed and let out a sigh. He loved teasing you. "Do you trust me?"

You gave him a side look. "No!"

"Wow, that was brutal. Let me rephrase the question: Can I take you somewhere, please?"

You hesitated, but eventually nodded your head.

Lando drove to the top of the hill, a spot he liked to visit when everything felt overwhelming. The view was breathtaking. Monaco looked beautiful during the day, but it was at night when the city truly took your breath away. He parked the car, and you both stepped out.

"This is beautiful." You said, looking at the view.

"It is. But it's not as beautiful as you," Lando replied. You blushed and looked away. You'd never blushed so much in your life.

You sat down on the bench and Lando joined you. "What do you really want from me?" You asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"What do you mean?" He replied.

"I'm not stupid, Lando. You're an F1 driver. You're young and handsome. You could have anyone you wanted."

"But I want you!" He smiled. "You're smart, funny, and incredibly beautiful. And you're different from the women I've dated in the past. You're genuine. Like I've already told you, I like you. A lot."

You looked at him, your heart filled with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. "I don't know, Lando."

He squeezed your hand gently. "I understand that I'm not the easiest guy to be in a relationship with, but I'm willing to take things slowly. I just want you to know how I feel." The two of you sat in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's company. "Do you want to go back?" Lando asked after a while.

You nodded. "I think it's time."

As you drove back down the hill, you couldn't shake the feeling that something special was happening between you and Lando. You were excited, but also a little nervous.

When you arrived at your apartment building, Lando parked the car in the garage, but neither of you made a move to step out. "Thank you for tonight. I really enjoyed it." You said.

He smiled. "I'm glad you agreed."

"Well, I had no choice, remember?"

"Yeah. Remember me to thank Maria for the bet." He laughed, and you joined him.

"Yeah, yeah." After a while, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. It was a sweet kiss, and Lando closed his eyes as he felt your lips against his face.

As you pulled away, Lando hesitated, but after a second, he cupped your face and gently kissed you on the lips. Your heart raced, and you closed your eyes, quickly kissing him back and tangling your hand in his hair. He deepened the kiss, his lips moving slowly against yours. His touch was gentle, and you felt a warmth spread through you.

When you pulled away, you were both breathless. You looked at each other, your eyes filled with love and desire. "I've been wanting to do that, for a very long time." He said.

You looked into his eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "To how many girls have you said that?" You teased him.

He looked at your lips. "None. And if you let me, you're going to be the only one." He said and he couldn't help but smile.

You smiled back. You couldn't help but think that your life had just taken a turn for the better. And so did Lando. Finally, he got the girl. The woman next door.

#f1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4

1K notes · View notes

aurxllia · 1 month ago

Text

001 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ you can see it with the lights out, you are in love.

synopsis. phainon is the type of man who will make you feel like falling in love is the best thing in the world.

tags. phainon x neutral!reader, romantic, modern AU

notes. "you are in love" by taylor swift reminds me so much of fine-non 🥹

word count. 907

It all started with a simple supposed friendly meeting.

Your brother, Mydei, was friends with a certain white-haired male he met at the gym whom he's yet to introduce to you. When you see them together, they're like long-lost brothers with how they interact.

But when you met him, his name was Phainon. The moment he stepped into the premises of your precious home, the world seemed to stop spinning when your eyes landed on his figure. Him and your brother just came back from the gym, so it's no wonder he is dressed into a sleeveless tank top flexing his delicious biceps with his gym shorts that's exposing his muscular legs.

But when his gaze landed on you, your heart skipped a beat as heat rushed to your cheeks.

You composed yourself when your older brother introduced Phainon to you. When he brought out his hand to for a handshake, both his eyes and lips were smiling. He is so charming it could make you cry.

You didn't know someone could be so perfect in this world.

When you held his hand, it was big and warm compared to yours. You were so lost in his enticing cyan irises that you didn't even realize you've been shaking his hand for longer than necessary.

"Earth to [name]," Mydei deadpanned, crossing his arms with a small crease between his eyebrows.

"O-Oh! Sorry, Phainon..." You let go of his hand, embarrassed that you were probably caught staring at the dashing man almost towering you. Phainon let out a soft laugh, his eyes twinkling at your expression.

"No worries, [name]. It's so nice to finally meet Mydei's wonderful sibling," Phainon avoided looking at his friend's glare, keeping his smile at you, warm and soft.

What a charming man.

Now, everything truly started when Phainon has been coming to your house more often. He probably has a lot of free time and enjoyed his time with his bro Mydei. But in all honesty, the main reason was you.

Phainon is the type of guy who would initiate small talk. But he didn't know you disliked them, deeming them a waste of time and voice.

However, with him, small talks are turning into meaningful conversations every time he comes by. He knows his way with words and would insert nice phrases directed to you. Like how meticulous you are (which was stated by your brother), organized, and your talents that he learned from Mydei.

Though he is sincere with every praise, he just loved seeing that pink hue on your cheeks every minute he says something pleasant about you.

Time passes by, you and Phainon grew closer to the point he'd come by not to stay at your house and lounge, but to bring you to work.

Phainon wanted to get to know you more. He wasn't satisfied with the previous minimum hours he gets to spend time with you at your home. He once thought, "would it be selfish for me to have them all to myself?"

But on a Wednesday, in a small cafe, he watched with a faint smile on his lips as he watched you laugh. You're just so angelic that Phainon couldn't help but be subtly affectionate towards you.

Like opening the car door for you, pulling out your chair, paying for every meal you share together, and all the stuff a real gentleman does.

To him, your smile was everything. That pink hue on your cheeks? Oh, he just wanted to kiss your cheeks until they turn red. You are just so precious, how could you be single with how stunning you are?

But now, he's glad that you are single. Because he's about to make you feel like you're the only person he wants in this world.

When it was time to go home, you both felt a little reluctant that this day would end. Phainon promised Mydei that he'd have you home by 8 pm. And now, it's already 7:30.

Phainon parked in front of your house, marking the end of your day together.

Mustering up the courage to say something, you took a deep breath and looked at Phainon.

"I had fun today," you smiled, internally trying to calm your nerves. "Likewise, [name]. I enjoyed you and your presence," he returned your smile but it was soft and warmer.

Once again, you gradually lost into his bright cyan orbs. They're just so pretty you can stare into them for hours.

But Mydei is waiting inside. If you're not home even before 8:45, he'd probably stop helping Phainon at the gym.

When you looked away, Phainon's eyebrows creased a bit but he schooled his expression with a smile. "I'll see you, [name]. Have a good night's sleep."

"Same goes to you, Phainon. Um... message me when you arrive home?" Shyly you requested. He laughed softly and nodded. "Messaging you has become part of my routine now, [name]."

Hesitantly, you opened the door and stepped out of his car. You closed the door and waved at him through the window. He did the same. After that, you walked to the gate of your house, not forgetting to lock it after entering.

Phainon made sure you safely entered your home before driving away, already missing you.

To end both of your days, you both can confidently say...

You are in love.

#phainon x reader #honkai star rail #mydeimos #hsr phainon #hsr x reader #hsr #mydei hsr #amphoreus #mydei #phainon

377 notes · View notes

c1phra · 29 days ago

Text

SUNDAY is beautiful like… the ringing sound of church bells, chiming in the distance. preened wings, with not a single feather out of place. morning dew glistening over freshly cut grass. a flock of charmony doves. perfectly sliced figs and pears that have begun to spoil. sweet rot. tiny, glistening droplets of blood spilling onto polished tiles. the sun rising, allowing for a new day to break across the horizon. harmony. a lie, a secret, and a promise, passed through the screen of a confessional. the soft kind of love, as fragile and shaky as his own heartbeat.

ROBIN is beautiful like a flurry of songbirds harmonizing in the early hours of the morning. piano tiles and violin strings. pure, unrestrained laughter ringing through the air. dawn. a string of pearls clasped around a slender neck. the smell of fruit lingering in the air, so sweet you can practically taste it. one lone charmony dove, singing to distract itself from the solitude. camera flashes. hushed chatter. eyes, so many eyes, all focused on you. fallen feathers under your feet. stolen kisses in the rain, like a scene stolen right from a movie. a symphony, one note short of being complete.

AVENTURINE is beautiful like glinting gold and silver jewelry, inlaid with the most precious jewels. the deep blacks and vibrant reds of a roulette wheel, spinning so dizzyingly fast the colours blur into one. peacock feathers. tattered scraps of memories too faded to be recognizable. empty promises and sweet talk. a voice so charming, you can practically taste the false sincerities dripping from his tongue. fool’s gold. money, incomprehensible amounts of money at your fingertips. the tantalizing smell of victory at your feet, before it is swiftly pulled away.

MOZE is beautiful like a full moon rising over a quiet and clear night. a spotless, newly cleaned house. silence; glorious, uninterrupted silence. the gilded hilt of a blade, moments before it slices your throat. feathers as dark as ink and smooth as silk. a frenzied heartbeat pounding in your throat. two shadows walking perfectly in sync. the illusion of solitude. resolution that can’t be wavered; will that can’t be broken. a glint of silver blinking in the darkness. sickness, suffering, in the most poetic sort of way. the comforting, yet vaguely unsettling realization that you aren’t alone anymore.

MYDEI is beautiful like a blazing fire, spitting and crackling with sparks. freshly squeezed pomegranate juice. a roar of triumph after a vicious battle. the sun dipping low in the sky once more, allowing another day to pass despite it all. blood. gladioluses and chrysanthemums. victory, sweet, wretched victory with a cost so high, few would ever deign to call it such. blood, lining the sharpened edge of a sword. a crown of laurels set atop your head. blood, dark as wine and seeping through the folds of your clothing. all that is fair and just.

CASTORICE is beautiful like delicate butterfly wings. roses blooming under the feeble glow of moonlight. sweet relief. flower petals spilling out under bandages, sprouting in the warmth of open wounds. the loving embrace of death closing its arms around you. fresh linen. shades of purple, of white, and of pink. hands hovering close, but never touching. the intimacy of closeness without words. scattered pomegranate seeds and evenly sliced fruits. the signs of age—wrinkles, and cracks, and wear. bittersweet loneliness. the careless sigh of a long life well-lived.

©c1phra 2025 : do not copy, translate, repost, redistribute, or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <33

#₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ mari's writing #—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail headcanons #sunday x reader #robin x reader #aventurine x reader #moze x reader #mydei x reader #castorice x reader #sunday headcaons #robin headcanons #moze headcanons #mydei headcanons #aventurine headcanons #castorice headcanons

326 notes · View notes

lqveharrington · 4 months ago

Text

In Sickness & Health | R.L.

summary: you and remus after a full moon <3

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, comfort, normal post full moon things

a/n: i’m in love with him :(

“Hey, Moony,” you murmured, settling onto the edge of his hospital wing bed. Your fingers gently threaded through his hair, careful not to press against any fresh bruises or reopen wounds. His hair was soft despite the sweat from the full moon’s toll. “How was tonight? Sirius told me it was… bad.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Remus replied, though his voice was strained, and the attempt at nonchalance didn’t quite mask the pain lacing his words. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the stiff white sheets, but winced as he moved. “Jus’ got a little out of hand, that’s all.”

You frowned, your gaze lingering on the fresh scar just above his eyebrow. Without thinking, you brushed a few strands of hair away and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of the wound. His skin was warm beneath your lips, radiating both the fever of healing and the exhaustion of survival. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s not your fault, dovey,” he murmured back, eyes still closed, breathing shallow.

“But it is,” you sighed, your voice cracking under the weight of guilt. Your fingers found his hand, lacing through his as your thumb sought out the steady beat of his pulse—a quiet reassurance that he was still here. Still breathing. “I shouldn’t have gone with Lily and Dorcas earlier. I should’ve been there when—”

“Stop,” Remus cut in gently, squeezing your hand to pull you out of the spiral. His amber eyes opened, hazy but sincere, locking onto yours. “You know it’s not your fault. These things… they happen. I’ve been dealing with this my whole life, yeah? Tonight was just a rough night, nothing you could’ve prevented.”

But you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest. Couldn’t stop the image of him curled on the hospital bed, covered in fresh scars that would never fully fade. You bit your bottom lip, emotions swirling, and brought his hand to your lips, pressing a tender kiss against his knuckles. “I’m still sorry.”

He chuckled, though it came out more like a breathy exhale. “I’ll get Madam Pomfrey to kick you out if you don’t stop with all this guilt,” he teased, squeezing your hand again. His eyes softened. “Besides… you’ll be here to help me afterwards, yeah?”

“Of course, Rem,” you nodded, voice thick with emotion.

He smiled—small, tired, but genuine—and tilted his head just enough to look at you properly. His gaze narrowed playfully until you finally cracked a smile, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, the weight of worry momentarily lifted by his warmth. Remus shifted again, letting out a slow sigh as he tried to settle his battered body. You reached up to run your fingers through his tousled hair once more, the rhythmic motion calming both of you.

“Think you’ll be able to attend classes by Monday?” you asked softly. “We’ve got those tests in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

He hummed thoughtfully, leaning into your touch like a cat basking in the sun. “We’ll see… Might just have to fake my way through them. Not like Flitwick hasn’t seen me half-asleep in class before.”

You glanced at the old clock hanging above Madam Pomfrey’s office door and sighed. “You should rest,” you murmured, though the last thing you wanted was to leave him.

“Dovey,” he mumbled, voice low, “you need to get to bed, too.”

You nodded reluctantly, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm, his pulse steady beneath your fingertips. “Do you want me to bring anything tomorrow? A change of clothes, books… chocolate?”

“Just yourself,” he grinned, eyes fluttering shut. “The boys already made grand plans to raid my side of the dorm for me.”

“Figures.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. Squeezing his hand one last time, you whispered, ��Goodnight, Rem.”

“Night, love.”

As you slipped out of the hospital wing, the cool corridors of Hogwarts seemed colder than usual, the stone walls echoing with your thoughts. You kept replaying the night in your head—the ache in his voice, the scars on his skin—and you hoped, with everything in you, that he wasn’t downplaying the pain.

Remus spent most of the weekend recovering, pushing through the stiffness and soreness until, by Sunday afternoon, he managed to hobble out of bed with his cane, taking slow, measured steps. You stayed by his side every moment you could, abandoning weekend plans with the girls without a second thought. James and Sirius, of course, had already tried to rope him into plotting pranks, but Remus waved them off with a lazy grin. Next time, he promised. For now, he just wanted quiet.

The two of you ended up by the Black Lake, settling beneath the sprawling branches of a tree that overlooked the shimmering water. The late afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon, casting streaks of gold and pink across the sky. Remus lay back with his head in your lap, eyes closed, his breathing even as you idly ran your fingers through his hair.

“Did your dad make this?” you asked softly, tracing the intricate carvings on his wooden cane. The designs were delicate, swirling patterns framing his initials at the top—R.J.L.—surrounded by tiny etched stars.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, opening his eyes halfway. “He started working on it after… after he realized how much I was struggling to walk after full moons. Didn’t say much—just handed it to me one morning.”

Your fingertips brushed over the stars, heart tugging at the thought of the quiet, steadfast love behind each carved detail. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “And it suits you.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating softly against your leg. “I’ll owl him that. He’ll be pleased someone appreciates his handiwork.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake and the distant calls of students on the castle grounds. Remus turned his head slightly, letting the fading sunlight warm his face. For a moment, you saw beyond the scars and fatigue—to the boy who loved books, who smiled despite the weight he carried, who found peace in the little things.

“Help me up?” he asked after a while.

“Of course.” You shifted, careful as you helped him sit up. His muscles tensed under your hands, but he didn’t complain. Steadying him, you passed him his cane. He gripped it firmly, testing his balance.

“Thanks, dovey,” he murmured, his gaze catching yours. There was gratitude in his eyes—deep, unspoken, and profound.

You smiled, falling into step beside him as you wandered back toward the castle, the horizon painted with the colors of the setting sun. Whatever challenges lay ahead—tests, pranks, full moons—you’d face them together. Always.

The following week passed in a blur of classes, missed notes, and whispered conversations between you and Remus when Madam Pomfrey wasn’t hovering over him. By Tuesday morning, he was finally released from the hospital wing—still sore, still leaning on his cane, but stubbornly insistent on returning to classes despite your protests.

“Professor McGonagall’s going to have my head if I miss another Transfiguration lecture,” he grumbled as you walked beside him, his pace slow but determined. “Besides, I’ve already got Sirius taking notes for me. Not that I can read half of his scribbles.”

You snorted. “You’d have better luck asking a Hippogriff to write in cursive.”

Remus chuckled, the sound warming your chest. Even with dark circles still under his eyes and his movements careful, it was good to see him returning to his usual self—sarcastic comments, fond exasperation at his friends, and all.

By Wednesday afternoon, he was exhausted. You could see it in the way he slumped against the library table, one hand lazily turning the pages of Advanced Defensive Spells, the other propping up his head.

“Rem,” you whispered, nudging his leg under the table. “You’re not going to absorb any of that if you’re half-asleep.”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, though his eyelids drooped.

“You’re reading the index,” you pointed out.

He blinked down at the book. “…Shit.”

Smiling fondly, you reached over and closed it for him. “Come on. Fresh air might wake you up.”

Reluctantly, he let you tug him away from the library and out toward the Black Lake. The March wind was crisp, biting at your cheeks, but the sky was clear—a perfect gradient of pale blue bleeding into amber as the sun started its slow descent. You walked in comfortable silence, his arm occasionally brushing against yours.

“Here,” you said, guiding him to a familiar spot near the small cliff overlooking the water—the same place you’d been the weekend before. The grass was still damp, but neither of you cared. Remus sat with a quiet sigh, stretching out his legs as you settled beside him.

“I don’t deserve you, you know,” he murmured after a long pause, voice soft and a little too serious.

You turned your head toward him. “Where’s that coming from?”

He shrugged, gaze fixed on the shimmering surface of the lake. “I know how hard this is for you. Worrying. Waiting around for me to pull myself back together after every full moon. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” you replied, nudging his shoulder. “And you don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Stubborn.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” you shot back, and he laughed—really laughed—head tilting back, eyes crinkling. It was a sound you wished you could bottle up and keep forever.

Falling into a companionable quiet again, you watched as the sun dipped lower, casting golden ripples across the lake. Seagulls cried overhead, distant and fleeting.

“You know,” you started, tracing random patterns in the grass, “I don’t stay because I have to. I stay because I want to, Remus. You… you matter to me. Scars and all.”

He went still beside you, the weight of your words settling between you like a warm blanket. Slowly, cautiously, his hand found yours in the grass. Fingers entwined, familiar and safe.

“I’m lucky to have you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, though your cheeks burned.

The sky bled into a soft lavender as the first stars began to peek through. Remus leaned against you, his head resting on your shoulder. “This… this helps,” he murmured. “Being with you. Makes it easier to breathe.”

You smiled, resting your head against his. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The wind picked up, sending ripples across the lake and rustling the trees behind you, but neither of you moved. For now, the world could wait.

Here, in this quiet pocket of Hogwarts grounds, with his hand in yours and the stars beginning to glow above, everything felt… right.

And you’d hold onto that feeling—for him, for you, for as long as it took.

564 notes · View notes

sarahelizasims · 4 months ago

Text

Nestled in the heart of Lombard Drive, this exquisite 2.5-bedroom, 2-bathroom residence embodies the elegance of modern French Colonial design. A harmonious blend of light neutrals and bold dark accents graces both the interior and exterior, creating a timeless aesthetic. The home’s grand façade is framed by lush, meticulously curated gardens, where vibrant red and white hydrangeas weave a captivating tapestry around the estate. Beyond the charming exterior, a private backyard oasis awaits—an entertainer’s dream featuring a striking sunken conversation pit seamlessly encircled by a shimmering pool, perfect for intimate gatherings and luxurious outdoor living.

40 x 30

Residential Lot

2 beds, 1 nursery

2 full bathrooms

Furnished

$570,487

Requirements:

Turn bb.moveobjects on before placing. **optional** TwistedMexi has a script mod that does it for you automatically, so there is no reason to always have to type it in.

T.O.O.L by TwistedMexi.

Required CC - Please refer to the included PDF document for downloading items that were not included in the zip file, as some are still in early access.

One of the cabinets is a recolor; download the original mesh here if you load into the lot and something is missing. The file name is [KKB'sMM]Aesthete - Cabinet ver.2.

The lush red hydrangeas are a recolor; download the mesh here.

Do not re-upload my lots and claim them as your own.

You're welcome to edit or modify my builds, but please remember to credit me as the original creator!

Do not put my builds behind a paywall.

I've included some of my recolors, please refer to those posts for their TOU.

Thank you to all CC Creators.

Please let me know if there's any problem with the build. Tag @sarahelizasims so I can see your gameplay and any personal touches you've made!

I sincerely apologize for the number of zip files. I had a tough time finding a way to upload everything at once or compress the main folder as a whole. As a result, I had to create multiple folders to split up the CC. If you have any tips on compressing and optimizing large files, I would greatly appreciate your help!

Please note that this is a very CC heavy build, which might cause lag in your game. I organize CC files to their content creator in my downloads. Make sure you're actively running batch fixes on your files.

My game is DirectX11, so you may need to update your images to DX11 in the Sims 4 Studio.

📥DOWNLOAD (Available for FREE on Patreon)

Floor Plan & Photo Gallery:

#sims 4 cc #ts4 cc #sims cc #ts4 build #sims build #sims download #ts4 download #the sims 4 cc #ts4cc #thesims4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 #builds #brindleton bay #newcrest #sarahelizasims #*lombard drive

486 notes · View notes

whimsicaldoxy · 6 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 - 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you and fred share a cozy evening at the burrow on new year’s eve, surrounded by the weasley family’s warmth and chaos.

notes: established relationship, pre-war, insinuated fem!reader, no use of y/n, fred loves pet names, fluff

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The time was creeping closer and closer to midnight, and the evening air was filling the Burrow, the scent of smoked wood and Mrs Weasley’s famous treacle tart.

Fred was sat beside you on the patchwork sofa in the living room, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders. The pair of you were half-buried under a hand-knitted blanket, sharing a butterbeer.

“Go on, admit it,” Fred said, leaning closer as his freckled face glowed in the firelight. “You’re only dating me for my charm.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into the sofa. “Oh, absolutely. It’s definitely not for your constant, irritating smugness or the way you ruin a perfectly good evening by stealing all the treacle tart before I can even get a bite.”

Fred gasped dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Darling, you wound me! You know my heart belongs only to you.”

George, his brother, who perched on the arm of the couch like a smug cat, chimed in. “That and his stomach. Mum’s cooking ranks a close second.”

Fred ignored him. “You’re not denying it, though,” he said, his grin widening as he looked back at you. “See? Can’t even argue because you love me.”

“Love might be a strong word,” you said, lifting the mug to your lips, hiding your smirk behind the rim.

“Oi!” Fred started, his finger gripping the blanket in attempt to pull it. George gave him a sharp jab in the side. “Off you go, Freddie. Don’t embarrass yourself further.”

You yank at the blanket, pulling it fully over you as Fred bickered with his twin. “Speaking of embarrassing yourself,” you said, raising an eyebrow at Fred. “Are you going to ask what my New Year’s resolution is, or are you too scared to know?”

He perked up at that, his golden-brown eyes gleaming with curiosity. “All right. Let’s hear it. Let me guess—it’s to learn to tolerate my unparalleled wit?”

You leaned closer, the corner of your mouth quirking into a grin. “It’s to beat you at Exploding Snap this year. Every. Single. Time.”

Fred blinked once. Then twice. Then he threw his head back in a loud, delighted laugh before leaning forward. “Blimey, darling. That’s ambitious, even for you.”

“You’ll see,” you replied smugly, leaning in.

“Five minutes to midnight!” Mrs Weasley’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Everyone grab your drinks and get outside for the fireworks! And George, if you light a single one before we’re ready, so help me—”

The whole family shuffled outside, you included, the cold winter air hitting you like a sudden shock after the warmth of the house. Snow crunched underfoot, white, soft and glittering under the light of the stars. The garden was a chaos of footprints and hastily trampled paths, leading to a makeshift firework display that George was already fussing over.

A stack of colourful rockets stood ready, haphazardly tied together in what could only be described as a precarious masterpiece.

As your head tilted to stare up at the stars overhead, Fred slipped his hand into yours, his fingers warm and rough against your own. He guided you towards the edge, his arm curling around your waist, pulling you to his side as the first firework shot into the air with a loud crack—it exploded in a burst of crimson and gold, lighting up the sky.

Fred leaned down, his voice soft in your ear. “You know, it doesn’t matter what resolutions you make this year.” His tone was so different from his usual teasing—gentle and sincere. “As long as you’re with me, that’s all I’ll ever need.”

The weight of his words settled in the air around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the cold or the impending war that loomed on the horizon. You turned to him, standing on your toes to press your lips to his. He tasted like butterbeer and laughter, his lips warm against yours despite the chill in the air.

Around you, the fireworks continued to burst in brilliant waves of colour—and when you finally pulled away, Fred was grinning again, his lopsided smile even more dazzling in the firework-lit night. “Next year,” he said, his tone edging back into a familiar playfulness, “I resolve to make you laugh at least twice as much. Shouldn’t be too hard—I’m brilliant, you know.”

“You’re something, alright,” you replied, shaking your head at him fondly. The words were laced with affection, and Fred clearly heard it, because he squeezed your hand tighter.

“Happy New Year, love,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

“Happy New Year, Fred,” you replied, leaning into his warmth as another firework burst overhead, painting the night sky in silver and blue. For this one perfect moment, the world felt safe and whole, and the future could wait until tomorrow.

#☆—𝑪𝑬𝑪𝑬 𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺.#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley drabble #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fluff

728 notes · View notes

societyfolklore · 2 months ago

Text

The Cost of Access

Title: The Cost of Access

Pairing: Congressman! Bucky Barnes x Entrepreneur!Female Reader

Summary: At a high-stakes D.C. fundraiser. You’re there to protect your start-up from political threats, not to play the donor game but Bucky surprises you. He sees past the surface, speaks your language, and for one charged night, the two of you find something raw, reckless, and unexpectedly sincere behind closed doors.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, SMUT, Unprotected sex, mirror sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), light dominance, light choking (hand on throat), champagne-fueled decisions, emotional tension, slight political themes, post-sex awkwardness

A/N: Not a Thunderbolts* fic… I will be making sure this space stays spoiler free for a few weeks since I don’t want to spoil for anyone until they get the chance.

You weren't lobbying. Not really.

You were there to make sure your startup, barely past Series B funding and already on the radar of corporate predators, didn’t get chewed up and swallowed whole under the guise of 'infrastructure reform.' D.C. had a way of wrapping its greed in clean bills and smiling handshakes. You weren’t about to watch your work get buried under a competitor’s line item, or worse, co-opted by a conglomerate that didn’t understand the first thing about what you’d built.

Your company was scrappy, efficient, and bold, everything the legacy players hated. And you had no intention of letting a single careless vote collapse the years of sweat equity and innovation you’d bled for. You didn’t want favours. You wanted protection. An understanding. Leverage, if you were lucky.

But the fundraiser was unbearable.

Everyone either talked at you like you were some high-yield asset ripe for exploitation, or worse, like a walking checkbook with tits. You’d worn a sharp dress, tailored, matte black, the neckline modest, the slit at your thigh anything but, and still you felt like a prize pig at auction, trotted out for admiration, smiled at by men who never once asked the name of your company.

You played the part. Sipped the champagne. Nodded politely. It was exhausting, watching the glittering masks slip when they thought you weren’t worth the effort. And still, you stayed. Because someone had to protect what you’d built, and tonight that someone was you.

You were just deciding how quickly you could leave without burning too many bridges when you saw him.

Congressman Barnes.

Polished shoes. Classic black tuxedo. Crisp white shirt. Bowtie slightly askew, like he wanted to appear relaxed without actually letting his guard down. His posture was clean but coiled, all quiet control and unreadable calm. He gave you a small, acknowledging nod across the room, like he recognized the same bored exhaustion on your face that he felt in his bones.

He looked about as bored as you did.

Then his campaign manager leaned in, whispered something in his ear, you saw the shift in his shoulders, the faint sigh. You felt yourself groan inwardly. Another political animal sending their candidate your way, sniffing around to see what you were willing to pay to keep yourself ahead of the pack.

You’d seen the type. Hell, you’d dated the type. They smiled like wolves, hands warm and eyes calculating.

But Barnes didn’t start with a smile. He didn’t lead with a pitch, or some tired attempt at charm. Instead:

“You run that adaptive interface platform, right? For small logistics firms?”

You blinked, thrown slightly off balance. “That’s… oddly specific. Most people just call it ‘some tech thing.’”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Genuine. Quietly pleased with himself.

““My campaign manager said I should try being more charming. I figured knowing what you actually do was a decent start.”

That earned him a raised brow and a small sip of your drink. “So this is you charming me?”

“I’m trying,” he admitted, voice low as he stepped in just enough to share your air, but not enough to crowd. “I don’t like asking for money. I’d rather earn what I get.”

You let out a soft huff of a laugh, the corner of your mouth tugging up. “That makes two of us. Everyone here’s just charming enough to take your money, none of them want to hear why you felt the need to offer it in the first place.”

His brow arched with quiet interest. “And why do you?”

You hesitated, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “Because I’ve watched too many people like me, too many sharp, brilliant startups, get crushed under policy written by people who’ve never actually built anything. I have money now, sure. But the world’s... complicated. One bill, one amendment, one line in the wrong place, and everything collapses.”

He nodded slowly, expression shifting from polite to something more real. “Yeah,” he said. “Feels like it’s all turning into some elaborate game lately. Everyone pointing fingers, selling favors, whoring themselves out for donations. It’s about who you shake hands with, not who you help. And that’s not what I signed up for.”

You tilted your head. “So what did you sign up for?”

Bucky looked at you then, really looked. Blue eyes steady and piercing, the kind of gaze that cut through all your practiced armour and found the person underneath. There was no sales pitch in that look, no calculation. Just something honest. Something that made your throat tighten. “Just trying to make sure life’s better for people who don’t have the time or power to fight for it themselves.”

For the first time that evening, you felt your defences slip.

You stayed put.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~

It wasn’t supposed to happen. But the elevator ride had been quiet and charged, a weight of unspoken tension thick in the air between you. The kind that buzzed in the bones and made your fingers twitch with anticipation. He’d asked if you wanted to see the view from the top floor. Just the skyline, he'd said. Just five minutes. You'd known the invitation carried more than one meaning, and you'd said yes anyway.

The elevator climbed too slowly and too fast all at once. Neither of you said much, just sidelong glances, soft exhales, the space between you alive with heat. When the doors opened, he stepped aside to let you pass, hand brushing your lower back with a quiet confidence that sent a bolt of want through your spine.

The skyline passed in a blur. You vaguely remembered the glittering lights of the Capitol, the outline of the Washington Monument, but mostly, you remembered the click of his keycard, the soft whoosh of the suite door, and the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

He didn’t say a word as you stepped inside. Just followed, silent and watchful. You felt the warmth of him behind you, the weight of his gaze tracing the bare skin of your shoulders. The brush of his knuckles down your spine made you shiver, and then you turned, and he looked at you like a man starving.

Like he'd wanted to taste you since the moment he saw you across the room.

"You still want to see the view?" he murmured, voice deeper now, rougher around the edges. You didn’t answer with words. Just stepped toward him, fingers tugging the lapel of his tux with a boldness that surprised even you.

He kissed you like he meant to burn the memory into your skin. Like he was starving and you were the only thing that would satisfy. Champagne lingered on your tongue, on his lips, between the clink of teeth and the soft drag of breath.

And when he backed you toward the table, fingers already skimming the edge of your thigh, you knew, this wasn’t politics anymore. This was something reckless. Something raw. Something that had nothing to do with influence or strategy.

Just the way he needed you. And in that moment, you let yourself want him right back- recklessly, breathlessly, without second-guessing the consequences.

The taste of champagne still lingered on your tongue as his lips brushed the sensitive skin at your throat, sending a fresh shiver down your spine and pulling you back into the heat between you. The click of your heels echoing against marble as he backed you toward the suite’s glossy dining table,. Your breath hitched when he slid your dress up your thighs with practiced ease.

“Didn’t peg you for the type to soak through your panties just from a little political banter,” he murmured, crouching as he tugged your panties down your thighs, eyes flicking up with that same smirk. “You gonna let me see what all that sharp talk was hiding?”

You rolled your eyes at the line, but the breath caught in your throat when his fingers slid through your folds, spreading you open with reverent, maddening patience. The pads of his fingers were calloused, warm, utterly unhurried. They moved like he’d done this before, but never quite like this. Like you were different. Like he wanted to learn you, not just make you moan.

“Oh, fuck, ” you gasped, hips twitching at the contact, thighs trying and failing to stay still as that first spark of sensation bled into a full-body ache.

He watched intently, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, focused like you were a puzzle he already knew the solution to but wanted to work through anyway, piece by trembling piece. One finger traced your entrance, then two pressed inside you, slow and deep, curling just right. The stretch was maddening and perfect, your walls clenching around him in a greedy flutter.

You whimpered, grinding down on his hand, shameless in the way you chased his touch. The heel of your shoe slipped a little on the polished floor, but he didn’t let you go, just steadied you with his free hand, palm flat on your thigh.

“Look at you,” he murmured, half to himself. “Could ruin me on the floor of a damn hotel suite and not even break a sweat.”

He brought the slick digits to his mouth, sucked them clean with a groan that went straight to your core, his tongue slow and deliberate like he was savoring the taste.

“Sweetest thing I’ve had in weeks,” he said, voice low, lazy, wicked, before picking you up and placing you gently on the edge of the table like you belonged there. Then he sank to his knees between your legs with deliberate care, hands sliding under your thighs to spread you open wider.

He looked up once, gaze molten with hunger and reverence, then lowered his head between your legs.

His tongue flicked through your folds with slow, luxurious precision. Lips sealed around your clit like a man on a mission, like the night didn’t end until you were wrecked and trembling, laid bare for him in every way.

You gripped the table edge hard enough to bruise, head tilted back as a moan slipped from your lips, loud and unashamed. Champagne warmth buzzed through your bloodstream, lowering every inhibition, making you shameless. His mouth was hot and relentless, tongue circling your clit with infuriating expertise, teasing and coaxing until your thighs were shaking.

"Bucky, oh my god- " you gasped, voice catching when he sealed his mouth tighter around you and sucked. The sound that left you was raw, desperate, the kind of noise that filled a luxury suite and made your face flush with heat.

He moaned into you like your taste was heaven, hands tightening under your thighs as he buried his face deeper. His nose bumped your mound, tongue flattening and stroking in long, slow passes. When he shifted the angle, dragging the tip against that spot, just right- your body jolted.

"There," you breathed, grinding into his face. "Fuck, right there, don't stop."

He didn’t. If anything, he doubled down. He groaned, one hand releasing your thigh only to slip between your legs again. Two fingers pressed in, firm and slow, curling in rhythm with his tongue until your whole body was a tight coil of want.

Your legs tried to close around him, thighs locking reflexively, but he held you open with a rough, growled "Let me have it. Let go for me, sweetheart. Come on."

You shattered.

Pleasure built like a storm inside you, cresting fast and hard until it snapped, tearing through you with a raw, blistering heat that left your legs shaking and your breath stuttering. Your body locked for one suspended moment, every nerve on fire, before the aftershocks rippled through you- deep, pulsing waves that made you moan, helpless and high on the intensity. Your hips jerked, your back arched, a high whine leaving your lips as his mouth stayed on you through every pulse. You heard your name tumble from your mouth in a breathless, broken cry.

Even then, he didn’t stop. He licked you through it, gentle now, tongue tracing soft, lazy patterns until you were squirming from overstimulation, a laugh-sob catching in your throat.

He finally pulled back, lips glistening, breathing hard like he was the one who’d just come.

"Told you," he said, voice wrecked and low, kissing your inner thigh. "Sweetest thing I've had in weeks."

He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at you. Then he reached for your dress, the fabric bunching under his fingers as he eased it over your hips and up your body. You lifted your arms, dazed and pliant, letting him strip it away and drop it to the floor with quiet finality. He stepped back just long enough to shrug out of his shirt, fingers popping buttons open one by one before he pulled it free of his shoulders and let it fall.

You watched him, heart racing. His tie came off next. Then his belt. His slacks hit the floor with a soft rustle, and you caught your breath as he stepped out of them, bare and beautiful and hard for you.

He circled behind you, the heat of his bare chest pressing into your back. His hands slid over your waist, up your ribs, fingers splaying across your stomach. He kissed your shoulder, then your neck, slow, reverent, greedy. You tilted your head to the side, gave him space to devour the skin there. His cock nudged the curve of your ass, thick and hot and insistent.

"Come here," he rasped, walking you forward until the bed met your thighs. He turned you slightly, guiding you to the center of the mattress, facing the mirror across from it.

You leaned forward slightly, bracing yourself on your palms as he settled behind you. One hand slid between your thighs to guide himself as the other spread across your hip, grounding you. You felt the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, and then, with one deep, slow thrust, he pushed into you.

Your mouth fell open, a moan tearing free as your walls stretched to accommodate him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the fullness, the thick, perfect pressure making your knees tremble. Behind you, Bucky groaned low and broken, hands tightening on your hips.

"Fuck, baby… you're so tight," he hissed through his teeth, voice strained with restraint.

You couldn’t find words. Just the burn, the ache, the pulse of pleasure radiating outward as he began to move, slow, dragging thrusts that had your eyes rolling back with every stroke. You heard the slick sound of your bodies meeting, felt the heat of his chest as he leaned in closer, his breath warm on your shoulder.

Then he pulled you upright, chest flush against your back, his hand sliding up to grip your throat with just enough pressure to hold you steady. The angle shifted, his cock spearing deeper as your spine arched and your legs widened in instinct. Your head fell back against his shoulder with a broken moan.

"Look," he rasped, turning your chin so your eyes met the mirror. "Look at me fucking you."

Your mouth parted as you watched the obscene beauty of it, his body pressed to yours, hips rolling up into you with power and purpose, your breasts moving with every thrust, that delicate chain swinging at your collarbone. His arm banded across your waist, anchoring you in place.

He rocked into you again, slow but deliberate, his breath ragged as he muttered, "God, you feel good, so fucking good."

You could only whimper in reply, eyelids fluttering, hips pushing back to meet him as slick pleasure gathered low in your belly again, tighter with every perfect stroke. Your eyes closed, breathing hard.

“Come on, open your eyes. Watch how good you look taking me,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “How perfect you look falling apart.”

You couldn’t look away.

Your gaze met your reflection, flushed skin, parted lips, the look of raw pleasure on your face as his cock filled you with slow, deliberate precision, each thrust deep and controlled, wringing gasps from your throat and arching your back with every stroke. Your fingers scrabbled behind you, finding purchase on his metal arm, nails digging into the vibranium plating as you gasped.

"Harder," you whispered, breath fogging the mirror. "Please, Bucky, "

He growled, the sound low and rough in your ear, and lost the last of his composure. Letting a go of the hold on you neck.

Bucky bent you over the bed, hand gripping your waist like he meant to leave fingerprints, thrusting rougher now, deeper. Each stroke punched a moan from your lips, loud and wrecked. The slap of skin meeting skin echoed through the suite.

Your name fell from his mouth in a strained, reverent groan as your walls clenched around him and you came with a sob, body jerking under the weight of it. The pleasure was blinding, your muscles trembling, your thighs shaking as you cried out, caught somewhere between ecstasy and surrender.

Bucky's grip tightened on your hips, a guttural noise tearing from his throat. "Fuck, fuck, doll, that's it, " he gasped, hips stuttering.

He snapped forward with one last deep, punishing thrust and came with a harsh grunt, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you. You could feelTitle: The Cost of Access the heat of it, the fullness, and it only made your body tighten again in response. His forehead dropped between your shoulder blades, breath hot and ragged against your spine.

Neither of you moved for a long, suspended moment, just the sound of breathing, the lingering echo of skin on skin, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the room. His hands softened on your hips, thumbs brushing soothingly across the skin he'd just gripped so fiercely. He leaned in, kissed the slope of your back, slow and reverent.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. The silence said everything.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~

You woke before he did.

The suite was too quiet. Just the hush of morning traffic filtering up from the city streets, the hum of the minibar fridge, and the rhythmic, steady sound of his breathing. You lay still for a moment, letting the soft warmth of his body behind you linger before reality crept in through the gauzy light.

Sunlight spilled across the hotel floor in perfect rectangles. The room still carried the humid trace of last night- skin-warmed sheets, the musky whisper of sex clinging to the air, and the soft, fading note of his cologne drifting lazily through the quiet. You slid out from beneath the sheet slowly, quietly, careful not to disturb him. But before you moved too far, you glanced back over your shoulder.

His hair was a mess, dark strands falling over his forehead in soft, unruly waves. One arm was flung lazily over the pillow, the other tucked beneath it, his vibranium arm, glinting faintly in the morning light. His face was relaxed, softened in sleep in a way you hadn’t seen the night before. Vulnerable. Real.

You stared for a beat longer than you meant to, throat tight. Then you turned away and stepped lightly onto the floor.

You found your dress crumpled near the foot of the bed. Your shoes tucked half under a chair. Your phone facedown on the nightstand. No panties. You searched briefly, under the bed, beneath a cushion, and came up empty. Of course.

You didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t leave a note. Just smoothed your dress down, slipped your heels back on, and left with your hair a mess and your thighs sticky with the night before.

You didn’t want to be seen as the kind of woman who bought access with sex, who traded power and control for one night of heat and champagne-clouded recklessness. That wasn’t who you were.

And he… well, you weren’t sure if he’d think he sold it. If he’d wake and think you were just another wealthy donor slipping out before the illusion shattered.

You’d hovered for a moment near the minibar, fingertips grazing the notepad left beside the phone. You’d even picked up the pen. A part of you had thought about leaving a check, not for the good time, not for the sex, but because, for one brief, dangerous moment, you’d hoped he was the kind of man worth investing in. Someone who meant what he said, who could actually hold the line when others bent. Someone who might fight for the things that mattered.

But your hand had stilled.

What would he think if he found that? That you’d paid him for it? That he was just like the rest of them, bought and fucked and forgotten?

He wasn’t a whore. No matter what people thought of politicians.

You set the pen down.

Better to leave. You could make a donation later. Quietly. Through the proper channels. When it wouldn’t feel like an apology.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~

You were halfway through your third coffee of the morning, hunched over a stack of budgets and investor notes when the intern knocked twice on your office door before pushing it open.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” she said, holding out a slim envelope. “This came by courier earlier. It didn’t look like it was office mail.”

You frowned, setting your mug down and brushing your hair back. The envelope was plain, unmarked. Heavy cardstock. Your name printed neatly in the center. No return address.

You waited until the door closed again before sliding your thumb beneath the seal.

Inside: a familiar scrap of lace. Your panties, folded neatly, still carrying the faintest trace of his cologne and something unmistakably you. Your breath hitched when your fingers brushed the fabric, your cheeks flushing hot.

And a note. Typed. Crisp cardstock. No letterhead, no signature, but the message was clear. Unmistakably him.

‘We’ll finish what we started.’

Just beneath the line, in faint pen ink, scrawled as if added last second, in a hand you didn’t quite expect to look so neat, was one more sentence:

‘Next time, stay for breakfast.’

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #x female reader #smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader #buckybarnes #james bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader

304 notes · View notes

moonmaarii · 15 days ago

Text

crash landing

request: no

summary: romance/hurt comfort - after a practice mission and emergency ejection, bob finds comfort and clarity in the arms of the one person who’s always been his safe place—leading to a quiet confession that changes everything.

warnings: blink and you miss it description of injury & mentions of being in hopsital

pairing: bob x reader (gender neutral)

word count: 1,082

the sharp scent of antiseptic hit you before you even reached his room.

everything about military hospitals was cold—overly white walls, pale blue curtains that barely shielded anything, that low, sterile hum of fluorescent lighting. but none of that mattered the moment you caught sight of him, propped up in the hospital bed like he was still bracing for impact.

bob looked better than you’d feared—but that wasn’t saying much.

his glasses sat slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose, one of the lenses still smudged from the ejector seat’s canopy blast. a thin cut arced above his right brow, stitched neatly, but still angry red. His right arm was in a sling. and the way he blinked up at you when you stepped through the doorway—like he wasn’t sure if you were real—hit you square in the chest.

“hey, stranger,” you said gently.

bob exhaled a shaky breath that might’ve been a laugh if he weren’t so visibly exhausted. “you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

you smiled despite yourself, stepping closer, heart clenching at the way he shifted upright with a wince just to greet you properly.

“i heard the crash over comms,” you said. “i thought—God, i thought—”

your voice caught. you dropped it. you didn’t want the first thing he heard from you to be your panic. he’d had enough of that today.

bob looked at you with soft, stormy eyes, the kind that always held more than he said. “we hit the birds just after the split S maneuver. phoenix had control for about five seconds after the left engine flamed out. then we lost hydraulics. she called for ejection, and—” he paused. “it was fast.”

you took the chair beside his bed, dragging it close enough that your knees brushed the frame. “they said you both pulled your chutes just in time.”

“yeah. the ground came up faster than i expected.” he tried to joke, but it landed flat. you reached out, laying a hand over his uninjured one, and felt his fingers twitch under yours before curling gently to hold on.

“i’m really glad you’re okay,” you whispered.

“i am too,” he said. “mostly because i get to see you.”

the corners of your mouth twitched. it was such a bob thing to say—quiet, sincere, a little awkward, but deeply heartfelt. you never had to guess with him. he didn’t talk much, but when he did, you listened.

you tilted your head. “did you hit your head harder than they thought, floyd?”

he gave you a sideways smile. “don’t worry. my charming personality is still intact.”

you laughed softly, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. you could feel the tremor there—small, but present. residual adrenaline. he was holding it together well, but you knew enough about flight deck trauma to see the cracks beneath the surface.

“were you scared?” you asked quietly.

he didn’t answer right away. just stared at your joined hands for a long moment. “yeah... more than i’ve ever been. not for me, though.” he hesitated. “phoenix was flying. i didn’t want it to be her fault.”

you blinked. “it wasn’t.”

“i know,” he said. “i didn't want her to get into trouble and when you’re falling out of the sky, your brain doesn’t care what’s logical.”

you didn’t let go. “you’re here. you both are. that’s what matters.”

he nodded slowly, eyes meeting yours again. there was something raw in them—vulnerability stripped down to its core. not fear, exactly. just exposure. like he’d been peeled open by the wind and fire and g-forces and was only just realizing how fragile everything was.

including his own heart.

“they wouldn’t let me see you right away,” you told him, trying to ease the air again. “apparently i don’t fall into the correct relationship category.”

bob blinked. “what category did you give them?”

“‘emotionally entangled,’” you said with a dry laugh. “didn’t fly.”

he smiled, something close to a laugh escaping him this time. “sounds like we need to file a status update.”

you raised an eyebrow. “that so?”

“i mean…” he pushed his glasses up with the knuckle of his free hand. “only if you want to. i just—i wasn’t sure i’d ever get the chance to say it.”

your heart skipped. “say what?”

“that i care about you. a lot more than i’ve said out loud.” his voice had dropped into that soft register that made you lean in just to hear it. “i think about you. between missions. at night. every time we fly over coronado bay. you’re there.”

you blinked hard. “bob—”

“i know. we never talked about it. it was just… always there. but i kept thinking if i pushed it, it’d mess things up. you’re my safe place. i didn’t want to lose that.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was warm. settling. like sunlight spreading through an overcast room.

you let out a slow breath, voice low. “i thought i was the only one feeling all that.”

he looked at you like you’d just pulled the entire sky down and handed it to him.

you leaned forward, pressing your forehead gently to his, careful not to bump his stitches. “you scared the hell out of me,” you whispered.

“i know,” he whispered back. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize for surviving.”

he gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, then tilted his head just enough that your noses brushed. the proximity sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and when his lips met yours—soft, tentative, with just enough trembling vulnerability to undo you completely—you felt the tight knot in your chest finally loosen.

the kiss was brief, but it lingered like heat long after you pulled back.

“i guess that clears up our status,” you murmured.

“i’ll log it with command,” bob said, a half-smile curving his lips.

you chuckled and reached out to adjust his glasses properly. “you’ll need these. for all the paperwork.”

the curtain rustled slightly as a nurse peeked in. “visiting hours are wrapping up. i’ll have to ask you to say goodnight soon.”

you nodded, brushing your fingers down bob’s arm one last time before standing.

“i’ll be back tomorrow,” you said.

bob gave you a look so full of quiet affection it nearly broke you all over again. “okay.”

you stepped toward the door, then hesitated, looking over your shoulder.

“by the way,” you added with a smile, “you didn’t just survive today. you landed right where you were supposed to.”

#fic #fic writing #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #fluff #top gun #top gun maverick #lewis pullman #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #top gun imagine #bob floyd imagine #top gun one shot #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine

327 notes · View notes

atyourmerci · 1 year ago

Text

Gold wing, angel

meanloser!ellie X classpresident!r

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, v angsty, slight bondage, cunt slapping, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, lite angel symbolism, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: actually surprised I finished a req (you all applaud me) this is inspired by “GOLDWING” by billie.

Ellie was a sick drug. Something not to be desired. She was the epitome of the allure of indulging in something you shouldn’t have, shouldn’t know, try at very least.

How did she get this way- who made her like this? Anger taken out through bodies of admission in an act of revenge. Taking back what was taken from her. Her pride regained by your submission.

You could have never fathomed the aggression the loser from AP American literature could obtain. You thought she’d beg on her knees for you. Worship your every move, starstruck by even getting the chance to touch you.

But she didn’t. She reveled in taking you off your high horse, got off on watching the student body president, proper and witty, utterly depraved by getting her cunt abused by a fucking moron.

98- A fucking 98, you did not deserve a 98 on the midterm paper. Your work was frankly sloppy, lacked comprehension. It made you ill knowing you were turning in something so lackluster with your name slapped across the front so proudly. The only thing that made you sicker was the thought of receiving special treatment- you had an image to uphold. You got to your position in this society from your own intellect, blood, sweat, tears and all. Kissing ass for a fucking 98 wasn’t in the cards.

The class began filing out as usual, like wild animals in a pack, shiny white teeth like daggers. Meshing together in their navy steam-pressed blazers, hair like defining fur, the only indication of individuality.

Except for her, sticking out like a sore thumb, the great big elephant in the room. Breaking many rulebook codes with her black nail polish, unkept hair to the standard policy, her white polo unbuttoned at the top two buttons that revealed her freckled chest. Despite her all around degenerate persona, she was irritatingly smart. Maybe if she had an ounce of charm she’d take your place.

With the rest of the class out of sight she stares at you. Not cutting off eye contact you both rise from your chairs you practically run to Mr. Stevens desk. The slap of two papers hit his desk, a 98 and a 90 shining in red sharpie ink on the white papers.

“I don’t deserve this,” comes out in unison, the sincerity in your voice cut open by the harshness in Ellies.

“Please one at a time, ladies.”

Before the words can even escape your lips Ellie rages, “I worked my ass off on this. I deserve better than a 90,” she spits out. “I know you can do better than this Ms.Williams, I expect more from you.” Ellie scoffs back at him, “this is bullshit,” she muffles but continues standing at his desk.

Mr.Stevens nods his head in your direction for your speech, you glance at Ellie with her arms now crossed, awaiting your protest. You brush off her insistence on staying and begin, “Mr.Stevens, I appreciate your grading and understanding my agenda for the midterm, but objectively this is sub-pare work. I think you may have given me someone else’s grade… maybe you mixed up my grade with Ms.Williams.”

He doesn’t skip a beat, “I don’t mix up grades, you earned it. Now if you two will excuse me,” Mr.Stevens directs you both to the now empty hallway.

Ellie storms out with rage, cheeks flushed and lips pressed closely, you follow behind. “‘ms Williams’? the fuck was that?” Ellie presses in a scowl, words echoed in a bare hallway.

“Look I read your paper, I think you deserved better,” you retort in an attempt to soothe her. You cant seem to keep your eyes off her cupids bow, the contrast of soft pink lips against her tired skin.

“Oh thats fucking rich coming from ‘ms I don’t deserve my grade’ you’re pathetic,” she points, eyes thinning.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch more people would like you,” you attempt, heat rising in your own cheeks, heart thumping roughly in your chest.

Ellies cruel disposition contorts into a grin, inching closer to your body, “you’re fucking him aren’t you? Ms. perfect sucking off the teach so she can stay on top?”

A power so foreign comes before you, using force to push your wrist into her chest, though she doesn’t budge, “shut up.”

She returns your aggression, pushing your bodies flesh up against the brick wall behind you, ripping the breath from your lungs. Your hands instinctively grip into her shirt. Her eyes are wild, as if she was surprised she’d taken it this far, or rather puzzled by the fact you haven’t broken your grasp.

You both pant from the intrusion, glaring, waiting- waiting for someone to cave.

Like a dog on a leash you dragged her in, pulling her by her fabric until her lips met your own. A depraved act, met with open mouths and wandering tongues. Hatred in its finest form, digging into her as if you’d ever thought of it. A subconscious desire pulled from the depths of your cravings.

Before true indulgence she pushes you off, taking a moment to look at your hazy disposition, drunk on delinquency, “don’t ever do that again,” she pants out. Taking her thumb she wipes the saliva from your bottom lip and takes off without your response.

Time after time you went back. You told yourself you’d stop, never talk to her again. Yet there the keys were in the ignition, a path that you knew like the back of your hand. Leading, controlling your own fate of defacement.

“Can you please just open the door,” you plead on her doorsteps, mind and body corrupted- to only be pleased by the mental games, the destruction in forms of submitting to her.

Strung up like an old doll long forgotten in the attic, bound wrist behind your back and ankles tied to the head of her bed, vulnerable and needy.

“What now? Use your fucking words,” Ellie remarks before spitting on your neglected cunt. Your body winces at the sensation of the hot liquid dripping down the pulsing flesh, “please I promise I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She hovers over your squirming body, carful to not give you the satisfaction. Gripping your jaw in her hand, “do you ever pay attention to what I tell you? You don’t deserve to come,” cocking her free hand back to lay a purposeful slap to your slick folds causing you to scream out from the blissful pain.

She lays another one into the already beat red skin, a cruel grin growing on her lips as she hears you enjoying it. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” she asks glaring at your tucked in lip, eyes glossy. You nod back at her, signaling your approval for using your body as her personal vessel.

Somehow it was good enough for her, dropping down to your perked nipples and sucking it into her teeth as she uses her hand to cover your eyes. You’d learn very early on that you weren’t allowed to watch her use her mouth on you. In the odd occasion she’d let you have your cunt in her mouth shed have your face shoved in the sheets while she took you from behind. She never told you why- and you didn’t dare ask.

Your wrist wriggle behind your back as your chest arches into her mouth, hot and wet. You obsess over what it would feel like on your mouth again, most nights were spent only thinking of her mouth- foreign, an impenetrable fortress. You began to chase the chance of the feeling her again.

You feel as her mouth comes off of the swollen bud as she removes the hand on your eyes, “don’t look,” she says with no threat in her tone, but you don’t risk crossing her.

You shut your exhausted eyes, dropping your head back as you feel her wrap her arms around the meat of your thighs. She drags an antagonizing strip up your slit, jolting your body into the mouth.

She goes as slow as possible, providing as little pressure she can muster up to the swell of your clit, but from her slaps it wouldn’t take much. Your body akin to a fish gasping for air out of water, squirming under her touch. She digs her fingers deep into the flesh as a warning.

“If you ever want to come again Id advise you behave.”

“P-please,” you plead to her, legs shaking as you whimper her name over and over like a prayer.

“I said no, i swear to god I’ll ruin every fucking orgasm,” sliding her two fingers into your clenching hole she drives slow pumps as she returns her mouth to your clit.

Your face contorts in concentration, attempting to hold yourself back but you could only be held off for so long.

“Ellie- Ellie!” bursting at the seams, your body detesting her rules, letting the hot white cum coat her fingers. She only fucks you harder, faster through your orgasm. This is a game you weren’t to win, rather to allow herself to revel in your pain. She got off on destroying your mind, making it to where you can only be pleased by her punishment.

Ellie kept her word, working you up on the edge of finishing and stopping completely, laughing at your pathetic state, crying and begging to come.

Clipping your wings, she hung them on her walls as a trophy. Pleas echoing her room, come splattering her sheets, your lips chapped and neglected.

1K notes · View notes

mikkies · 23 days ago

Text

「 I'MMA GET YA, GET YA REAL GOOD WHEN I MET YA. 」

Chance x GN! Reader x Mafioso

warnings: none!

notes: I was confused with the request, but thought nonnie requested a love triangle since I don't do nsfw.

THE LIGHTS OF the casino sparkled like stars in the dark, their glow casting a warm, alluring haze over the crowded floor.

The air hummed with the sounds of slot machines clinking and dice rolling.

Amidst the chaos, Chance leaned casually against a roulette table, his smirk as sharp as his suit. His clockwork headphones rested around his neck, their quiet ticking almost drowned out by the noise.

"[Name], sweetheart," Chance said, sliding his shades down just enough to reveal his mischievous eyes. "Still trying to figure out who’s the better company tonight? Because I’ll save you the trouble: it’s me."

Before you could reply, a low, deliberate cough cut through the din. Mafioso stepped into view, his presence commanding even in the bustling room.

His tall frame seemed to absorb the ambient light, his black fedora shadowing his face just enough to add a touch of menace. The scars lining his hands and neck told stories he never would.

"Chance," Mafioso said, his voice calm and deliberate, "shouldn’t you be running your casino instead of wasting [Name]’s time?"

Chance chuckled, adjusting his tie. "Wasting time? Oh, Mafioso, you’re adorable. I’m enriching their evening. A lesson you might want to learn, by the way."

The tension between them was thick, their personalities clashing like fire and ice. You glanced between them, unsure whether to laugh at their antics or feel overwhelmed by the intensity.

"Wow," you said finally, crossing your arms with a smirk. "You two sure know how to make a person feel like a prize. Should I flip a coin to decide who gets my attention?"

Chance’s grin widened. "Now, that’s my kind of logic! Gambling is the answer to everything."

Mafioso’s expression softened, just slightly, as his sharp gaze settled on you. "You deserve more than a coin toss.

You deserve someone who’ll put you first."

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. Before you could dwell on it, Chance leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Certainty is overrated. Take a chance—with me."

Before you could respond, a nudge at your hand drew your attention. Spade, Chance’s large black bunny, had hopped onto the table, looking up at you with expectant eyes. You laughed, scratching behind his ears.

"See? Spade’s on my side," Chance said, grinning triumphantly.

"He’s just looking for snacks," Mafioso countered, though his expression softened as a small white rabbit peeked out from his coat pocket. "Don’t let theatrics fool you, [Name]."

"And don’t let him bore you with his ‘practical’ nonsense," Chance quipped, leaning back with a confident ease.

As they exchanged jabs, you realized you were caught between two worlds: the thrill of Chance’s daring charm and the quiet strength of Mafioso’s steadfast care. It wasn’t a bad place to be. With both of them fighting for your attention, life was bound to stay interesting.

#* ∙ ✰ ◞ 미키 ✗ posts.#forsaken #forsaken x reader #x reader #forsaken x you #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #mafioso #mafioso x reader #mafioso x you #chance x reader #chance x you

381 notes · View notes

ahqkas · 7 months ago

Text

“CANDY GIRL — dick grayson.

PAIRING ! dick grayson 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! you meet dick’s friends for the first time WORD COUNT! 1.2k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, mention of reader’s hair + lmk if more found ! NOTES! i love wally sm :(( based on this rq.!! , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

DECEMBER HAD WRAPPED THE CITY IN ITS QUIET EMBRACE, blanketing the streets with white snow that muffled the usual chaos. The night had the kind of sharp chill that painted windows with frost and turned every exhale into a fleeting ghost of warmth. The city looked magical, you were certain of that. You found warmth in the cold—one if rare evenings when the city seemed to pause, and you had the luxury of time.

Time had always felt like a thief in your relationship with Dick Grayson, slipping between your fingers the moment you thought you’d held it long enough. He was always rushing off to save someone, to stop something, to carry the weight of a world you weren’t entirely a part of. And you had your own commitments: late nights with textbooks sprawled across your bed, early mornings chasing deadlines. But tonight was different. Tonight, the world had decided to be kind, and you’d carved out this sliver of time to be together.

Let’s start from the beginning.

You and Dick met on a spring afternoon, back when the days were longer and everything felt full of possibility. You were working at a little coffee shop near your university, balancing foam art and coursework, when he walked in. He was polite but distracted, glancing at his phone every few seconds like he was waiting for some signal. You’d noticed his smile first—easy and disarming, like the rest of the world could fall away and he wouldn’t care as long as you smiled back.

“What’s good here?” he’d asked, leaning slightly against the counter. He wasn’t trying to charm you; he was too genuine for that, but something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room, made your breath catch.

“The cappuccinos,” you’d said, voice steadier than you’d felt. “Unless you’re into syrupy monstrosities. Then I can whip up something with caramel and whipped cream.”

He’d laughed—a soft, quiet sound that felt like sunlight. “Cappuccino it is.”

He came back the next day, then the day after that. You learned his name, then bits and pieces of his life. He told you he worked for a non-profit, vaguely alluding to long hours and unpredictable schedules. You’d teased him about being a workaholic, and he’d shrugged it off with a smile. He never told you the full truth—not at first—but there was a sincerity in him that you trusted.

The two of you didn’t officially start dating until months later, after countless coffee shop conversations and a chance meeting outside campus one rainy afternoon. You’d been balancing too many books and almost lost your footing on the wet pavement when he caught you, his hands steady and warm on your arms.

“You okay?” he’d asked, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah,” you’d responded, laughing nervously. “Guess I’m clumsy and caffeinated.”

He’d smiled, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “You’re also beautiful.”

And that was it. The moment the scales tipped, and you fell.

Now, almost a year later, you were walking into a bar to meet his two best friends. The thought made you nervous in a way that felt ridiculous—you knew Dick, trusted him, felt at home with him in ways you hadn’t with anyone else. But these were the people who knew him better than anyone, who’d seen him through all the things he didn’t tell you about his past. Meeting them felt like stepping into his world more fully, and you wanted to make a good impression.

The bar was small and cozy, tucked away on a quiet street. Its wooden sign swayed slightly in the wind, snowflakes catching the light as they fell. You pushed the door open, stepping into a warmth that smelled like aged wood and spiced cider. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on him almost instantly. You always found him.. He was sitting at a booth near the back, his dark hair catching the low amber light. He stood as soon as he saw you, his face lighting up with a smile that melted away any lingering nerves in your system.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, pulling you into a tight hug. His hoodie smelled like the faintest hint of cologne mixed with winter air. “You made it.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with your smile widening. Your gaze flickered to the two people sitting across from him. Wally and Donna. You’d heard so much about them, but seeing them here, in the flesh, was something else entirely.

“Hi,” you said to them, your voice steadier than you felt. “I’m—”

“The girlfriend,” the ginger best friend interrupted your introduction, as he already knew you from the constant gushing of his best friend and partner, his grin wide and teasing. He stood up, offering a hand. “Wally West. The funnier and slightly faster half of this guy.”

Donna rolled her eyes, her expression softening as she stood as well. “I’m Donna. It’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Not that much,” the man in question groaned slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks faintly pink.

“Oh, please,” Wally was clearly enjoying this, dropping into what you could only assume was an impression of your boyfriend. “Guys, you have to meet her. She’s so amazing, so beautiful, so smart. I don’t deserve her, honestly—”

“Stop,” Dick groaned, his voice pitching higher. “That sounds nothing like me.”

You bit back a laugh, the nerves melting into warmth as I looked at Wally. Dick looked torn between mortification and disbelief. “I’ll give that a solid two out of ten,” you said, smirking at the ginger. “Points for enthusiasm, but you’re way off.”

Wally clutched at his sweatshirt covering chest, holding his wounded heart close to him as if you’d mortally hurt him. “Two out of ten. Damn, that’s harsh.”

Donna was laughing so hard tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. “That’s generous,” she managed between giggles. “I’d give it a one.”

“Okay, okay,” Dick said, holding up a hand like he was trying to get things under his thumb again. That’s just what he needed—his girlfriend teaming up against him with his best friends.. “Let’s not encourage him.”

You turned to him, grinning. “Don’t worry,” you teased, leaning just close enough that only he could hear. “You’re much cuter in person than in his version.”

His expression softened instantly, the faint pout turning into something sweeter. “Good to know,” he mumbled, his arm brushing yours as he shifted closer.

The banter settled into an easy rhythm after that, the warmth of the moment melting any lingering nerves. It didn’t take long for you to realize why these two meant so much to him. Donna’s calm steadiness balanced out Wally’s constant stream of energy, their camaraderie forming the kind of bond that made you feel like you were part of something bigger just by being near them. And as the evening wore on, with laughter and shared stories filling the air, you couldn’t help but feel a little closer to Dick’s world—his real world—the one you were slowly, steadily becoming a part of.

531 notes · View notes