#some if not most of you have already seen this

[witchslove]

Study Sessions

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda have been best friends since your first semester of college. When you have to take a physics class, Wanda is more than happy to help you study, but your late night study sessions blur the lines between friendship and romance.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; bottom!wanda maximoff, top!reader, fingering (w receiving), oral (w receiving), wanda’s first time with a woman, slight angst, jealousy

A/N: Save me college Wanda, college Wanda save me…

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The sun beamed down on you as you walked across campus, sweat forming on the back of your neck from the heat.

You had just finished your first day of classes for the semester and you were feeling confident about all of them, except for one. Even as an English major, you were stuck taking a physics class to complete some general requirements for graduation.

You could handle the most complex forms of literature on a bad day, but when it came to math and science, you found yourself feeling a little lost.

The good news was that your roommate and best friend, Wanda Maximoff, was a physics major. Wanda was everything you wanted to be - naturally smart, driven, focused, and incredibly organized.

She was also the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on, long brown hair that was somehow even softer than it looked, stunning green eyes that sometimes made you nervous under her gaze, and the perfect body - since you shared a room, you’d seen her undress before, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to look like her or fuck her brains out.

You constantly pushed down any desires you felt towards Wanda since she was your best friend, telling yourself your friendship was far too valuable to risk just because you occasionally had confusing feelings towards her.

The two of you had known each other since you both started college. You were roommates your first semester and instantly became close, despite your contrasting personalities. Where you were more relaxed and laid back when it came to your studies, Wanda was very serious. It made sense though, her major was far more demanding than yours was and she always worked hard to maintain her perfect GPA.

You’d always admired Wanda and found that you could no longer envision your life without her by your side. She was easily the best friend you’d ever had; she was supportive when you needed it and stayed on top of you when you felt like slacking. Wanda was extremely likable and you felt honored that she considered you her closest friend as well.

When you finally made it back to your dorm, you sighed as you felt the cool air inside. You headed to your room and unlocked the door, stepping through the threshold to the familiar sight of Wanda studying. You smiled to yourself; it was only the first day of classes and she was already trying to learn as much as she could.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your things down and plopping into your bed, taking a moment to relax.

“Hi,” Wanda said back, turning in her chair to face you. “How was your first day?”

“It was good,” you responded, looking over at her from your bed. “My professors seem cool, most of my classes don’t seem too hard. What about you?”

“Not too bad, although my nuclear and particle physics class might kick my ass this semester,” Wanda chuckled.

“Is that what you’re over there studying already?” You teased her, gesturing to the open books on her desk.

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty interesting. I want to get ahead this semester so I have more time to hang out with you and do fun stuff,” she explained.

“That’s good. I’ll remind you that you said that the next time you’re trying not to go to a party with me,” you joked, bringing a smile to her face. “Or maybe you could use some of that extra time to help me out, I’m stuck taking a physics class this semester and I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Oh, which one?” Wanda asked, her interest piqued.

“Classical mechanics I think,” you said, feeling slightly embarrassed at needing help with one of the most basic physics courses.

“That’s a fun one,” she commented. “I’d be glad to help detka.”

That was another thing about Wanda. She often called you pet names, in a friendly way of course, but it made your heart flutter every time she did it.

“Okay cool, thank you. Maybe we can have a study session at the library tomorrow if you’re not too busy with classes?” you asked, knowing you only had one class to worry about in the morning.

Wanda turned towards her desk to flip through a binder, checking her schedule. “I have a morning class and one in the afternoon, could we do 7pm?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, biting back a smile at the thought of Wanda tutoring you.

“Perfect! I’ll meet you there tomorrow.” She turned back to face you again, her expression becoming serious as she pointed a finger at you. “Ten minutes of bed-rotting time and then I want to see you reading or writing something,” she demanded, trying to motivate you to get ahead like she was.

“Okay mom,” you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully.

She went back to studying, taking notes as she flipped the pages of her nuclear physics textbook. You laid in bed for a few more moments, scrolling through Instagram reels, before getting up to join her in studying.

The next day, you attended your morning class and then grabbed a latte at the coffee shop on campus, deciding to review your notes as you sipped your drink, knowing it’s what Wanda would want you to do.

The rest of the day went by slowly but you managed to get some work done. You were eager for your study session with Wanda, excited to spend some time with her after the two of you had gone home for the summer and had barely seen each other.

You arrived at the library early, finding it to be relatively empty at this time of night. A few students were at the computers, but overall the library was quite vacant. You picked a spot in the corner, away from others, where you felt you’d have the most privacy and the least distractions.

You waited for Wanda, who came in a few minutes later, looking around the shelves before she spotted you.

“Hey,” she greeted as she sat down beside you, her thigh touching yours. She reached into her bag to pull out different colored pens, highlighters, sticky notes, and some of her old physics notes from when she took classical mechanics.

“Hi,” you breathed out, forcing yourself to ignore the feeling of her so close. “Someone came prepared,” you jested, making her laugh softly as she finished setting up.

“I’m here to help you, aren’t I? I have to make sure you have everything you need,” she quipped with a smile and the most adorable nose scrunch.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight; you didn’t remember it being this hard to be around Wanda, but everything she was doing was driving you crazy in the best way. You watched her for a moment as she placed everything on the table in an organized fashion, biting her lip with a focused expression on her face. You wanted nothing more than to pull her bottom lip from between her teeth and capture it with your own.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” She broke the silence, bringing you back to reality. You blushed at what you were just thinking about, nodding in response.

“Sounds good,” you managed, opening your textbook to the first chapter.

Wanda reached over to move the textbook so it was centered between the two of you and as she did so, your fingers brushed against each other. You almost shivered at the act, the soft touch feeling like too much but not enough at the same time. Wanda didn’t seem affected as she began to dig into the material, asking you what the professor had already gone over.

She somehow kept finding ways to touch you, whether it was a hand on your shoulder or her fingers grazing your own over the textbook as she pointed to pictures and paragraphs. You could barely answer her questions, the close proximity and subtle touches making you yearn for her.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda was just as affected; she was just better at hiding it. She couldn’t understand why but she kept intentionally finding ways to be closer to you. She didn’t notice the effect it was having on you, too preoccupied with steadying her own heart rate every time she felt your skin against hers.

She’d always thought you were beautiful, but this was something else. She didn’t know why she was struggling to keep her composure around you now. She’d always found comfort in your presence - you often studied together, came home drunk from parties and cuddled in the same bed, or watched movies together laying side by side, the computer across both of your laps.

Something about this study session felt weirdly intimate. She was enjoying teaching you about her passion, physics and science, and maybe that was part of it. She chalked it down to that and tried to push her feelings aside, focusing on helping you with your studies and being a good friend.

A friend - that’s what she was to you and that’s how it would stay. She couldn’t complicate something so perfect with these conflicting feelings of wanting more from you.

Despite both of you trying hard to ignore how you felt, the air was still charged, the tension still there. It wasn’t just this time either - it became a regular occurrence.

Wanda helped you with physics at least once a week and her eager guidance actually helped you grasp the subject more. You found yourself falling in love with the way her eyes would light up when you brought up a subject she knew a lot about. She was so excited every time you understood it too, feeling both accomplished that she could help and proud that you were getting it.

She found it adorable when you didn’t understand something and she loved the way your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to think harder about it. The two of you became closer than ever, which you didn’t think was possible. You and Wanda were already attached at the hip when she wasn’t deep in her studies and you never expected to feel like you were getting to know her better just from a few study sessions, but you loved it.

You found yourself wanting her, despite trying to repress those feelings. Sometimes when you got an answer right and Wanda beamed with excitement, you only wanted to break the distance and kiss her, to feel her lips against your own and wrap your arms around her neck as she kissed you back. You couldn’t help but look at her lips as she spoke, imagining how soft they’d be against your own. Whenever she bit her lip, you wished she was biting yours.

The thoughts weren’t always so innocent though. Yes, you wondered how she would taste as you kissed her, but you also wondered how she would taste with your head between her legs. You wanted to thank her for her help by making her cum on your fingers right there in the library, where anyone could see.

You tried to shake those kinds of thoughts, feeling guilty for thinking of your best friend that way, especially when she was being so kind as to tutor you on the subject you struggled with. She didn’t have a lot of free time to begin with, her workload keeping her fairly busy, and here she was making sure you could pass your physics class with flying colors.

And here you were, too distracted by thoughts of fucking her to pay attention to Newton’s law of attraction. The only law of attraction you could think about was how you felt about Wanda.

Wanda was in the same boat, cursing herself for threatening to ruin your friendship with this newfound attraction towards you. She wondered if her seemingly innocent thoughts about you in the past were actually just the seeds of this desire for you, only now flourishing the more time you spent alone with her.

Whenever she felt your gaze on her, it made her feel hot all over. She tried to ignore it and focus on the material, reminding herself that you just needed help with physics. That’s what she was there for, nothing else.

But sometimes, she wished it was more. When you weren’t looking, she’d rake her eyes over you, taking in the sight of you beside her, feeling her heart stop in her chest when you’d catch her staring. You convinced yourself she was just watching you to make sure you were immersed in the subject, when in reality she was most definitely checking you out.

Still, her eyes on you made you nervous and you brought your attention back to the textbook in front of you solely to rid your cheeks of the blush she caused.

One particular night in the library nearly changed everything.

You read Wanda’s notes about motion and energy, scanning the pages to better understand the concepts. While you admired her neat handwriting and the cute ways she annotated her own notes, Wanda admired the concentrated look on your face.

She was so lost in watching you that she barely noticed when you spoke.

“So special relativity is the exception to Newton’s laws when objects move at high speeds and general relativity is when objects are too massive, right?” You asked, looking up at her for confirmation as she stared at you intently, a slight smirk coming across your features when you caught her.

“Yes,” she choked out, looking away for a second to regain her composure. “And quantum mechanics?”

“That’s the exception when objects are very small,” you responded, feeling confident in your answer.

“Good job,” Wanda praised, making your heart flutter. “You’re really getting it.” She looked at you with nothing but pride and approval, smiling softly.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, feeling hot under her gaze. Despite how nervous she was making you, you didn’t break eye contact.

The two of you sat like that for a moment, just looking at each other, until Wanda’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a brief second. You almost thought you imagined it at first, but then she did it again. You mimicked her actions, looking down at those lips you wanted so desperately to capture with your own.

You swore Wanda was leaning in and you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same. Your faces were mere inches apart now and you could feel Wanda’s warm breath against your lips.

Before you could close the gap, the door to the library opened and startled both of you. You turned to look at who came in, silently cursing them for ruining the moment as Wanda pulled back to look too.

There was an awkward silence before Wanda cleared her throat. “So now that you know what quantum mechanics is, let’s move on to the definitions of atomic and subatomic,” she said, her voice nearly trembling as she tried to recover from the heated moment you shared.

“Right,” you responded, turning your attention back to her notes, trying to calm your racing heart.

You and Wanda had almost kissed, everything suddenly felt very real. But instead of addressing what just happened, Wanda moved on, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand.

You played along, focusing on looking for the definitions she mentioned, finding it difficult to learn anything new when you had just come so close to kissing the brunette.

The rest of the study session felt tense and slightly awkward, but you made it through the last of the material without any hitches - or almost-kisses. Eventually, the two of you packed up your things and headed out, discussing projects and exams on the way back to your dorm.

A few days later, you were watching a movie in bed when Wanda came in, smiling brightly with a skip in her step.

“What’s got you so giddy today?” You asked, pausing your movie.

“Do you remember Vision, from my data analysis class?”

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding.

“He just asked me out,” she said excitedly. “I said yes of course. We’re going out on Friday, he’s taking me to dinner.”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut. You forced a smile, trying to be happy for her when all you could focus on was the feeling of your heart breaking.

“That’s great, Wands,” you muttered. “I’m happy for you.” The words felt fake coming out of your mouth but you kept up the act and tried to ignore the jealousy bubbling within you.

“He’s so sweet, he even used a silly joke about data to ask me out,” she went on, continuing to tell you about her day as you listened, your mind elsewhere the entire time.

All you could think about was the kiss you almost shared, how it meant everything to you and nothing to Wanda. Obviously she wasn’t interested in you like that and you wondered if you merely imagined the intimacy of the library study sessions. You had to come to terms with the fact that the tension you felt in the air when you were with Wanda lately was all in your head.

You thought when you almost kissed that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way. Now, you realized you were horribly wrong, the harsh reality hitting you like a truck. Wanda was just being nice helping you study and you let yourself believe that it was more. You felt incredibly stupid, wishing the ground would swallow you whole so you didn’t have to hear any more about the date Vision was taking Wanda on.

What you didn’t know was that Wanda only said yes to Vision out of pure denial. She was having a hard time coping with her feelings for you and this seemed like a good way to move on, to try to save your friendship from her own selfish desires. She was excited for her date, hoping that it would take her mind off of you.

Maybe Vision would be the perfect guy for her and she could fall for him instead. He was handsome, slightly dorky, and very chivalrous, always holding the door open for her when they showed up to class at the same time. He was planning on taking her to a lovely restaurant near campus and Wanda was trying her best to look forward to it.

Friday rolled around and Wanda went on her date, which couldn’t have gone better. Vision greeted her at her dorm with flowers, walking her to his car and taking them to the restaurant. He listened intently while Wanda talked about herself and her passions, seeming genuinely interested. He paid at the end of dinner, leaving a generous tip for their server which Wanda found attractive. He asked politely to kiss her when he dropped her back off and didn’t pressure her for more.

Despite how wonderful the date was, Wanda was frustrated. She didn’t feel a spark with him like she did with you. She didn’t feel anything when they kissed, not even when he cupped her cheek in his hand as he moved his lips softly against her own.

Wanda felt more butterflies in her stomach from your hand brushing against hers during a study session than she did from kissing Vision at the end of their date and she hated it.

She figured it would take some time to get over you and continued to see Vision, going on a couple dates a week with him when she had the free time. She tried to continue your study sessions as well, but you told her you didn’t need the extra help and to just have fun with Vision. She felt slightly hurt - she didn’t like the idea of you not needing her anymore - but she was also proud of you for taking on the subject on your own.

You, on the other hand, were avoiding Wanda at all costs. You only came back to the dorm when she was in class or when she was already asleep, staying out late hanging around college parties that weren’t nearly as fun without your best friend.

You were in far too deep and came to the conclusion that you needed to move on in order to stay friends with Wanda. So you kept your distance, hoping that not seeing her or hearing from her would help you lose feelings for her.

You also couldn’t bear to see her with Vision; the sight of them together on campus made you feel sick to your stomach. You didn’t want to hear about their dates either, knowing it would destroy you. You couldn’t possibly listen to Wanda describe how he got to take her out and kiss her and hold her when it should’ve been you, not without revealing your true feelings to her.

While you spent your days hiding from the brunette, Wanda was confused as to why you were avoiding her, not understanding that it was an act of self-preservation.

She had so many things she was excited to tell you about - being the top student in her relativity class, getting a perfect score on her nuclear and particle physics exam, and of course, her budding relationship with Vision. The opportunity to tell you never came, as you were gone until she went to sleep and out of the dorm before she woke up.

She missed your study sessions, even if not having those intimate moments with you was for the best. She missed your movie nights, your conversations, your presence in general - she missed everything about you. It frustrated her to no end that she could never seem to see you anymore and she wondered how you could possibly become so busy all of a sudden.

She only realized you were actively avoiding her one night when she stayed up late, waiting to see if you’d come back to the dorm.

When you entered, you were surprised to see her still awake.

“Hey,” she said, happy to see you for the first time in weeks. “Where were you?”

“At a party,” you said back coldly. You internally cursed yourself for not staying out later, unaware that Wanda would still be up when you came back. You looked around before grabbing some things from your dresser. “I need to shower,” you announced, leaving the room before Wanda could ask any more questions.

The brunette waited up for you, but you never came back. She waited hours before she finally succumbed to sleep, her thoughts a jumbled mess as she drifted away.

When she woke up the next morning and you were still gone, she knew you were actually making an effort not to see her and she could only wonder what she had done wrong. She mulled over it for a while but came up with nothing. She thought back to the almost-kiss and wondered if maybe she had made you uncomfortable that night.

Days went by and you continued to avoid her. Not knowing why you were staying away from her was driving her crazy. Her grades even began to suffer from how distracted she was in class, her mind consumed with thoughts of you.

She finally decided to confront you about it, but first she’d have to actually find you. She vaguely knew your class schedule but didn’t want to corner you in a public place, so she went to the one place she thought you might be late in the evening.

As soon as she entered the library after hours, she saw you in the corner at the same table the two of you used to sit at for your study sessions.

You were nose deep in your physics textbook, focusing intently as you tried to understand the topics without Wanda’s help. She walked over to you, mentally hyping herself up for the conversation she was both anticipating and dreading.

When you set the book down to take notes, you looked up and your eyes widened at the sight of Wanda approaching you.

Before you could say anything, she was taking a seat across from you. “Why are you avoiding me?” she demanded, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, her tilting to the side.

“I- I’m not, I-” you stuttered out.

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t lie to me. You’re never back at the dorm anymore, you stopped spending any time with me, you literally said you were going to shower and just never came back. So don’t you dare lie to me right now.”

“I’ve just been busy,” you said nonchalantly, not wanting to tell her the truth. “I have a life outside of you, you know.” You regretted the words as soon as you said them.

“Bullshit,” she responded, getting angry. “You’re avoiding me and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. What did I do to you?”

“Nothing, Wands,” you reassured her. “You didn’t do anything. I just- I need to be alone.”

“Why?” She didn’t let up. She came here to get answers and she would get them one way or another.

“It’s personal,” you tried, hoping she wouldn’t press any further.

She scoffed. “What’s so personal you can’t share it with your best friend?”

You were at a loss for words. You couldn’t tell her the truth and risk ruining your friendship, but at this point there was barely anything left to ruin. You hadn’t seen Wanda properly in weeks, your friendship with her was practically nonexistent at the moment.

When you didn’t respond, she spoke again, softer this time. “What’s going on? You can tell me anything,” she uttered, reaching out to place a hand over yours.

“I can’t tell you this,” you mumbled, feeling your resolve weakening.

“What could possibly be so bad you can’t tell me?” She asked, her heart falling at the sight of you looking so small under her gaze.

“I- I can’t stand to see you with him,” you whispered, your voice so low she almost didn’t hear you.

“With who? Vision?” she asked and you nodded, looking down at your lap. “I still have time for you too, I’m not choosing him over you,” she tried to dispel your worries, not yet understanding what you were implying with your confession.

“No, Wanda, I can’t stand to see him with you,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “You don’t get it, you are choosing him and it hurts too much to be around you.”

“What are you saying?” She questioned, feeling both confused and hurt.

“I’m saying that I like you, Wanda,” you started. “As more than a friend.”

Wanda was silent for a moment, processing what you were telling her. Could she really have been so oblivious that she didn’t notice you wanted her too? It all made sense now. You’d stopped hanging out with her right around the time Vision came into the picture and she couldn’t figure out why, but now she understood.

“Please say something,” you said, feeling nervous and vulnerable as you looked up at her, unable to read her expression.

“I- I didn’t know,” she managed to get out.

“That was kind of the point,” you retorted, half-smiling to alleviate some of the tension.

Wanda let out a suppressed laugh. “I only started seeing Vision because I like you too,” she began. “I thought if I could be with him, I wouldn’t have to worry about complicating things with my feelings.”

Your mouth fell open at her words; you weren’t expecting her to ever reciprocate how you felt about her. “You do?”

She nodded. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” she said.

“Me neither,” you mumbled, looking down at her lips for a moment before making eye contact with her again.

She smirked when she noticed where your eyes went, making you blush. “I don’t think that’s a problem anymore,” she said, her eyes flicking down to your lips and back up.

“I think you may be right,” was all you could say before you stood up and walked around the table. Wanda stood up too, meeting you halfway as you pulled her in for a kiss that was long overdue.

You sighed against her lips, kissing her deeply the way you’d wanted to for so long. Your mouths moved together perfectly and it felt so right, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop.

This was what Wanda was waiting for.

The kiss she shared with you was everything her kiss with Vision wasn’t. It was electrifying in the best way, butterflies erupting in her stomach with every movement of your lips against hers.

When her tongue traced your bottom lip, you nearly moaned into the kiss, immediately granting her entry. Your tongue collided with hers and she whimpered, the sound going straight to your core. You brought a hand up to caress her cheek, your other hand going to the back of her head to play with her hair, causing her to let out a soft moan. This was everything you could’ve imagined and more.

Wanda’s hands came up to your face, cradling it as she deepened the kiss. Your lips and tongues moved in tandem, neither of you wanting to stop any time soon.

When you finally did detach from her, it was to catch your breath. You stayed close, your noses still touching as the two of you breathed against each other. You felt every breath from the brunette against your skin, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as you finally opened your eyes.

You pulled back slightly to look at her, her eyes opening to meet your stare. Her pupils were dilated and you were sure yours looked similar. She looked so beautiful looking at you longingly, her lips swollen from the kiss and her breaths coming out labored, green eyes sparkling with lust and adoration.

“Wow,” you breathed out.

“Wow indeed,” she agreed, chuckling as she pulled you in for another kiss, this one much shorter than the first.

A comfortable silence fell over you, the two of you taking in the moment.

“So what now?” you asked, looking at her tenderly.

“I don’t know,” she answered, biting her lip. “It’s safe to say the friendship is ruined at this point, because I don’t want this to be the only time we do that.”

You nodded your agreement. “Me too,” you replied, your eyes falling to her lips once again. “I want you, Wanda. I have for so long.”

“I want you too,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll tell Vision it’s not working out. I want to see where this goes.”

You made a face at the mention of his name and Wanda chuckled. “Oh, you really don’t like him, huh?” She teased.

“Not one bit,” you murmured. “Not when he got to have what I wanted so badly.”

“Charmer.” She smiled at you, her cheeks turning red at your words.

“Can I kiss you again?” You blurted out, feeling your own cheeks redden at your neediness.

She responded by pressing her lips to yours once more and letting her tongue slide into your mouth, humming into the kiss contentedly.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, languidly kissing in the library after hours, catching up on lost time.

When you went back to your shared dorm for the night, you picked back up where you left off, this time with Wanda in your lap as you laid in your bed. Every once in a while, she’d grind her hips down against your lap just to hear you grunt in arousal against her lips.

You fell asleep together in your bed, Wanda’s head on your shoulder as her breathing evened out.

The following week, Wanda ended things with Vision and you took Wanda out on a proper date. Vision’s date paled in comparison to the one you took her on. This date was better simply because it was you and not him, but on top of that, you took her somewhere nice and treated her like a princess the whole night. She practically swooned every time you held the door for her, complimented her, or pulled out her chair for her.

By the end of the night, you were on cloud nine. It was just like spending time with your best friend, but this was infinitely better because you could kiss her whenever you wanted and tell her how beautiful she looked at any given moment.

You walked back to your dorm together, fingers interlocked as you listened to her talk about her dreams after college. When you made it back to the dorm, you opened the door to let her in first.

“Such a gentleman,” she joked, stepping in, and you followed.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what I wanted to do to you right now,” you said, pushing her against the door softly and looking at her for permission to kiss her.

A pang of arousal shot through her at your words. She wasn’t expecting you to be so bold, but she also wasn’t complaining. “Oh yeah?” she asked, playing along. “How about you show me?”

You didn’t hesitate as you kissed her hungrily, the feeling of her lips on yours making you feel dizzy with lust. You slipped your tongue into her mouth and she gasped at how eager you were, kissing you back with just as much fervor.

You trailed your kisses down to her neck, making her moan as you licked and sucked at the soft skin there. Her perfume invaded your senses and you groaned against her neck, her scent making your knees weak.

Her moans spurred you on as you sucked at her pulse point. She gripped your shoulders, her head thrown back against the door, eyes fluttering closed as you continued your assault on her neck.

She pulled you back up for another kiss, moaning into your mouth when you sunk your teeth into her bottom lip. When you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, you ran your thumb along her bottom lip, gazing into her lustful eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” You checked in with her, wanting to make sure she was really okay with what was about to happen.

“I’ve never been with a woman before,” she admitted, suddenly feeling shy. “But I want it to be you, please.”

You nearly groaned out loud hearing her beg for you, nodding as you lifted her up and carried her to your bed. You placed her down gently, crawling on top of her and kissing her again.

You once again began your descent, kissing her neck and sucking on her soft spots. She squirmed beneath you, feeling herself becoming wet under your touch.

Your fingers found the bottom of her shirt, playing with the fabric as you silently asked for permission to remove it. “Take it off,” Wanda whispered, starting to feel desperate from your slow teasing.

She sat up so you could pull the shirt off of her and reached back to unclasp her bra, letting the material fall from her shoulders. Your mouth fell open at the sight of her bare chest, nipples already hard. You’d seen her topless before while she was changing, but never like this. You’d never been allowed to look as much as you wanted, to admire her before you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” you said, bringing your hands up to her chest as she leaned back again. Your thumbs brushed over her nipples, causing her to let out a whimper that sent heat coursing through your body.

You leaned in to take one of her nipples in your mouth, licking it gently before sucking on the hardened bud. Wanda moaned at that, the sound making you even more aroused. She sounded so pretty moaning under your touch and you couldn’t wait to hear what she sounded like when she came undone for you.

You gave her other nipple the same attention before moving down, one hand finding its way under her skirt. Your fingers reached her center, feeling a wet spot on the front of her underwear.

“You’re so wet for me,” you mumbled, in awe of how turned on she was. It almost made you feel a bit cocky, knowing it was you who made her so wet she was soaking through her panties.

“Please,” the brunette gasped out, bucking her hips up against your fingers. “Need you.”

“Yeah? You need me, pretty girl?” You cooed, rubbing your fingers along her slit over her underwear.

She nodded frantically, her hips desperately trying to meet your hand for any sort of friction against her aching pussy. You pushed aside her panties to touch her without any barriers and you let out a moan of your own at the soft, slick feeling of her folds against your fingertips. She was dripping, her wetness clinging to your skin and the lace of her panties as you dragged your fingers through her folds teasingly.

All of a sudden, you pulled your hand back and she whined, already missing the contact. “Shh, I’m just gonna take these off, okay?” You asked, subtly making sure she was comfortable with you removing the last of her clothes.

“Yeah,” she responded, lifting her hips so you could pull her skirt and panties off in one motion.

Once she was rid of her clothes, you took a moment to appreciate the view before you. Wanda was gorgeous all over, you thought to yourself, admiring her underneath you. You raked your eyes over her, committing the sight to memory as she blushed against the covers of your bed, feeling hot under your gaze.

“You can stare all you want later, right now I need you,” she said breathily, grabbing your hand and bringing it to where she needed you most. Your fingers met her wet center once more and you immediately started rubbing her clit, making her moan and buck her hips.

You kissed her again, swallowing her moans as you picked up your pace, making tight circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, just like that,” she whimpered, her face contorted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, heavy breaths escaping her as you brought her pleasure.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you mumbled, watching her throw her head back and close her eyes as she got lost in the feeling of your fingers against her.

You stopped your movements just long enough to tease her entrance and upon hearing another “please,” you slid a finger inside. You fucked her with one finger for a few moments before sliding another one in, causing her to let out a guttural moan at the feeling of you stretching her out.

You kissed down her body again, making your way down to where you desperately wanted to taste her. When your hot mouth met her clit, she let out another delicious sound, her hips starting to grind against you, chasing her pleasure. Her movements caused her clit to rub against your tongue while your fingers pumped inside of her and she felt herself becoming close already.

“You taste so good,” you praised, barely moving your mouth from her pussy to speak, before reattaching your lips to her clit and sucking hard. She moaned at your words and at the pressure building in her lower stomach, continuing to rut her hips against you.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m so close,” she moaned, one hand coming to the back of your head to keep you there, as if you would ever deny her anything.

With a few more thrusts of your fingers, she came undone, loud moans filling the room as she reached her peak. Her hips stuttered against your face, her clit pulsing under your tongue while her pussy clenched around your fingers.

You slowed your movements, helping her ride out the aftershocks, small whimpers and moans leaving her as she came down from her high. She sighed, all of the tension having left her body, before pulling you up for a kiss, tasting herself on your tongue.

“I could get used that,” she hummed, smiling up at you tiredly.

“Me too,” you panted out, still incredibly turned on from seeing her cum for you. “I kinda can’t wait to do it again.”

“You want me that bad?” She teased, smirking.

“Absolutely,” you replied genuinely, staring at her with so much love and lust in your eyes it made her heart flutter and her pussy throb.

“Go ahead baby, fuck me again,” she said, your own cunt clenching around nothing at her words. You returned to your new favorite spot between her legs and did exactly what she told you, her hand in your hair guiding you the whole time.

After three more rounds, Wanda was spent, and you joined her at the head of the bed, letting her turn towards you and rest her head on your shoulder. You held her close as she traced patterns on your arm, catching her breath after falling apart for you so many times.

“Do you still need help with physics?” She asked, breaking the silence.

You chuckled at that. “Yes, desperately,” you responded, letting a hand come up to play with her hair. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She laughed, finding it amusing that you’d needed her help the past few weeks but were too stubborn to ask for it. “Study session this week?” she suggested, her eyes falling closed at the feeling of your fingers on her scalp.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you said, smiling happily, feeling at peace in the arms of the girl you loved.

You never would’ve thought you would be so grateful for having to take a physics course, but now you were certain it was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

[cheftsunoda]

wait, what? — ih6

smau + real life

lewis hamilton x !daughter reader

isack hadjar x !model hamilton reader

Isack grew up idolizing Lewis Hamilton — posters on the wall, interviews memorized, the whole deal. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the moment he unknowingly asked out his daughter. One minute, he’s shooting his shot… the next, he’s dating a Hamilton.

fc : halima saadiyah

not proofread — still trying to brainstorm ideas for new series— send me any requests!

—

whotfisnaya

liked by lewishamilton, kikagomes, charles_leclerc & 1,348,308 others.

whotfisnaya : can’t talk rn doing hot girl shit

(also ferrari get your shit together or so help me god😁🔪)

—

kikagomes : my gf lover angel gave me flowers when i landed this morning 💘💋🤩🥹

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : take notes pear, this is why she is mine

liked by kikagomes

pierregasly : I lost her to you a long time ago..i just quit fighting

username00 : don’t feel bad pierre, it’s just part of the hamilton charm

liked by whotfisnaya & kikagomes

lewishamilton: Bub. What did we say about threatening the new team already? At least give them a full season.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : my patience is out. i choose violence.

lewishamilton : I will not be making any further comments on that. You look beautiful, princess! Miss you.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : thank you fatherrrr💘 see you this weekend!

liked by lewishamilton

charles_leclerc : welcome to the ferrari family, naya!

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : idk how you’ve made it this long leclerc…i would’ve crashed out and burnt everything to the ground like 3 years ago

liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : I’ve thought about it…but i just keep going back

whotfisnaya : stockholm syndrome. ferrari free my man from these chains

liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

georgerussell63 : only 6 races into the season and I already miss you (somehow)

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : you try so hard to act like you don’t love me but i think you cried harder about me leaving than you did about dad

lewishamilton : can confirm

whotfisnaya : tell big man toto to be prepared because i am coming over next race

liked by georgerussell63

georgerussell63 : mario kart?

whotfisnaya : sigh. yes GR

carlossainz55 : psssst. it doesn’t get any better naya

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : im glad you’re free my friend

whotfisnaya : gonna start some mid season contract negotiations for him — im tired

whotfisnaya : WHO WANTS 8 (🖕🏻) TIME WORLD CHAMPION LEWIS HAMILTON ON THEIR TEAM

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, pierregasly, lando, olliebearman, and oscarpiastri

lewishamilton : naya honey there is a reason I have professionals do this

—

f1 added a post to their story!

seen by 12,453,389.

—

There’s something about the Ferrari red that still doesn’t feel real. I’ve spent most of my life watching my dad win in silver, black, even turquoise—but red? It still throws me.

Still, I can’t lie… he wears it well.

I stroll into the paddock, dodging cameras and a few fans with sharp eyes. Sunglasses on, credentials tucked into my jacket, I keep my pace casual. Familiar.

“Look who decided to show up,” Dad calls before I even reach the Ferrari garage. He’s leaning against the wall in his race suit, arms folded, exuding the exact same energy he’s always had before lights out—calm, confident, and just a little smug.

“Didn’t want to miss my favorite guy in red,” I say, stepping in for a quick hug. He pressed a kiss to my temple.

Charles appears beside him, grinning as always. “You mean me, right?”

“You’re definitely top three,” I tease. We share a hug.

We fall into easy conversation—something about tire strategy, Charles’ espresso addiction, and how dad had to clear things with Ferrari after my recent…comments online.

It’s comfortable here. Familiar. But after a while, I shift my weight and check the time.

“I’m gonna go find Ollie,” I say, casually, but I see the way Dad lifts an eyebrow.

“Just friends,” I remind him before he can say anything.

“I didn’t say a word,” he replies with a smirk.

Charles, of course, does. “That’s not what your dad’s face says.”

I roll my eyes and walk backward toward the exit. “You two need new hobbies.”

—

The Haas garage is less polished than Ferrari’s—more wires, more noise, more energy. It feels alive.

Ollie spots me right away, lifting his helmet slightly and grinning. “You’re late.”

“You’re early,” I shoot back.

We fist-bump and fall into step, walking along the edge of the garage. “We’re still on for that sim day next week?” he asks.

“Obviously.”

As we walk, someone else joins us— shorter than Ollie, dark curls, relaxed smile.

“Oh—Naya, this is Isack. Isack, Naya.”

I offer a small smile. “Hi.”

Isack returns it, maybe a little too quickly. “Hey. Uh… sorry, are you new to the paddock?”

Ollie snorts. “You could say that.”

I shrug. “I’ve been around a while.”

He holds out a hand. “Well, it’s cool to meet you. Are you, like… press or PR or something?”

I shake his hand, biting back a grin. “Something like that.”

Ollie coughs pointedly but doesn’t say more. I shoot him a look—don’t you dare ruin this.

Isack turns slightly red, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re probably used to being around all this, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, eyes flicking back toward the sea of red where my dad is doing media interviews. “You could say it runs in the family.”

—

I didn’t mean to hang around the garage that long. Really, I didn’t. But somehow, after Ollie wandered off to a briefing, I was still there—leaning against a pit wall, sipping on a bottle of water, chatting with Isack like we’d known each other longer than just a few hours.

He was easy to talk to. Surprisingly easy. Funny in a quiet way. Charming in a not trying too hard kind of way.

“So, you’re not press. You’re not PR. But you are paddock fluent,” he says, leaning on the wall next to me, arms crossed.

I smirk. “Observant.”

“And you won’t tell me what you actually do?”

“I like mystery.”

He laughs. “Alright, Miss Mystery. You coming to the after-party tonight?”

I tilt my head. “Depends. Are you going?”

“I might now,” he says, eyes glinting. “If I knew someone cool would be there.”

My smile softens, but I keep my voice even. “I’ll think about it.”

He pauses for a beat, and I can feel the shift—the way his tone gets just a little more serious, like he’s testing the water.

“Okay, real question,” he says. “Do you want to get coffee sometime? Like, not here. Somewhere… quieter. Just us.”

For a second, I just blink at him. He still doesn’t know. Still doesn’t realize who I am.

And it’s kind of… nice.

“Are you asking me out, Isack Hadjar?” I ask, folding my arms with a playful smile.

He grins, a little sheepish. “I think I am, yeah.”

I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin. “Hmm… you’re cute. And bold. I respect that.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Maybe,” I say, letting the word hang. “But only if you promise not to freak out when you find out who I am.”

His smile falters, just a little. “Should I be scared?”

I grin. “Terrified.”

Just then, I hear someone call my name—one of the Ferrari PR girls, waving me over.

“Duty calls,” I say, stepping back.

He watches me go with a slight frown. “Wait, are you actually someone famous or—?”

I shoot him a wink over my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

Lando and Max stood next to Ollie and the rest of the rookies who were watching intently.

“He doesn’t have a clue who she is, does he?” Max asked with a smirk present on his face.

“Nope.” Ollie said with a chuckle.

—

whotfisnaya

liked by olliebearman, isackhadjar, charles_leclerc & 2,277,843 others.

whotfisnaya : i was told no more threatening ferrari so idrk what to caption this paddock dump

—

charles_leclerc : out of all the pictures you chose THAT one naya

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : that’s what you get for stealing my phone charles

scuderiaferrari: thank you naya. we appreciate you for trying

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya: id appreciate you guys trying some actual strategy

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and carlossainz55

username00 : NAYA😭

isackhadjar : so nice to meet you today, naya!

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : nice to meet you love!!

olliebearman : and to think you tried to tell me the ears weren’t a fashion statement

olliebearman : i look GOODt

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : bitch u look good with a t at the end…or whatever tf saweetie said

georgerussell63 : half of our mario kart time was taken up by you and toto gossiping

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya: god forbid a girl and her bestie catch up

whotfisnaya : still gave me enough time to beat your ass

georgerussell63 : i demand a retrial

whotfisnaya : you just want to hang again

georgerussell63 : blah blah details

username7 : her and toto gossiping omg

—

whotfisnaya added to her story!

seen by lando, olliebearman, lewishamilton & 2,278,358 others.

lando : does he know yet?

whotfisnaya : girl ur so nosey…and no

olliebearman : get in there isack!!!!

whotfisnaya: hate u 💘

lewishamilton: Hm. Who?

whotfisnaya: I don’t kiss and tell father but you will meet him soon.

lewishamilton : Sigh. I’ll go ask Toto.

whotfisnaya: that man would never spill my secrets, not even to you.

—

I wasn’t even nervous. Okay, maybe a little. But it wasn’t like a real date, right? Just coffee. Just… two people getting to know each other, in a quiet café tucked away from the chaos of race weekends. No pit lane, no photographers, no Ollie looking smug in the background. Just me and Isack and some overpriced espresso.

He was already there when I arrived — black hoodie, cap pulled low, sunglasses on like we were undercover spies instead of two mildly recognizable faces. He stood up when he saw me, smile soft and completely unguarded.

“You made it,” he said, sounding almost surprised.

“I said I would,” I replied, sliding into the chair across from him. “Do I strike you as unreliable?”

“Not at all,” he grinned. “Just… cool enough to bail at the last second if something better came up.”

I shrugged. “You’re lucky I like coffee.”

We talked for over an hour. About everything and nothing. He told me about his first karting crash, the fact that he still forgets to pack socks on travel weekends, and how much he actually hates running, no matter what his trainer says. I told him about the cities I’d lived in growing up, my obsession with baking shows, and my ongoing feud with Ferrari’s coffee machine.

(That part almost gave me away. But he didn’t catch it. Not yet.)

At one point, he leaned back, just watching me over the rim of his cup.

“What?” I asked, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

“You’re hard to figure out.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Not at all.”

The silence between us was warm, not awkward. Comfortable. Which is probably why I blurted it out before I could overthink it.

“So… I’m having a birthday thing at the end of this month. It’s kind of a mix of family and friends, not a huge party, but you should come.”

He blinked, like I’d just asked him to join me on a trip to the moon. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Why not?” I took another sip of my coffee and added casually, “You’re fun. I like you.”

He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that didn’t need any clever reply.

“I’d love to come,” he said finally. “What should I wear? Are we talking jeans or, like, red carpet-level fancy?”

I laughed. “Definitely not red carpet. Just… look nice. And maybe be ready for a few surprises.”

His brow furrowed. “What kind of surprises?”

I smirked. “You’ll see.”

—

whotfisnaya

liked by isackhadjar, georgerussell63, olliebearman & 2,389,294 others.

whotfisnaya: life’s been cute or whateva

—

lewishamilton: I always thought I spoiled Roscoe the most and then I came back and you had ordered him every vegan item off the menu.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : that’s my boy right thurrrr— he asked me for it all and I deliver

lewishamilton : yeah on my credit card

whotfisnaya: duh

georgerussell63 : so honored to be included in a dump alongside your soft launch

whotfisnaya : only added because carms looks so cute

carmenmmundt : love you naya❤️❤️

liked by whotfisnaya

georgerussell63 : BETRAYAL

olliebearman : oh so we’ve moved into a soft launch era?

whotfisnaya: I literally should have never taught any of you men that phrase

—

isackhadjar

liked by whotfisnaya, olliebearman, yukitsunoda0511 & 424,289 others.

isackhadjar : lovin’ life

—

olliebearman : getting close with the in laws I see?

this comment has been deleted

olliebearman : who is the lady?!

isackhadjar : nunya

olliebearman: that’s a weird way to spell naya.

whotfisnaya: oliver stop being a menace

yukitsunoda0511 : 🔥🔥

username00 : him having Lewis’ daughter in his likes and his dad comforting him must feel amazing

—

lewishamilton

liked by whotfisnaya, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 & 4,397,298 others.

lewishamilton : Happy birthday to my favorite girl in the world. Watching you grow into the woman you are today has been the greatest privilege of my life. You’re smart, bold, kind, and full of fire — just the way I always hoped you’d be. Keep chasing what sets your soul on fire. I’ll always be in your corner. Love you endlessly.

—

olliebearman: ofc the one day isack avoids instagram- sigh. HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAYA LOVE YOU

charles_leclerc : happy birthday mini hamilton! can’t wait to celebrate you.

georgerussell63 : to the biggest most lovable menace on the planet— happy birthday!

susie_wolff : Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

scuderiaferrari : happy birthday naya!! 🎈🎈

mercedesamgf1 : happy birthday naya! we miss you so much!

—

The thing about hosting your birthday in Monaco is that there’s always a yacht, always a DJ, and always a guest list full of people who look like they belong in a GQ spread.

Mine wasn’t over-the-top — not by Monaco standards, anyway. Rooftop terrace, ambient lights, too many photographers across the street pretending not to be watching.

I spotted Isack the second he walked in, wearing a button-down that was definitely ironed by someone else and looking very out of place in the best way possible.

He kissed my cheek when he found me. “Happy birthday, Miss Mystery.”

“Glad you came,” I said with a grin. “Feeling brave?”

“Honestly? A little nervous,” he admitted. “I’ve seen three world champions already and I’ve been here five minutes.”

“Mm. You might want to stay nervous.”

I took his hand and pulled him gently toward the center of the terrace, weaving past Red Bull engineers, a retired footballer, and a couple of Ferrari mechanics.

And then—there he was.

Dad, standing by the bar, dressed in a sleek suit and sipping on sparkling water.

“Hey,” I said, walking up to him. “Someone I want you to meet.”

Dad turned, already grinning.

“This is Isack,” I said, as casually as if I were introducing him to my barista. “My boyfriend.”

Isack froze. Completely.

“Isack,” Dad said, offering his hand with a knowing smile. “Good to see you again.”

Again.

Isack blinked. Twice. Looked between us. “Wait. Hold on.”

I tried not to laugh.

“You’re…” He looked at Dad. “You’re her…?”

“Father,” Dad said smoothly. “Did she not mention that?”

“I—no. She definitely didn’t.”

I took a sip of my drink, trying not to smirk. “Felt like it would ruin the surprise.”

Isack turned back to me, eyes wide, voice half a whisper. “You’re Lewis Hamilton’s daughter.”

“Took you long enough.”

Dad clapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard. “Welcome to the family, son.”

Isack looked like he was questioning every life choice he’d ever made. I leaned in, voice just for him.

“close your mouth, love. you’ll catch flies.” i said and pushed up his chin.

—

“Oh no,” Isack muttered under his breath. “Why are they all here.”

“Because I have amazing friends,” I said sweetly. “And they love watching you suffer.”

“Hadjar!” Lando called, arms already spreading like he was about to hug him just to whisper something evil in his ear. “So you’re the one dating the princess of Formula One, huh?”

Jack whistled low. “You’ve got some guts, man.”

Kimi, deadpan as ever, tilted his head. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

“I didn’t know!” Isack said for what was probably the seventh time tonight. “She didn’t say anything!”

“He called Lewis ‘sir,’” Ollie chimed in again, grinning like this was the best day of his life. “It was so formal.”

“Wait, did you?” Lando asked, barely holding in his laughter. “Like, a ‘Hello, Mr. Hamilton, may I date your daughter’ type situation?”

“He panicked!” I added, giggling. “Tried to act like they hadn’t met before.”

“I had no idea!” Isack groaned. “You all suck.”

“I’m just saying,” Jack said, nudging Kimi. “If I found out my girlfriend’s dad was seven-time world champion Lewis Hamilton, I’d have walked straight into the Mediterranean.”

Kimi nodded, stone-faced. “We still might throw you in.”

“Please do,” Isack said, face in hands. “End it.”

Lando gave him a brotherly clap on the shoulder. “Look at it this way. You’ve already peaked. Can’t go higher than impressing Lewis Hamilton.”

Ollie leaned into me with a smirk. “You know he didn’t even realize until Lewis introduced himself back?”

I sipped my drink. “Timing is everything.”

Isack looked up at me then — red-faced, wide-eyed, but grinning. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Only a little,” I teased. “But hey — you’re handling it like a champ.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like an F1 champ or…?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jack said dryly.

Kimi cracked the faintest of smirks. “We’ll see how you qualify next weekend, Hamilton’s boyfriend.”

—

whotfisnaya

liked by isackhadjar, lando, lewishamilton & 4,389,387 others.

whotfisnaya: long story short…i love isack and isack loves my dad (the selfie is warming my heart by the second)

—

username00 : dating your idols daughter?? wasn’t familiar with your game isack

olliebearman: neither was he

whotfisnaya : oliver be nice

lewishamilton : Welcome to the family, Isack. We love you even if you are oblivious sometimes.

liked by whotfisnaya, lando, isackhadjar and olliebearman

olliebearman : is it cheating since he will be mentored by the goat?

lando : he fr just skipped ten levels

isackhadjar: love you the most even if you embarrassed me in front of my goat

liked by whotfisnaya

—

🦋🐞💋🫶🏻🧜🏻‍♀️

[blchwaaaan]

You know that tomorrow is the day you die. You heard your wife conspiring with her lover that they will kill you and inherit your wealth. You did not marry her for love. You knew that her parents made her marry you, for status, for connections, and both of you were your families' puppets since you were born.

You never resented her. The mansion is so big that you didn't see her for days at a time. You've only met her at the gate sometimes, and when you had to visit your elders. You lied and said that you're trying for a child, just to please her parents and your parents, and your wife sat by your side and held your hand for as long as she was expected to. She had confessed on your wedding night that she couldn't have children even if she tried, and didn't say why. You left her to her own devices. Your marriage bed was left untouched. You didn't care who'd inherit the fortune that you didn't do anything to earn.

Most of your days are uneventful. You've never had to work one day in your life. Your butler manages your estate. Your butler hires people to manage your farm, and your factories, and all you ever do is own things. You pay your butler well. You ask him to pay everyone who works for you well, and you choose to trust him like your father trusted his father. You don't mind if he takes more money for himself without telling you. If he steals anything, he already deserves it.

He's the one who tells you that your wife has taken a lover. He is sorry for you, but you feel happy. You have never seen her smile, but when you approach her side of the mansion, you hear laughter. Her joy echoes in the walls. Her handmaidens giggle to themselves. She wears colorful dresses and puts roses in her hair.

Today your wife is running through the hedge maze with her lover. You hear their laughter and playful cussing and other noises that you know you're not supposed to hear. Your wife doesn't know that you come here to read and that you like when the butler calls your name and fetches you from the middle of the hedge maze then scolds you for making him worry. But today you don't hear the butler's voice. Instead, your wife's lover says, "we'll kill him tomorrow, then we'll have all of this to ourselves."

She agrees with him, but her voice is uncertain. You listen a bit more and it's so easy to tell. How could you have missed it. He coerces her and she just wants to be loved. He has no love to give, only greed.

You wait until they're gone, then make your way back to the mansion. Your butler is surprised that he doesn't have to go out and fetch you. But he is glad and doesn't dwell on it for long. Stacks of paper tower over him and he reads through each one, signs some and puts others into envelopes. His eyes are brown and there are bags underneath them. You know this, because you see him everyday. You tell him to rest for the week. He doesn't need to be here when it happens. And you don't want to risk your wife's lover killing him for fear of witnesses.

The butler is astonished. He tells you no, these papers are important. Everything is important. He scolds you for not knowing anything about your businesses then apologizes for stepping out of line. But he is right. You wish that you could help him. Instead you slip into the kitchen and make little chocolate tarts, because you know they are his favorites, and in your infinite boredom you decided to learn this for him one day, and you did. You eat some of them with him and he feels guilty for scolding you still. But he thanks you and retires for the night.

You go to bed in your soft blankets and silk sheets. You wonder if your wife and her lover will come for you in the morning or in the afternoon, or perhaps in the night. You don't mind. Your fortune, everything you own, none of it matters. It was passed down to you and someone was bound to inherit it at some point. But then you are plagued with worry for your wife. Her lover will kill her next, no doubt.

You regret not watching over her, letting her fall prey to such a man. Perhaps you can bargain with her and make her see the truth. But does it matter? You don't have anything to live for, not even her. Not even...

The butler sleeps a few doors down. You remember his tired eyes. They are so clear to you. You could draw them from memory if you wanted. You could draw his hands smoothing down the edge of an envelope before applying your seal. The little smile that he does when he's divided the shares of the harvest and everyone's got enough for the winter. The frenzy of panic he'd go into whenever a worker was hurt. Today was the last good day for him too. Or maybe your wife will leave her lover and your butler will be safe. Maybe everything will be alright once you're dead. Your butler will no longer have to scold anyone for being late to dinner.

In the night you wish he came to fetch you one last time. You wish you could get him to rest until the bags under his eyes disappear, and that you knew enough to help him with the piles of work he does in your stead. You hope that if your wife's lover comes for him, he'd be smart enough to find an escape. He should be. You know he is. You've never trusted anyone more, after all.

In the morning you look into your coffee. Its color is nothing unusual, nor its taste. You drink it and nothing happens. Your butler is dressed the same as yesterday and the day before. His stack of paper hasn't gotten any smaller. You go to the hedge maze because your wife and her lover don't know that you spend your days there, and it may buy you time. You hear their voices eventually, then your wife's lover says, "we'll kill him tomorrow, then we'll have all of this to ourselves."

She agrees in the same uncertain tone, and you wonder about all of it. Have you hallucinated the entire thing? are you hallucinating now? You run back to the mansion and your butler is happy to see you come back early in the day, then worried when he sees your shaking hands. He tells you to sit down with the cats but you are restless. In the end you sit by his side and read through the letters he's writing, if only to have something to do.

His handwriting is neat and pretty but has quirks that you remember, the Rs look like the Ss sometimes, and you can tell when he's made a conscious effort to make them look different. You make him tarts like the night before and he accepts with a thanks. "Are you hiding something from me," he asks with a grin. He thinks you're apologizing for something. You laugh. You tell him again that he could take the week to rest and he waves you off all the same.

You go to sleep and try not to think about anything. Perhaps this is all a fever dream. Your wife has already poisoned your coffee this morning and you're bedridden and hallucinating. How nice it is that in your fever dream you sat at the butler's side and read his business letters. And that you went up to make him the chocolate tarts that he likes. Perhaps this is it. Or maybe your wife and her lover decided to wait another day, and they're coming for you tomorrow.

The day comes and again, your wife's lover tells her the same words in the hedge maze. Her voice is too low for you to hear. This time you wait till the butler comes to fetch you, and he does, he is exasperated but not angry. He is never angry with you, he is too fond of you to be upset. You have counted his lashes once, just for fun. You look at him and they're all there, every single one, and this couldn't be a dream. You are trapped into something beyond your understanding, repeating the same day. In the real world you must have already died, and this is the afterlife you are trapped into.

In the beginning you counted the days. Every morning you asked your butler what day it was, and he gave the same answer, April 1st. You lose track of your count because what does it matter anymore. Everyday is the same chilly air, the same rain falling at dawn. Everyday you barge into the study and pluck the butler from his precious paperwork, he is reluctant first but he says he'll indulge you today, and only today. You make him run with you in the fields then sit in the sun like cats. Maybe go for a swim, or sneak into the kitchen and make him try out all the new things you've learned to cook because he might like them.

Some days you almost have the courage to tell him how much he means to you. It's difficult to put into words. The world could burn and you wouldn't care as long as he is happy. But it is such that he needs the world. He is happiest when he's making sure your workers are looked after. His contentment comes from his work, so after the day loops around enough times for you to understand this, you let him be. You sit by his side and help him with his stacks of papers. He is astonished but teaches you what you need to learn. Ten loops later he is also astonished, at how much you know, which he doesn't remember teaching you.

The days loop around and maybe now they have meaning. You muse this as you take in the smell of paper and heated wax seals. Your butler took you to meet the managers at your factories and they were so human, so normal in ways you could never fathom, their lives so far away from yours yet so much more real. At the mansion your wife and her lover conspire in their bed and none of it matters, tomorrow repeats again.

You wish he would remember, but he never does. You got to know him so much, you told him secrets you've never told anyone, and every morning he wakes up a new man and you bear the burden alone. You gather your blankets and show up at his room in the night. You tell him you can't sleep, which is true, and he lets you snuggle up to him. You want so much more but you cannot ask. To him you are a benefactor, the one he serves. At most, if he was being generous, a childhood friend. It would be most shameful and unfair to ask him. You imagine how he would look at you, trapped, unable to say no, and unable to love you in return. You cannot subject him to such power imbalance. The days have meaning now indeed. The meaning is the pain you have to endure.

The morning after you do not approach him. He does not find this strange and of course he wouldn't, he remembers nothing while you suffer alone. You go to the hedge maze and decide that even if he calls for you, today you will not answer.

You expect your wife and her lover to have that same conversation where they plot your demise. You think about confronting them, perhaps they will kill you then and there and you would be free. Except that today only her lover's voice rings into the distance, calling out for her, so lovingly. A little after, the sound of running, then there's your wife bleeding from her arm. She is frozen in shock when she sees you, then walks over to you and takes your hand. She leads you to hide into an opening in the tree growth, and her lover passes by, unknowing. When he is gone and she leads you back to the mansion, what she says is enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

Her days have been looping the same as yours, and she is perpetually stuck in April 1st. She had known about your ordeal for sometime, but couldn't reach you. Everyday her lover tries to kill her and she runs from him. Whether he kills her or not, she wakes the next morning in the same day.

So, you and your wife are trapped. You stare at her, helpless, desperate for an answer. She then says, "it's all for the butler. It is him who must die."

You are stuck in a time loop, but you have no intention of ever breaking out of it. After literally millions of resets a new person appears in the loop and asks you why you are still in the loop.

[clockwayswrites]

Birb.... back?! Part 36

masterpost am sick, be kind

finally unstuck this!

By later afternoon, Bruce was officially worried. Even with Lian put down for a nap, Danny was no where to be found. Bruce had been telling himself that Danny was making himself scarce because of the active toddler, but even that felt flimsy with how fondly Danny spoke of his own niece. Though of course, that was without wings in play.

Maybe Danny was trying to avoid having his feathers pulled on.

Maybe Danny was afraid of himself.

“Alfred, have you seen Danny?”

“No sir,” Alfred said as he looked up from the dinner he was preparing. “Perhaps he went with Master Damian to help at the animal shelter?”

Bruce shook his head. “I’ve already checked. Tim, Cass, and Steph are still out. Duke just got home. Dick went with Jason, much to Jason’s annoyance.”

“He did remind to text me as much, as they may not make it back for dinner,” Alfred said. “But it remains that I have not seen Danny. He never came round for lunch, either.”

Bruce gave a little hum to show he heard the concerning news. That was far more than simply avoiding a toddler. He went over to the phone in the kitchen that Alfred still insisted on having and pulled down the false panel next to it. On the revealed screen, Bruce went through the biometric log in process: meant to be as quick as it was secure. As soon as he was in the system, Bruce activated the infared camera for the Manor and surrounding land.

Him and Alfred in the kitchen, Lian in her room, various pets, Duke in the study having just come up from the Cave…

There.

Bruce closed out of the system, made sure it was all the way out, and closed the panel up before he headed off. The only other human sized signature (and at least it was human sized), was in the guest wing. It was tucked away in some shuttered an unused lounge. It had to be Danny.

Not wanting to startle Danny, Bruce gave a soft knock on the door before he opened it and slipped inside. The room was still in that way only a room that hadn’t been used for decades could get. The furniture was cloth covered, the valuable and useful items all moved to other rooms where they would be looked after. The rest was just there like ghosts of Wayne Manor past. The only disturbance to the room was the drape of the window seat, just barely pulled back where it was pushed open by Danny’s knees.

“Danny?” Bruce asked. He worked to cross the room as carefully as Danny had. Not a cloth was disturbed.

“Do you think Alfred would have the time to drive me back to my apartment before dinner?” Danny asked. His voice calm in a way that felt detached. He didn’t look towards Bruce. “I should… get back. I should check on my plants. I should do some work. I’m sure that in this case Lucius would understand me keeping some awkward hours, but I should get back to it.”

Bruce continued to slowly cross the room. He sat against the arm of a cloth covered chair across from the window. Danny was back lit by the light, making him hard for Bruce to see. “I’m sure Lucius would understand you taking more time if you need it.”

Danny just gave a soft hum.

“If you really want to go back home, I can drive you back,” Bruce said. “Though I assure you that there’s no rush to leave from our side.”

“You’re supposed to be spending time with your granddaughter,” Danny said. There was an off warble to his words.

“She’s napping and will be out for another hour at least. Structured rest time is apparently very important for toddlers,” Bruce said, still amused at the lecture that he had gotten from Jason on it all.

“Structure helps them know what to expect so that they can better cope with the day at an age where they are constantly experiencing new events and sensations,” Danny parroted back. Apparently he had some lectures of his own.

“Your sister and niece,” Bruce said with a little nod. “You can of course do whatever you feel most comfortable doing, but I did a bit expect to see you around with Lian some today.”

That was the wrong thing to say, by Danny’s slight flinch, or maybe the right thing to say for getting to the bottom of what was wrong.

Danny wrung his hands. “I didn’t… Jason didn’t…”

When Danny seemed unable (or at least unwilling) to continue, Bruce reached out his hand. It felt like reaching across a divide. It was a relief when Danny reached back.

Gently, Bruce curled his hand around Danny’s, mindful of the overly sharp fingernails. He brushed his thumb over the dusting of fine feathers there. A thousand variables spun through his mind about why Danny was continuing to change now and what could be done about it.

“Jason is worried I could hurt Lian,” Danny explained in that same detached voice. “And when this happens… it’s easy to see why he fears that.”

“That’s less about you, I think, and more about things that Jason fears most,” Bruce said. “When Jason… when he was dead to us, it was because I failed him.”

“Bruce—”

“No, it’s true,” Bruce said with a shake of his head. “I was trying to protect him. Protect him from the world and the ugliness of things and his own anger… but I did it poorly. I didn’t know I needed to explain myself or where to even start. And that led into him trying to find his birth mother and—well, everything else. Lian may not be his, not yet, but it’s really just time. And I think that Jason’s biggest fear is to fail to protect her. It makes him overly cautious.”

“But is he wrong?” Danny asked.

“Yes,” Bruce answered without hesitation.

Danny snorted. “Such easy belief.”

“When did this happen?” Bruce asked. He ran his fingers over Danny’s taloned fingers to make it clear what he was asking.

“…when I got how afraid of me Jason was.”

Bruce “When you saw yourself as a monster because of it. Perhaps a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy then?”

Danny gave a tired little snort. “You and my doctor would have a grand time talking about the psychology of this whole change.”

“Well, I’m a fan of psychology. It helped save my relationships with my family,” Bruce said. “But for what it’s worth? This? Your hands? That doesn’t make you a monster.”

“Doesn’t it?” Danny asked.

“No,” Bruce said before he brought the hand up to press a kiss to it. “Now, if you really want to go home, I’ll take you, but don’t go because you’re running.”

Danny gave an over the top sigh. “No?”

“No,” Bruce said with a little smile.

“Okay. I’ll stay at least through the night,” Danny agreed, “but I do think that I should go back tomorrow. I should check on my plants, check on work, take some time to just… think.”

“That sounds like a much better plan. As does getting out of this room.” Bruce stood, Danny’s hand still in his. “Alfred would hate to know that you were in a room that wasn’t properly set up.”

“Oh, well, for Alfred then,” Danny said as he stood and let Bruce lead him from the gloomy room.

“Of course, for Alfred.”

[p1psqueaks]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — “THINK FAST, I’M A RANDOM GIRL!” PRANK

ZAYNE

The door to your apartment clicks open with its usual soft chime, and you hear the familiar sound of footsteps — deliberate, precise. Zayne steps inside, slipping off his coat and hanging it on the hook like he does every evening, calm and efficient as ever.

You’re already in the living room, seated casually, heart pounding — not because of him (well, not entirely), but because you’ve been waiting all day for this moment.

He rounds the corner, loosening his tie and scrolling through something on his tablet, probably a post-op report or a medical journal. He’s still in his white jacket, the collar looking rumpled from a long shift, but somehow he still looks like a cover model for a magazine.

You spring to your feet.

“Think fast! I’m a random girl!” you call out, striding toward him with exaggerated confidence and puckered lips, going in for a kiss.

Without missing a beat — or even looking up from his tablet — Zayne smoothly shifts his body to the side, so your kiss lands on thin air.

“Apologies,” he says calmly, setting the tablet aside. “I’m in a committed relationship.”

You blink, half stumbling at the unexpected dodge. “Zayne!”

He finally looks up, one brow raised in the most professional fake confusion you’ve ever seen. “You just said you were a random girl.”

“I was joking!” you laugh, slapping his arm lightly. “It’s a trend — people prank their partners by pretending to be strangers trying to kiss them.”

He studies you for a second, eyes cool and unreadable — but you know him too well. The corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. “That explains the sudden aggression.”

“It was playful affection, thank you very much.”

He gently adjusts your shirt collar where it shifted during your ambush. “Random affection from strangers isn’t in my post-op protocol.”

“You actually dodged me like I was trying to sell you unapproved vitamins.”

He shrugs. “Reflex. Some of us have been trained to maintain sterile fields and emotional boundaries.”

You roll your eyes, still grinning. “So if I come back as me, and not some imaginary stranger, you’ll kiss me?”

“I’d expect proper identification.”

You lean in and squint. “Zayne Li, age 27, licensed cardiothoracic surgeon, detests carrots, has a weakness for sweets, and loves to keep poor Dr. Greyson on his toes. Do I qualify?”

He smiles faintly now. “That’ll do.”

He pulls you in by the waist and kisses you properly this time — steady, certain, no dodging involved.

When you pull back, breathless, he murmurs against your lips:

“…Though I will be documenting this as an unexpected variable in today’s stress exposure.”

You laugh. “You’re documenting my prank?”

“I’m a surgeon,” he replies smoothly. “I track anomalies.”

You narrow your eyes. “Next time, I’m putting on a fake name badge.”

“And I’ll still decline,” he says, dry but clearly amused. “I’m taken. And she’s… surprisingly creative.”

You grin, already plotting your next ambush. And Zayne? He’s already back to calmly adjusting his tie like you didn’t just try to jump-scare him with affection.

Professional. Unbothered. Slightly smug.

And completely yours

XAVIER

You spot him in the hallway — his coat slung over one shoulder, ear comm in one ear, eyes locked on a datapad in that usual Xavier-focus mode. Completely unaware.

Perfect.

You hide your grin and pick up your pace.

You’ve been waiting for the right moment to pull this prank. And honestly? There is no better target than your hyper-aware, never-let-his-guard-down genius of a boyfriend.

You get close enough to be in range — and launch your attack.

“Think fast! I’m a random girl!” you say in a sing-song voice and go in for a kiss.

Xavier reacts instantly.

He sidesteps so quickly it’s like he teleported, eyes widening with alarm. You nearly fall forward with the momentum, but before you can even wobble, his arm catches you at the waist — gently, but firmly.

He blinks down at you, brows furrowed, voice all cautious and serious.

“…Miss, are you lost?”

You break.

You burst out laughing, stumbling slightly into him as you regain your balance. “You dodged me!”

His eyes narrow, suspicious. “…Was that a prank?”

You’re still laughing. “Yes! It’s a trend! You pretend to be a stranger and try to kiss your boyfriend — he’s supposed to be caught off guard.”

“I was caught off guard,” he says flatly, releasing you now that you’re steady. “You said you were a random girl.”

“So you dodged me like I had the plague!”

“I thought you were a danger to public safety.”

You snort. “Xavier. I was wearing your sweatshirt.”

“Disguises are getting more advanced.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “You’re the only person in the world who would turn a surprise kiss into a tactical maneuver.”

He smirks now, just a little, like he’s proud of himself. “You almost got me.”

“‘Almost got me’?! I’ve kissed you in way weirder circumstances and you’ve never flinched.”

“That was before you claimed to be a random girl.”

You cross your arms. “So if I try again as me, will you still dodge?”

He pauses, tilts his head, and steps in close. “Try me.”

You lean up. This time, he meets you halfway.

Definitely not dodging.

When you pull back, he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear:

“…Confirmed. Identity: my girlfriend.”

You blink.

“Oh my god. You just biometrically verified me with a kiss, didn’t you?”

He shrugs, smiling faintly. “I have my methods.”

And that’s when you realize: you may have started the prank, but Xavier?

He just won it

RAFAYEL

You stalk into the room like you’re the star of a spy thriller, eyes locked on Rafayel who’s perched on his stool, eyeing the blank canvas with that trademark smirk playing on his lips. Perfect timing.

You burst out, voice loud and wild:

“Think fast! I’m a random girl!”

Before he can blink, you grab his face and dramatically pull him toward you, lips poised like you’re about to steal a kiss.

Rafayel freezes — then his eyes shoot open wide as he rips his body away from you. He yelps — yelps — and dodges you like you’re an incoming projectile. He spins, nearly trips over a chair, and lands in a defensive stance, finger pointed dramatically in your direction.

“Whoa — no, thank you! I already have a girlfriend!”

You freeze mid-laugh.

Rafayel narrows his eyes at you, breathing like he just escaped death.

“She’s really cute,” he adds seriously. “And she might actually kill me if I let a random girl kiss me, so thanks but no thanks.”

You blink. “Raf. It’s me.”

He pauses. Looks closer.

“Oh.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You didn’t recognize me?”

“Cutie,” he says, straightening up and pointing at your face. “You said you were a random girl. My loyalty sensors activated. Auto-dodge mode.”

“You yelped.”

“I was startled!”

You cross your arms, grinning. “So if I wasn’t a ‘random girl,’ you would’ve kissed me?”

He walks toward you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with that familiar crooked smile. “Of course. But I took your statement at face value.”

“You were ready to die on the ‘faithful boyfriend’ hill, huh?”

He nods solemnly. “With honor.”

You snort. “You do realize I was trying to prank you, right?”

He smirks. “And I respectfully reverse-pranked you back with my outstanding moral fiber.”

You sigh, dramatic. “Ugh. Foiled by loyalty.”

He leans in now, finally kissing you the way you originally intended — slow, warm, and just a little smug.

When he pulls back, he says, “Next time, try sneaking up without announcing you’re a stranger. I might be less heroic.”

“Noted,” you say.

SYLUS

You hear Sylus’s keycard slide through the lock, the quiet beep followed by the soft click of the door. He steps in, calm as ever, coat folded over one arm, silver hair slightly tousled from the evening wind. The man looks like he walked out of an editorial, not an actual building.

You pop up from behind the kitchen counter, phone already recording — not that you’ll ever show this to anyone (maybe Luke and Kieran, if you’re feeling bold).

He’s just set his coat on the hook when you pounce.

“Think fast! I’m a random girl!” you announce with dramatic flair, charging toward him lips first, as if you’re some lovestruck stranger who just burst through the wall of a romcom.

Sylus blinks — just once.

Then, without a hint of panic, he steps to the side with elegant ease, avoiding your kiss like it’s all part of his evening routine.

“I’m flattered,” he says smoothly, turning to face you. “But I already have a girlfriend.”

You skid to a stop, gaping. “You—! That was so smooth! Sylus!”

He raises a brow, expression cool but unmistakably amused. “You said you were a random girl. I respect boundaries.”

“I was testing you!”

“I figured.” His lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “You don’t usually greet me with declarations of being a stranger.”

You fold your arms, mock-offended. “You didn’t even look surprised. You just... dodged. Effortlessly.”

“I’ve been trained to handle unpredictable situations,” he says, brushing invisible lint off his sleeve. “Though I’ll admit, this was a new one.”

“You’re impossible,” you huff.

He finally lets the amusement crack through his calm facade. “And loyal,” he adds lightly. “In case that was in question.”

You soften a little at that, though you try to hide it.

Sylus walks up to you then, cupping your face gently with one hand, eyes warm now behind the teasing edge. “Next time, if you want a kiss, I recommend introducing yourself as my girlfriend.”

You grin. “What if I say I’m a random girl with very good taste?”

He leans down, lips brushing yours just enough to tease. “Then I’d have to agree with her judgment… and still turn her down. Firmly.”

You laugh against his mouth, and this time, he doesn’t dodge.

CALEB

Caleb’s halfway out of the bedroom, shirt tugged halfway down and hair still damp from the shower when you strike.

“Think fast! I’m a random girl!” you yell, appearing in the doorway like a chaotic whirlwind of affection and fake stranger danger. You lunge toward him, aiming a dramatic kiss straight for his unsuspecting face.

He shrieks.

Actually shrieks.

Not in fear, but in pure, confused chaos.

“Wait — Whoa — Ma’am?!”

He ducks, barely avoiding your lips, arms flailing slightly like he's about to either defend himself or fall backward onto the bed.

“Uh — excuse me?! Who are you?! I—I have a girlfriend! She’s super cool and — and kind of scary sometimes—”

You can’t hold it in anymore — you’re doubled over, laughing, practically wheezing as Caleb backs away like you're an over-enthusiastic street performer trying to sell him a love potion.

He pauses.

Blinks.

Then narrows his eyes.

“…Wait. Was that a test?!”

You wipe tears from your eyes. “You passed with flying colors. I was a random girl, remember?”

He looks dramatically betrayed. “You were trying to trick me?! Pips, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

You walk toward him again, arms open. “Aw, come on. It was for science. And content. But mostly science.”

Caleb folds his arms, lips pressed together like he’s trying very hard not to smile. “So let me get this straight. You tried to assault your loyal, devoted, absolutely smitten boyfriend with a fake kiss just to see if I’d cheat?”

You nod cheerfully.

He gasps, pointing an accusing finger. “I am outraged. Deeply offended. A little flustered. Mostly flustered, honestly.”

You tip your head. “And yet… you didn’t kiss the random girl.”

He puffs out his chest. “That’s right. Because I’m taken. And I love my girlfriend. Even if she ambushes me before I’ve had coffee and pretends to be a rogue flirt in my own apartment.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, still giggling. “You’re such a dork.”

“I’m a faithful dork,” he declares proudly. “Put that on a mug.”

You kiss his cheek, and this time, he doesn’t dodge — he leans in like he’s been waiting for it all day.

“…Still mildly traumatized, though,” he mumbles as you pull away.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, nuzzling into his shoulder.

He grins, boyish and soft. “Dinner. And an apology dance. Preferably to that cheesy playlist I caught you making.”

You groan. “You were not supposed to see that.”

He winks. “I’m the boyfriend. I see everything.”

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Clumsy

Love and Deepspace boys x reader

Words (for all): 2.1k

This was requested:

What would all the love interests' reactions be to a clumsy MC who easily gets injured from the simplest things?

I decided to write a small passage about how would they be, with what they might say, and then a small story to follow-up.

I hope that I did the boys justice and that I got a good sense of who they are and how they would act in that situation. 

English is not my first language

Masterlist

Zayne would pick up on your clumsiness right away, though he’d do his best not to make a big deal out of it. A raised eyebrow, a subtle smirk, maybe a dry remark would usually follow. And if it is something more serious, his doctor mode would be immediately activated. No sugarcoating, no false reassurances. Every word, every action would be centered on your well-being as someone who would do everything possible to help you heal.

 “Very impressive. I didn’t know tripping over thin air was a skill. Should I just start bubble-wrapping you now?”

“Perhaps you should slow down. I can't keep patching you up every time you lose a fight with a doorframe.”

“Careful, or I will think the only reason you are with me is for my medical knowledge.”

“Tell me exactly what is wrong.”

“Are you alright?”

“It was just a little fall….”

“Just a little fall? Maybe try watching where you are going next time.”

It happened during a late-night walk back from the restaurant. You were chatting about something when your foot caught the edge of a curb you hadn’t seen. One second you were upright, the next you were stumbling forward, arms flailing for balance.

Zayne didn’t lunge or panic. He simply reacted, his movements fluid and instinctive. His hand shot out to catch your elbow, as though he’d done it a hundred times before. Without a hint of surprise, he helped you regain your balance.

“I see that gravity is still winning with you” he said in his usual dry tone.

You groaned, brushing off your jacket, embarrassed.

 “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Zayne didn’t buy it. He gave you a quick once-over, his sharp gaze scanning you thoroughly. His fingers grazed your wrist, the touch careful, to ensure you won’t walk away before he was sure you were fully alright.

“You twisted anything?” he asked, his voice lower now, more concerned.

“No, really, I’m good.”  you said quickly, offering a small smile.

His eyes didn’t leave you. “Nothing hurting? Be honest.”

“No. I promise I’m good.”  you repeated, hoping to ease the worry you saw in his eyes beneath the surface of his calm exterior.

 “Good.” A beat. Then, with a sigh and shake off his head, he added, “Please stop trying to pick a fight with the sidewalk.”

Still, his hand wrapped around yours, just to be certain you will manage to stay unscraped. At least for now.  An unspoken promise woven into that simple touch. You knew that even if you did stumble, even if you ended up with the most absurd, self-inflicted injury, he’d be there, and he’d patch you up, every single time.

Sylus would probably tease you about it—affectionately, just the way things always were between you two. He’d be quick to help you up or check if you were hurt. Whenever you tripped over nothing or spilled a drink on yourself, he’d be right there instantly. His teasing would always carry real concern, no matter how casual he sounded. Over time, Sylus would start keeping an even closer eye on you (as if he weren’t already…) 

“I swear, if you hurt yourself again, I’m putting you in a padded suit. Maybe I should have one custom-made for you.”

“Here we go again… Keep this up, and I’m assigning you a personal bodyguard — namely me.”

“It’s quite extraordinary how you manage to hurt yourself so easily, sweetie. You like to keep me on my toes, don’t you?”

“Honestly, how do you even manage to injure yourself on thin air, kitten? You're going to give me gray hair.”

“You already have gray hair.”

“Come on, sweetie, don’t be like that. You do want my help, don’t you?”

You’d agreed to do some boxing with Sylus. The moment you put on the gloves, you felt a rush of adrenaline. Excited, maybe a bit overconfident, you started making your way toward the ring like you knew exactly what you were doing.

And then you tripped.

You heard Sylus chuckle behind you.

“We haven’t even started, and you’re already down, kitten.”

But before you could deliver a proper comeback, Sylus was already at your side. The teasing in his voice melted away as he crouched next to you, his hand on your arm as he gently helped you sit up.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, eyes scanning your face, your knees, your hands. Everywhere you might’ve scraped or bruised. “Are you hurt, sweetie?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled.

 He raised an eyebrow.

 “Sure? Not too injured to throw a few punches at me?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

 “You wish.”

Sylus smiled, standing up and offering his hand again.

 “Come on then. Let’s see if you can stay on your feet this time.”

You took it, and as he pulled you up with tenderness, you had a feeling that even if you tripped ten more times, Sylus would be right there. Every single time. It felt like, no matter how often you stumbled or fell, Sylus would be there, ready to catch you and steady you with all-encompassing care.

After being by your side for so long, Caleb barely even blinked anymore. His reactions had become second nature. One arm would shoot out to steady you before you ever hit the ground, already guiding you back to your feet. Or he would just use his evol for that. Before you could even laugh it off or mumble an apology, he was already checking you over. And once he was sure you were okay that nothing was bruised, he’d flash you that familiar smile. Then came the teasing—some light joke, maybe a story from your childhood when you’d tripped over your own feet chasing after him, just to make you laugh and remind you that you’ve always had him there to catch you.

“You’d think, after all this time, you’d stop tripping over thin air.”

“At least you didn’t trip over your own feet this time. Progress.”

 “Honestly, we should just get you a helmet. Maybe the pink one, like you used to have?”

“You’ve been tripping over your own feet since childhood. Some things never change, huh, Pipsqueak?”

You sat curled up with a book in Caleb's apartment in Skyhaven. Just as you turned a page, a sudden, sharp sting made you flinch, the paper’s edge slicing through your finger. 

“Ouch!” you muttered under your breath, inspecting the small cut. How typical of you, to get hurt while doing something as peaceful as reading.

Before you could even think about finding something to wrap it up, Caleb appeared, crouching down beside you and handing you a tissue. 

“It’s just a paper cut, Caleb. It’s not a big deal.”

“A paper cut? Pfft.  We can’t have that. Let me handle this.”

He stood up with a dramatic sigh and dashed off.

Less than a minute later, he was back, holding up a small, brightly colored bandage box. He opened it and pulled out a bandage, and that’s when you noticed it—the exact type you used to insist on using when you were a child. They were cartoon bandages, with animals, the same ones you begged for every time you scraped your knee as a kid.

You chuckled. “You seriously have these?”

Caleb grinned, already working to bandage your finger. “Of course. When I saw them, I thought of you immediately. No way I’m letting you suffer without the proper gear.”

“Do you remember the time I insisted on wearing them even after I scraped my elbow just a little? I must have looked ridiculous walking around like that.”

Caleb let out a low laugh. “Oh, I remember. You wore them for days, even though your elbow wasn’t hurting anymore. And then you tried to convince everyone you were tough because you had the bandage on for so long.”

You rolled your eyes at the memory. “I was very dedicated to my toughness,”

With the bandage secured, Caleb patted your hand gently. “There. Now you’re all patched up, just like old times.”

You laughed, banking in the familiarity of Caleb's teasing and the small moments that made everything feel like home, regardless of where you were.

After every fall, bump, or accidental spill, Rafayel’s first reaction would be a perfectly teasing comment. If the situation seemed even slightly serious, all that playfulness disappeared in a heartbeat.  He’d spiral into dramatic panic in an instant—equal parts worry and flair—yet still be right there at your side, checking you over with remarkable tenderness beneath the theatrics.

“You know, walking is a pretty basic function. Want me to give you lessons, cutie?”

“If you were trying to turn falling into an art form, I think you’ve mastered it.”

 “Any lasting damage, or just your pride this time?”

“I didn’t realize that bodyguards could be that clumsy. Should I hire someone else?”

It was a calm afternoon in Rafayel's studio.

You reached out for a nearby can of paint, hoping to add a splash of color to a small project of your own. But your elbow betrayed you, nudging an unopened can beside it. Before you could catch it, the can tipped over, and in an attempt to save it, your hand hit the can just enough to redirect it… straight onto the floor.

The bright purple paint splattered everywhere, the content spilling across the floor and right onto a half-painted canvas. 

“Ouch,” you winced as you felt a slight sting in your forearm. 

“Are you okay?” Rafayel rushed over immediately.

You blinked, taking a second to process what had just happened. Your arm hurt a little from the unexpected movement, but nothing too serious. “I’m fine, just a little surprise, that’s all.”

“You're sure?” His eyes watched you with worry, his attention now divided between you and the mess.

“Yeah, all good,” you reassured him.

Rafayel sighed, though he couldn't completely hide the relief on his face.

“Well, this is quite the spectacle,” he teased. “A perfect example of how your love for art is… explosive.”

You laughed awkwardly. “Sorry about the canvas,” you muttered, feeling bad for ruining his work. “I didn’t mean to—”

He waved it off. “Nah, no need to apologize. This is truly beautiful,” he exclaimed, gazing at the purple lines that had now covered the canvas. “It’s a perfect expression of the chaos and beauty that you are.”

It was one of the things that drew you to him. His ability to see the whole picture, to embrace imperfection without judgment. To embrace you exactly as you were.

Xavier would tease you about your clumsiness, but it would never come from a cruel place.  He'd never make it obvious, but over time, you'd notice how he was always just a little bit closer than necessary. As you walked, he'd casually shift his position, putting himself between you and any potential obstacles. His movements would be so seamless you might not even notice how often he seemed to anticipate your next misstep, subtly steering you away from harm without making it a big deal.

“You’re lucky, I make a great human safety net.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I always do.”

“I swear, it’s like I’m training for a rescue mission every time we go anywhere.”

“Let’s nap, hopefully you won’t get injured during that.”

The silence of your apartment shattered with a loud thud followed by a sharp, “Ow—dammit!”

You winced, gripping your shin where the corner of the coffee table had introduced itself violently. Your laptop had clattered to the floor, screen thankfully intact, but your dignity… less so.

You strained to pick it up when, without warning, the door burst open.

“Are you alright?”

You froze, blinking in disbelief, as Xavier stepped inside.

“Xav?” you said, still processing. “How—?”

“I heard the noise. The crash. You.” His eyes scanned you slowly. “You're hurt.”

“It's nothing,” you said quickly, feeling more self-conscious than injured. “Just my pride. The table and I had a disagreement.”

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he crouched down beside you. “I’m not just going to stand by if you’re hurt. Let me see.”

You hesitated but relented. He gently lifted the fabric of your pant leg, inspecting the bruise forming on your shin.

“You’ll live,” he said after a moment, offering a small smile. “But you should ice it. And maybe move the table.”

You laughed, and he finally did too. His voice dropped, more thoughtful now. “Still. I’m glad I was nearby.”

“Thanks for checking on me,” you said.

He looked at you, serious again. “Always.”

And you knew he meant it. Not just as a passing phrase, but as a promise. One that would hold true, no matter what came next.

[meta-plastic]

Speaking as a mystic with a science education - who believes in souls but not the way most people think of 'em - I absolutely endorse "Don't make policy based on 'souls'".

Because not only do different religions and different people have different concepts of what that means, have you seen how allistics talk about autistic people?

This is, relatedly, my sticking point with so much debate about AI.

I am somewhat agnostic on whether LLMs are actually describing their internal experiences with their words. I think anything that has sufficiently complex internal signaling and a time sense has a fairly decent chance of having internal experiences, at least, say, at a drosophila level, which includes a bunch of stuff less clever than talking computers. I don't think the corporations pushing the talking computers are great.

But the idea that humans can tell what is and isn't having internal experiences on vibes alone is horrific, because this assumption underpins the torture at the Judge Rotenberg Center, and so much else. The "they're not people people" exception already exists unquestioned in our culture at many levels and it does awful things.

Basically, what I'm saying is that whenever someone's criticism of what corporations are doing with a talking computer is framed with language that sounds like a defense of the JRC, then it reinforces the people using that language to defend the JRC, and does so even if we arrive at some unlikely way to conclusively prove that talking computers aren't self-aware.

A lot of folks need to really, really think through what they are saying with their arguments and how they are saying it.

(Also, corporations being "people" for some purposes and not others is a problem for a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with souls: for example, if they are people, they are "people" who can work 24 hours a day, people who can kill and steal without fear of carceral/capital penalty - as long as the corporation does it collectively and abstractly and nobody remembers that their executives are corporeal, as it were. This creates an uneven playing field...)

"corporations don't have a soul" "machines don't have a soul" neither do humans. I won't convert to your religion. Think up a new argument.

[starshipsofstarlord]

claimed | daryl dixon

summary. whilst in the company of the claimers, they take notice of you being the only woman upon them. you hadn’t felt safe prior to the prison being turned into a cascade of ruins, and their company only encompassed the paranoia that you felt. luckily, you weren’t alone, you had daryl. but will he help keep the claimers from arguing over of whom you belong to? (6.7k)

warnings. smut 18+ mdni, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), angst, mentions of death and violence, swearing, claiming a person, toxic men (the claimers, not daryl), harassment, some fluff and angst

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

A bed was something to be grateful for, there was no question about it. The firm yet malleable mattress felt like a cloud as you laid upon it, it was far better than the ground that you had been resting your head upon since the fall of the prison. “Claimed.” You barked to the claimers that you and Daryl had joined since losing Beth, ensuring that the bed was yours, and stupidly you felt prepared to fight for it.

“So it is.” Joe, the grey haired leader of the scavenging pack analysed, allowing his selfish eyes to scour over your splayed body for a second, until he trudged away, him and his miscreant followers going off to find their own sleeping arrangements for the eve. They were sick sons of bitches, and that one that went by the name of Len was a sleazy scoundrel, more so than the rest. Any chance that became opportune to begrudge you or Daryl with a punishment from the man in charge to him, he was willing to stick his neck out for it.

You hoped he died. Never had you wished the unkind deterrence of life of a person that wasn’t already infected and walking through the bloodthirsty vision of the afterlife since the Governor had struck against your people, and with wishful thinking and a whole lot of loss, including the emancipated prison that you had called your home for some time, that grubby, power hungry atrocity of a man was no longer alive. These claimers were no better, if they had charge of a citizenship likened to that of Woodbury, they would be stained with the same greedy fingers.

They wanted to take, rather than simply survive by any means necessary, as you had done, looting run down grocery shops and anywhere else that’d feed you for the day. It was pointless in mentioning Beth to them, it wasn’t in their souls to feel pity for her having disappeared, less aid you in locating her. And so you were stuck with the guilt and despair of being a witness to that car with the unknown driver whisk her to a destination that was incomprehensible.

You would find her, you tapped your temple with your knuckles in attempt to attain your attention span towards rest, which was difficult enough since most of the men that you were currently surrounded by were not trustworthy. The only one that was was Daryl. He had found you and brought you to the camp with the dormant rv in a time that felt long ago; the two of you had been hunting the same deer in the thick of the forest.

It ran before either one of you could shoot it down, at first you’d been pissed that he’d culled your walking menu, however he had found it in himself to offer to bring you back with him. Of course you were cautious of following a stranger in the woods, however you soon relaxed when you’d seen the residents that made up the makeshift community. There were families, mothers that were rightly protective of their children, a young boy and girl, one with a father and the other without. Daryl couldn’t have been so bad if his intentions were to bring the four legged herbivore back for them.

And he wasn’t, he could certainly been distant during his blistering moments, but you were glad that you weren’t by yourself in the aftermath of the prison’s attacked descent. A hand leant against the door frame you had yet to close to get some kind of privacy away from the grotesque excuses for humans, but as you stared straight ahead, you offered a small smile, it was all that you could muster up given everything that you had gone through and all that you had lost. It wasn’t a claimer, it was just Daryl who’d like you, put on the disguise of being one of them.

He looked disheveled, more so than usual, you could see it in his eyes that he was tired. His legs were probably aching too, you were experiencing the same sensation in your calves, and so you softly patted the mattress beside you, inviting your friend to join you. “Ain’t no beds left.” Daryl muttered, being quiet as he closed the door, stalking towards you with a weight of many things that put pressure on his shoulders. Of course you weren’t surprised, these men you were travelling with were selfish, and absolute jackasses, they’d offer him the floor to lay his head and that was it.

“There’s this one.” You offered, knowing that it couldn’t be that strange to share the bed considering you had previously slept side by side in the woods as an extra precaution due to the claimers. If you hadn’t, you dreaded that Len or one of the other greedy cronies would have tried something with you. And as a peace of mind for himself, Daryl had to make sure that you were safe, he couldn’t lose you too. That would be the last straw for him, your company and the diminishing hope that you would one day find the other members of your peculiarly arranged family was the only thing that was keeping him going.

“Thanks.” In your time living side by side, from the first camp to the prison, and then now in the middle of nowhere, somewhere along the way he had picked up on manners. And those manners were much appreciated as you drifted closer to your side of his bed so that he would have enough room to lay down with there still being some space between the both of you. The duvet was no doubt a little dusty, however you had each been covered in worse, such as walker guts and the insistent grime that living outdoors dawned on you. "Been tryna keep those creeps away from ya."

"They're quite persistent." You agreed with the nature of the claimers, turning to face him so that you were laid on your side and Daryl mirrored your actions, his large fingers digging into the pillow from the topic of conversation. It always riled him that Joe and his mindless cronies that acted like magpies eyed you as though you were a piece of meat. Sure, there had certainly been men at the prison that had cast attraction in your direction, however they would nevertheless treat you with the respect that you were a human being whom was surviving the tasking aftermath of the outbreak. "I'm scared D, I don't trust them."

Your voice was small, with fright hanging off of each syllable that you pronounced. Daryl had witnessed your fear in the past, such as in the imprisonment of the CDC when the impending self destruction was looming the large risk of death over your entire group. It was a no brainer that you had no intentions to die, albeit the likeness of some that had hopes to given the walking dead that had presumed certain demise over the planet and it’s inhabitants, you however were a fighter. You’d fight to your death if it gave you a chance, Daryl even had to drag you away from the falling prison.

When the Governor had attacked you had been adamant to protect the place that had become your home until the last breath, but the archer would not allow it. Now you could see that if you had remained at the sight of the carnage where the undead had earned free pass to roam through, you would be another victim of the cruel hand that the Governor had dealt the lot of you. It hadn't mattered to Phillip that those that had once been his people were consumed in the deadly result of his vengeful and violent actions, he never cared for any one of them; it was his fault and bloody hands that had lead to Andrea's faint hearted death.

"Me either." Daryl admitted, although it was an easy concept to realise considering that you had witnessed his distaste prominently since you had banded with him since the start of the apocalypse. You gulped, stupidly afraid of involving him in some of the details that you had heard whilst being in the company of the claimers. He would go ballistic from the truth that had weaselled its way around his peripheral, but the only route in which you could disintegrate the possibility of the plans that the crude men held in your direction was for you to confide in your overly protective friend.

"They were speaking the other day, when they thought we were chasing after that nest of rabbits." It was short of nothing new when it came to the brash men, they had their opinions and had enjoyment in sharing them to each of their own. The archer's eyes became awake and full of concentration as you spoke, shuffling closer to you as he reached for you hand. Daryl wasn't stupid, you wouldn't bring up anything that lacked importance, and the waver that staggered in your voice brought paranoia to his ears. "I'm the only woman here... And the topic of conversation was regarding who will claim me... I can't - I won't-"

A hand rushed to grasp your own, his avid temper rising as he realised what sick fucks they really were. They weren't considered gentleman, but at the end of the world their priorities sure were twisted. Tears slipped from your eyes as you attempted to continue, however there was no reason for you to, Daryl was already prepared to do whatever it took to keep you as safe as possible in the ragged state of the world. His form shot up, as his eyes darted around the room, before they landed upon your feeble frame again, his gaze softening at the sight of you.

"We can go. Get up an' leave. I ain't lettin' none of that shit happen to ya. I'll kill 'em before they even hav' a chance ter try." His tone was dangerous, laced with convicted agitation that bespoke that his threats were completely full of spite. Your head raised gently, as you ogled up at him with glossy eyes; nobody had dared to go to such lengths for you before, they’d never have ran from the bad in the old world with you, let alone be prepared to murder somebody for their triumphant disgrace. Your lips murmured the voice of nothing, wobbling uncomfortably as you attempted to verbalise your thoughts.

With conflict drawn knuckles, you grasped at your own knees that you had raised to be against your chest, rocking lightly as you let out a sigh of relief as Daryl refrained from pacing around the room - he knew that that stressed you out, he was assertive when it came to his realisations, and currently you were his priority, and it would kill him to bring you further distress. “I have an idea.” You croaked out, however you were quickly shut down. There was no need to be impulsive, Daryl thought, as he nervously raised his hand to your face to pat your strewn teardrops away with his thumb.

“Nah.” The tracker input his opinion, wishing to cocoon you in his protection. “We have ta go y/n/n, we hav’ ta.” He’d have to convince you, however you brushed his hand away, holding it between both of your palms, feeling every scar and crease that were sewn onto his fingers. “I can’t let anything’ happen to you, ya need to understan’ that peach.” With a piercing gaze of azure defiance, he shook his brunette head, still standing against your unspoken resolute.

“We can’t Daryl, we’ve experienced what it’s like out there.” A pang shot directly into your chest as inducing flashes of those that didn’t make it and the unknown destiny of others that had inhabited the prison shot in your vision. “I can’t lose you too, Beth’s already gone.” The lump in your throat felt unbearably heavy, the stern conjunction of terror and apprehension making it almost suffocating. “But the claimers can’t claim me… if you already have.”

“Y/n.” He had to talk some sense into you, to convert you away from this path that would only be a mistake. The scheme that you had conformed of the purpose of self preservation may have been to suffice the leering consumption of the claimers, and it angered him. You were no piece of fruit ripe for the picking, and if you were to call yourself his, then it would be of complete free will. You would want him for something more than to avoid being a trophy to one of those scoundrels, and it would mean more than your conveying control over your life.

"Daryl." His name left your lips, as you stared like a deer in headlights up at him, hand caressing the bare skin of his exposed arm which made pangs of electrical pulse fly through his stomach. "It's the smartest option that we have, unless we stumble across our friends. And I trust you more than anyone that I have ever met, please just do this for me. So that we can both breathe through this turmoil shit whilst we figure out a plan to get Beth back. We have nothing to go off to find her at the moment, but something might appear, and we have to be united for that, and if one of them claim me, they will never let me go... unless we kill them. And right now is not the time to have any more blood on our hands."

Even if you tried, the both of you would be severely outnumbered, and you had already escaped death one too many times. "Okay, okay." His tone was grave, full of surrender and failure, he had a habit to folding to you eventually, you were his weakness, and although he would have to traipse carefully, your stubborn streak repeatedly overpowered his. "Jus'- I um, I ain't jus' willin' to do this before I tell ya something." The time was now or never to reveal his feelings that he had hunkered down privately inside of himself, there never was a perfect moment to do so before, except maybe the prison. And when you thought you were safe and professed with security there, Daryl had convinced himself that you would reject him, and it would ruin any connection you shared.

There was no reason to hold back his emotions any longer, if it were to be his place to ‘claim’ you, his head ached as he built his mind up to one of the largest vindications of his life, that had the chance to have dire consequences. The implications could be hurtful, if you did not reciprocate the feelings that he was going to share with you, then the air would be unceasingly tense, and the last thing he wished for was to make you uncomfortable. He didn’t want you to see him as one of the men that were stalking you like a rabbit hopping from lurking danger, he was your friend, and if you recoiled from his love, then he hoped that you would still see him as your ally and comrade.

"You can tell me anything in the world Dar." With feathery touches that lingered in his heart, you wound your hand down his arm until you were holding his hand, with sweet tenderness. "I don't want to put any pressure on you, ever, so if you don't want to claim me that's okay too." Logically he was aware that your fail safe plan was the smartest, and he held in a complicated groan, he felt torn between running away from all of these problems or dealing with them, it was like a stand still that he was holding with himself. Daryl squeezed your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips so he could pledge a nervous skin on the thin flesh.

"Love yer, tha's wha' I wanted to say for so long." It was easier to rip the band aid off quick so that the mountainous sadness could wash over him as fast, his healing hopefully being a speedier process. But your reaction was not what he had anticipated, your gaze did not make him feel nauseous, rather it was contempt with a bright hue in your irises that sparkled with comfortability. Your lips twitched into a small yet powerful smile, which took his breath away for a few seconds, and he felt suddenly stupid for his expectation.

"I've been waiting to hear those words for a long time Dixon." You admitted aloud, rustling across the sheets until your body was brought closer to his own, your onyx pupils running across his mournful and tired face. "And I love you as well, how could I not?" He could think of a lot of ways, but it would burst the moment like a bubble if he were to begin listing them, and so he refrained, allowing you to continue on with your voice that was hushed so that the claimers couldn't listen in, but audible enough so that he could understand you. "I think I first realised it at the farm, I was in shock when Andrea shot you; I wasn't sure whether I wanted to kill her or kiss you. Obviously I did neither, but I wish I d-"

Your voice was drowned out from the pressure that Daryl placed on your lips with his own, he leant his head over, moving his mouth with languid motions, moaning lightly as you nibbled on his lower lip. You drove him crazy, and as calm as your company made him feel, he was getting worked up, and so he pulled away, raking a large hand through your locks as he kept his eyes closed for a moment until he slowly opened them, your face being the focus of his peripheral vision. To him you were a ray of all the things he had strove for in the events proceeding from the outbreak, you were the sun that scorched his skin during the day, and the whistling breeze that soothed said inflictions of the sun after it had rose beneath the moon.

He was the victim of love, he realised that now. And although you said those words back, he still felt like he was punching above his weight, as though he were reaching for the stars. "Don' wan' yer to think that's the only reason I sai' I love ya." You required no validation, if you had the will to go through with lovemaking with him, it would be your own choice, he didn’t want your decision to be swayed by the plight of feelings. “Need ya to want me like tha’ in yer own mind, we don’ have ta do nothin’.” He was perfectly fine with resting his head on the pillow and going to sleep beside you in the bed that you had offered to share with him, he had said his part and taken enough action to appease his internal instincts.

“I know it isn’t Daryl.” You admitted, and he knew that you never uttered around anything that was bothering you in the slightest, your straightforward attitude had at first intimidated him, hence the copious waiting time that it had taken him to confess. If you didn't love him, then you wouldn't have said it back. "And I do want all of you in every way, it doesn't have to be in that way, I could wait forever for you. I would if it came to it, I'd die for you if worse comes to worst." At the end of your heartfelt rant, Daryl winced, hating to hear those words leave your mouth. He had ensured your utmost survival from keeping an eye on you, even from afar, and he would not allow any living soul, or even a dead one to rid you from the earth.

Death was not in the books for you, unless the prospect of such a sentence was after you grew withered and old, full of wisdom and fond memories. “Don’ say tha’.” It was a command, albeit one that he wouldn’t physically force you to follow, however it was simultaneously a promise. He would not allow anything to happen to you, not in a million years, and if the only way to prevent any violence from condemning your life upon a noosed risk was by claiming you, then he simply could not reject the compromise. “Ya ain’ dying’ girl, not on my watch.” His eyes traced your the sweet harmony that your facial features composed, brushing the rough edge of his palm across your jawline, causing a wispy breath to escape your more than kissable lips.

It still felt surreal that his body had built up the courageous nerves to kiss you, and he was almost kicking himself for never having done it sooner. “Okay.” You agreed, all too aware that the fluid expense of death could not be decided by the mere human race, but you would try your best to live as many days as you could realistically manage just for him. Daryl was worth attempting the impossible for, he had proven as much through his countless loyal acts, and the fact that he never landed blame upon anybody with moments that could not be reversed. He’d never even been slightly pissed that Andrea had whisked a bullet across his temple, leaving a dangerous graze onto the vulnerable flesh. He still had a faint mark from the bullet engrained gash, and you ran the pads of your fingers across the light skinned line, realising how lucky you remained to still have him beside you.

“An’ don’ worry ‘bout the claimers,” it was difficult not to you thought in a solitary mental notes, cautious of how they would leer in whichever direction you surpassed, “I’ll do it. I’ll claim ya. Jus’ wanna ask yer to be mine first…” His way of asking you to be his partner was not traditional in the slightest, it was very Daryl like, and that made you smile. Your eyes were glazed with the reflection of love, claimed by the contortion of in the moment simply being a woman that felt for a man, and he was the suspect in question for being the thief that had silently stolen your heart and the arteries connected to it. You were like a love strung puppet, your arms noosed around his neck as you held the fixated archer closer, the tip of your noses crossing heartfelt paths in an affectionate notion.

“I already am Dar.” The simple yet confirming statement was the truth, you had reserved your amorous emotions for him alone, and there was nobody else who could capture your attention in such a way like he had. “I think I knew deep down that I did prior to me having the realisation of it.” As you spoke in a sultry tone that was hushed to give more definition to your words, your lips impulsively brushed against his own, until you licked inside of his mouth to explore it again. “So take me, claim me, anything. I just want to be close to you Dar.” To feel his lips coincide against the pressure of your own was still not enough, you rotated so that you were sprawled on your back, Daryl instinctively climbing upon you like a wolf that had began to feast on a vulnerable sheep that had already accepted its fate.

Hearing that you were his was a chronically inducing statement, it felt like he had injected a strong dose of adrenaline into his cordial veins, refracting an affect to take a masculine toll over his body. He had grown endearingly hard for you in his slack trousers, confined by the material that tightly hugged his aroused bulge, his balls felt as though they were being squeezed, driving him to impractical insanity. His torso rotated above you as he devoured your lips, his scuffed palm claiming it’s placement around your face. You had to breathe through your nose, as your eyes were screwed shut, your brows inclined in a distance closer together as your mouth attempted to keep up with the pace that Daryl had installed.

You felt strangely complete, having found a purpose to keep moving forwards in the hardships that were hurled sullenly in your direction. The two of you were alive, and almost strangely you had never felt so alive in your life beforehand, until those amorous words had left Daryl’s lips. No, not that he would claim you, but he loved you. It coiled your heart in tendrils of tender affection, to know that not only were your emotions most definitely reciprocated, but that he would do anything that was required to protect you. In the past, prior to the falling of the world, men had always sought power and held a regarded possessiveness upon anything that they wished, there were some profusely sick bastards out there.

And the pack of claimers were no exception, they’d seen you handle yourself and kill the walking dead with finesse and they still saw you as some sort of object. But you were a person, with shattered feelings and a stubbornness motivation to keep on striding onwards despite all that you had lost. There was a small inkling of a chance that not all of them had possibly have been such atrocious people in advance to the outbreak, though that was a heavy doubt. They acted depraved, and whilst they could physically take anything they saw fit without laws obstructing their greed, that did not mean that you were ripe for the picking. If they had been good men once, they certainly weren’t any more, not like Daryl.

“Ya alrigh’?” The question startled you from your trickling thoughts, grounding you in reality where you were overshadowed in the best way by Daryl’s body, and you reached your hands out, bringing them to his cheeks. You would be fine, his face told you as much without saying anything in regard to your troubles at all. He would be fine. Instead of replying in a verbal manner, you pulled him back down, causing his body to melt into one organism within your own. He sunk into your grip, loving how you tousled his messy locks between your fingers, wrapping your legs around his waist only with the intent to pull him closer.

He could practically quiver, you were both a weakness and a strength to him, there was not a single thing that he would not do in order to keep you alive, and rather than just keeping you breathing, he was making you feel impossibly safe, despite the masses of threats that you faced on the daily; there were obviously the saviours whose eyes roamed despicably over your silhouette, there was the threat of being parched and starved on the road, and of course the walkers that had stalked you both day and night.

All of that was forgotten for a moment of relaxation, as you began unbuttoning Daryl’s shirt, having already discarded the vest that bore angel wings on the back. Daryl almost wanted to object, for the significant scars that were forever painted on his flesh distorted his frame, though that impulse was swallowed down. Time was of the essence as it always was, and he wished not to waste a singular second of it that he had with you. It would be a sin, and whilst he usually did not care for the religious shit, he had to admit that this was rising to be a holy event in his life.

With him helping you, his shirt was tossed carelessly across the room, your own following soon after. There was no dignity held in your need to have your bare flesh entangled with Daryl’s, the hunger to be with him was too strong to restrain yourself. The kiss was messy, a furious sliding of tongues alongside each other, but you couldn’t care, you needed him in ways that you had never needed anything else. His hands scathed the flesh of your back, reaching for the clasp of your bra, though he staggered upon some difficulty in undoing it, so you granted him aid, easily releasing the fabric from its embrace around your form, slipping the straps from your arms and discarding it also.

“Fuck.” Daryl cursed aloud, pulling away from your lips to take in the sight of you half bare to his naked eyes. His hands grasped your waist in a gentle manner, as he regarded you with both admiration and loving lust that reigned his gaze. He was definitely in love. “Yer so beaut’ful.” His head dipped, littering a smattering of kisses along your bare chest, his chapped lips contrasting against the softness of your skin, until he finally got to your left nipple, taking the peak into his mouth, suckling gently causing you to arch your back. This instance had been long awaited, and it had been worth every agonising second of being without his touch. It was more sensual than you had ever expected, exceeding each dream that had occurred in your resting mind.

Your hands braced against the back of his head, gently combing through his hair, as you become wantonly lost in him… something that you had always wanted. “D.” There was an insistent impatience within your voice that made him look up. You were ready to surpass the foreplay and get straight to the main course, but Daryl knew that you deserved better than that. He had acknowledged you, though you refrained from reminding him of the urgency that was boiling in your veins as he began to kiss his way down your stomach, licking at your flesh as he descended.

He made your legs shake in their own spiral of suspense as he slowly dragged down the layers that conformed your lower half from your sights, deadly slow in fact. He was teasing you, leaving you on a jagged edge of screaming from the perilous waiting to be touched, although you couldn’t. You had to remain quiet to sustain a lack of suspicion from the saviours, the last thing you wanted was a singular one of the depraved men walking in, they’d most likely enjoy watching, which was a foul truth that tainted your mouth with disgust. “So pretty.” The scruff that outlined Daryl’s jaw scuffed at your thighs as his hands spread your legs, leaving you intimately vulnerable to his eyes.

This felt like this was the weakest that the man that you loved had ever seen you, despite the gruelling circumstances that you had faced in union, and the injuries that you had each endured that lathered you with the fear of death. You were exposed, and you whimpered at his sentimental statement, pressing your lips together as you watched him lean closer to your cunt. His breathing was laboured, he too needing this as much as you did. He inhaled your womanly scent, memorising it for a second before he leaned in to taste you, a light, restricted groan tumbling from his lips. A sharp inhale of air penetrated your lungs as you held it in, your hands still in his hair as he kissed your lower lips affectionately, spreading them so that he could suckle at your bud.

As he did, you felt his wide fingertips tracing your entrance, and then he slipped one inside of you, both his fingers and mouth bringing you to ecstasy. You just needed a little more and then you could reach that peak that ascended you into bliss, and Daryl seemed aware of that fact to, adding another digit within your walls as he reached inside of you deeper, angling his fingers so that they toyed with that heavenly spot that made you see stars. Daryl rode you through your orgasm, his pace slowed until he pulled away, bringing his cum coated fingers to his own lips, tasting your essence as though he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Ya taste so good.” Daryl confirmed your suspicions, leaning over you so that he could kiss you again, and you tasted yourself on his lips, making you hum in delight against his mouth. There was so much you wanted to say to him, so many thoughts you needed to share, but you dared not think about speaking them - if the claimers heard, then it would endanger your people if they were still out there, having survive the ruin that your home had succumbed to. As you leant away from the kiss, you reached your hand up to trace every line on his face, each warping of his skin that had battled the world long before it had ended. If he was the last thing that you would ever see, then you would die as happy as you could.

“I love you.” You reminded him, knowing that he hadn’t been told that enough in his life, and he repeated your words with a delicate softness that contrasted heavily with the subjected hardness that was pressing against your thigh. He kissed you again as, leaning down as he stood, removing his pants and undergarments to shed himself into full exposure, making you gasp as he clambered atop of you, his body weight pressing into you. It was almost serene, and it would have been if you knew that this blanket of safety would last, however you doubted it considering the companions that had taken you into their midsts. This was the solace that you had sought prior to the outbreak - Daryl. You weren’t willing to let him go any time soon.

Your fingernails dug with a bite into the flesh of his scarred shoulders as he sank into you, his length slowly sliding within your walls until you felt almost unbearable full. He grunted in his own abyss of pleasure, staring at you with eyes filled with love that you had long awaited to be the bearer of, and he leant back, only to thrust back between the apex of your thighs again. He was heaven and bliss rolled into the contrasting, angelic frame of the handsome archer. His movements claimed you with a reverent passion, your flesh pressing tightly against one another as you had the impulse to call out his name, but rather than uttering it loudly for everyone in the house to hear, you whispered it into his ear, like a mantra that you never wanted to stop repeating.

Their eyes continued to fixate upon you, as if you were prey, an animal for the killing and skinning. Len was the worst of them, he licked his disgusting lips with a feverish hunger, like an addict concentrating upon his next hit. It wouldn’t be you, you were secure in that as he traipsed towards you, his toxic demeanour making you wrinkle your nose in dismay. You didn’t like him one bit, any of them in fact. But you had to do what it took to survive, and for the time being it was forcing yourself to be in their presence until you could find a safe locale far away from their greedy hands, hopefully by then having found your friends, or at least the ones that were still living.

“Y/N.” Your name sounded like poison as it left his lips, and you held in your grimace, wishing not to cause more trouble than the group already inebriated like air, pausing your footfalls as you turned your stiff attention towards him. Joe stopped too, watching intently as his follower stalked towards you, grabbing your arm. His grip was too firm to pull away from without causing a fight, and the last thing you wanted was to provoke further bloodshed, despite your feral side wishing to kill him for simply laying a hand upon you. You clenched your jaw, nostrils flaring, as the air around you wafted a breeze.

The trees danced as in applause for the sickly balls that Len had grown since your presence within the claimers, and you resented nature for conforming to the scene. “Let me go.” It was an order, one that fell deafeningly short on the man’s ear, as his putrid grip only tightened, and you were sure that there would be fingertip bruises looming beyond the sleeves of your jacket. You tried to pull back, but it only made you strangle out a small cry of pain, Len selfishly not relenting. Joe cleared his cigarette smoked throat, as if telling him to back off without voicing the threatening tone that billowed in his eyes, clearly wanting to see where this went. Without much else to do, you kicked at his legs, foot landing upon his shin causing him to curse.

“I’m already claimed you fucking bastard.” Joe seemed unsurprised by your words, having witnessed Daryl to slink into the room that you had claimed for yourself. He was gladdened by the fact that Daryl was within the tree line, seeking out a rabbit or some other animal that would contend as supper, otherwise there would be another event to fuel the clear hatred that Daryl and Len regarded one another with. The leader was amused, watching you kick once more at Len until he finally backed off, the bone on his leg no doubt being sensitive from the feel of your boots pummelling it. He knew there’d be trouble allowing a woman within their ranks, and as much as he had the impulse to swoop in and proclaim that he had claimed you, he was far too entertained, and rules were rules, set by his example.

“Yeah?” Len’s teeth were on show as if he were prepared to growl at you from the tenderness and pain you had reigned onto his left limb. “By who?” He retorted, his eyes having gone wild and crazed from the retaliation that you had openly handed him. His gaze seared against your form, trailing down your body as if he were trying to find a name etched into your flesh. The bristle of bushes made his head dart to the side, ready to see a walker stumbling out from the shrouded clearing, but it was only Daryl. There was a rabbit attained to its holding at his waist, the animal helpless and dead, having been struck by a bolt that ended its life and creating a patch of blood upon its fawn brindled side.

“I claimed her. She’s mine.” Daryl had heard most of the interaction, unaware when Len had grabbed you, otherwise he would have revealed himself sooner, the last thing he wanted was for you to be harmed. He stalked closer, pulling you into his side, noticing how tense you were, and that you had your arm held out in flatulent pain. “She’s mine. I claim her.” He repeated, glad that you had fought back. He hadn’t initially wanted to leave you to hunt, but Joe had told him to do exactly that, he spat on the ground towards Len, physically showing his distaste for the man. You were not something to be claimed, you were a human being, one that he cared about, one that he loved. But he and you both would keep the charade up until you could get away, and hopefully return to the people that you belonged with.

It was going to be a gruelling journey onwards with these folks, with Len hissing in jealous spite, but you had each other; that would get you through this, you reminded yourself. You could still feel Daryl’s amorous kisses upon your skin, and it brought you a wave of comfort. Joe cleared his throat, diverting the attention of his men and you and Daryl towards him. “You heard that.” The grey haired man stated with control bordering his voice. “She is claimed.” They all knew what that meant, and they would have to respect the procedure that had you claimed as they would with any other object. Daryl’s hand touched your waist, and that look that he gave you alone was enough to give you something to fight for.

[bloodlines-if]

Bloodlines is a 18+ dark, low/urban fantasy, horror story.

Demo (TBA)

Content Warnings include: Graphic violence and gore, Body horror, Strong language/profanity, Death and murder, Disturbing imagery, Blood and injury descriptions, Mental health themes, Supernatural horror elements, Substance use, (optional) sexual content. (Please keep in mind this is a very dark story with heavy themes and may not be suitable for everyone!!)

They call you Leech – a journalist with too much nerve and not enough self-preservation. You dig where no one else will. You expose what gets others buried. In Sordia, that makes you a target. Some respect you. Most want your throat cut.

You thought you'd seen the worst the city could offer until your estranged sister crashes back into your life, dropping a mystery in your lap: Twelve photos. Twelve people. And you’re in one of them.

Two people in those photos already went missing. No ransom, no trails, no bodies and no answers.

Now you’re caught in a story you didn’t ask for, but you'll follow it to the bitter end anyway.

Try not to run out of time to figure out who’s collecting names… before yours is crossed out too.

Centuries ago, there were myths about supernatural beings roaming through this world. Now, their descendants walk the streets. There are eleven main Bloodlines: Primordial, Umbra, Draegon, Seraph, Infernal, Fae, Abyssal, Ifrit, Manitou, Chronos and Chimaera.

The power runs in the blood. Not gods. Not monsters(?) Just a little more. Their abilities make them stronger, richer, deadlier but not untouchable.

In Sordia, a decaying metropolis built on the bones of old New York, humans and the powerful bloodborns coexist – barely. It’s a city where humans fight Bloodlines, and Bloodlines devour each other for control. Violence is routine, loyalty is rare, and everyone bleeds the same in the end. At the top sit the Twenty-Three Families, the ruling mix of old blood and old money. They own the precincts, the papers, and the people.

The law? Corrupt. The faiths? Weaponized. The truth? Up for auction. And you?

You’re just one more soul with a heartbeat, following blood trails with a camera, digging up what should’ve stayed buried.

Welcome to Sordia. The city's rotten to the core. Try not to catch it.

꙰ Play as a human Journalist and customize your looks, gender, pronouns, sexuality etc.

꙰ Form deep, messy, or dangerous connections. Romance is optional but sometimes survival depends on who you trust (*cough*or betray).

꙰ Are you more respected, or loathed? Your choices will shape how the Sordia treats you... and how you survive in it.

꙰ Print the truth no matter the cost or bury it for the right price. You decide where the line is, and how often you cross it.

꙰ Choose your career background – investigative journalist, tabloid reporter, war correspondent or whistleblower. Each path offers unique advantages... and setbacks.

꙰ Human or not, blood still spills. Sordia’s streets are dangerous, and your choices can mean life, death, or something worse.

Maud (female | Umbra Bloodline) Your estranged younger sister, and a walking disaster you can’t quite let go of. Maud only shows up whenever she wants and never when you’re ready. She’s been off the grid for years now, you have no idea where she’s been or what she’s done.

Benedict ''Ben'' (male | Human) Your uncle, and one of the few people who’s never lied to you. Ben tried to raise you and Maud the best he could, but Sordia eats good men fast. Now he doesn’t leave his apartment, not ever. He handles your digital back-end. Cameras, firewalls, encrypted archives, you name it, he’s cracking it. Ben’s not made for this place. But without him, you’d be dead ten times over.

Andre/ Anaya ''Ace'' Reid (male / female | Human RO) Your best friend, your backup, and one of the few people left who’ll pick up the phone when your name flashes on it. Ace works for the CRD, the folks who handle everything criminally bloodline related. Some say they’re too good for Sordia. You’re just hoping the city doesn’t eat them next.

Dr. Arden (male / female | Manitou Bloodline RO) Dr. Arden runs a neutral clinic in the undercity, patching up anyone who can crawl through the door. They're blunt, cold, and don’t care who you are, only how bad you're bleeding. They don’t take sides, don’t make friends, and don’t ask questions. But if you’re dying, they’re your last best chance.

Egon/ Emme Han (male / female | Draegon Bloodline RO) Heir to one of the most powerful Draegon families in the city, and the youngest CEO to ever make the top board. Sharp suit, sharper tongue. Egon/Emme moves through the world like it owes them something, and maybe it does. They’re arrogant, calculating, and impossible to impress.

Lucian/Lucia ''Luz'' (male / female | Infernal Bloodline RO) A crime boss with too much charm and not nearly enough mercy. Luz runs their empire with a grin, a drink in hand, and pink-tinted shades. No one really knows where they came from. All anyone knows is: you don’t cross them, and you don’t ever mistake their smile for kindness.

[ineedpaigebuckets]

like gravity

pt.1

little timeline series (no angst i'm sorry i suck at writing that)

anyways... here you go!!!

................

paige didn’t wanna be here.

her team had already played hours ago, but somehow everyone had convinced her to stay for the last game of the day. something about scouting. “good competition,” they said. “future teammates,” they said.

she didn’t care, not one bit. she was sweaty, starving, and already irritated from her knee acting up. these folding chairs weren’t built for this long of a sit. she was already planning her post-game chick-fil-a order in her head before the game even started.

that was all until number 35 checked in.

paige noticed within seconds, she moved like she was born to ball. smooth handle, tight braids, textbook three. not a hint of nerves on her face—just calm. like she had the whole floor mapped out in her head before she even crossed half court.

paige straightened up in her seat without meaning to.

her eyes followed the mystery girl across the court like it was involuntary—like gravity.

the way she crossed half court was too smooth. the kind of smooth that made paige suddenly hyper-aware of how sweaty her shirt felt clinging to her lower back.

she shifted in her seat. tried to look away. couldn't.

number 35 caught the ball in rhythm and let it fly from deep. swish. no rim. no reaction. just turned to run back like it was the most normal thing in the world.

paige blinked.

jesus christ.

she then leaned over to the teammate next to her—some guard she never really clicked with. “yo,” she said, eyes locked on 35, “what’s her name?”

the girl barely looked away from the court. “uh—that’s azzi fudd. she’s a year younger. dmv area. she’s cold.”

cold was an understatement. azzi was fucking ice. clean footwork, perfect form, eyes like she’d already seen the shot go in. paige couldn’t stop watching. couldn’t even pretend to care about anything else.

the name echoed.

azzi.

the name didn’t just bounce—it echoed. like someone had lobbed it into her head and it hit every wall on the way down.

by the time it reached her chest, paige felt like someone had pressed the pause button on her lungs.

she pressed a hand to her sternum.

was that her heartbeat?

or a warning?

she didn’t get like this. not for boys. and definitely not for girls.

her mouth was dry. her heart was trying to run a mile a minute.

she told herself it was the lighting in the gym. the long day. the hunger.

but even hours later, laying back in her hotel bed, sweat finally dried and her hair up in a messy bun, she couldn’t stop thinking about her.

azzi.

number 35.

dmv.

cold.

she pulled up instagram convincing herself she was just casually checking it. but, of course she searched “azzi fudd.” her profile popped up immediately. paige stared at the little blue follow button for longer than anyone should ever stare at a button.

her thumb hovered.

clicked.

she threw her phone across the room like it burned her.

her face down into the pillows.

a muffled scream.

what was that? what even was that?

she rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like the answers were written in the popcorn texture.

it wasn’t love.

it wasn’t lust.

but it sure as hell wasn’t nothing.

it felt like gravity.

the kind that makes your knees shake. that throws your stomach off balance. that pins your whole body to one thought.

azzi.

and paige wasn’t used to not knowing what something was. she was always on point—in basketball, in interviews, with boys. she always had a script, a plan, a finish line.

but not for this. not for her.

she kept telling herself it was admiration. that was safe. that made sense. azzi was insanely talented. of course she respected her. that’s all it was.

she brushed her teeth that night with a little too much force, spit into the sink, and froze.

she stared into the mirror, into her own icy blue eyes.

she whispered, “i have a crush on a girl.”

like the words were made of fire.

like they might catch and burn her down.

she stared at herself in the mirror.

waited for her reflection to flinch.

it didn’t.

paige rubbed the back of her neck, jaw tight.

“no, I don’t.”

but even as she said it, the lie didn’t stick.

because her mind wasn’t saying no.

It was saying azzi.

over and over, like a fucking song stuck on repeat.

paige didn’t sleep much that night.

the next few days blurred by, until she saw it.

the guest list for the next usa basketball camp.

there it was. azzi fudd.

without thinking, she sighed of relief and dropped her phone on her chest like it was fate. like the universe had made a decision before she was ready to.

and maybe it had.

because weeks later, even on the first day of tryouts paige could stop thinking she had to do something.

maybe it was just a coincidence.

but paige wasn’t buying that.

because gravity doesn’t pull for just anyone.

and now, it had a name.

so even if she knew she'd embarrass herself, she tried.

⸻

@paigebueckers1:

yo

quick question

what size are the practice hoodies supposed to be

mine feels like a dress lol

@azzifudd:

umm i think they’re all big

mine goes to like mid thigh lol

@paigebueckers1:

okay phew

just making sure i didn’t get like… the wrong batch

or like the coach’s spare hoodie or something

@azzifudd:

😭😭😭

it's okay to admit you're a skinny white girl

elite genetics

@paigebueckers1:

true true

can’t teach length 😌

@azzifudd:

did u really dm me to ask about jersey sizes or was this just an excuse to talk to me 😏

@paigebueckers1:

…

u caught me

i panicked and that was the best i could come up with

her fingers hovered over the screen.

too much?

not enough?

god, what was she doing?

she barely knew this girl—had spoken like five actual words to her in person.

and now here she was, trying to flirt through hoodie sizing?

smooth, paige. real smooth.

@azzifudd:

solid effort

i’ll give u a 7/10

@paigebueckers1:

ouch

tough crowd

what do i have to do to earn a 10

paige pulled her hoodie up waiting for a response, the second her phone lit up it felt like her stomach flew to the moon.

@azzifudd:

maybe not open with fashion critiques next time 😭

@paigebueckers1:

okay but fr

u were really good today

like REALLY good

not just saying that

@azzifudd:

thank u

that means a lot

especially from u

@paigebueckers1:

from me??

@azzifudd:

yeah u know

the paige bueckers

everyone at camp literally loves u already

@paigebueckers1:

well

i only care if one person does 😳

@azzifudd:

oh??

who 👀

@paigebueckers1:

she’s kinda quiet

real good handles

cute laugh

lowkey bullied me about my hoodie 5 mins ago

@azzifudd:

sounds like she has taste

@paigebueckers1:

she really does

anyway

u free to watch a movie later in my room

or ur room

or literally any room u want

@azzifudd:

…

i’m in

but only if u promise not to judge my snack choices

@paigebueckers1:

deal

i’ll bring pretzels

and my massive hoodie

we can be matching

⸻

paige waited outside azzi’s dorm, butterflies exploding in her stomach.

she held her phone like it was a shield, checking the time even though she knew it was early.

her other hand tugged at the hem of her hoodie—the hoodie, the one she’d used as an excuse. now it felt too weird, too obvious, like it was screaming I LIKE YOU in all caps.

she could hear muffled voices down the hall. laughter. the distant sound of someone bouncing a ball. normal stuff. everything was normal.

except she was not normal. not right now.

she practiced what she was going to say at least six times, mouthing the words like a weirdo.

“hey.”

“what’s up?”

“so rom-coms or horror?”

ugh. awful. all of it.

her breath caught the second the door cracked open.

and there she was.

azzi.

hair pulled into a messy bun that was barely hanging on. a long-sleeve tee slipping off one shoulder. sweats slung low on her hips like she didn’t even think about it—like she didn’t know what it did to paige’s heartbeat.

she looked soft. and sleepy. and stupidly beautiful.

paige just stood there, completely blank.

azzi tilted her head, amused. “you gonna come in or…?”

“yeah,” paige managed, her voice barely working. “yeah. totally.”

azzi stepped aside and paige walked in, trying so hard not to look at her mouth. or her collarbone. or the way the room smelled like lavender and popcorn.

the lights were low, the TV already on idle. a comforter draped across the bed. snacks in a chaotic pile on the floor—cheetos, gummy worms, some trail mix that looked untouched.

paige sat cross-legged on the bed, hoodie bunched around her knees.

azzi flopped down next to her like they’d done this a hundred times. like this wasn’t new. like paige wasn’t internally combusting.

“you brought pretzels,” azzi said, grinning. “respect.”

“i keep my promises,” paige said, then instantly regretted how breathless she sounded.

azzi opened a bag of cheetos and popped one in her mouth, her lips stained red-orange. “so,” she said between bites, “what are we watching?”

paige blinked. “uh. literally anything. your pick.”

“dangerous,” azzi said, kicking her feet up beside paige’s. “i have weird taste.”

“i already figured that out,” paige teased, nudging her leg lightly.

and then—there it was.

azzi looked at her. just looked. not smiling. not joking. like she was seeing right through her.

the moment stretched too long, too quiet.

paige felt it again.

that gravity.

except now they were sharing it. stuck in it together.

and maybe that was the scariest part of all.

[jaeyvnie]

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ | 18+

— pairing: park jongseong x female reader

— cw: daddy dom!jay, sub!reader, praising, dlrty talk, some spit play, ch0king, implied br33ding

(A/N: i'm a little rusty and a little nervous but omg first cb post kinda nervous 🫣😛)

If there was one thing that made every bit of hard work a little bit more bearable throughout the day, it was the fact that Jongseong knew he'd be coming home to you. He knew you were already waiting for him, all soft and warm, smelling like heaven on earth and ready to give him whatever he craved.

So, when you were kneeling between his spread legs, your beautiful eyes widened almost innocently, he physically couldn't hold back the deep grunt escaping his throat.

"Just like that, baby", Jong whispered breathlessly, his head thrown back as you stroked his thick cock with both of your pretty hands, sending jolts of pleasure through his body in ways only you could do.

"Look at you, what a good girl you are", he grunted and bucked his hips up into your fists. Jong loved the way you almost immediately opened your mouth when the angry tip of his heavy cock grazed those pretty lips of yours.

"Gonna suck me off, baby? Gonna let Daddy fuck that pretty little throat, hm? Ask for it. Use your big girl words", he said firmly and gently wrapped his big, ring clad hand around your throat, making both of you gasp as he mirrored your reactions in an almost mocking manner.

"Please, fuck my throat, Daddy. Wanna make you feel good, have you let off some steam", you replied, your eyes were heavy and hooded, lips swollen from your teeth's abuse and the sight of your chest heaving so unevenly made Jay groan.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and as he gently slapped his cock against your lips, he thought about how only he got to see you like this.

"Good", he tapped his wet tip against your bottom lip before you let your jaw fall open and he gently pushed his cock onto your tongue, "girl. So good for Daddy. God, you're gonna make me come so hard, baby."

"Please", you whimpered, thighs pressed together, one of your hand still stroked Jay's cock firmly when you wrapped your lips around his tip and relished in the sound of his deep grunts and growls, "please, Daddy."

"Keep that up, angel girl. Let Daddy hear how desperate you are", Jong replied and pulled his gock away, stroking it himself before his thumb pulled your chin down and you instinctively stuck your tongue out.

With a satisfied smile, Jongseong spat into your louth not once, twice but three tomes. Each time you swallowed and each time you thanked him before he chuckled in amusement, his beautiful eyes gleaming with desire.

"Goodness, you're so pathetic, baby. You know exactly what Daddy wants. Time for a reward, don't you think? Come on", Jongseong hummed and watched the way you slowly took more and more of his thick cock into your mouth and straight down your throat. Every inch that entered your warm throat made his eyes roll back a little harder and when you started drooling and gagging, he moaned just loud enough for your pussy to clench in utter despair.

"Daddy's good girl. Keep going, maybe I'll even fill you up with my cum tonight", Jong grunted and thrusted his cock all the way down your throat, "make me proud, baby."

(a/n2: if you're new to this blog just know i will talk about daddy and spit a LOT lol)

[bluewxrld07]

What I Want (Luke Hughes)

Luke Hughes X Female!reader

Summary: In which Y/N wants Luke, but she is scared to let him in. Luke wants Y/N too, but doesn't want to scare her away

A/N: This is probs my most fave I've wrote :') so so good. I hope y'all enjoy (This do be inspired by the newest song by Morgan Waller feat. Tate McRae. Go listen if you haven't!!)

Warning(s): Mentions of cheating, angst, jealousy, ghosting, mutual pining, kissing

Nah you ain't gotta worry 'bout no trust issues, I got 'em too, I got 'em too

Nah you ain't gotta worry 'bout no exes that's crazy, I got 'em too, you know I do

"Your Chariot awaits you m'lady." Luke jokes as he motions to the entry to the ice arena.

Y/N chuckles at his antics as she passes by him, holding her clipboard close to her chest while she takes in the scene around her. The arena never disappoints to amaze her. She loved her job.

She was wearing her New Jersey Devils quarter zip with a pair of track pants, hair pulled back with a clawclip to keep it from flowing around while she skated on the ice.

The girl was one of few conditioning coaches for the Hockey team, having landed an internship with them post grad school, moving there with her boyfriend of three years, and she couldn't have asked for a better team to coach with. She had grown close to everyone on the team, feeling like she fit in instantly, especially after becoming closest with Luke Hughes.

Luke made her feel better. Brought out the light in her. Her boyfriend, Chase, has been dimming it lately as their nights together have been increasing with more fights and unloyal actions by the man.

She had caught texts between him and another coworker of his, a female that is, sending awfully provocative messages to one another. Ever since that night Chase has been short with her when he is home, and ends up leaving for the night after leaving a mess in their shared apartment.

Y/N always looked forward to work during these times at home, especially because now Luke was helping keep her distracted from it.

Which was whom she was heading out onto the ice with as they wait for the rest of the boys to make their ways out.

"So what's on the chopping block today boss?" Luke asks as he skates with her while shooting pucks around.

She gives him a sly smirk while shaking her head. "You'll figure it out with everyone else. No special treatment, you know that." she tsks, making him groan and roll his eyes.

"Oh come on, not even for the one who brought you lunch and your favorite coffee place?"

"Nope not even them."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're a crybaby."

"A pretty crybaby."

She laughs at his comment and says nothing, going to move the nets over and place back in their holder.

Luke quiets for a second before clearing his throat. "So how're things with Chase?" he asks slowly, not wanting to strike a nerve. Which is too late, watching her smile fade.

"They're fine," she says with a shrug. "Haven't seen him around lately, so not much to say."

Luke raises a brow. "I'm sorry to hear that." he says as he helps her raise the goal to put it into place. "I thought he got off an hour before you?" he questions.

"We got into an argument about something. Ever since then, he's been staying later or goes out with coworkers." she says, her tone becoming shorter with each sentence that leaves her mouth.

"Wait what? What happened?" he bombards, and she huffs before snapping her head towards him.

"Just some stuff I was catching onto."

"Like what?"

"That is not your concern," she snaps back. "No more questions."

The boys all are making their ways out to the ice by this time and skating around for warmups. "But Y/N-"

"Go skate, Hughes."

He watches as she turns away from him and skates away from his view, the blond boy standing there with confusion written all over his face.

She said, "You don't want this heart boy, it's already broke"

Told me everything she touch just blows up in smoke

Only stay a couple nights, then she gon' be gone

I said, "Baby, you should know that's what I want"

Y/N wiped the tears from her face. Not caring about the people who would send her pity stares around the room.

She was sat by herself in the bar, one closer to her workplace so it wouldn't be a hassle walking to the hotel across from it later when she was intoxicated. She looked down at her drink while crossing her arms over one another in front of her on the bar counter.

She had to get out of there, she had to. Her intuition was right, and she was glad she made a plan out of it.

The girl had known Chase was still seeing the other girl, as he had been coming home reeking of some cheap and fruity smelling perfume and marks hiding barely underneath his collared shirts.

In which she had conducted the plan to say she would be out working at the rink till late, seeing if he would take her bait. He did.

The scene she had walked back into had her heart breaking into a million pieces. She knew it. Everything in her mind screamed it.

Clothes were scattered amongst the entry hallway floor, shoes too. She could hear moans, gasps and everything in between as she walked further into their once-shared home. As she walked down towards their bedroom, the door was left open a crack and she could see things she wished she didn't just through it.

Which was when she slammed the door open with a loud thud, the back of it hitting the wall. The pair in bed jumping and scattering to wrap the sheets around themselves.

Chase looked more pissed than scared, while the woman looked so afraid for her life. Y/N's face dropped in shock, as she held back the tears that were glossing over her eyes.

She scoffed while pushing her hair out of her face. "Oh well don't mind me," she snidely comments, while going towards the closet to pack up some of her things. Chase got out of the bed, scurrying over towards her.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, trying to reach out to her. She ignores his pleads and cries while she packed and zipped up her bags. "Y/N please I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to tell you, I've been so stressed and you haven't been home and-"

"So fucking your coworker you specifically told me I was being crazy and insecure about is your next best option? Seriously?" she yells back, whipping her head back toward him.

He stands there silently. "You're a coward." she whispers, walking past him. He grips her arm.

"Please don't leave! We-we can figure this out! We can-"

"No."

"Y/N please I can't do this without you, I need you-"

"Then you shouldn't have gotten your fucking dick wet by another woman, Chase." Y/N growls, ripping her arm from his grip and walking towards the door while ignoring his further calls of her name.

She let the door slam behind her as she got out of that apartment complex as quick as she could, tears streaming down her face.

Her mind was trying to figure out where to go, what to do. She didn't have a place to live. She couldn't call anyone, not even Luke as she hasn't spoken to him since that day at practice.

She was so scared to face him, because she knew he knew.

Which led her to where she was now, sitting in the bar alone at almost one in the morning, thanking herself that she didn't have work till Tuesday. It was Thursday.

She turned her phone on Do Not Disturb, as Chase was blowing up her phone with texts, calls, emails, anything he could do to get her to respond.

She refused.

"Y/N?" A voice says behind her, making her snap out of her daze and whip her head around.

A very confused Jack Hughes was walking in with a couple of his fellow players whom were going to sit towards a table. She turns her head back around as he began to walk over to her, quickly making work to wipe under her eyes before he reached her.

She smiled the fakest smile she could muster as she turned back to him when he sat next to her, his eyebrows furrowing. "Hey Jacky boy." she says with a dry and hoarse chuckle.

"Y/N are you okay? What's wrong?" he asks her.

She shook her head and bites her bottom lip. "Nothing, why?" she says, eyes glossing over.

Jack gives her a look, wiping a tear that escaped. "What happened?" he asks, his voice softer. Y/N then lets her guard down, and sniffles.

"I was right," she shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. "I should've called it off months ago, but part of me wanted to be so wrong. I really thought this one would work." she rambles, tears falling nonstop.

"What? Wait, did something happen with Chase?" he bombards, his eyes looking back and forth between hers.

She chokes on a sob and nods, covering her mouth with her hand.

Jack looks behind her, doing a double take before placing his hand on her arm to have her look at him. "Stay here, I'll be back okay?" he says, and she nods.

Jack leaves a second later, Y/N turning back to her drink and finishing it off before motioning to the bartender for another.

The bartender hands her another tequila and pineapple, the girl taking a few gulps. She tries to not jump at the feeling of a hand softly being placed on the middle of her back.

Her head turns over, seeing the one boy she had been avoiding coming to sit next to her. His eyes looking down at her with a frown.

"Y/N," Luke says in a soft tone. "What happened with Chase?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, playing dumb.

"Jack told me," he starts. "He said something happened between you two and to come to you. What's going on?"

Y/N just sniffles, stirring her straw around her drink before taking it out and going to chug the rest of it.

Before she can even let the glass hit her lips, a hand is snagging it from her grip and putting it out of reach. She furrows her brows as she follows it, seeing Luke is taking it from her view and setting it behind him.

He motions to the bartender to take it, doing a slash signal across his neck. "She's done, I'll close her tab." he says to the bartender, handing him his card before turning back to Y/N.

She's pouting at him when he looks at her, making him give her a look. "Tell me what happened. I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"Why would you want to help me?"

"What kind of question is that? Why wouldn't I want to help you?" he asks, watching her shrug.

"I ruin everything I let get too close to me." she says, zoning into the space in front of her. Luke sighs, lifting his hand to place is pointer and middle fingers underneath her chin to have her look at him.

"What. Happened?"

Y/N looks into his eyes, sighing as her tears free fall once more. "Chase cheated on me. He's been sleeping with one of his coworkers for months," she admits, watching his face fall as he takes his fingers out from under her chin.

"That's why we were fighting," she explains. "I saw messages, and so I called him out. Then he got defensive and short with me. I caught them tonight."

Luke feels his chest get tight as he watches her slowly break.

"So I packed my stuff and left," she huffs and sniffles as she picks at her nails.

"Y/N," he says in a sadder tone, and she shakes her head.

"Don't, Luke. Enough."

"Why? Why won't you let me be there for you?"

"Because I can't."

"Yes you can."

"No I can't," she whips her head over. "I already ghosted you once, what makes you think I won't do it again? So no, I don't want your help or your pity or anything. It's better to keep your distance."

Luke looks at her shock. Watching as her nail beds start to bleed from picking at them.

Fuck it.

He grabs her hands, lacing them with his own to keep her from hurting herself more.

She glares over at him, and he shakes his head.

"Where are you staying?"

"Luke I already said-"

"Where are you staying?"

She sighs and looks down at her lap, Luke caressing the top of her hands.

"I was going to stay at the hotel across from the arena." she mumbles, and he purses his lips.

"Come stay with Jack and I."

She snaps her head up with a frown. "Luke I can't-"

"You can, and you will," he starts, sighing as he sees she's going to argue more. "I know what it feels like. I do, I've been through this too. You can lean on me. I know you have no trust right now, I've been there. But you can trust me."

Her lip quivers as she looks at him, only seeing sincerity in his eyes. "So please just come stay with us. You're not going to be bugging us or pestering us. Jack would kill me if he found out I'd let you stay in a hotel."

She sits there and thinks for a bit, before looking at him.

"Only a few days, then I'm gone." she says, and he looks at her with a knowing look.

"Only a few days." He agrees.

She nods slowly before yawning, Luke standing up and helping her up from her chair. "Let's get you to bed, yeah?" he says, watching her nod and blinks slowly.

There are no hard feelings if you only wanna act like lovers do, for a night or two

And sometimes in the mornin', go back to being someone you never knew, you never knew

Baby don't you worry, you ain't gonna hurt me tonight

It won't be the worst thing, If this is how it is, then he kissed me again

It had been close to a few weeks since Y/N had agreed to stay with Luke and Jack.

She had kept her promise to only stay a few days, wanting to somewhat get herself back on her feet.

Or in this case, in which she had tried to leave after a few days.

Luke and Jack told her otherwise, and that they preferred her company more than anything. They had begged for her to stay longer, saying she could pitch in if she truly wanted to get back on her feet like she's saying.

Although they were more than fine if she also didn't spend a dime towards them. But knowing her all too well, they knew she'd refuse and would make a compromise wanting to help.

So after a few negotiations, Y/N had agreed to stay with them, the boys helping her one day gather the rest of her things from her apartment.

They had made sure to go when she knew Chase wouldn't have been home, a breath of relief had left her lips when the place was empty amongst entering.

So now she was a few weeks into living with the Hughes boys, and she had felt much better. Well as good as she could be.

Moving in with Luke and Jack, had also brought some weird emotions and feelings to light between her and Luke. Ones she wasn't aware of until one morning when she had woken up to him bringing her breakfast in bed, alongside her favorite coffee order.

Luke made things feel easier. Lighter.

The boys had included her in more nights out, wanting to help her forget about the ex who had ruined her trust and broke her heart.

Also Luke wouldn't let her stay home and bedrot a moment longer, to which he actually carried her over his shoulder till they were secure in the uber on their way to their destination for the evening.

She had her arms crossed, a pout and frown on her face as she stared at Luke who sat next to her. He looked down at her in amusement.

"Oh stop," he chuckles. "You needed to get out of the place. I will no longer allow you to lose your youth over a man who couldn't see over five foot seven."

"He wasn't that short."

Nico looked behind at her with a smirk and nod. "Oh yes he was."

"See? Cap agrees." Luke says while motioning towards the boy in the front seat. Her mouth dropped at Nico before she smacked his shoulder.

"Rude!" she huffs, and Nico puts his hands up in surrender. "We don't lie in this car." Nico chuckles, earning an eyeball from her.

"You're all ridiculous."

"Not ridiculous sweetheart," Luke laughs, placing a hand on her thigh and tapping his fingers against it. "Just honest."

"Easy for you to say," she scoffs. "You're taller than average."

Luke puts his other hand over his chest with a fake awe face. "Are you complimenting me? This is a rare sighting!" he gasps, making her push his hand off of her thigh and cross her arms again and look out the window.

Luke laughs, before putting his hand back on her thigh and squeezing. He leans over to her, getting close to her ear. "Relax I'm only messing around." he chuckles softly before placing a kiss to her temple and sitting back up straight.

Her face began to heat up and she tried to hide the smile forming on her face.

Luke always knew how to make her fold and give in. Especially nowadays when he would do little actions like the kisses on the temple or holding her thigh or hand.

Y/N didn't mind it one bit, and he didn't seem to push or ask her either. He just knew.

When they arrived at the bar for the night, they found the other boys already gathered around a corner booth inside, drinks in their hands as they all conversed.

Some of the boys got up and gave her big hugs, some saying how excited they were that she decided to join them while some were just glad she was there.

Y/N felt a little nervous at first, but was now becoming at ease especially with Luke not leaving her side as she conversed with them all.

Throughout the night he kept his hand on the small of her back, or his hand laced with hers if they had to walk through a crowd so he wouldn't lose her.

He never abandoned her, and it made her insides feel weird. A good weird, but still weird.

It was later in the night and she had already become a little past the point of being buzzed. The girl was sat in the booth, listening in on the boys conversations. Luke had gotten up to go get her and him another drink.

She had felt the need to go to the bathroom, excusing herself from the table to get up and make her way towards where she needed to go.

As she excused herself in between the bodies filling the bar, she lifted her head up once through the crowd soon doing a double-take.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight not too far in front of her.

Luke was sitting on a barstool turned away from the bar, a leg supporting him on the floor while the other sat on the metal bar of the barstool with his drink in hand. A pretty brunette girl who looked tall and model-like talking to him.

They looked invested in one another, Luke smiling at her while the girl is smiling him while working the triangular stare tactic on him.

Y/N felt her stomach churning at their closeness, especially seeing Luke never got her her drink he had promised. She felt her trust issues sinking in, her mind starting to become louder and sobering her entire body up.

She no longer felt the need to go to the bathroom, only wanting to get out of that place.

As she made her way towards the front door, she began to realize her emotions she was feeling towards Luke and the girl weren't betrayal or annoyance.

They were jealousy.

She was jealous of the girl and Luke.

Which means she likes Luke.

Y/N had feelings for Luke.

Once she stepped outside the cold air blew into her face, instantly sobering her up.

Y/N began walking down the street, somewhat aware of where she was at. She stopped at the end of the street and began to pull her phone up for directions back towards the Hughes household.

"Y/N!"

Her name is being hollered behind her, causing her to turn around and then roll her eyes when she sees the familiar head of curly hair jogging down the street towards her.

"Y/N what're you doing? Where are you going?" he says to her once he catches up to her.

"I'm going home."

Luke nods. "Okay I'm coming with you-"

"No, it's fine."

"What's-"

"Nothing I'm fine Luke, fucks sake." she snaps, making him frown at her with confusion. His eyes began to search hers.

"Why are you acting like this? Did something happen?" he asks, and she huffs, putting in the address for the apartment silently.

"Y/N."

She stays quiet.

Luke huffs before grabbing the phone from her hand, earning a gasp from her as she goes tor each for it.

"No, stop, Y/N- stop!"

Y/N freezes at the slight raise in his voice, looking at him with a scowl.

"Not till you tell me what happened."

"Nothing I just want to go home." she crosses her arms and looks at the ground.

"You're lying."

Her eyes snap up at him as if looks could kill. "What did you say?"

Luke purses his lips. "You're lying, Y/N."

"No I'm not-"

"You can't look someone in the eye. That's how I know you're lying." he explains, making her open and close her mouth unsure of what to say.

"That's not true, I want to go home."

"Okay fine. Then let me come with you."

"No."

"Why not?"

She huffs and crosses her arms. "Don't you have a girl to get back to?" she snaps, making him look at her all confused.

"You mean Lydia?" he asks, making her eyebrows raise while she runs around to walk away.

"Oh great she has a name." she mumbles before walking away from him.

"No don't you dare walk away," Luke says as he grabs her hip and turns her back to him.

He frowns at her, seeing her slightly shaking from how cold it is. He shrugs his jacket off and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Why're you so upset?" he asks in a softer tone, watching her eyes leave his and look at her toes.

"Nothing."

"What did I say about lying to me?" he says, watching her huff before rolling her eyes and looking at him.

"Go back to Lydia. I'm going home." she says before turning to walk away once more, leaving his grip quick enough before he can try and prevent her from leaving.

"Stop this!" he says behind her, and she shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yes you are." he says.

"I'm not."

"She's Nico's cousin, first off and second off she was asking if I could help with a surprise for him. I don't want her."

"That's nice. Goodnight Luke." she calls out behind her as she continued walking.

"Dammit Y/N," he groans. "When are you going to realize it's you I want?"

She stops in her tracks, turning towards him slowly. He sees the pleading look in his eyes as he walks closer to her.

"I want you. I've wanted you." he says as he approached her.

"You don't want me, Luke."

"How can you tell me what I want and don't want?"

"Because I'm broken. I'm messed up. I'm not someone who gets a happy ending. You don't want me." she sputters out. Luke frowning at her.

"Seriously?" he exasperates, putting his hands on his hips as he looks down at her in disbelief.

"Yes seriously. I've got a lot of shit Luke. I'm a broken person. I can't be fixed."

Luke looks at her, his heart clenching at how she thinks of herself. Her hand comes up and caresses his face with a sad smile.

"Goodnight Luke." she says softly as she lets her hand fall from his face and turns to walk away.

Luke grabs the back of her neck in a soft grip, turning her around and slamming his lips onto hers in a bruising and passionate kiss.

Y/N gasps in shock, but she soon lets her emotions take over, and lets her hands fall onto his chest as he lets his tongue find hers and move in sync with her lips.

Luke kisses her as if it's his last, not wanting to ever let her go.

She said, "You don't want this heart, no, it can't be fixed"

And I ain't ready to try on a night like this

But if you still wanna stay, there ain't nothin' wrong

I said, "Baby, you should know that's what I want"

They break away from the kiss, Luke leaning his forehead against hers while his thumbs caress her cheeks. Y/N lets her hands go up and grip his wrists in a soft manner.

She opens her eyes as he opens his, looking between the eyes she had fallen hard for.

Y/N shook her head lightly. "You don't want my broken heart, Luke."

Luke smiles at her and nods slowly as his eyes never leave her own. "Trust me, sweetheart. It's what I want."

That's what I want, that's what I want

What I want

[ohlawdthevoices]

12 hours | Bakugou x reader

tags : strangers to lovers, angst/no comfort, death, reader is terminally sick, gn!reader, bakugou is bad at feelings, pro-hero bakugou, reader is 18, cross posted on ao3

song : kingston, faye webster

w/c : 3.3k

Hour 0 — 10:57 AM

"spend the day with me"

Katsuki looked at the stranger before him confused. he was previously sitting on a waiting chair in the buzzing station, scowling at his phone already pissed off the world wouldn't shut up.

And as if he wasn't already bothered by the simple existence of the world around him. You deciding to talk to him only served to fuel his frustration. He looked up at you, annoyed. "Huh..?"

You're standing there with the stupidest smile he has ever seen, the wind gently running its fingers throught your hair, the collar of your shirt that seemed to be cut hanging loosely around your shoulder, holding a plastic bag in one hand and the strap of your scruffy backpack.

“You look like you need a break from life.”

“…What the hell does that mean?”

You don’t flinch at the edge in his voice—just shift the plastic bag to your other hand, something inside it clinking faintly, like you’d stuffed it full of cheap convenience store treasures.

Your backpack strap’s slipping off your shoulder, frayed at the edge and scribbled over in a white-out pen. One of the zippers hangs open slightly, a folded piece of paper sticking out—like you packed in a rush. Like you didn’t plan to stop moving today.

Katsuki narrows his eyes, he’d been stewing in his own irritation ten seconds ago, jaw tight, thumb scrolling mindlessly through shit he didn’t even care about—until you showed up like some hallucination in a faded t-shirt and secondhand shoes.

“A break,” you repeat. “From everything. Just for today. You in?”

He stares.

The station buzzes behind you—heels clicking, kids crying, announcements echoing overhead—but somehow, your voice cuts through it all like the only thing that matters. There’s something off about you, he notices. Not in a dangerous way. Just… not normal. You look like someone who stopped caring about expectations a long time ago.

Or maybe like someone who doesn’t have the time to.

He folds his arms. “Why me?”

“Why not?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got,” you shrug, and there’s a flicker of something behind your eyes. Not quite desperation, but something heavier. Lonelier.

And even though every logical thought in his head is screaming walk away, he finds himself holding still. You look like trouble, sure. But not the bad kind. The kind that forces you to feel something.

“…Tch.”

He sighs, pushing off the waiting bench like the universe just dared him to do something reckless. and Katsuki never backs down from a challenge, althought his mind was screaming at him to not do it, it was stronger than him, he didn't what it was, but it was pulling him in as if he had no control over it.

But you’re already walking, and Katsuki is already following, and by the time he realizes he’s made a mistake, it’s too late.

You’ve already dragged him into your gravity.

And for the first time in months, maybe years, the pressure in his chest lifts—just a little.

Hour 1 — 11:23 AM

The city air is cold for spring. Sharp enough to bite through his skin, soft enough not to chase the sun away.

You walk a few steps ahead of him, the plastic bag swinging lazily at your side, humming some off-key melody like the world’s background music was yours to control.

Bakugou keeps half a step behind, hands shoved deep in his pockets, jaw clenched like it’s the only thing holding him together. He doesn’t know where you’re going. He hasn’t asked.

And that’s the part that pisses him off the most. He doesn’t care.

You lead him through back streets lined with shuttered stores, vending machines humming against cracked walls, graffiti blooming like rebellion on every corner.

He’s watching everything and nothing. Mostly you. “How old are you, anyway?” he finally grumbles. You glance over your shoulder. “Eighteen.”

“Seriously?”

“Why? You were hoping I was thirty-two with three kids and a criminal record?”

“…I was hoping you were sane,” he mutters, and you laugh again.

That laugh. It’s not soft. It’s wild and untrained and alive. Like something that would’ve gotten shushed in a classroom. He thinks he hates it. But only because it makes his chest ache.

Hour 2 — 12:15 PM

"being a hero must be so fucking cool, do you get like parking privileges ?"

You say this with your mouth already full, powdered sugar on your nose, and a strawberry half-hanging out of your overloaded mess of a breakfast.

Bakugou stares at the plastic table between you, skeptical. “This shit looks like a health code violation.”

“You look like a health code violation.”

He glares. You grin. You push the second crepe toward him. “Come on, live a little Katsuki. You can go back to being broody after.”

"It's Bakugou." He crossed his arms

"Katsuki."

With a grumble, he takes a bite just to shut you up.

It’s good. Of course it’s good. Damn it.

You sit across from him, legs swinging beneath your chair like a child, staring out at the quiet street corner clearly staring at something he couldn't figure out. The morning sun is catching in your lashes, and for a second, he forgets he’s supposed to be annoyed.

“You do this often?” he asks. “Pick up strangers at train stations and feed them sugar?”

You shrug. “Only the ones who look like they're allergic to fun.”

“…Tch.”

He doesn’t deny it. You lean forward then, suddenly serious. “Is it that bad?” He blinks. “What?”

“Your life.” He’s quiet. Because yeah. Maybe it is. But he doesn’t want to say it out loud. Not yet.

You seem to get the message anyway. You don’t push. Instead, you stand. “Come on.” He raises an eyebrow. “Where to now?” You smile like you’ve been waiting your whole life for this part. “To steal the street cone that's outside”

Hour 4 — 2:48 PM

"Why the fuck would i do that ?" Katsuki crossed his legs over the grass, it was probably still damp from the morning rain but did he even care at this point ?

He had finally discovered what was hidden in your plastic bag. You had bought a disposable camera and sticker. He had found it ridicilous, but again, alla of it was ridicilous

You peel a rainbow heart sticker and place it right on the front of the camera. Then a silver star. A cracked smiley face. You work slowly, deliberately, tongue poking out the corner of your mouth in focus.

After a moment, you hold up a peeled sticker toward him. “Here. You pick one.”

He stares at it like it might explode. Then, grumbling, he takes a small red ‘BOOM!’ comic-style bubble and slaps it near the flash. Crooked. You look at it and nod solemnly. “Perfect.” A laugh bubbles up from your throat — quick, bright, unstoppable. You click a shot with the camera before he can flinch.

“Hey—!”

“First memory of the day,” you grin. He scowls. But his cheeks are a little pink. You lean back against the tree, camera resting gently in your lap now covered in clashing stickers, and sigh toward the sky. “You know,” you murmur, quieter now, “people think taking pictures is about remembering things. But I think it’s about proving you were there. That you lived.” He doesn’t say anything.

But this time, when you raise the camera again and hold it up toward the sun, he doesn't stop you.

He lets you take the shot, like you’re preserving pieces of the world no one else bothers to notice.

You don’t just look like someone who’s living for the moment.

You look like someone desperately trying to keep it.

Hour 8 — 4:28 PM A stolen bike, two slushies, and one near-death experience.

“This is a bad idea,” Katsuki says, gripping the handlebars of the too-small bike as you balance behind him, arms around his waist, giggling like you’ve already accepted your fate.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught.” He grits his teeth as the front tire wobbles over a pothole. “If we die, I’m haunting you.”

“You’d get bored. I’m a terrible roommate.” He doesn’t laugh. But he doesn’t let you fall, either.

You swerve through side streets, wind in your hair, the sky blurring above in streaks of fading light. You press your cheek to his back, and for a minute he thinks he hears you whisper something.

Maybe his name. Maybe goodbye.

He doesn’t ask.

He just keeps pedaling.

Hour 10 — 6:56 PM “This place is sacred.”

It’s a dingy arcade at the edge of the city. Broken machines. Buzzing neon lights. Everything smells like dust and soda syrup.

You light up like it’s a shrine. “This is where I beat a kid in dance dance revolution so bad he cried and threw up.”

Katsuki stares. “You’re weird.”

“You’re just mad I’ll beat you next.”

He scoffs—only to get dragged into a match two minutes later. The camera clatters onto a nearby bench, still blinking with the last shot of the two of you, smiling into a reflective window. He tries to win. Really.

But you’re glowing, wild, limbs everywhere, laughing like you have nothing to lose.

And he’s never seen anything more alive in his life.

Hour 11 — 7:13 PM On a rooftop, watching the sky bleed into pink and orange and almost-purple.

You’re lying on your back on the warm concrete, legs stretched out, arms thrown over your head like you're trying to catch the sky. A half-eaten ice cream cone sits forgotten between you, melting down the side of the wrapper. The sugary air buzzes with distant traffic and the hum of evening settling in.

Katsuki sits beside you with his knees up, elbows resting lazily on them, eyes locked on the horizon like it’s daring him to move. But for once, he doesn’t.

It’s quiet. That rare kind — not awkward, not heavy. Just… still. Like time agreed to pause. He hasn’t touched his phone in hours. Hasn’t thought about hero work, or press, or what the world expects him to be.

He almost forgot he could breathe like this.

Then you say, almost too softly, “You’re not as scary as you pretend to be.” He scoffs under his breath, but doesn’t look at you. “Tch. You’re dumber than you look.”

You smile, even though he’s not looking. “Yeah. Maybe.” A breeze runs between you. Your fingers twitch against the concrete. His hand shifts just enough that your pinkies brush. You pretend not to notice. He pretends he doesn't care.

But something is different now.

You sit up slowly and turn to him, resting your palms on the concrete. "Hey."

He finally meets your gaze. It’s the first time he really sees you—not just your energy or your chaos or the fire you’ve dragged him through all day. But you.

Your eyes are glowing in the sunset. And for a second, everything slows.

“You’re gonna miss me,” you say quietly, almost like it’s a joke. But your smile fades just a little. Just enough to show that you’re serious. Just enough that he can feel it pressing into his ribs.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but his voice is softer than it should be. You lean in, barely. And when he doesn’t pull away, you do it — slow, like you’re giving him time to run.

But he doesn’t.

So you kiss him.

It’s short. Warm. A little clumsy. A little too honest. full of everything unspoken. A culmination of all the little moments that came before it.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since sunrise. Like he’s just now remembering what air tastes like.

You pull back, but you don’t move far. Just rest your forehead lightly against his.

And then, you say it.

“I wasn’t supposed to leave today.” His brows furrow. You’re still close. He can feel your breath. “What?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m sick. Not the kind that goes away.”

You sit back, huggin your knees close to your chest, blinking up at the sky like it might hold you steady.

“I’m dying, Katsuki.”

He doesn’t speak. Not at first.

He’s still holding onto the warmth of your lips, and now it feels like it’s draining through his chest, leaving something cold behind.

You’re not looking at him. You couldn't.

But when you finally do, you offer a small smile — brave and messy and tired.

And that’s when it hits him. You weren’t running from life. You were racing it. Of course...

Hour 12 — 8:14 PM

The city sleeps below them. And for a while, they just breathe.

It’s been hours since you told him.

No more running. No more chaos. Just the truth, finally out in the open, hanging in the night air like smoke. Neither of you speaks much.

There’s nothing left to say that hasn’t already been said — in the way he looked at you afterward, in the way you didn’t flinch, in the silence that followed and never once felt cold.

You’re lying side by side on the rooftop, the concrete beneath you warm from the sun that’s long since disappeared. A blanket of stars spreads above like it might swallow everything. It almost feels peaceful. Almost.

Sometimes he turns his head and finds you already looking at him. Sometimes you do the same. And each time, neither of you pretends it’s coincidence.

There are small smiles. Quiet, almost shy. Like you’re both realizing how quickly this thing between you turned raw, soft, and terrifying.

At one point, you shift closer. He doesn’t stop you.

And when your fingers brush, neither of you pulls away.

A while later, you kiss again. Slower this time. No rush, no adrenaline. Just lips that linger and the slight tremble of your breath when you part. He cradles your jaw like you might break, and you kiss him again like you already have.

More silence.

A car horn in the distance. A dog barking. The city stirs a little, but the rooftop remains suspended in stillness. Safe. Untouched.

Then your phone rings.

The sound is sharp, invasive — ripping through the space like a crack in the sky.

You sit up slowly.

He watches as you pull the phone from your pocket and answer it without a word. The call is short. You nod once, even though they can’t see it.

When you hang up, you don’t look at him right away. But when you do, it’s with that same gentle expression. Brave, even now. You don’t try to explain. He already knows. “Thank you,” you say, and your voice is soft but steady.

Then you reach for your bag and pull out your camera — the disposable one, covered in faded stickers and smudges from the day. You place it gently into his hand.

It’s heavier than it looks. Almost like the memories were filling it

“Don’t forget to check the photos,” you say, smiling like you know he won’t for a while. Like you know when he does, it’s going to hurt.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

You lean down, press one last kiss to his temple, and whisper something he barely hears — “I’m glad it was you.”

Then you rise, sling your backpack over your shoulder, and walk toward the rooftop door without looking back.

He stays frozen on the concrete, the camera resting in his lap. When the door closes behind you, the rooftop feels impossibly quiet. He looks up at the stars. And suddenly, they feel too far away.

Hour 22 — 7:02 AM A letter with his name on it. Left at the front desk. Delivered by a nurse with tired eyes.

He doesn’t open it right away. It sits in his hands like it’s made of fire — light and harmless until it touches skin. He stands in the lobby of the hospital, the sterile air too quiet, too bright. The world feels wrong now. Like it kept moving after you stopped.

Like you’re missing, but everything else forgot to care. That made him angry.

The envelope is a soft off-white. His name is written in your handwriting — messy, looping, like you wrote it too fast, like you were scared you wouldn’t finish.

Bakugou stares at it, jaw clenched. Then he walks out.

He doesn’t remember how he ends up on a bench outside the building, hands trembling and heart thudding in his throat. The sky is just waking up, streaks of dull pink cracking over the horizon. It looks nothing like the sunset you watched together.

He tears it open.

Inside is a single piece of paper. Folded, still warm at the edges from where you held it.

He unfolds it.

And then he reads:

“If you’re reading this, I’m dead.”

The words blur almost immediately. But he keeps going. His hands tighten, crumpling the corners. His eyes burn.

“You looked so alive, Katsuki. I don’t think you realize how beautiful that is. You were so angry at the world when I met you, like you didn’t believe in anything but survival. But I saw the way you kinda laughed when I dropped my ice cream. The way you looked up at the sky. The way you let go — even just for a second.”

His lip trembles. He clenches his jaw so hard it aches.

“I wasn’t trying to escape. I was trying to give you one day. Just one. So you’d know what it feels like to breathe without pressure sitting on your chest. So you’d remember what it’s like to be more than your image, your title.”

He can’t hold it in anymore. His breath hitches. His head drops forward. And then the tears come.

Hard. Silent.

Painful.

Not loud, not dramatic. Just the quiet kind that steals air and leaves nothing behind except a knot in his throat.

He grips the letter like it’s the last piece of you.

“I wanted to tell you I liked you. More than liked you. But I was scared. Scared that if I said it, it would become real, and I wouldn’t be able to walk away, Because i thought love wasn't suppose to happen so fast. But you should know I never lied. Everything I did, every picture I took — it was for me. But it was also for you. Because maybe now, when the world feels too loud, you’ll look at them and remember you don’t have to carry it all the time.”

His body curls forward. Shoulders shaking. Hair hiding his face.

He remembers your stupid smile. The stickers. The bike ride. The arcade. The kiss. The way your fingers gripped your shirt on the rooftop when you told him the truth.

He remembers not saying anything back. He remembers being too scared to give you the words.

“You were my favorite adventure. Thank you for being my last one.”

At the bottom, a tiny doodle: a cartoon explosion, labeled BOOM! in shaky handwriting. A joke. A goodbye.

Bakugou crushes the letter to his chest, biting down on a sob.

He’s never hated silence more than now. And in that moment — on a hospital bench, with morning breaking around him and your final words sinking into his skin — he finally stops running from it all.

He loved you.

He didn’t say it.

And now, it’s too fucking late.

Later, he develops the camera film.

There’s a photo of you — hair wild, laughing with your head thrown back.

And one of him — caught mid-scrowl, eyes crinkled, focused on not falling over with the bike.

He puts those two on his wall. The rest are left on his bed side table.

Every year after that, on the same day, he vanishes.

Some say he takes the train south. Others swear they’ve seen him at a rooftop in Tokyo with a bright orange cone beside him.

No one knows for sure.

But wherever he goes, he takes the camera.

And the memory of the one who made time stop — even if only for 12 hours.

The one that saw him for him.

[cyberphuck]

"Becky!"

"Becky!!"

"BECKAAAAAAAAYY!!!"

She startled out of her trance, turning away from the window. Outside, more cars were pulling up despite the pouring rain; she could see two girls from Drill in reflective vests directing traffic.

"Becky." Natalie half-fell into her, grabbing at her arm. "They said they want you upstairs." She was giggling, her face flushed. “It’s time for you to become a maaaaaan—“

“Stop,” Becky laughed, shoving her away. 

She let Natalie lead the way toward the stairs to the tower, squeezing past dozens of chattering students. The halls here were narrow and badly ventilated, and the addition of so many bodies— some of them still wet from the rain— had turned the air unpleasantly swampy and hot. The wispy curls of hair at her temples were already stuck to her skin with sweat. She was thankful they’d decided not to go with the wig this year.

”Coming through!” Natalie screamed cheerfully over the din. “Cast member coming through!”

Most of the people back here were from the drama club, though there were a few members of the YSCA and a handful of museum volunteers. All of them were too busy laughing, singing, or shouting over one another to take any notice of Becky and Natalie. The season finale of *Dream Brothers* had aired earlier that night and there were a lot of cries of “Brother! To me!!” And “Dance again, dance again my darling!” Sarah Hernan was doing the splits while explaining how simple she found it to do the splits. 

“Timberwolves!”

“Becky! BECKY!!”

“Timberwolves!”

“Becky, Tim said Adam’s looking for you!”

“Dance again, dance again, dance again, dance again—“

“TIMBERWOLVES! AWOOOOOOO!!”

As one, the churning mass of teenage excitement halted and threw their heads back. “AWOOOOOOOOO!!”

”Alright, Timberwolves, if you’re a cast member it’s time to get upstairs for dress!” Mrs. Flutie, wearing a sign around her neck that read ‘TRAITOR,’ shook a noisemaker that made a sound like a very distressed cow. “If you are not part of the run you *must* go downstairs to the banquet hall! Rebecca, there you are.”

”River Coast!” That sounded like Patrick, one of the stagehands. “River Coast! RI-VER COAST!”

The rest of the students took up the chant as Becky and Natalie finally made it to the stairwell, slipping in behind Mrs. Flutie. 

“River Coast! River coast!”

”That is where we learn the most!”

”—Better than those dicks at Shoaks!”

“—ANDREW’S MOM IS FUCKING GROSS!”

*”Patrick Flaxmann!”*

”Quicker than the Bastard’s ghost!”

Becky turned to look over her shoulder, but Natalie seized her by the wrist and pulled her onward.

The stairs were dark, spiraling upward so tightly that there was no room for a handrail, let alone any useful kind of light fixture. The arrow slits in the outer wall served more as ventilation than illumination, and as she and Natalie were now on the wrong side of the building to see the parking lot, there was nothing beyond those tiny windows but blackness. 

”Someone said Adam was looking for me?” Becky said into the gloom. It was strange— she knew the entire museum was buzzing like a kicked beehive tonight, but inside the stairwell it all felt muffled and far away, almost not really real. 

“Stephanie said Tim said,” Natalie replied. From behind, her high blond ponytail swayed back and forth and Becky was reminded of a happy golden retriever. “But if it was important he’d have gotten Mrs. Flutie, or one of the pages.”

”Did anyone say where he was?”

”Why?” Natalie leered over her shoulder. “Rebeccaaaaaa?”

Becky could feel her face getting hot. “It’s not,” she spluttered, feeling awkward and a little annoyed at how weird Natalie could get when she was on one of her event-highs. Last year at Iverfete she’d giggled about horse penises more and more loudly until one of the staff had come to shush her, and Becky had thought she was going to die of embarrassment. 

Horse penises. Because none of them had ever seen a real one— a man’s one. Probably. And Becky would never see a man’s one— not that she wanted to!— if Natalie kept getting weird every time a boy even looked at her.

”It’s not a thing,” Becky managed, swatting Natalie away again. “His mom has a cabin up in Whitemount and they all go every year over break. We were talking about maybe, his mom could ask my mom if I could go with them.”

Natalie stopped to leer at her again, this time close enough that Becky could see the glint of her braces in the dark. “Oh, you two alone? What are you gonna doooooo?”

”Go skiing,” Becky snapped, her patience fraying. ”God, Natalie, it isn’t like that.”

That got Natalie to lean back a little. “So-rry. Geez.” 

She turned to resume her climb up the stairs. The little bubble of affronted silence that squirted up between them was kind of worse than the teasing had been, but Becky forced herself not to apologize for it, even if just to break the tension. You didn’t have to apologize if you didn’t do anything wrong, she told herself firmly. Natalie would just have to stop being weird about stuff.

The yellow light from the ancient incandescent bulbs at the top of the stairs were like a cartoon doorway into heaven. Becky let out a breath, realizing she’d hunched her shoulders together, and tried to shake it out. Then she heard a voice in the hallway above say, “Hey, Nat. Seen Rebecca?”

Whatever happened to stars that turned them into black holes was happening to Becky’s stomach, making her feel both like she couldn’t breathe, and that she was breathing too much. It made her feel like she was in trouble for something; she glanced at Natalie’s ponytail and reminded herself that she didn’t have to apologize for not doing anything wrong. 

“Yeah, right there,” Natalie said. She reached the top of the stairs and stepped out of the way. “We’re supposed to be getting dressed,” she pointed out sullenly. 

“I won’t make you guys late. I just wanna talk to her for a sec.”

”Okay.” Natalie’s voice was like three minutes after sitting on the wet bleachers— irritated but resigned— and Becky cringed. 

She heard Natalie walk off, tennis shoes squeaking on the linoleum. After a moment, Adam appeared in the doorway, blocking out most of the light. “Hey.”

”Hi,” Becky said, the black hole in her stomach making the word come out wavery. 

It was hard to see his face because of the light behind him, but Adam was cute. Like, pretty cute. He wore glasses, but cool ones, and there was the faintest reflection in the lenses as he looked down at her. “I talked to my mom about Whitemount,” he began. 

”I haven’t seen my mom yet, but she’s here,” Becky said.

”Yeah, mine is too. She said you might be able to come, usually my cousin comes but he might not this year.” 

“‘Kay,” Becky said. She climbed the last three stairs, coming up close to him. He smelled a little spicy, like boys’ bodywash, and the damp-shirt smell that everyone had after coming in from the rain. She looked, not at his eyes, but at his upper lip, at the way it was shaped.

He crooked a little smile. “Have fun killing Richard.”

Becky chuckled. “I don’t kill Richard. Jessica and Stephen kill Richard, and then I kill *them.”*

“Stab-stab-stab,” Adam grinned, motioning.

“Yeah. Stab-stab-stab,” Becky agreed, and her feet were carrying her away.

"backstage at a live event" is perhaps my favourite human collective emotion ive ever experienced. From running through the creepy empty school hallways before a theatre show, to the staff only breakroom at a convention or event where youre running a stall, to the bridal suite getting ready before your bestie walks down the isle.

Theres a little wall between the guys who are 'in on it' with you, whatever it is, and your audience or customers or guests or just all those people who are *not* in on it. Youve got a wallkie talkie, or a backstage pass, or an exhibitor badge, and youve never felt more alive

[vamplvs]

Could you possibly write something angsty for John Walker where maybe a mission or something goes wrong and he ends up taking out his frustration on reader but apologizes and makes up for it when he notices reader pulling away, I love your writing so much!! Hope you have a good day! 💕

ROUGH NIGHT?

INCLUDES -> john walker x gn!reader WARNINGS -> john is kind of a bitch (predictably) and the reader is kind of a bitch back (which is deserved), hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, injury, and death (missions, yk?), reader is anxious as HELL about john, very vague mentions of sex but nothing explicit WORD COUNT -> 2.8k NOTES -> ugh anon this is EXACTLY the kind of shit i love writing. hurt/comfort is where it's at and this is just so unbearably john-coded in the best way. like yeah! you get it <3 fair warning, this ran away from me REALLY quick. it was supposed to be a short blurb (mostly aftermath and comfort tbh), and then i got carried away. also you can rly see my love-hate relationship w john in this one LMAO. he's my wife but i wanna get into a fist fight with him too, yk?

the tower is always quiet without the team, and bob's presence doesn't do much to keep things lively as he's already a pretty quiet person. they've been gone for nearly two weeks—double the time john told you the mission would take. they're usually radio silent for the duration of their missions, but when a mission takes so long, it's impossible not to worry.

and just as impossible not to wish that john could be safe within the walls of the tower, in your arms at night, or making you dinner.

you spend those weeks with bob going back and forth between checking on him, organizing and reorganizing every corner of your room, and drowning yourself in books and tv—not that it works. john lingers in your mind, images of the worst case scenario dancing in your mind like a taunt. maybe he comes back just fine, or maybe it's in a box. for all you know, he's trapped somewhere between two psychopaths trying to torture him. or maybe the team just can't agree on a course of action.

the silence from them is deafening, only drowned out by the racing of your own heart.

but when they finally come back from some extended mission that john hadn't told you the details of, the usual racket of the tower doesn't return with them. they march pitifully into the floor of the tower that's been dedicated to the living and common spaces. yelena is clutching her side and leaning against bucky for support, whose metal arm is spasming. ava, of course, vanishes immediately upon arrival. in the brief second you lock eyes with her before she disappears for who knows how long, she shoots you a cryptically sympathetic look for someone who looks like they've been through the ringer. alexei limps along, more defeated than you've ever seen him. but john is nowhere to be seen.

"hey, where is he?" you pipe up from where you're sitting on the couch, worry creasing your brow. your book is long forgotten by your side. instead, your eyes keep looking over the group, taking in their injuries and oh, god-

"with the jet," bucky responds, voice worn thin with exhaustion and hint of pain. you watch them leave, alexei's limp worrying you most of all. if he's in bad condition, what does that mean for john?

you bolt upright from the couch, heading off to the jet with a mission of your own. the bleak lighting of these parts of the tower create an endless maze for you to follow. your quick steps echo in the empty hallways—the construction that has been ongoing for the past several months leaving vast parts of the building almost entirely bare.

office rooms, labs, training grounds. all of them are vacant, like the people and equipment meant to be filling them have been stolen from under your nose. even the other living spaces in the tower—entire sections of floors that were once dedicated to an individual team member—are devoid of life. it leaves the building, one that was such an integral symbol of hope and protection, feeling cold.

and it does nothing to help the anxiety that claws at your throat.

by the time you get to the hangar, your pulse is pounding in your ears with enough force that you're sure it's echoing too. you hurtle through the doors of the hangar, desperation coloring every hurried step.

your pace slows when you see him: a lone figure in a wide, vacant room.

john is sitting on a crate by the side of the jet. his helmet in his hands and the shield tossed to the ground. it lies against the ground, discarded and deserted. his suit is covered in dust, debris, and what you think might be blood. with his head down, you can't quite see his face.

"john?" his name is barely above a whisper, and yet it still bounces off each wall. "are you okay?"

john tenses, his hands twitching around the helmet. it takes him a beat too long to respond, and the silence gives you a moment to see him properly. his beard has grown since you last saw him, no longer the neatly trimmed scruff he usually maintains. the bags under his eyes have gotten deeper, too, and there's this haunted look in his eye when he looks up from his helmet. gone is the bright blue you've grown to love. "i'm fine."

"how did the mission go?"

he huffs and stands up abruptly, helmet falling by his side. it rolls away from him, staring at you blankly with its empty sockets. "it was fine." john shoulders past you, his every step pounding against the floor. he hardly looks you in the eye as he leaves.

there's a limp in the way he walks, a favoring of one foot that is more than enough evidence to the contrary—as if you needed anything more.

when bucky finds you later in the kitchen, you're sitting at the table just staring blankly at your laptop. a cruel, steady cursor stares back at you, ever-blinking. bucky works quietly by the stove, apparently unbothered by you until he hands you a lightly steaming mug of hot chocolate—in the very mug john gave you before he left for this mission.

"is he okay?" you ask, staring down at the mug's delicate, flowery pattern.

bucky shrugs. "he's been in the gym for a while." he sits down across from you, running a hand through his hair. "the punching bags are taking a beating, according to ava."

"more than one?"

"apparently." bucky takes a sip from his own mug. in any other situation, the care with which he drinks his hot chocolate would have been endlessly funny. a tiny, delicate mug in the metal hand of a super soldier.

you hum. it's not unusual for john to train after a mission. he takes pride in his skill, after all, drawing all kinds of satisfaction from landing grueling hits against an enemy—and even a place for hits to land, a shield, when needed. but punching bags aren't his go-to, they never have been, especially not to the point of going through several bags. john spars when he wants a fight, but this... this has your worry washing over you in waves once again.

your eyes follow the intertwining swoops of the flowers decorating the mug.

"look, it was rough for us, especially walker," bucky rolls his shoulders back with a sigh. "give him some time, alright? he'll come around." you can't be sure if bucky is trying to convince you or himself. either way, he stays with you. he tells you about the bad intel, about the informant that john had been too rough with, about the regrets that john brought home from the mission. "he'll be okay." and you can only hope that's true.

you don't see john again until hours have passed at that kitchen table with bucky.

when you finally walk into your shared bedroom, you can smell his shampoo lingering in the air even from the doorway. he faces away from you, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting his chin on his hand. and now that he's finally clean of the dirt that he brought home with him from the mission, you can see the bruises littering his back. they range from red to purple to nearly black, and your eyes are glued to them. you're sure that the ones on his chest and stomach must be worse.

"bucky told me what happened," you start, trying to keep your voice gentle. "i- i'm sorry that-"

john whips around, standing from the bed with a stiffness you've only seen in him during the aftermath of the void. his eyes blaze with hurt, backed by a fire built on kerosene and failure. "we aren't talking about this." his hands shake by his sides, knuckles raw and bleeding. bucky's story about the informant swims through your minds sluggishly, lingering. did he punch the scabs back open on the punching bags, or are those new?

"i just wanted to help-" you step forward with your hands out to him in a placating gesture, like he's some kind of wild animal. and with the withering look he gives you, he may as well be.

"yeah, and you never really can, can you?" he laughs bitterly, and his hands twitch again. footsteps pound on the floor, and suddenly, he's close enough to touch, close enough that you feel the adrenaline and shame still pumping through him, "i mean seriously, you sit here in the damn tower, and you hover. you always fucking hover." his voice just gets louder and louder, until you're sure anyone on this floor of the tower can hear him.

"because i care about you, john," you make a strong effort to keep your voice steady, fighting back the thickness wedging itself into your throat with everything in you.

"well, maybe that was your first mistake." his face is inches away from yours when he says it, with nothing but vitriol and venom backing his words.

your eyes burn. "john-"

"just-" he steps back, running a hand over his face, "i just need a fucking break, okay?" as soon as he turns his back to you again, you're out of the room. you swear the slam of the door behind you shakes the entire tower. and if you hear him calling after you, you certainly don't respond.

for the next few days, you avoid john. you spend nights with yelena or bob—thank god for that air mattress you found stashed in a closet months ago. and during the day, you only go back to your room when you know john is going to be out. if it's a break he wants, then it's a break he's going to get.

"he's a brash idiot," yelena tells you when it's her turn to host the movie nights you've been doing with her and bob.

bob, of course, is quick to intercept, "he definitely didn't mean it. right?" he defers to yelena, waiting for her to agree with him. not that she does, but you can appreciate the effort.

john's eyes follow you unwillingly when you're in the same room. they focus on every small movement—the way your eyebrows furrow when you're confused about something alexei says, the dip of you're mouth when you try not to laugh at bucky rolling his eyes at something ava says, the way your hands fidget with the end of your sleeves or your pen when you catch him looking. he feels like a mad man, itching to be by your side as bad as he is. and he can feel yelena laughing silently at him from across the room.

all the while, your heart aches. a break, he said, whatever that means. a break where he stares wistfully at you, eyes heavy with something that you could call sorrow if he hadn't been the one to call for a break.

it isn't until a full four days have passed that he finally works up the courage to apologize to you. it's ironic how he can face the scum of the earth, who do everything in their power to kill him, and yet he starts sweating when he remembers what he said to you. and when he remembers how you took it.

he finds you sitting by one of the windows of the emptier floors, a book in your hand—one of bob's recommendations. this room seems to be some kind of office space, though it's hard to tell with the minimal furniture that's been put in. he lingers in the doorway, taking a moment to watch you sitting peacefully. you don't have your guard up, and god, he misses seeing you like this.

he knocks gently on the doorframe, and you watch him approach with wary eyes. that same guard he was so grateful to see you without returns in full force.

"bob said i could find you here," his voice is hesitant despite how squared his shoulders are, despite how high he holds his head.

you huff. "can't quite keep quiet can he?" the pages of the book flutter when you put it down, the only sound in the room.

silence stretches between the two of you, and john has to look away from your accusing gaze.

"i'm sorry," he starts, shaky and unsure, "you didn't deserve that."

"i know." he winces at the certainty in your statement.

"the mission, it-" john finally looks you in the eyes again, taking a deep breath, "i'm so worried about you, all the time. it just-" his words trail off, like he's still trying to finish the thought. all that planning, and he still can't find a good way to put it all to words.

"yeah."

"i don't want you to get hurt." he flexes one of his hands. the wounds have long scabbed over but are still bruised badly.

"i'll be okay." you shrug, and he almost believes you.

"you can't know that-"

"i'm okay now, aren't i?"

his lips twist into a pitiful half-smile, and you can't help but give him the same look in return.

"when i-" his shoulders fall, "look, i didn't mean-" he curses under his breath, and that nearly gets a smile out of you. "i need a break from this," john gestures vaguely around the room, to the rest of the tower, "not- never from us. i fucked up bad, and i know that."

"okay." every response from you is clipped, tearing his poor attempt at a brave facade to shreds.

"i don't know why-" you give him an icy look that shuts that train of though down immediately. curse you for knowing him so well. "i shouldn't have said it, not like that."

john's heart races in the quiet moments that stretch between you two.

in the blink of an eye, your arms are wrapped around him. he lets out a shaky breath and pulls you close to him. his hands grab for your clothes like he's trying to prove you're really here.

"i'm sorry," he mutters into your shoulder.

"it's okay," you reply gently, threading fingers through his hair.

"you're so perfect, and so- just so close to all of this, and i have nightmares about you getting-" he takes a harsh, shuddering breath, "i don't know what i'd do."

"i know, baby."

you missed him for those days. you missed his hand in yours, you missed his gravely voice in the mornings, you missed his pain in the ass self-assurance. and it's good, so good, to have him back.

you wake the next morning without john in your bed, and if that isn't a rude awakening, you don't know what is. the sheets next to you are cold, and you almost trick yourself into believing that last night was a dream until john walks in with a cup of coffee in that same flowery mug and a tray stacked high with food.

"john?" your voice is still rough from sleep, cracking around the syllable.

"i made you breakfast, baby." with little ceremony, he places the tray of food and the coffee on the bedside table. he does it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like there's nothing else he would rather be doing.

"huh?" your mind is still struggling to catch up. it's too early, and the bed is, quite frankly, far too cold without him.

"i'm making it up to you," he kisses your forehead, and his hand lingers on your cheek for a beat longer than it strictly needs to.

"thought you made it up to me last night," you stretch your legs beneath the blankets, trying to work out some of the soreness. he chuckles at that, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in that way they do when he laughs.

"oh, that worked, huh?" john sits carefully on the edge of the bed, running a hand over your arm.

"mmm, maybe."

"does breakfast in the bed sweeten the deal?" there's a twinge of uneasiness in his tone matched with a gentle squeeze of your arm.

"only if you get back in bed with me." he smiles at you, all warm and tender.

"i think i can do that."

john finds his way under the blankets with you. his hands are soft when they wrap around you, and warmth bleeds back into the sheets steadily.

"you really should eat that before it gets cold," he mumbles against your neck.

"okay, okay." it's hard not to laugh at where john has situated himself. he's firmly attached to your side, only letting up when you reach for the food. even then, his hold on you shifts just enough to let you move, never quite relenting.

[princesevsnape]

Summer Love (Theodore Nott x Reader)

Inspired by Summer Love by One Direction

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Theo meet on holiday, having a summer fling. At the end of it he decides it’s best to leave it at that as you both go to different Wizarding schools. What happens when you transfer to Hogwarts at the start of the school term

A/N: I really loved writing this. As always please send in requests for any characters. I hope you enjoy this fic. Love you all 💜

Every year after the school term had ended, your parents took you on an expensive holiday to celebrate how well you did each year.

You attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Your parents both worked for the French Ministry of Magic.

You enjoyed your holidays every year. You met so many witches and wizards during these holidays. From all over the world. But this year you didn’t expect to fall for one of them.

Theodore Nott. Tall and handsome. You never intended to fall for someone but you did. And you had a summer romance.

Italy that’s where you first met this strapping young man. Same age as you. Also a wizard. But you knew it was only for the summer.

One day you were minding your own business. Reading a romance novel. Sat by the pool of your hotel, when a tall boy stopped in front of you and blocked the suns rays.

“You’re blocking the sun.” You said annoyed.

But you looked up and saw the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen.

“Apologies.” He said smiling.

He took a seat on the deck chair next to you and said “what’s a pretty little witch like you doing all on her own.”

“My parents went sight seeing.” You responded unable to take your eyes off of the boy.

“And you decided to stay here and read?” He asked taking the book from your hands.

“Urm I don’t think that’s a good idea. “ you said as he looked at the page you had been reading.

“Damn this is some filthy shit girl. Pretty little girl like you bet you fantasise about a guy touching you in this way.” He chuckled passing you your book back.

You took it from him and blushed. Closing your book. You looked away from him.

“Don’t worry sweetheart it can be our little secret. See you around gorgeous” He smiled and walked off.

That was your first interaction. The second was the next day.

Once again you were sat by the pool reading your book. You felt someone sit on the end of your deck chair. You didn’t look up until you heard his voice.

“Still didn’t want to go sight seeing with your parents? And still reading that filth?” He joked.

Closing your book, you looked at him.

“My names Theo.” He said smirking at you.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“Pretty name for such a pretty little witch.” He said making you blush.

“How about I take you to see some of the sights? Me and my parents come here every year. I know this place like the back of my hand. I can be your tour guide. If of course you’d prefer some real company.” He winked.

“Sure.” You said knowing you might regret it at some point.

Theo took you to all of his favourite spots. He even took you out to dinner.

“So where do you go to school then sweetheart? I know it can’t be Hogwarts like me, I’d remember seeing someone as pretty as you around.” He asked.

“Beauxbatons.”

“But you speak English?”

“Yeah. My father is half French. His mother was French. He grew up there. He worked at the British Ministry of Magic, but he got a job transfer to the French Ministry as did my mother. As that is the closest school that’s where I go.”

“That’s a shame. Because I’d love to get to know you more.”

The next day, Theo took you sight seeing again. That night you watched the stars together.

“You know the stars are almost as beautiful as you.” He said wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

Your heart raced. Looking over to Theo you saw him already staring at you. A huge smirk on his face. You bit your lip thinking he looked even more handsome in the moonlight.

Theo slowly raised his other hand towards your face. Gently caressing your cheek. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

Looking in your eyes to see your reaction he said “can I kiss you again?”

You didn’t respond. And Theo started to worry that he had offended you. He went to pull away from you. But you surprised him by grabbing his face and smashing your lips against his.

Grabbing your waist he pulled you onto his lap to straddle him. You ran your fingers through his hair as the kiss got more heated.

The rest of that night, you felt like the woman must have done in your romance novel.

For the remainder of your holiday you spent even more time with Theo. Getting to know each other more. You were both sad when the holiday was coming to an end. Knowing that whatever you and Theo had was over.

“I’ll write to you.” You said, not wanting to lose any contact with him.

“Please don’t promise me that. We knew what we signed up for. We knew this wouldn’t be forever.” He responded with a sad expression on his face.

“I know Theo. But I like you a lot.” You admitted.

“Look Y/N. We had a great time, but now we have to say goodbye. Just promise you’ll remember what we had. You were mine for the summer, but now we know it’s nearly over. Let’s just leave it at that yeah?”

Saying goodbye to Theo was one of the hardest things you had to do. You cried so much. And even he did a little. But you knew you would probably never see each other again. Or so you thought.

One week after you had to say goodbye to the handsome boy you had a summer romance with you were stood in front of Hogwarts castle.

Your jaw dropped at how beautiful it was as you were approaching. As soon as you got back from your holiday your parents told you that you weren’t going back to Beauxbatons, but instead you were transferring to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Your parents didn’t want to tell you whilst you were on holiday. But they had both been transferred back to the British Ministry of Magic, which meant that you had to attend Hogwarts for your final couple of years.

They were worried if they told you before that you might refuse. But there was no way you would have. Especially now that you knew you’d be seeing Theo again.

You waited with the first years as they got sorted into each of their houses. You were in your sixth year but still had to be sorted into a house. Finally you were the last one standing.

“Now before we sort our last student into her house, we must welcome Y/N Y/L/N, who joins us from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Miss Y/L/N enters her sixth year. Please take a seat so the Sorting Hat can place you into your house.” Professor Dumbledore said ushering you towards the stool where every first year had just sat.

Theo couldn’t believe his ears.

“Fuck” he said as he watched you sit down and had Professor McGonagall place the Sorting Hat onto your head.

Mattheo turned to look at his friend “Know her or something Theo? Or fancy her already?” He teased.

“Shut up Mattheo.” He said turning his attention back to you.

“Slytherin.” The Sorting Hat shouted.

The entire Slytherin table erupted in cheers just as they had for all of the first years that joined.

Making your way over to the table you noticed the only available seat was in front of a girl who looked around the same age as you.

“Hi I’m Pansy Parkinson.” She said smiling at you as you sat down opposite her.

“Nice to meet you.” You said smiling back.

You listened and said hello to every one of her friends that she introduced you to. When she introduced you to Theo you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Oi Theo stop being a creep and staring at her.” Pansy said.

“She’s staring at him too.” Mattheo teased.

“What’s going on? Do you know each other?” Pansy asked you.

You finally took your eyes off of Theo turned to look at Pansy and said “something like that.”

Everyone made an oooh sound at that. As everyone started eating Theo stood up from his seat.

“Draco swap seats with me.” Theo said to the boy sat next to you.

“No way.” Draco said glaring at him.

“Just do it Malfoy.”

Draco grunted and then moved. Theo sat down next to you and stared at you again.

“Seriously Theo stop being a damn creep.” Pansy said.

“It’s ok Pansy. Thank you though.” You said giving the girl a smile.

Turning to face Theo you said “what’s wrong?”

“Why are you here? How come you didn’t tell me? Are you actually here or am I dreaming?” He asked you question after question.

“Yes I’m really here. My parents had a job transfer back to the British Ministry of Magic. So I had to transfer here. And why would I tell you? You’re the one that told me not to write to you.”

Theo stayed silent but still didn’t take his eyes off of you.

“You’re the one who said that what we had was only for the summer, and that we should leave it at that. So leave me alone.” You said bitterly.

At first you had been excited to see him. But then remembering that he didn’t want to hear from you, made you wish he wasn’t here.

Theo reached for your hand bit you pulled away from him.

“Don’t. Please don’t.” You said.

“I’m sorry.” He said before getting up to leave the Great Hall.

You watched him leave and felt a sinking feeling in your stomach.

That night you were in bed, tossing and turning because you couldn’t get Theo off your mind. You were sharing a room with Pansy and all your tossing and turning was keeping her awake.

“Ok what’s up?” She asked, sitting up in bed and turning on the light.

You sat up in bed and asked “what do you mean?”

“You’ve been tossing and turning all night. Clearly you can’t sleep and I can’t sleep either. So tell me what’s wrong. Is it Theo? What happened between you two anyway?” She asked.

You then proceeded to tell her everything. How you met in Italy. How you had a fling. How he then said for you to not write to him. How you should just leave it at that.

“Damn. I knew he could be a dick but not that much of a dick.” She admitted.

“I just don’t understand why he’s questioning me about not telling him I was transferring here when he was the one who told me not to write to him.”

“Look just do your best to ignore him. We’ll hang out just the two of us. I’ve been waiting for a girl friend for a long time. I get fed up of hanging out with the guys sometimes.” She admits.

For the next couple of weeks you do your best to avoid Theo. He keeps trying to talk to you, but you do as Pansy advised and ignore him.

One evening you head back to the Slytherin common room after dinner. When you get there you see Theo sitting with another Slytherin girl. They’re both deep in conversation but you can tell that they’re both flirting with each other.

The sight made you feel sick to your stomach. Theo glances over at you and smirks. Glaring at him to storm off to yours and Pansy’s dorm.

After seeing the look on your face Theo instantly regretted flirting with that other girl. He only did it to try and make you jealous, to try and get you to talk to him. The last few weeks had been torture for him. He tried so hard to talk to you, but you always ignored him.

Laying on your bed crying your eyes out, you were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Looking to the doorway you see Theo stood there. A look of regret on his face.

“What do you want?” You asked.

“To talk. Please can we talk?” He asked.

“Fine.” You said sitting up and gesturing for him to sit down on your bed.

Theo slowly entered your room and sat down next to you.

“What do you want to talk about?” You asked when he just sat their in silence.

“Us.” He said.

“There is no us Theo. You made that perfectly clear when you said for us to leave everything as just a summer romance. When you told me not to write to you.”

“I thought it would be easier. For you. For me. At the time I didn’t know you’d be coming here.”

“I didn’t know until we got home from holiday. My parents only told me 3 days before we were due to start school. It came as a shock to me as much as it must have for you.”

“Look I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we said goodbye to each other. Even more so when you showed up here. I hate that you haven’t been speaking to me. I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I regret telling you not to write to me. I had such an amazing time with you over the summer.” He admitted.

“Well you can’t have hated me not talking to you that much, from what I saw downstairs you were having a great time with that girl.”

“I only did that to try and make you jealous. To try and get you to talk to me. The moment I saw how upset you were I regretted it. Told that girl to piss off and that I wasn’t interested in her.”

“That was a bit harsh.” You scolded him.

“But it’s true. The only one I’m interested in is you. Give me a few moments I’ve got something in my dorm for you.” He said before quickly rushing out of the room.

A few minutes later he came back holding something behind his back. Sitting back on the bed next to you, he handed you a single dethorned red rose.

Smiling you took it from him.

“I enchanted it, so it will never die.” He said smiling as he saw your cheeks turn red.

“I genuinely am so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” He added.

Theo scooted closer to you and wiped the tears from your eyes. The feeling of his skin on yours again caused your heart to race.

You were about to lean in to kiss him on the cheek, when Pansy entered your dorm.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked glaring at Theo.

“Pansy, it’s ok.” You said.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

You just nodded.

“I should be going. I’ll see you around gorgeous.” He said kissing the top of your head before leaving your dorm.

That night you dreamt of him. Imagining what it would be like to be with him again.

A couple of days later you were sat at the Slytherin table for breakfast. The owls swooped in with the post and you were surprised to see a package land in front of you.

Opening the package you saw a romance novel that you had wanted to read for some time. With the book was a note saying “I remember how much you like this filth. Hope you enjoy gorgeous. Let me know if you want to re-enact any of the scenes like last time.”

You quickly tucked the note and book into your bag.

“Y/N are you ok? You’ve gone bright red.” Pansy asked.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You lied looking down the table to Theo who was a couple of seats away from you.

He smiled and gave you a wink.

Later that day you were in Potions class. Professor Slughorn had told you that you were to work in pairs for a project. You assumed you’d be working with Pansy but before you could say anything to her Theo slipped into the seat next to you and declared himself your partner.

“I meant what I said in the note.” He whispered in your ear.

Once again you felt your cheeks burning.

“Any time you want darling.” He added.

“You just want to get in my pants Nott.” You said.

“I want a lot more than that sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah then what is it that you want from me?” You asked.

“To make you mine.” He said placing a hand on your thigh underneath the table.

“You don’t mean that Theo.”

“Yes I do. Meet me in the astronomy tower after dinner tonight. I will prove that I mean it.” He said.

Later that night you snuck up to the astronomy tower. You knew you could get in trouble if you were caught but you had to see what Theo had to say for himself.

When you arrived Theo was already there waiting for you.

“You came.” He said.

“Well I had to see what you had to say for yourself.”

Theo grabbed you by the waist and pulled you against him. Placing his forehead on yours he looked you in the eyes. He kept a hand on your waist to make sure you didn’t pull away.

“Y/N you drive me crazy. What we had in Italy was special. And I never thought we could have a chance of being together due to you living in France and me living here. The moment I saw you again in this very castle I knew I had to do whatever it took to make you mine. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” He admitted.

You carried on looking in his eyes. Not sure of what to say. Before you could say anything he carried on.

“You are so beautiful, and so kind, funny and amazing. I want you to be my girlfriend. It feels stupid for me to say that I’ve fallen for you when honestly we’ve only know each other a few months. But I have fallen for you. So please will you be my girlfriend? Will you let me prove how much I care about you?” He asked.

“Yes Theo. Yes I will be your girlfriend. But please promise me that this is real and that you aren’t going to hurt me?”

“I promise. I wouldn’t hurt you. We can take things as slow as you want. All I want is to make you happy. “ He said before gently kissing you.

“Let’s go back to the common room” you suggested.

Entering the common room hand in hand yours and Theo’s friends jaws dropped.

“Finally made her yours then Nott.” Mattheo teased.

“Yeah I did.” He said wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Hurt her and I’ll kill you.” Pansy threatened.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied and kissed the top of your head.

That night you joined Theo in his dorm room. He held you all night. And you knew that the two of you would be very happy together.