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lovelybarnes · 2 months ago

Text

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: language? umm crimes about: rewrite!! wanted to get back into writing and i thought rewriting some of my favorite prompts would be fun, PF12 “committing crimes” + DH8 “how dumb can you be?” a/n: hello! i meant to post this like. five days ago LMAO but i started school and should be doing work right now and i came up with a false memory claiming i did, in fact post, when i, in fact, did not. anyway. here it is. i don't know how much better it is than the original but i had fun writing it, though, surprise! i still suck at endings. ummm i am thinking or rewriting more to get back into the groove and i am writing an actual new request. this got long okay thank you

"We're going to get caught."

You shoot Bucky a look, nose wrinkled. "You are so negative," you say, legs kicking as you climb over a fence. "We are not going to get caught." You watch as he leaps from the ground, metal hand grasping the top of the fence and launching his body over it cleanly. He lands crouched and stable, watching you slowly turn your body over the ledge and subsequently topple onto the ground.

"We're gonna go to jail," he sighs, bending over to hoist you onto your feet by your armpits. Your hair has leaves in it.

"Oh my god." You stumble, hands wrapping around his arms from the speed. "How the fuck do you—"

You shriek when Bucky spins you around to press your back against his chest and clamps a palm over your mouth, gentle even through the fingers keeping your lips shut. Your eyes widen cartoonishly, flailing as he manhandles you behind a shrub. You're still complaining to the best of your ability when he shushes you, directing your attention to the woman walking out of the house.

You quiet down and stare, brows furrowed. She's not supposed to be there.

It's like Bucky can read your mind, glancing at you with a sigh. You try your best to give him a look back before looking at the woman again. She has a phone pressed against her ear, lips moving angrily. Her voice upticks sharply with the end of each word she says.

You relax when you realize there isn't a chance of you getting caught, kind of wishing you had popcorn to watch her nearly trip over her heels and become even more furious, kicking at the grass. Bucky's silent enough for you to seriously doubt you'd know he was there had he not been tightly wrapped around you. You squeak at the fact, impressed. Bucky pinches your side unhelpfully.

She unlocks her car, keys tinkling harshly with her movements. Bucky finally abates when she throws her door open and sinks inside her white Jaguar, the slamming door narrowly missing her pin-straight blonde hair.

You gag, pushing his hand away. "When was the last time you washed your fucking hands? That's disgus-"

"I thought the house was empty," he interrupts, head cocked.

"I thought it was, too," you defend lamely. "She's off schedule. Maybe that's why she was so pissed. Late to her HOES meeting or whatever."

"What the hell is HOES?"

"I don't know!" you cry. "The one with the lawns."

"Are you trying to say the HOA?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "James Buchanan showing his face?"

"This is not-" He sighs your name, "I swear, if any more of your information isn't right, I'm leaving."

You make an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You were not invited."

"I wanted to make sure you didn't die or get sued or go to jail. Which, hey, really likely in a neighborhood that has 'HOES' meetings."

"I'm not gonna 'die' or go to 'jail,'" you insist, finger quotes up and perplexing Bucky. "I don't need your help, anyway, I'm a very capable person with a very capable plan. You just followed me. You're some guy's little brother."

"What?"

"You know. Annoying."

Bucky breathes in slow, watching you creep around the bush for a better angle of the house. He closes his eyes and counts to three, and when he opens them, you're at the porch, tiptoeing like a fuckin' cartoon character into the house and leaving the door open. Spectacular.

He sprints inside inconspicuously, head darting both ways just in case before he closes the door. When he turns, there's an alarm system set up that lazily blinks green. No disturbances. Huh. He glances at you, impressed for a very quick second when he sees you snooping in a cabinet, clueless to the huge dog growling behind you.

He stills immediately, breath slowing. He stares at you and tries his best to make you feel it, but it either goes wrong or he fails entirely when you drop a file, groaning loudly at the injustice of it. The dog twitches. Bucky's heart jumps into his throat.

You're halfway into an inelegant bend when you spot him, face breaking into a smile. Fuck, he thinks. You're pretty even when you're going insane. "Hey! You're finally here. Look at—"

He shoots you a warning look, moving his lips as little as he can. "There's a dog." He glances between it and you, thinking every move ahead to avoid a nasty bite and the failure of your stupid mission.

"Oh my god, Brutus?" You spin too fast, startling the dog both from with your movements and apparent knowledge of his name. 'Brutus' makes a noise between a growl and a whine. You gasp, a palm pressing against your lips. "Brutus, I thought they retired you!"

You drop down to your knees, opening your arms wide. Brutus stares at you for a second, inching closer to sniff you apprehensively. Then, his ears tuck and he whimpers, tail tucked and wagging gently as he walks closer to you.

"You... know the dog."

"Yes, I know the dog," you start, voice careening into a higher, softer pitch as you rub the pads of your fingers behind Brutus' ears. "Brutus has been the guard dog here for two years. I fostered her for a little while until she was adopted but I kept in touch." Brutus licks your cheek, making you squeal. "Her name was originally Poppy but they wanted a scary name." You roll your eyes.

Bucky shoots you a look.

"I sort of spied on them for a few months to make sure she was doing well," you rub her ear, "and she was, yes she was," you baby-talk. "Her owners have shit values but they really spoil their dogs."

"Wow. Okay. One question—the people we are stealing from know you?"

"Yeah, they have my number."

Bucky pinches the skin between his brows.

"Good girl, Poppy, protecting the house from evil intruders," you coo.

Bucky looks at the clock and then you, slowly lowering yourself further to pet Brutus-Poppy. He nudges you with his foot. Poppy growls at him. "Hey. Fellow evil intruder. She's gonna be back at some point."

"Not for another hour at least. Nat's in charge of the distraction." Still, you press a loud kiss to Poppy's head and stand.

"I'm an overachiever. Let's leave ample time."

"Fine," you say loudly, arms swinging petulantly at your side. "I'll make it quick. You're such a bore."

"Yeah, yeah. What are we looking for anyway?"

You use a pencil to look between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Buck." You wink.

Bucky's cheeks pink against his will, shaking it off as quickly as he can as he watches you look around. You pause in the middle of the room, do a full spin, and sigh. "Not here."

Bucky frowns but trails after you into another room, Poppy close behind. You open the door grandiosely to a giant room. "Wow."

"Okay, I know what you said, but you kind of need to tell me so I can help you find it," he says. You ignore him, striding toward a desk and pulling open a drawer. He says your name exasperatedly. You observe a notebook, shaking it vigorously before tossing it over your shoulder. Other items follow in quick succession, which he catches amidst his frustration. "What are you—you're going to break something—" He catches a crystal ball.

"I'm not, I know what I'm doing," you insist. "You are so pessimistic. Have faith." You dig in a little further before grumbling, rising to your feet and kicking a chair down. "I'm going to look in another room," you say and take off, leaving Bucky with an armful of miscellaneous objects to put back. He screws his eyes shut and counts to three.

You walk down the hallway quickly, peeking into the rooms until you find what you're looking for. Three doors in, you stop, scanning the walls until you find a hideous painting hung up next to a dusty bookshelf. You make a triumphant noise and stride toward it, running your fingers along the frame until you find the indentations of a security panel.

"Aha! And, if I remember correctly..." You enter 1234 and the painting swings open to reveal a safe. "Losers."

You count silently as you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat Natasha's record. Keeping the door open with an outstretched finger, you contort to find a pen, holding the cap between your teeth as you scrawl your time on the inside of your wrist, giggling in the anticipation of letting her know.

You turn your attention back to the safe after you've written a few wobbly exclamation points, rifling around until you find what you're looking for. Your fingers dig through a dark box filled with stolen valuables, a grin on your face when your fingers get tangled in the one you're looking for, eyebrows jumping in satisfaction as you tuck it safely into your pocket. You stick your head in the safe again, searching for something shiny to throw in Sam's face when Bucky bursts in.

"Oh, hey, do you think Sam would—"

"They're here."

Cursing, you shove everything into place, closing the safe and carefully moving the picture back. You step back and grimace. "God, that's ugly."

He says your name urgently, wrapping his hand around your wrist and dragging you away, throwing you over his shoulder when you keep lagging behind. You squeak, clamping your mouth shut when Bucky squeezes your thigh in warning.

He dumps you out of an open window and into a bush, rolling himself out onto cropped grass. "Okay, I think that was unnecessary," you mumble, crawling out next to him. There are lines of bubbling red all over your skin from what was apparently a rose bush.

"We have to hurry before the gate closes," he huffs, lifting the both of you up with ease and hurrying to the slimming entrance. You squeeze out unseen and stop at the beginning of the blind spot you came in through. Bucky's huffing when he puts you down.

"What's wrong? I thought you had super high stamina or something," you tease, poking at his shoulder. Bucky glares at you. You laugh and reach for his hand, beckoning him enticingly with your fingers. He appeases you suspiciously, capturing your hand in his. He squeezes and rubs a soft line up and down near your thumb.

"Let's go home," you say.

Bucky blinks. "What?"

"Let's go home. I'm hungry. And I kind of want to take a nap. Can we stop by and pick up some ramen?" You tug at his arm gently, beginning the trek to Bucky's bike down the path without surveillance. "Breaking and entering really wears me out," you say to his furrowed brows.

"Don't forget robbery," he muses.

"Right. Breaking, entering, and robbery really wears me out," you say with a laugh. You turn to him and grin, eyes sparkling.

Bucky stops, staying in place when you pull at him and whine. "What was it?"

You cock your head.

"What did you want to steal so badly?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking at him thoughtfully. "I'll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride," you proffer, wagging your brows.

Bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, holding onto your index finger as you climb onto his back.

He readjusts you as he stands to full height, wrists twisting under your knees and holding your calves tight but kindly. You hum, one arm falling over his chest and the other dipping into your pocket, unzipping it and taking out the chain. You wrap it around your fingers delicately and rest your chin on his head, looking at it dangling from your hands.

Bucky begins to walk. "So?"

Your thumb draws wonky hearts on Bucky's chest, tracing the letters on the tags with your other one. "Do you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off? It was the one thing you couldn't get back because it wasn't in that museum." You feel Bucky nod. "Well, I've been looking for them," you confess, pursing your lips. "I didn't want to tell you because you'd tell me to stop and that it didn't matter but I know it did—I know it does.

"A few months ago, I found out who bought them and I tried to buy them back, but these assholes wouldn't budge no matter how much I offered—or anyone, I impersonated a lot of people. I think they just wanted to keep them because other people wanted them. And the things they said about you..." You shake your head, feeling yourself going hot with anger.

Bucky squeezes your leg, muttering your name.

You stop yourself, letting your face slant so your cheek rests on his hair. He smells sweet like your shampoo. Fucker. "So, anyway, I did the obvious thing: I tracked them down and broke into their house to get it back. It's not like the tags are theirs, anyway."

Bucky stops abruptly, jolting you. You yelp, complaining as he puts you down and stares at you.

"You did—this was to get my dog tags?"

You look back at him. "Yes? I didn't—"

He cuts you off, pulling you into a hug so tight, you cough. Your arms hang limply in surprise for a second before they come up to reciprocate, a dazed but still eager arm rubbing the line of his shoulder blade. Bucky hugs you a little tighter. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I don't think anyone... I don't know many people that would do that for me."

"Oh," you say, blinking fast. "I—of course I would. I love you, Bucky, you... I would do anything for you."

"Fuck," he says wetly, pulling away to hold your face in both hands. He smiles at you. One of those real ones that crinkle his eyes. "You're—fuck—"

You laugh, his hands falling away to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry you didn't get them back after you went through all that trouble."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean? You think I didn't get them?" You raise your hand to his view, dog tags dangling. "Your faith in me is shocking."

Bucky grabs the tags and you let them go easily, watching his hands turning them around slowly, index running along his name. JAMES B. BARNES. Then, two lines down, R. BARNES. "I can't believe you did this for me," he says softly.

You smile. "Well, believe it, baby," you tell him, gently teasing. Your wring your hands together. "Of course I did," you say, quieter.

When he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. "Thank you." He glances down at them once more and splits the chain with a finger to pull it on your neck. "Hold on to them for me?"

You pause. "Bucky..."

"Just until we get to the compound. You'll keep it safe for me."

You keep it safe for much longer than that.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader humor #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes no y/n #bucky x reader #angie writes bucky barnes #angie writes #angie rewrites

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azen13 · 3 months ago

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Your thoughts about yandere zhongli but in the au where you are the archon are tasty.... unfortunately, I don't think Zhongli will keep your Gnosis because it would be reneging on a contact and he is Contracts. But imagine... what if you sealed Morax away, and he (much like Azhdaha in canon) managed to split off a small part of himself to exist as a human, "Zhongli" the funeral parlour consultant? Your most devout worshipper.... until he frees your old enemy and friend, Morax. ♡

anon ur so real for this. i 100% agree zhongli wouldn't keep ur gnosis bc. god of contracts. the part about splitting off a small part of himself??? u truly ate. anyways here's a little drabble based on that idea! i had to rewrite it bc my laptop died and i lost my progress sobs

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CW: Yandere Themes, Implied Stalking

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Every prayer made in your name is like a melody. They float across Teyvat, weaving together in a resonant unceasing chorus. From a young child wishing for protection for her father, to an old man begging for more time with his wife.

But beneath all the moving lines, beneath all the trills and mordents, is a peculiar prayer. A low, droning hum, one that seems to have gone on for centuries. When you listen to other prayers, you can glean out what it is saying. But while this one speaks in a language you know, it utters words you cannot understand. No matter how many sleepless nights you spend trying to decode its desires, they remain incomprehensible.

All that you know is that the person speaking it is deeply, utterly in love.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You hear it one day when you walk through the streets of Liyue, masquerading amongst mortals to understand their troubles. The sun has barely risen, its first rays turning the eaves of homes a warm amber color as you walk through Chihu rock.

Then you hear it. That low, rumbling tone, like an earthquake. It's coming from all around you, but you can't see anyone in front of you, so you spin around.

All you see is a man dressed in fine clothing, a slightly confused expression plastered on his face. Harmless. Unassuming. Even still, you cannot help but think that he looks strikingly like Morax.

"My apologies, I thought I heard something." You offer a kind smile, ready to turn away quickly, but the stranger steps forward.

"You are quite alright. It is quite early in the morning, so some exercise must be cautioned," he says, Cor Lapis colored eyes gazing at you intently. He even sounds exactly like Morax. His voice almost brings you to tears, but you sidestep your sorrows. "Perhaps we could walk together if you are concerned about danger?" The stranger asks.

You shake your head. "Thank you, but I would hate to impose on your time," you say. For some reason, the stranger's face tightens, almost imperceptibly so, but you see it in the slight frown of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes.

"I assure you," the man says, taking another step towards you, "I have no plans this morning." His words have an almost godlike authority to them, though you quickly brush aside that thought. You sense no such power from this man.

Taking another step back, you look into his eyes, as beautiful as polished amber, and stand firm. "I insist, I'm alright," you say, faking levity.

There is a moment of silence before the stranger lets out a soft sigh. "So be it," he says, pausing for a moment. "At the very least, may I know your name?"

By this point, you already want to leave. This man, human or not, is simply off-putting by how similar he is to Morax, in appearance, in voice, even in mannerisms. Still, you manage to stay smiling. "I'm Y/N," you say, offering your hand.

The stranger grasps your hand quickly in an almost vice-like grip. "I go by Zhongli," the man responds. He holds onto your hand for just a millisecond too long, but you don't pay it much mind. Letting go, Zhongli gives you a slight, almost unnoticeable smile. "I sincerely hope we meet again, Mx. Y/N," he says, turning around and casually walking away.

Something tells you that you will, in fact, meet him again.

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naturesapphic · 2 months ago

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idk if you’d wanna do this or not but could you potentially write something fluffy with Billie and a gf who feels dumb all the time because she’s dyslexic and billie helps her and comforts her when she struggles?

Dyslexic

Billie eilish x dyslexic!fem!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Everyone who was in your life knew you were dyslexic. You had it growing up and you still have trouble with it today. You would get teased for it a lot when you were little and now since you were an adult. You never understood why people were so mean about it, it was just a learning disorder, but the people always made you feel extra dumb for it.

Here you were, sitting at your desk in the office of your shared house with your girlfriend, working on a class project. You were done writing your portion of the paper and sent it to the group chat. Billie was downstairs in the studio working on music. Almost immediately everyone responded, criticizing your work and how you wrote making your face heat up in embarrassment. One person even said that you were going to make them all fail if you don’t rewrite the whole paper.

You were confused but texted them back that you would look over it again. Going back to your paper you reread everything and you understood what they were talking about. What you wrote was jumbled and didn’t make sense at all. It didn’t fit what the whole project was about and you groaned out in frustration. You grabbed your paper and crumpled it up, throwing it behind you not knowing that it hit someone.

“Hey! Watch the tits bro.” Your girlfriend joked which usually made you laugh but all you let out was a little defeated sigh. “Sorry…” you apologized and you felt your chair spin around and you were face to face with your brown headed girlfriend. “Hey…you don’t need to apologize to me babe.” Billie reassured you and you just sat there staring off making Billie worry. “Okay what’s going on. You’ve been up here all day in the office and you look like you are about to pass out.” She said and you whimpered making her get down on her knees so she’s eye level with you.

“I just…I feel so stupid bils! My stupid brain and my learning disability.” You explained to her and how your partners were making you feel like shit. “Hey hey now. First of all, you aren’t stupid, second of all, they are shit heads who don’t know what they are talking about. Fuck them. You are the smartest and talented girl I know. Don’t let their peanut sized Brains make you think any differently do you understand?” Billie says and you nodded your head slowly. “I still have to write this stupid paper and on top of that I have to start completely over since I messed up.” You sigh and Billie gave you a comforting smile.

“Why don’t I read your project over and help you with your paper hm?” She suggested and you gave her a big smile. “Would you please? I don’t get it whatsoever and I feel like my head is gonna explode.” You explained and she giggles. “I know baby but how about I read it over and rewrite it to where you can understand it better how’s that?” She offered and you felt your eyes burn with tears. “Oh bils…you are the sweetest ever. What did I do to deserve you?” You say as you stand up from your chair and place a kiss on her plump lips, making her kiss you back immediately.

“Okay. Now go to bed and rest. I’ll be there to join you in a bit alright?” She softly demanded you and you nodded. You walked over to the bed and got underneath the covers as you watched Billie read over the project and write down some stuff before joining you. You couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend than Billie, who never made you feel stupid or slow. She loved you as you are.

A/n: thank you for the request anon! As someone who has a learning disability this was very nice to write. Anyone who has some sort of learning disability, know that no matter what anyone says to you, you are smart and capable just like everyone else and I’m proud of you :) remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! <3

#Billie eilish #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #billieeilish #billie #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fic #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fanfiction #eilish #billie o’connell #dyslexia #dyslexic

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 16 days ago

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Can u write an enemies to lovers fic of Grayson X reader??? Plsss!!

thank you for your request and I apologise for the delay in writing it, my request list has been mountainous for a little while now and this particular fic actually also had lots of rewrites before the final piece. It began as an academic rivals sort of thing, then became family-feud but finally ended with whatever this is. I’m praying you enjoy this 🤍🤍

title: we’re just project partners

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re partnered with the one person you hate to complete a project you love… but what if he’s not as bad as you thought

warnings: swearing, gray-bae is being a nasty little b-word (BUT ITS FOR THE PLOT OKAY)

a/n: I am alive!! It’s just taken me a week and a bit to post again, I’m writing three fics at once so this one just happened to be done first

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I roll my eyes, eyeing the names on the board.

It just has to be him doesn’t it.

“There must be a mistake,” Grayson says. I turn my head to look at him, for once we can agree on something.

“No there is no mistake,” the professor tusks, “class dismissed.”

Everyone gets up and begins to pack their stuff, chatting about the project and their partners and various other things. It sucks when you have no classes with your friends, but it sucks even more when you get partnered with your rival for a project.

I’m about to walk out of the classroom when I hear my name.

“Y/n l/n, come back a moment!”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes, I just want to go home. I spin around and sluggishly walk back to the teacher’s desk where she stands and beside her is the infamous arrogant prat Grayson Hawthorne.

“You have to change it,” Grayson snaps quickly, his voice so insistent, so sharp. I look up to see he’s gesturing to our names beside one another’s. Classic Hawthorne. Thinks he can command people to do whatever he pleases just because he feels entitled enough to do so.

“What you gonna do, bribe her if she says no?” I scoff, arms folded.

They both ignore me but my lip still quirk upwards, proud of the pathetic joke I’d made, even if I was the only one who found it funny.

“There will be no changes Mr Hawthorne,” our professor replies sincerely.

“You don’t understand,” he shakes his head so vigorously I have to bite back a laugh, “I can’t work with her.”

“Well you’re going to have to,” she says, “this is 30% of your grade for the year.”

His eyes widen and he almost looks panicked. Almost. Nevertheless it amuses me to see the stoic, ironclad blonde crack for mere seconds.

“Professor please,” he says so desperately he’s practically begging, which I’d always thought was too beneath him to do, “she’s impossible.”

“I’m impossible?” I raise my eyebrows.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to our teacher, “anyone but her. I’ll do it by myself if I have to.”

“I’ve told you once and I will only repeat myself one more time, there will be no changes made,” she says too calmly, “I don’t see the problem, you are both excellent students with some of the highest marks I’ve seen in my time. You need to get past whatever this little tiff is and move on. Bounce off of each other, enlighten each other, create a show stopping presentation.”

Such a teacher answer to give. Played off to be inspirational, really just a nice way of saying get on with it or you fail.

“On the contrary Miss, I think Hawthorne here is the only one kicking up a fuss, I haven’t uttered a word,” I point out.

“That may be true but don’t you think I can see the vicious looks aimed at both him and me?” she asks, accusation in her tone.

So maybe the dirty looks weren’t as sly as I’d thought them to be. Still, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie through my teeth, sweetened smile to sugarcoat it further.

“Perhaps it should be discussed in a detention then, I’m free after school tomorrow,” she proposes, her smile even sweeter than mine.

“No, no, that isn’t necessary,” I say quickly, “I’m suddenly horribly aware of the looks I’ve been giving.”

I’m not the kind of girl who gets detentions, actually I’d never gotten one in my life and I didn’t intend to change that. My record was perfect, it was going to stay perfect. My professor, annoyingly, knew that a bit too well.

“Good, I suppose no detention then,” she says, “and what about you Mr Hawthorne, would you like to discuss your stubborn means to switch partners in a detention with me?”

“No thank you,” he grits through his teeth, his jaw nearly set in stone. I fight back a grin at his irritation.

“Challenges are good for the mind,” she smiles, “and I have a feeling you two will very much challenge one another. You once told me you liked a challenge, no?”

“I do,” Grayson nods slowly, then side glances at me, “but not of this kind.”

I think it was meant to be an insult towards me but it was so poor it didn’t even come close to mildly hurting me so I don’t bother to respond.

“Try something new, branch out a little,” our professor shrugs, “and who knows, you may even enjoy each other’s company.”

“That is very optimistic,” I scoff at the same time as Grayson says, “that will never happen.”

“Only time will tell,” she replies with a whimsical look in her eyes, “good luck.”

We exit the classroom in the coldest of silences. Any colder and we would’ve had an ice palace with an interesting rendition of ‘let it go’. I vote Grayson plays Elsa.

He actually barely spares me a glance, with his jaw all clenched and tightened. I wonder at one point if he’s breathing. He’s so tense, the feeling smothers the air around me, suffocating any sense of relaxation. I turn to leave the building.

“Where are we going?” he questions, too assertive for my liking.

“I’m going home,” I tell him bluntly.

He furrows his brows, “why?”

“To get changed,” I deadpan.

“Why?” he repeats. I try to read his emotions but they’re not clear enough to define. He’s accustomed to hiding them.

I stare at him, “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, we’ll meet here in 15 minutes,” he decides.

I don’t reply as I turn on my heels and walk away.

***

After getting changed and piecing together all of the things I might need to study, all my notes and books and highlighters and pens, I walked back over to our ‘meeting place’. As I approach Grayson is already stood there with a sour expression on his face. Of course he’s already there.

“You’re late,” he tells me, his voice so bitter I wonder how many lemons it would take to rival it.

“No I’m exactly on time,” I sneer, flicking my phone in his face.

“It’s been 15 minutes and 43 seconds, so technically you’re 43 seconds late,” he smirks. I almost feel sorry for him because I can see how proud he feels after saying this, sense the smugness burning in his chest.

“Did you count?” I try extremely hard to suppress my laughter.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t waste my breath on that,” he rolls his eyes, then pauses slightly, “… I set a timer.”

“Of course you did,” I purse my lips with a sigh.

His screws his face up, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean you’re a weird person who would time someone going home to get changed,” I shrug, attempting to walk past him.

Talk about being late, when he was the one stood here chattering on about meaningless subjects. He ignores the comment and briskly stands in front of me to block me from walking any further.

“What are you wearing anyway?” he asks, looking down on me with great distaste with all but his eyes.

“Clothes,” I deadpan, staring down at my much loved and slightly over worn band tee-shirt.

“They’re awful,” he tells me bluntly.

“Was that meant to hurt me?” I raise an eyebrow. I mean sure, it hurt a little, but I didn’t actually care what he thought. Or I shouldn’t at least.

“You could’ve picked something a little nicer to wear in public,” he continues, so cut-throat and cold.

I look directly into his mellowed silver eyes and wonder how someone with such soft, inviting eyes could be so sharp and jagged with the words he uses.

“Worried I’ll ruin your street credit,” I tease, “sully your good name with my sports leggings and band t-shirt?”

“I’m just surprised at your lack of care for your appearance,” he replies, a slight discomfort worming its way through his features. It makes me smile a little.

“I just think I’m not as fixated on it as you, I mean what’s with your outfit, James Bond? Do you own anything that’s not a suit and tie,” I ask.

“Matter-o-factly I do,” he replies bluntly as if to end the conversation.

So of course I continue it, “so do you just stare at those clothes then, hanging in your walk in wardrobe.”

His eyes snap up and his stare is suddenly so piercing it hurts to hold eye contact, “how do you know I have a walk in wardrobe,” he practically spits, in a defensive tongue.

I snort, “that was a joke, but yeesh rich boy you’ve got it all.”

“Rich boy, how original,” Grayson comments.

“I’ve got more,” I shoot back with that smile I know makes his blood boil and skin singe.

“Spare me them,” he responds, “sweetheart.”

A forbidden fluttering occurs in the pit of my stomach, it’s as if eight hundred butterflies have decided to dance a jive there. Some feeling between guilt and shame settles in my chest. The word sweetheart shouldn’t make me feel anything, least of all from the mouth of Grayson Hawthorne.

But it was the way he said it, so softly, so smoothly, the word just rolled off of his tongue like he’d called me it for years. It almost sounded nice. The guilt weighs heavier on my chest and I snap out of it. I don’t feel anything. For anyone. Least of all him.

“Awww you’ve got a nickname for me too Goldilocks,” I reply with a laugh to bury the truth.

“Did you not hear the spare me part?” he tusks, beginning to walk.

I shake my head, walking a little faster than usual to keep up with his strides, “sorry I usually don’t listen when someone irrelevant talks.”

He scowls at me and I wink back.

“Did your face get stuck in a permanent scowl as a child or were you just born unhappy?” I cock my head to the side and narrow my eyes.

“Do you ever shut up?” Grayson asks flatly.

“My therapist told me not to hold back,” I shrug.

“Doesn’t that explain a lot,” he says dryly, shooting me a look that makes me feel inferior. I go to bite my tongue, but ask myself when I’m trying to hold back. I don’t owe him anything.

I stare at him, “don’t look so disgusted blondie, just because you’re too up yourself to admit you need help doesn’t mean all of us are.”

“I don’t need help,” Grayson replies, each word candid and dull.

Something in me almost feels sorry for him. Did he really think he didn’t need help? Did he really feel that alone and isolated? I wanted, in that moment, to reach out and be there for him. Then I remember who he is.

“Whatever you say,” I sigh.

“We’re working at my house,” he responds abruptly, as we get to the end of the street.

I fold my arms and raise my eyebrows, “says who?”

“Me,” he shrugs.

“And who are you to tell me where I’m working?” I ask.

“I’m your partner and I’m making a decision,” he presses on, stubbornly. Little does he know, I’m twice as stubborn and I’m not going to back down.

“I don’t think you really understand how this whole project thing works,” I say.

“I’ve done plenty of projects and I can very much assure you, I understand what I’m doing,” he grumbles back, clearly annoyed that he isn’t getting his way this time. Someone has to teach him I suppose.

“Oh great,” I smile sickeningly sweetly, “then we’re not working at yours.”

“Why on earth not?” he screws up his face as if I’ve just told him I want to skin a cat alive.

“I don’t want to,” I reply simply.

“Well I do,” he argues back.

“That’s a shame,” I shrug softly, leaving him with no option.

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his perfect hair, “you are insufferable.”

“That the worst you got Hawthorne?” I giggle a little, turning left to walk down the pathway.

“And impossible,” he says, following me.

“Oh you wound me,” I say hyperbolically, putting I hand in my head and feigning a dizzy spell.

Grayson rolls his eyes, he’s done it so many times now I’m worried they might get stick here soon, “can we just work?”

“Where?” I shoot him a lopsided grin.

He sighs, most likely suppressing some very colourful language, “why don’t you decide seen as my ideas oppose you.”

“Much like your entire personality,” I let him know.

“My personality is fine,” he replies, probably trying to soothe his rapidly declining pride under that suit of his.

“Mhmmm,” I nod sarcastically, “and I have a unicorn that shits cupcakes called Craig.”

“Really?” he wrinkles his nose, “profanities?”

“Oh no is it too beneath the great Grayson Hawthorne to say fuck every now and then,” I laugh.

He tenses and mutters something under his breath. I don’t quite hear the words but you can see he’s fuming. It ignites something in me, a spark. I like seeing him furious. I really like it.

“Where do you want to work?” he asks me, grey eyes a little too distracting for my liking.

“The library,” I tell him, my answer almost immediate.

He tries to mask his horror but fails miserably, “in public?”

“You’re not going to get cholera,” I snort.

“Can’t we just work somewhere nicer,” he complains.

“The library is nice,” I tell him, “and they have a coffee stand outside and I want coffee so that’s where we’re going.”

“And you call me demanding,” he mutters underneath us breath.

***

We walk to the library bickering about how fast he walks and how slow I apparently walk. In my personal opinion I think he was walking fast on purpose, he obviously disagreed.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask him, it now only just dawning on me that he was leading the way yet he didn’t know where the library was.

“I’m not an idiot,” Grayson spits back, nose in the air, posture upright and powerful.

He always carries himself like that as if he’s saviour of the world and we should all bow down to kiss his presumably pedicured feet.

“Are you sure?” I tease him.

“Certain,” he snaps regimentally.

“We’re here,” I say halting conversation to walk up to the coffee stand.

“I knew that,” he mumbled.

He glances at the cart, looking it up and down like it needs to be judged and inspected to his high standards.

“What is this?” he interrogates me.

“It’s called a coffee cart in english but in rich boy it might be called something else, I haven’t studied the language yet,” I respond coolly.

“Is this even safe to drink?” Grayson says, some variant of worry wavering in his tone.

“It’s coffee,” I deadpan, “not raw chicken.”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner.

“I like it and I’m getting some,” I tell him bluntly, “you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“No,” he checks his watch, “I need a coffee, this’ll have to do.”

I don’t bother wasting my breath to respond but make a mental note that maybe the Hawthorne wasn’t so different from me, addicted to coffee.

“Hey Jack,” I wave, walking closer to the cart.

I’d known Jack for a good eight years of my life, he was my rock. The smile in endless clouds of grey, the light at the end of the tunnel and of course, most importantly, the coffee provider to my caffeine deprived being.

“Bonsoir sunshine what can I get you,” he grins his usual grin at me, the witty mischief-ridden grin is known since I was nine years old. His eyes slide over Grayson judgementally though when he realises I’m watching him he immediately flicks back to his job.

“The usual of course,” he makes sure.

“You come here often?” Grayson raises an eyebrow, interrupting my answer.

“Just every day,” Jack says, before I can get a word out. I shoot him a look.

Grayson looks at me, “every day?”

“I really like coffee,” I explain with an exaggerated hand gesture.

“Coffee is bad for your health,” he responds almost immediately.

I suppress the hundreds of colourful words exploding in my mind settling for a more well-mannered reply, “well it’s good for my mental stability.”

“She’s addicted now,” Jack adds, “she’ll get withdrawal symptoms without it.”

“Shaking, sweating, you name it, I get it,” I continue.

“That sounds like a serious health condition,” Grayson says, his eyebrows pinching together. It was so soft I could’ve mistakened the expression for concern. But of course, why would he be concerned for me. I must’ve been reading it wrong.

“Hence me buying this coffee,” I tell him.

“Blueberry muffin, on the house,” Jack offers me, as if he didn’t every Friday.

We had a deal, I was allowed to take a free blueberry muffin that came out of his earnings if he kept up to date with his school work. Jack had always had a problem with handing things in on time and concentrating and school wasn’t his strong point. He hated going and was so close to dropping out too many times. That was until I made him stay. I talked him into it and he promises me he doesn’t regret it. It seems this week, he’s turned in all assignments on time.

I smiled, “you mean on the cart?”

“Sure whatever,” he brushes it off, “anything else?”

His eyes dare to skim over Grayson again though he is quick to come back and meet my gaze, his cheeks flush like he’s a child who’s done something wrong.

I turn to Grayson, “what do you want?”

“I’ll pay for myself,” he says shortly, looking slightly offended at my question.

I screw up my nose at him, “I wasn’t going to offer to pay for you asshole.”

“Play nice, sunshine,” Jack teases.

I glare at him and his smile quickly fades.

“You can’t play nice with that,” I glower.

He shoots me a look, the turns to Grayson, “what can I get you sir?”

“It’s not the evening,” Grayson replies.

Jack’s eyes are lost in a blanket of confusion, “sorry?”

“It’s not the evening it’s the afternoon,” he clarifies, as if it made the meaning of his sentence any clearer.

“You’ve lost me sir,” he shakes his head with furrowed brows.

“You said bonsoir but it isn’t the evening,” he chastises, “it’s afternoon and therefore you should’ve said bon après-midi.”

Jack turns to me, bewildered, “is he on drugs?”

“Probably,” I shrug. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rich kid had private access to that sort of stuff, he probably had the lawyers to cover it up as well.

“Are you…” Jack hesitates, “…you know?”

He makes an odd gesture with two fingers as I confuse to stare at him blankly.

“No I don’t know,” I reply.

“Are you with him,” he asks, “romantically.”

I almost choke on my own spit as I bark out a laugh, “oh god no.”

For a fraction of a second a look of relief passes over Jack’s features. Something uninvited tugs at my insides but I quickly ignore it.

“You’d be lucky,” Grayson scoffs.

“Oh he fancies himself,” Jack grins, clearly amused.

“Yeah it’s an ego thing, his is massive,” I explain.

“No it’s not,” the blonde insists.

“In denial as well,” Jack smirks, folding his arms.

“Always,” I say, then turn to Grayson, “now what do you want to drink because if you don’t tell him now I’m taking mine and ditching you.”

“Black coffee, no cream, no sugar,” the answer was instant, rehearsed.

“Ooo you made a hardcore friend,” Jack snickers, I want to slap him.

“We are not friends,” I make clear.

“Yeesh okay,” he raises his eyebrows, lifting his hands up as if he’d been convicted of a crime.

“And let’s be realistic here, rich boy probably has a massive sweet tooth and is too embarrassed to let people know,” I say with a sly smirk.

“Oh one hundred percent!” Jack nods, handing me my cup and muffin.

“I do not,” Grayson mutters, but loudly enough for us both to hear.

“That’s confirmed then,” Jack winks at me.

I giggle as he hands Grayson his drink. We exchange payment and then comes the dreaded point where I actually have to leave to get work done. Usually coming to the library for me was getting to see Jack and getting my coffee, not the actual going to library part.

“See you tomorrow,” I smiled sadly.

“Hopefully without thunder face here,” Jack says.

“I can hear you,” Grayson says curtly, before taking a sip of his coffee.

“I know,” Jack shrugs.

“I hope so too,” I reply to his previous comment, “bye!”

“Bye,” he salutes me as I turn around and begin to walk.

I’m aware that Grayson is by my side but neither of us speak. The only sounds come from our surroundings and the alternating elongated sips of coffee were taking to avoid talking. I practically inhale my muffin, after skipping lunch as school had booked my time table that way.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Grayson says suddenly with a sour expression on his face.

“The way he looked at me was none of your business,” I reply sharply, indicating for him to drop the subject unless me wanted a fight.

“Well I didn’t like it,” he continued. Fine, he wants a fight.

“I don’t really care,” I shrug, “he’s Jack, he’s been a friend since freaking kindergarten, he’s got no dishonourable intentions.”

A slight exaggerated lie on my part, but I wasn’t ashamed. It feels like I’ve known Jack that long anyway, the technicalities don’t matter.

“You don’t know that,” he states.

“I know that better than anyone now back off okay?” I snap, “or you and I will have a real problem.”

He laughs, “you’re almost adorable when you’re angry.”

“Adorable?” I say, fantasising spitting in his face after that comment.

“Almost,” he corrects me.

“I can throw a good hard punch and I’m not afraid to,” I warn him.

“Oh I’m sure you’re not,” he says, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips, “I can see as much in your eyes.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, raising my voice a little.

He stays quiet and averts his eyes, deciding to ignore me a continue walking.

“Oh ignore the question, real mature,” I roll my eyes, “so glad I’m having a proper adult conversation.”

Silence hits again, like a sonic boom of nothingness. He doesn’t even look at me. It’s as if I don’t exist, as if in the last three seconds I’ve become an irrelevant invisible being.

I stop Grayson in his tracks and force him to meet my eyes, “stay away from Jack,” I practically growl, “or I’ll fail this assignment on purpose.”

“We both know you wouldn’t damage your perfectionist reputation for petty revenge,” he murmurs, our faces only inches away from one another’s.

“I have a talent for getting myself out of things,” I cock my head to the side in an art of competition, my cheeks flushing at the realisation that I could feel his warm breath on my face.

“How funny,” he counters, “me too.”

His eyes are narrowed to challenge me. Okay Hawthorne, game on.

***

We’ve been researching for an hour with no further conversation. Since our previous altercation neither one of us had so much as looked up from our laptops. The only reason I knew he was still sat opposite me was the sound of his keyboard typing. I get out my textbook and begin to highlight the lines I need to use

“Why are you using six different highlighters?”

The first thing he says to me in an hour is that? I don’t bother looking up.

“Why do you care?” I ask, my eyes flicking over to my work, my hands continuing to highlight information.

“It’s annoying me,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” I reply slowly, “it sounds like more of a you problem to me.”

I look up. Grayson is staring right at me, his steel eyes cold looking on my face. He opens his mouth to reply but my surprise gets there first.

“You wear glasses?” I gape.

“Seen as I’ve had them on for the last hour that would make sense,” he teases.

“I never see you wear them at school,” I explain.

“That’s because I don’t,” he pauses, “why were you looking at me in school?”

“It was just generally, like I’d waste my time looking at you,” I roll my eyes.

Then catch his for a moment. My head tilts to the side. Something feels off about him. He looks warmer, softer, calmer.

“What?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

“You look weird,” I blurt out before my brain can filter it.

“How lovely of you to say,” he replies dryly.

“You don’t look like you,” I say, “you look more…”

Human. That’s what I want to say but I trail off instead.

“More what?” he prompts.

“It doesn’t matter,” I shake my head, getting back to my book. I can feel his eyes on me.

He stares me down quizzically, like he’s trying to work me out, “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Highlight my textbook in peace? Yeah,” I scoff, “but that’s not really happening anymore.”

“You’re trying to get under my skin,” he seethes.

“By highlighting my book?” I raise my eyebrows.

“In six different colours,” he reminds me, as if I don’t already know.

I sigh, “I dare say that coffee made you even more of a bitch.”

He rolls his eyes, “you really feel the need to use those words?”

“No but I feel the need to punch you,” I retort.

“Well I’m right here, why don’t you?” he challenges.

“Because I have a level of self control,” I shrug gently.

“Are you quite sure?” he asks me.

He doesn’t realise I’m not the kind of girl to question myself just because a man did first. I’m not that kind of girl at all.

“Are you quite finished?” I reply, just a smoothly to mirror him.

“No.”

Our eyes linger on each others and it feels like we share a million unspoken conversation through the patterns of our irises. I’m fixated on him like I’ve been fixated on no other before. It’s not me but that doesn’t make me pull away. His gaze becomes more concentrated, harder to ignore without unwelcome feelings arising so I look back down to my highlighters and pick up for where I left off, except now I had a thumping heart in my chest.

I slide a sweaty palm on my trousers keeping it hidden under the table. I finish up my highlighting and then begin type up the final few notes I have to get done. After that, it’s over. I get to leave, I get my freedom, I get to breathe.

“I’m finished,” he announces when I’m mid sentence. Why is his tone always so articulated, so definitive?

“Okay I’m nearly there,” I say, frantically typing the last of my notes.

“Bit slow,” he comments.

I roll my eyes with no energy to reply. He’s done me in today. I’m exhausted at the thought of more bickering. With a few more clicks of my keyboard I complete all that I wanted to.

“I’m done,” I exhale, “just send me your work so I can proofread and check the facts.”

“You doubt my skill?” he raises an eyebrow.

I shrug, “I don’t know you well enough to trust it.”

“Then send me yours,” he purses his lips, “and I’ll do the same.”

“Okay then,” I say, sending him over my copy slowly.

He opens it and begins to read as I open his. My eyes are just in the middle of the second paragraph when there’s an untimely interrupted.

“It’s a waste of time,” he says suddenly, irritation thick in his tone.

“Not if I find mistakes,” I sing song, not taking my eyes off of his page, knowing full well I’d have to reread this sentence and other four times.

“You won’t,” he snaps.

“Oh take it out!” I exclaim finally, growing too exasperated to keep my feelings at bay.

He grows suddenly extremely confused, providing a perfect answer, “what?”

“The stick, wedged up your backside!” I whisper-yell, exasperated, “just yank it out already.”

“Excuse me!” he widens his eyes, looking highly disgusted.

“You’re rigid as a board, you never smile, your muscles are literally tensed, chill out a little,” I breathe, “I literally just want to check over the notes, why is it nearly world war three?”

“Your imagination is quite something,” he comments, practically ignoring all that I’d just said.

“So is your expressionless face,” I answer with a small shrug.

Grayson’s lips twist into a smile, “you think my face is quite something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Hawthorne,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“I’ll try not to,” he replies.

“It must be hard for you,” I tease.

“Not as hard it is for you to admit you like my face,” he continues to smirk, annoying twinging through me with each curve of his mouth.

“If liking it means I want to spit in it, then yeah I really like your face,” I reply.

He leans over the table, getting closer, “you’re revolting.”

“Get the dictionary out for the next adjective,” I taunt him, “there’s one behind you.”

He doesn’t respond and I take that as my win. His eyes just become fixated on my notes all of a sudden. My stomach dances a little. I feel nervous, why do I feel nervous? It’s just Grayson, reading my notes… but my leg is bouncing up and down and I’m holding my breath without realising it. The clock has never ticked so loudly.

I focus on his notes and unfortunately realise he’s right. There are no mistakes. How annoying. I wanted to make him feel stupid for being so arrogant but he had a right to be. His work was practically perfect. Of course there are things I would’ve written differently but it didn’t taken away from the fact that his work was masterful.

“There’s a mistake,” he says suddenly.

Damn it.

“What?” I ask.

“In your work,” he smiles, almost proudly.

“Okay?” I say, “that’s why we proof things, hence proving my earlier point of the important of proofreading.”

“You got the date wrong,” he explains.

“Which one?” I furrow my brows, dates were the first thing I checked usually. It wasn’t like me to make mistakes on them unless I was distracted.

“1922 should be 1923,” he counters, showing me on his screen.

“Must’ve been a typo,” I shrug.

“Or poor research,” he replied smugly.

“Well I’ve written down 1923,” I tap my pen on my paper notes, “so it must have been a typo,”

“Well you should proofread more carefully then?” he says.

“Maybe I should’ve,” I nod.

He’s got nothing left to say. He can’t argue with me if I’ve agreed with him. Silence hit us like the dead. You could cut the tension with a knife.

“Just correct it,” I finally breathe.

“I will,” he says, tapping at the keys.

“Done?” I ask once he’s finished.

“Done,” he consolidates.

“Great so now we can leave,” I say, standing up, a little too eager to get out.

“Not yet,” Grayson tells me, his words slow and staccato.

“What is this? Some sort of damnation? I want to go home,” I exclaim.

“Well we need to seal our work with our fingerprints,” he explains.

I stare at him blankly, it feels like he’s just said something to me in a strange foreign language, “what?”

“Put fingerprint recognition onto the data base so only we can open our work,” he clarifies, as if it makes it any easier for me to understand.

“Why?” I ask cluelessly.

“So no one can hack into it,” he replies.

“Why do you say it likes it’s obvious?” I say.

“Because it is obvious,” he shrugs.

“Only you would have a fingerprint recognition for school assignments,” I roll my eyes.

“Well I want them secure,” he says.

“Clearly,” I snort.

He opens his mouth to reply but I interrupt him before he can get there.

“Let’s just get this over with, I want to go home tonight,” I sigh.

“Fine,” he says, “you just have to tap here.”

I place my finger where he directed it but it didn’t work. Huffing, I jab my finger at the screen a few times harshly. I’m surprised I don’t break the screen.

“I said tap, not murder,” Grayson says.

“I’m imagining it’s your face,” I growl back, still tapping relentlessly at the uncooperative piece of technology.

“It’s cute you think you’d even get close to touching my face,” he replies cooly.

I smack his forehead sharply. His reflexes aren’t fast enough to register it until the act is done. He sits there, stunned and blinking.

“Still cute?” I ask, batting my eyelashes.

“Adorable,” he growls, a sarcastic venom dripping from every letter.

I groan, as the fingerprint fails me again, “it’s not working.”

“You’re doing it wrong,” he tusks.

“Come on then genius,” I roll my eyes, “show me how it’s done.”

I’m surprised when he takes my hand gently and guides it to the screen. That familiar jolt in my stomach returns. He’s so delicate with me, as if I’m worthy of being treated fragile. He applies light pressure to the tip of my thumb so the fingerprint recognition goes through, his eyes fixated on the screen. Mine are on him.

“There, that’s how it’s done,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. The screen lit up green.

He let go of my hand and a wave of shame rolls over me because I’m disappointed he let go.

“Good then,” I nod, mentally telling myself to stop thinking such nonsense, “I need to get home.”

“It’s 6pm,” he deadpans.

“And I need to get home,” I repeat, remembering what an aggravating human being he could be. It washed away any tentative hand touch in an instant.

“But the assignment-“

“We have three weeks,” I say, “don’t get your kickers in a twist Barbie 2.0.”

“The names keep getting better,” he grits through his teeth.

“Well practice makes perfect,” I tease, enjoying myself a little too much

“Doesn’t it just,” he smiles sarcastically.

I sigh shaking my head, “why did she have to pair me with you?”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you got the better end of the bargain,” he says with a laboured laugh.

I pause and stare at him, “how?”

“You were partnered with me,” he states, “I’m coherent, cohesive, co-“

“Too many co words Mr,” I cut in.

“But I got you,” he says.

“You say it as if I’m a piece of shit on your shoe,” I practically spit at him. I hate the way me makes me feel inferior.

“Well you’re not exactly pleasant to be around,” Grayson defends, leaning back in his chair.

“Ditto.”

“You’re annoying, irritating-“

“They’re literally synonyms of each other,” I yell over him, earning myself a stern look from the librarian.

“I mean you’re clearly very argumentative,” he says, gesturing his hands as if I were proving his point, “but I wouldn’t put it past you, after all I’m presuming your background didn’t give you lessons in etiquette.”

I clench my jaw to keep it from dropping. I knew he was nasty but I didn’t know he could be cruel.

“My background?” I question him. I know what he means, I just want to see if he’s brave enough this stick his neck out and explain it

“You’re a scholarship student,” he shrugs.

“How do you know that,” I ask quickly.

No one is meant to know that. The headmaster assured me no one could possibly find out and yet Grayson Hawthorne knew. How funny. He only shrugs in response, he wasn’t going to let up that information. He could see it meant something to me.

“I know you think you’re king of the world and all that but it wouldn’t kill you to take your head out of your ass every once in a while and breath some fresh air,” I raise my voice a little, wildly furious.

“Must you be so creative with your insults,”he asks dryly

“Must you be so blatantly rude with yours,” I shoot back.

“So it’s not true?” he replies.

“You don’t have the right to judge me on what you think you know about my life,” I snap fiercely.

He raises his eyebrows, “sorry, did I hit a nerve?”

“You hit nothing,” I mutter.

He smiles to himself, he knows he hit something.

“I’ll be leaving now then, see you later,” I say, the annoyance too thick in my tone for me to hide. I stand up and grab my bag.

“Wait!” he calls.

I spin around, “what?”

“I need your number,” he says slowly.

“You don’t need to sound so desperate,” I smirk.

“I need it to text you the times to meet up and work on the assignment,” he clarifies with an infamous eye roll.

“You don’t need to use that as an excuse blondie,“ I say.

“How can someone some on so intelligent be so utterly exasperating,” Grayson groans.

My cheeks heat up. He thinks I’m intelligent. He values my mind.

“It’s a talent,” I grinned back.

He rolls his eyes as I write down my number and hand it to him.

“There.”

“Thank you,” he nods at me.

“Wow,” my eye widen in shock, “you can be civil!”

“Every once in a while,” he shrugs delicately.

I almost smile but suppress it. Quickly I stack all of the books I’d borrowed to out them away on my way out. Though as I go to carry the pile his voice stops me.

“You’re never going to able to carry all of those books,” he says.

“You don’t need to underestimate me Hawthorne, you’ve done that too much today,” I tell him.

“Watch me defy your so called fact then,” I retort, lifting all eight volumes on top of one another into my arms.

“I’m not underestimating you,” Grayson replies, “I’m stating a fact.”

It’s heavier than I’d estimated which is the first shock. They sit unstably, wobbling and threatening to come cluttering to the floor. But he could not be right. I wouldn’t buckle. I wouldn’t drop anything. I’m not a failure.

“Need some help there?” he tilts his head to the side.

“No,” I say, my strained voice giving me away.

“You look like you’re struggling,” he comments.

“Well I’m not,” I reply, feeling that my face is rosy from sheer effort.

He looks at me, “are you sure?”

“Very,” I grunt, my arms burning with the weight.

“I’ll save you the stubborn act and the library damage fee and take some,” he rolls his eyes.

“I said I’m fine-“

He takes a large sum of books from the top. My arms relax slightly as I glare at him.

“If you drop them you’ll like an idiot,” he explains.

“I wouldn’t have dropped them,” I state.

“Okay, whatever you say,” he replies.

“Don’t use my saying on me,” I say.

“It’s not yours,” he shrugs, “you didn’t create it.”

“I used it earlier, that’s close enough,” I tell him.

“Sure.”

We come to an abrupt halt in conversation and both turn back to back to put the books back to their respected areas. I see one in my pile that has a page marked. I flick to it and pause to skim over the contents.

“What are you reading?”

He almost makes me jump, I didn’t hear him sneak up behind me.

“An article,” I say, tying to keep my voice from trembling after the shock.

I can feel him now breathing down my neck, his chest almost touches my back. My pulse races, skyrocketing a little too far.

“Who’s it by?“ he asks.

My eyes flick to the bottom of the page where I read aloud my response, “am anonymous writer.”

He scrunches his nose up, “what good an article with an anonymous author?”

“It’s not about who wrote it, it’s about the impact it has,” I say.

“I disagree, if I wrote a life changing article I’d want people to know I’d written it,” he replies.

“Of course you want more,” I scoff, stacking the books a little too aggressively.

Classic Hawthorne. The second I think he might not be so bad he goes ahead and reminds me of exactly why I hate people like him.

“Want more?” he furrows his brows.

“You want the glory of it, your name talked about, your legacy preserved,” I snap.

“So I can’t want anything?” he shoots back with venom on his tongue.

“You’re a rich, stuck up prick, like all the rest of them at that school,” I laugh bitterly, “your grandfather is a billionaire, what could you possibly want that isn’t already at your fingertips?”

“You don’t have the right to judge me on what you think you know about my life,” he quotes me.

“Bite me Hawthorne,” I snarl, spinning around.

He catches my wrist and the corners of his mouth lift to form a smirk. A twinge of hatred shifts in my stomach as I glare at him.

“Any other requests?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t play that game with me,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

“And what game might that be?” he asks, our faces inching closer by the second. The butterflies madly gnawing on my internal organs.

“You know what you’re doing,” I mutter, as my fingers clasp around his wrist too.

His smiles broadens and his silver eyes ignite, “and what is it that I am doing?”

“Stop,” I snap at him. We’re so close now that our foreheads could touch with the slightest of movements.

“Stop what?” he questions me, his voice so hushed it send a shiver down my spine.

“I’m going to strangle you,” I growl, the sound coming from the back of my throat. An uninvited passion rippling through my tone.

“I’d like to see you try,” he murmurs, snaking a hand around my waist. A soft gasp escapes my lips at the warmth and tenderness of his touch. He holds me like I’m breakable. It makes me vulnerable and I hate it yet I don’t tell him to stop. I come to horrible realisation that maybe I don’t want him to.

“I swear to god Hawthorne-“

“Shhhhh,” he says, eyes pinned to mine.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly. All the oxygen previously in my lungs had been sucked out mercilessly by his tentative being.

“Just shut up for one second,” he snaps.

Fury lights inside of me and the spark of rage burns brighter than ever, “don’t tell me to shut-“

“Shhhhh,” he murmurs, placing a gentle finger to my lips.

My mouth obeys without my brain’s consent and my voice ceases. It’s just him and I and the silence around us. My heart thumps in my chest, so loudly it rattles through my ears. Slowly, almost cautiously, my own hands slide up his back as if some other world force is tugging them that way. I know I don’t want to do this but a familiar aching for deprived feeling was forcing me to.

“What are we doing Grayson?” I say, the words barely heard.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, “all I know is, you drive me insane.”

“Funny,” I smile softly, “you drive me insane too.”

His pupils dilate as we get closer. An entrancing monochrome kaleidoscope, only black and grey. Our foreheads meet, pressing into one another. It feels so natural, so right. His hands tighten slightly around the small of my back, as my eyelash graze his cheek, tickling him lightly. I can feel his breath on my face and his heart beating against my own. Our lips go to meet and-

“We’re closing the library now.”

I jerk backwards to suddenly my back smacks into the shelves of books behind me. Pain surges through my spinal cord and I bite my lip to keep me from crying out. My eyes become glossy as previously stacked books thump to the floor. I look up to see the librarian standing there.

I cough, picking up the books, “thanks, we were just leaving.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t say another word. I feel my cheeks burn a feverish red. I don’t meet Grayson’s eyes as I spin on my heels and charge out.

thanks for reading my loves 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#the inheritance games #tig #grayson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #grayson hawthorne one shot #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson tgg #graybae

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fieldofdaisiies · 10 months ago

Text

Midnight Queen

"If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."

And he did. He kept his distance. That night, that night months ago, he left. He stayed away from her. From Elain.

He left the House of Wind. And he sought out a pleasure hall. He downed a drink. And then he walked down one of the narrow corridors, velvet tapestry on either side, towards a more private room at the very back of the pleasure hall. Primal noises, moans and screams reached him on his way there, the scents of arousal mingling in the air around him, making him grimace. But he ignored it all, his anger and frustration getting the best of him.

Azriel had followed Rhysand’s suggestion - fed up with all the happy couples in his life, and their constant display of joy and love. He couldn't stay moment longer in the House of Wind.

He had to leave. But not for the sake of fucking. He didn't come to the pleasure hall to fuck, only to watch. To distract himself. And it is all he's done ever since.

He only comes here to watch. And only to watch you.

Until tonight. Tonight is different. Tonight he needs. He craves. He is a hungry male, and he seeks to devour. To still his hunger. He wants to savour. You.

The glass, half-full with amber liquor, is tipped to his plump lips, while his gaze, like heated honey, is trained on you, following your every move. Just like his shadows, perched on both his shoulders and the little stage you dance upon, watching your every move closely, twin flames burning in his eyes that devour you, slowly undress you.

You're on my mind Been there all night I've been missing seeing my midnight queen Come have a drinkOr maybe three And Darling I'll make you my next victim It's been too long to spend this night alone I need to hear the sweet sound of your moans Come have a ride, baby don't be so shy I prefer girls who're not afraid to cry

His eyes are on your curves and how you put them in action. Each sway of your hips, each spin, each twirl, Azriel‘s eyes follow, leaving heat in every place they touch. You feel it, feel how your heart beat quickens, how his eyes undress and devour you. He is a hungry male and you a ready to serve.

But you make him wait, it is a game you are playing and you are not done yet. Hunter and prey…

Since his first visit a few months ago, Solstice Eve, he has only ever come to see you dance. And you like it. Enjoy it. His attention, the silent desire brewing beneath his tan and in tattoos covered skin, and flickering brightly in those hazel eyes that could easily undress females with just one look at them…

You spin and meet his gaze, a feline grin gracing your red-coloured lips. You blow him a kiss and watch how his eyes sparkle, twin flames of lust burning in them. His arousal, the scent so musky, of night chilled mist and cedar, reaches you and you inhale deeply, revelling in it. Damp heat slicks between your thighs, but you remind yourself that he is just another customer, just another male watching you. He should not have this effect on you. You should not want him that much…

You roll your hips, your belly nearly touching the pole, hands curling tighter around it.

Azriel‘s mind wanders, he imagines how those hands curl around his shaft, your mouth —those plump red lips— fastened around the crown of his cock.

Your head whips to him, almost like you can read his filthy thoughts. And when your eyes meet his, you know what you want. You want him fully unleashed, see what this powerful male is capable of. You bend over, crouch down, always making sure he focuses on the part of your body you want him to.

Straightening up, you begin to dance anew.

The room is hazy, dimly lit — arousal making the air feel thick, and foggy. You glide over the small stage with effortless allure. Grabbing the pole, swirling around it, moving away and always coming back. All your movements seem like a symphony of grace, syncing flawlessly with the soft pulse of the music that surrounds him.

You never break eye-contact with him. Not even when you move of the stage, each step accentuated by the sway of your round hips. A thin piece of lace fabric covers your most private areas, leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. Your soft skin is almost fully exposed to both Azriel and the slightly chilly air. But you don’t feel cold. You feel hot all over. You are burning for this male. The male with the wings and shadows and stunning, cruel beauty etched upon his face. He is a sin to look at and more than once have you imagined yourself on the ground, between his thighs, looking up at him through your lashes. Damp heat pools between your thighs and you know he can scent it - and you want him to.

Your body moves like silk in the muted glow. As you move closer, you keep your gaze locked with his, a silent promise lingering in the air.

This night will be different, you know it. This night will not end here. But in your bed.

I choose you to fill my void, yeah I speak my voice and I choose you to fill the void

Your fingertips brush his shoulder, nothing but corded muscles beneath the fabric of his black shirt, as you move around him, a hypnotic dance in sync with the soft pulse of the music — a delicate tease with every sway of your hips, every little touch. He is a gone male, you have him fully wrapped around your finger, so much that also his shadows move in sync with the music and the sway of your hips.

With your last swirl around him coming to an end you pause, halting between his strong thighs, so very inviting to sit down, to ride. But not yet.

With tantalising precision, you guide his hands to follow the contours of your body, his rough calluses scraping against your soft skin. The room fades into insignificance, there is only you on Azriel‘s mind, the feel of your soft skin beneath his hands. He wants to touch, feel, explore, grab, squeeze and knead.

But for now, he caresses.

The chemistry between your souls and the shared desire, so acute and palpable, creates an intimate bubble - no one but Azriel and you matter anymore.

Your scent is intoxicating and Azriel wants to taste you, lick and suckle, drink you in. He has been waiting so long for this moment, anticipation nearly makes him lose control.

The soft brush of your skin against his is enchanting and he is lost, a goner. You own him. He is fully at your mercy, cock straining almost painfully behind his trousers.

You guide his hands higher, his palms brushing over your hard nipples and sending a shockwave of sensation right to your core. Your knees threaten to buckle when his broad hands close over your breasts, kneading them gently, and you use this as an excuse to claim the spot on his lap.

"Good evening, Azriel." His name, rolling over your lips as a seductive whisper, almost like a sweet little sin, heats his blood — he can’t wait to hear you scream it when you come on his tongue. Around his dick.

"Sit!" His command is nothing but a purr and you follow, like the good girl you are. Your knees are braced on either side of him, caging him, when you lower yourself to sit atop the powerful Illyrian male. Your scents mingle, his shadows, having formerly watched you so intently, now glade over your bare skin, their touch so delicate their strokes leave goosebumps in their wake. His hands land on your waist and he holds you tightly. Almost like he needs to ground himself, holding back from fucking you straight ahead.

The sultry grin once again touches your lips, and you lock your gaze with his, longing for the heat in this endless brown of them.

"You returned," you say, voice hushed and breathy.

His eyes dip to your mouth. "Always." Azriel's tongue pokes out and he licks over his lower lip, slowly dragging it over the skin. "I‘ve never visited anyone else." His finger tips dig into your skin. "Only ever you."

This shouldn’t make you so happy, but it does and your grin widens.

One of his hands lowers, grabbing your hips tightly. A growl, primal and pure, leaves him when you shift atop him. You feel his arousal, pressing into you, desire just as acute as your own.

Leaning in, your damp lips brush his ear, and in a sensual whisper you say, "I was wondering when you would finally put those hands to good use." You kiss the spot below his ear and to your surprise he shudders. His reaction elicits a delighted giggle from you.

But when you lean back, some of the fire in his eyes has vanished, almost like the flames were extinguished — did you the wrong thing?

"My hands—" he starts but does not continue. But he looks down and you follow the direction of his eyes, noticing the scars adorning his hands and parts of his arms.

A feeling, something unknown to you since this moment, blooms inside you and you quickly close the distance between the two of you again, lips nearly meeting his. "Scars or no scars, your hands are beautiful and I can’t even tell you how many times I‘ve thought about them already. On me, all over me." You kiss his jaw. "Inside of me."

His skin tightens and when you meet his gaze again the fire is back, burning brighter than ever before.

"What a coincidence," he purrs, his hot breath fanning your exposed skin, smelling of liquor. "I’ve been imagining your hand wrapped around my cock instead of that pole quite a few times already, as well."

The grin that spreads over his face is wicked, full of sensual promises, and the prospect of a night you will never forget. You are glad the former sadness has disappeared.

"Why did you come here tonight?" Your hot breath fans his neck. It is always the same question - the question you always ask Azriel when he comes to you. Though this time the answer is different. For the first time he comes here for something else.

"To still my insatiable hunger," he rasps. You feel how the muscles in thighs tense, harden, his palms radiating heat through the flimsy piece of lace you are wearing.

A sultry chuckle parts your red-tinted lips. "Hopefully we can appease your hunger then, shadowsinger."

He smiles again, sensual, sultry promises shimmering within his eyes, but he makes no move to kiss you. Or touch you any further. You lean in again, damp lips coasting over his cheek.

"What are you waiting for, Azriel?" His name rolling over your lips in a whisper feels like the sweetest sin to Azriel, it makes a groan erupt from some deep part of his throat, and his skin go taut with desire. Yet, he controls his hunger, his need, having to make something very clear before you commence.

"Your consent," the shadowsinger breathes. "When we fuck, I don’t want you to do this because it is you job. When we fuck, I want you to want this just as much as I do. I want you to—"

You shut him up with a kiss. "I want you. I want this. And I know this is more than my job. I want you because my body screams for you. I need you."

It is all he needs to hear. Azriel leans in. He threads his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His tongue licks over the exposed column of your spine, tasting both the sweet, rose scent of your perfume and the saltiness of your sweat. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he rasps, and nips at your jaw, hand sliding between your thighs, parting them.

You feel light-headed on top of him, his erection pressing into you. "Why did you wait so long then?" Your voice is nothing more than a sensual purr. Your grind against him, your softest parts against his hardest. "Why did you make me wait for so long?"

He sucks in a sharp breath. And then he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Your skin heats up, cheeks burning when your eyes meet his - pupils fully dilated.

"Because it only made me hungrier for you." His lips close over yours, showing you exactly how hungry he is. "I am a starved male and I can’t wait to devour. To ravish you tonight."

You have to hold back from moaning out loud.

His index finger strokes over the lace, the only thing piece of fabric covering your private parts. He groans at the dampness soaking through the fabric, his head already starting to spin. Long, scarred hands slide beneath it, dragging through your wet folds, eliciting a gasp from you.

"For me?" he purrs.

"Yes," you breathe, eyes glazing over, "only you can get me so wet."

At first, the shadowy male is explorative, touching you gently, easing his fingers in an out of you in languid movements, but all of that comes to an end when you bite down on his neck, dragging your teeth over his hot skin. Azriel laughs, almost a little wickedly, and flicks his wrist, plunging his fingers into you from a different angle now. He fucks you hard - fingers spearing into you, thumb rubbing your clit until release shatters through you. You cry out, nails digging into his skin, head falling back. Your knees buckle and your limbs feel tingle, his fingers still inside of you, letting you ride out your high. No male has ever made you feel like that, and he is only using his fingers to do so. If in this composed position, and only with two of his fingers, he can already make you feel like that, and make you come so hard, you won’t even allow yourself to imagine what he will be able to do with his…cock.

He is smug about how easily he made you come - an almost arrogant smile gracing his plump and swollen lips - cocky male! But something about it fuels a fire inside of you. He is skilled and he knows it, and somehow you love it.

He removes his fingers, slowly, and holding your gaze he dips them into his mouth, licking them clean of your juice. A guttural noise rumbles out of him, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you. "Fuck," he breathes and a moment later his hands cradle your face and he kisses you, deep, passionate and hungry.

You roll your hips against him, almost whining when your sensitive core rubs over the bulge in his pants. Your skin prickles, your clit is swollen, core throbbing while your nerves are on fire. You need him fully. You need him inside of you. You need him unleashed.

"More," your breathlessly plead. And you are surprised - it is never you who begs.

Azriel kisses the corner of your mouth, lips lingering. "I wasn’t planning on stopping here."

He hoists you in his strong arms, large wings flaring behind his back, your legs wrapping around Azriel’s waist. With ease he carries you to the large bed, and then tosses you onto it, into the dark, silken sheets. He is towering over your, shoulders squared, wings spread, shadows dancing on his shoulders. "Strip," he orders, but adds, "or do you need help?"

A smirk appears on your lips and he is on you the next second, tearing through the flimsy piece of fabric, bearing you to chilly air and him. "Apologies, I will buy you a new outfit." His lips coast over neck to cleavage, until he reaches your tits. He takes each hardened peak into his mouth, letting his tongue glide over the pebbled skin, closing his lips, suckling, his other hand giving just as much attention to your other breast, kneading gently. The calloused skin is rough against yours and feels phenomenal and terribly arousing. You need him. You need him so much, you simultaneously let the tip of your toes slide beneath the waistband of his pants, and your hand over his crotch. With ease, you flick open the button, and push the trousers down the curve of his ass. His hard cock springs free and leaves you breathless - he is long and thick, a little curved and absolutely beautiful.

Interrupting your shameless staring, he kisses you, tongue parting your lips, teeth clashing, tongues dancing, fighting for dominance neither of you allows the other. Both scarred hands, arms adorned with visible veins, are braced next to your head. He is leaning over you, caging you and you love how he makes you feel - respected in your choices, seen, and not just like an object. That’s why you want him so much. That’s why you need him so much - he is not like other males.

You only break the kiss when you feel something wet on your skin, and lift your head, Azriel’s gaze following your eyes.

A drop of pre-come has fallen onto your belly, right next to your navel. You want to clench your thighs, something low in your belly tightening. The male sucks in a sharp breath, and then an almost animalistic growl parts his lips.

His hot breath fans your throat, canines scratching over your skin. "That’s what you do to me. That’s how much I crave you."

He forces your thighs further apart, shifting on the bed, the broad crown of his cock nestled against your entrance.

"Open up for me, my queen." Queen. You have never been called anything more beautiful. More powerful.

Your hips fall even wider open and he slides into you, sinking into your tender flesh, stretching you out. Nothing could have ever prepared you for this feeling, the feeling of him - no one has ever felt like Azriel. So good. So right.

There is a hint of pain, but you eventually adjust to his size, and moan.

Never ever have you felt so perfectly filled. "Fucking Gods," you moan, fisting the sheets next to you. "Fuck, Azriel, move."

He loves the dominance, the power he has. With a low chuckle, seeing your already blissed out stage, he pulls out until only the tip is in and then rolls his hips against you, plunging deep into you, the muscles in his ass flexing.

"You are such a needy little thing, huh? So greedy for my dick." He is searching your gaze, waiting for a reaction - do you like the slight degradation? Is it too much, due to your job.

But you like it - coming from his lips you like it. You know he doesn't mean it in relation to your job.

You let your hands slide down to his ass, sinking your nails into the flesh, your own hips lifting, back arching.

"How do you want me, my midnight queen?"

You let out a shaky breath, his length slowly sliding into you, letting you feel every proud inch of his erection. "Ha-rd," you stutter. "I want you to take me hard."

He growls in approval and soon sets a relentless tempo, pulling out to the tip and slamming back into you - at a brutal pace his hips snap against yours, pounding and thrusting into you.

The breaths that leave Azriel are ragged and fast, just like your own. Your whimper and moan, cry out in pleasure, meeting each of his thrusts with the roll of your hips.

The sounds of smacking flesh, the groaning of the bed and the bedframe hitting the wall fill the small room. Your back arches, and you lift your legs, curling them around Azriel, heels pressing into his bum. The new angle allows him to fuck you even deeper and it has you writhing and squirming beneath him.

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him and it tells Azriel you are close. And so is he - release already starts to gather in his spin, flecks of black and white sparking in front of his vision.

"You are taking me so well." Azriel captures your lobe between his teeth. "You want to come, don't you?"

You nod, no more talking possible. You are a blissed-out mess beneath him, driven only by desire and lust, your body feeling like jelly.

Azriel clicks his tongue and you are surprised you heard it over the blood rushing in your ears. "Use your words!" There is nothing soft in his voice, nothing gentle - it is a command and you absolutely love his dominance. Because he respects you in his dominance. It is about your pleasure as well. This is about you. This moment is about you. He sees you. Respects you.

"Yes!" you cry out. The dam bursts and release washes over you. You come undone, screaming out in pleasure, and Azriel follows you right over the edge. His thrusts become languid, his hot seed spurting of your walls, filling you. "Take it all," he groans into your ear, hips rolling against yours and you milk him dry. "Let me fill you up nicely. I want my scent to be all over you, stick to your skin for ages."

Your eyes roll back, and you are too delirious to realise that this wonderful moment is already over.

You slump onto the mattress, knees buckling, limps numb, chest rising and falling with deep inhales. Azriel pulls out and then collapses right on top of you.

"No male will ever touch you again, Y/N. You are mine! From now on, until the last day of our immortal life."

~~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

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literaryavenger · 1 year ago

Text

Broken

Summary: after Civil War you meet and bond with Bucky Barnes. You want to help him, but do you really realize how hard it's going to be?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Hints to eating disorder. Language probably, for now just fluff and innocent and broken Bucky. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: This is my first story, and it's taken me a long time to even decide to post it. As of now I honestly have no idea where this story is going, the idea just popped in my head and I ran with it. I do have the first three chapters ready and I'm starting the fourth, I hope I find a plot at some point, we'll see how this one does and go from there. Also, this was a reader version of a story I had on wattpad with an OC so I had to rewrite it accordingly so if there are any mistakes that's why, feel free to point them out so I can fix them thanks.

Masterlist

You enter the kitchen of the Avengers tower and saw two people sitting at the counter, immediately recognizing the one closer to the door.

"Stevie!" you practically yell, running towards the blonde man who stands up and opens his arms in time for you to jump on him, hugging him tightly while he raises you in the air and spins a little.

"Good morning, koala bear." he says while chuckling lightly.

"When did you come back?" you ask excitedly after a few minutes of hugging, not letting go just yet.

"Last night." he answered "Nat said you had just gone to sleep, I didn't wanna wake you."

"Steve, what's happening? Is she hurting you?" a voice you've never heard says.

You let go just enough for him to be able to put you back on the ground without letting go of you.

"It's okay, Buck, it's just a hug." he say to the other man as you turn a little to look at him better. He has a confused look on his face, at which Steve adds "It's just a way to express affection, it's fine."

At this you're a little confused yourself so you look at Steve who gives you a look that tells you not to question him, so you don't.

Instead you let go of Steve, turning completely towards his friend and stepping a little closer.

"Hi," you say looking at him and introducing yourself.

He doesn't look very comfortable so you don't try to shake his hand, choosing to wave a little with a smile.

He answers with a quiet "Bucky." while looking at the ground, like he's quite sure if he's even allowed to answer.

You tilt your head to the side, considering him for a second before saying "Do you want a hug, too? I promise I won't hurt you." you add quickly after he raises his head a little and you notice a slightly worried look on his face.

He thinks about it before just shrugging and nodding his head slightly.

"Okay. Do you... want to get up?" you hesitantly ask and he raises his head a little more, still not looking at your face but slowly getting up from his chair.

You glance at Steve who seems very interested in what's happening and is watching intently without making a sound. Your eyes meet for a few seconds and he raises an eyebrow and motions slightly towards his friend as if to tell you to keep going. You nod and get closer to Bucky until you're right in front of him.

You watch him for a couple of seconds and when his head stays lowered you decide to take the lead and move to put your arms around his neck, slowly so as not to startle him.

After several seconds of you gently hugging him while he stands with his arms to his sides, you're about to pull away when you feel him slowly move his arms to your lower back and keep them there lightly, being very careful like he was afraid of hurting you.

You smile a little into his shoulder and wait a couple of minutes before pulling away.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" you tease, your hands still on his shoulders.

He gives you a little smile and finally looks you in the eyes for the first time and, as soon as his eyes meet yours, you're transfixed by how blue they are.

You're not sure how long you two stay looking into each other's eyes, but you're brought back to reality by Bucky's voice.

"Are you okay?" he asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

"Yes? Um... if you ever want another hug I'm always up for it... I love giving hugs." you say smiling and taking your hands off his shoulders as he drops his arms to his sides again.

He drops his gaze to the ground again, while your eyes stay on his face and you see a small smile and a slight nod.

After a few more seconds of looking at him you turn around and start walking towards the fridge, passing Steve and noticing a weird smirk on his face.

"What?" you ask him with a confused look but still smiling.

"Nothing..." he says, still smirking.

"Okay, weirdo." you say back laughing a little.

"Okay, weirdo. Breakfast?" he asked.

"No, I'll just drink some water." you say casually, avoiding his eyes.

"Y/N..." he says warningly.

"It's fine, Stevie, I'm just not hungry." you say, still not looking at him and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

As soon as you turn around you're met with the slightly disappointed face of Steve and the confused face of Bucky.

"Besides I don't have to train until this afternoon..." Steve's worry doesn't fade, so you add "I'll eat something later, I swear." you don't know if he's convinced, but his face softens and he lets it go.

"How about you fill me in about what happened while I was gone?" he says, changing the subject with a sympathetic smile.

"Sure, I'll just take a shower first, is that okay?" He nods and you run to your room to take a quick shower.

After you come out you put on some sweatpants and a sports bra just to not have to change until after training.

You grab a hairbrush and run back downstairs where you find Steve waiting for you alone while sitting at the table.

"Hi koala, that was a quick shower." he says with a smile when he sees you.

You lean with your back to the counter in front of the table he's sitting at and start brushing your still damp hair.

"Yep, you know me it's either 5 minutes or 50." you say smiling while he chuckles. "Where'd your friend go?" you ask casually while concentrating on brushing away a knot in your hair.

"He went to take a shower. Last night he was so tired he practically passed out in the guest room."

You humm a response before asking "So, is he gonna live here now? You know, be a part of the team and all? Tony refused to share any details with me..." you add with disappointment, which you're sure he notices because of his answer.

"Tony's still not 100% okay with it, but he's getting there. You know how he is, he doesn't talk about things until he's finished processing them... anyway yes, he'll live here and eventually be part of the team, I hope."

You look up and think about his words before nodding and waiting for him to speak again, but when he doesn't you try to sound as casual as you can while asking questions about his friend. "Why did you have to tell him what a hug is?"

He doesn't look you in the eye and you know he's getting uncomfortable so you don't really expect him to answer. But he does nonetheless

"Buck's not really been himself for the last 70 years... he hasn't been shown a lot of kindness or humanity. That's why I was surprised that he let you hug him so fast. Don't get me wrong I'm happy about it, it's real progress I just wasn't expecting it so soon..." You let him talk without interrupting, pretending to be more concentrated on your hair than his word so as to not make him even more uncomfortable.

You know stories about Bucky in the 40s from Steve and you have seen photos of him, only in black and white, but it was nothing compared to having him in front of you. Something about him just made you want to know more, like you were drawn to him.

You guess Steve picked up on this because, after a little pause, he adds "Look, I know you want to know more, but it's not my story to tell. If and when he's ready, it's up to him who he wants to tell." damn him for knowing you so well.

Of course you understand what he was saying and you know he's right, so you nod and say "You're right... I won't push it, I promise." before he has time to reply though Bucky enters the kitchen with different clothes and wet hair.

To not let him know you were just talking about him Steve quickly says "So, tell me, what have I missed around here?"

You thought about it for a moment as you watch Bucky make his way through the kitchen and sit at the table next to Steve.

"Um, well, Tony made a new addition to the team. It was very abrupt and it's weird that he's so young, but he's a nice kid. His name is Peter, he's 15 from Queens and apparently he's this Spider-man that's been all over youtube. What?"

As you talked you could see a bit of guilt on Steve's face. "We've met him... didn't know he was a kid though..."

"Well, what happened?" you ask, getting more and more frustrated that no one will tell you anything.

You're part of the team after all, and, even though you don't have powers or are a super soldier, you think you have a right to know why everyone suddenly disappeared one day on some mission that you weren’t allowed to know anything about, and why it took half of the team a couple more weeks than the others to come back.

It's not that it was uncommon for you not to know details of a mission you weren't assigned to, but, since Fury chose you from the SHIELD agents to join the Avengers several years ago, it's never happened that a mission required the WHOLE team except one single person.

What pissed you off even more it's that you're not the youngest in the team, nor are you the newest or the least trained.

You started as a SHIELD agent right before Natasha, granted you were a teenager, but both of you trained a lot together with Clint and you fought alongside the other Avengers in the battle of New York.

You also fought together against Ultron, where you united forces with the Maximoff twins, Wanda and Pietro, (the latter had to spend a lot of time in the medbay after, having almost died) and then also Vision, which is still a little weird since you still have Jarvis controlling the tower.

In all of this time you developed family-like bonds with the whole team.

You honestly consider Tony a father figure, him and Pepper treat you like a daughter and you love them for it. Rhodey, Happy and Bruce are like uncles.

Natasha is like a big sister and Wanda is like a younger one. Clint, Thor and even Loki (since he's been made to spend his exile with you as punishment for New York) have been like big brothers to you, Vision and Pietro are kind of like younger brothers, and now even Peter the last few months.

Scott is another new face that's quickly becoming a chaotic best friend. Sam is like a best friend that still shamelessly flirts with you, after years, obviously knowing nothing is going to happen.

And Steve is your absolute best friend, your favorite brother. He's overprotective (to be fair they all are when it comes to you) and caring, can't really say no to you, spoils you a little and you love every minute of it.

They are your family, and having them keep what feels like a very serious and important situation from you, and only you, not only makes you extremely angry, but it's also very sad to think they don't trust you enough.

Or at least that's what it feels like even though they keep telling you that's absolutely not the case.

You can see how uncomfortable Bucky is getting, while Steve is looking more and more guilty by the second, but neither is saying anything, so you just give up.

"Fine," you say, a little disappointed. "Don't tell me. I guess I'll have to wait on Tony to know."

You don't wait for them to answer as you bring your attention to Bucky.

"Can I?" you ask him while pointing to his hair with the brush that you just finished using on yourself.

He gives just you a confused look, so you explain. "Your hair is pretty long, it would be better if you brushed it before it dries otherwise it hurts like hell to do it later."

He looks at Steve with an uncertain expression, and, when the blonde just shrugs in response, Bucky looks back at you and nods.

You go around the table and position yourself behind Bucky. "I'll be as gentle as I can, but I'm sorry if I hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say so, okay?"

He nods again and you start to slowly and carefully brush his hair while telling Steve all the things you did with the others while he was gone.

The mysterious mission happened about 3 months ago, half of the team came back after a day, the others a couple of weeks later, while Steve and Bucky were the only ones to come back just now.

You tell Steve how you bonded with Peter over being "Tony's children", how Scott became something of a girlfriend and the time you spent with him and his daughter, Cassie, who was just adorable.

You tell him about the weird best friend-like friendship that Peter and Loki developed, much to Tony's annoyance, but that you find very cute and funny.

You tell him about all the pranks that you pulled with anyone and against everyone, specially with Sam, Scott and Loki and against Happy, Clint and Thor.

Steve knows everyone in the team is very quick to forgive you, he always jokes about how you have everyone wrapped around your finger, especially Tony.

And you have to admit, he's not totally wrong. Nobody really stays mad at you for more than a couple of days, and sometimes you're definitely treated like the kid of the family. The golden child.

Even Fury has a soft spot for you, which is very rare, to the point that you're the only one allowed to call him Nick.

You also tell Steve of all the "family time" he missed, which is essentially a whole lot of movie nights, game nights and things like that.

You tell him all the jokes you can remember being said, all the funny moments, all the missions and all the times when you missed him like crazy.

By the time you're done telling him everything you could remember, he's crying laughing and you're almost done with Bucky's hair.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" you ask Bucky, as Steve tries to compose himself, still laughing at the prank you and Sam pulled on Clint where you turned his whole room into a giant bird's nest.

Bucky shakes his head and says a quiet "I'm okay" that you're sure Steve doesn't even hear over his own laughter.

You gently finish brushing his hair, then sit in the chair next to him leaning in and gently turning his head towards you so you can check you did a complete job.

At this point his hair is dry and falling down both sides of his face. You push his hair behind his ears to see his face better and smile, his eyes scanning your face.

Neither of you take notice that Steve has stopped laughing and is watching you with the same smirk he had after you hugged as you're both too intent in taking in each other's appearances.

"Is that better?" you ask after a few minutes of silence.

"What?" he ask, a little confused, which makes you giggle.

"Your hair. Is that better?" you ask again.

"Oh. Yeah, thank you." he says blushing, his voice still very quiet.

"You're adorable." you said with another giggle that makes Steve laugh too, while Bucky blushes even more.

You smile at him again before getting up, giving Steve a kiss on the side of the head while you pass him and going towards the door. "I'll see you guys at lunch. I'm supposed to meet Scott and Cassie in 10 minutes. Bye, Stevie."

"Bye, koala bear." Steve answers.

"Bye, Bucky."

"Bye." he says, still kind of quiet but loud enough for you to hear.

You turn around and give him one last smile before going through the living room to the elevator and to the floor that Scott's now living in and where Cassie spent the night.

part 2

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coryosbaby · 2 years ago

Note

no cause now you have my mind full of a threesome with ethan and chad, but instead of chad being in charge, you’re in charge of two incredibly needy boys. ethan’s so obedient, so quick to follow your orders but chad is far too impatient and is a complete brat

Oh em gee I love this 😵‍💫 I’ve been begging my brain to come up w ideas of sub! Chad so ty for this. I made him sort of a switch when it comes to Ethan, though 😭 but he’s def bratty .. this also has some boy on boy action so if you ain’t into that I’ll rewrite it for u 💗

Warning: threesome, bondage, edging, gagging, cum play, cock rings (oopsie daisies) marking, Ethan and Chad are bi, humiliation, degradation/praise, dom! Reader, sub! Ethan, sub! Chad

“I don’t understand how you think this is going to work, baby.”

Chad’s words, although threatening, are tinged with a whiny tone. A cock ring is nestled at the base of his cock, and he lets out a nervous laugh as he watches Ethan tie up his wrists, prior to your command. The boy has been so disobedient the whole night; it’s not his fault, really. He’s only ever been dominant, especially with the women in his sex life. So how can he be expected to follow your orders?

These are his thoughts, not yours. You know this is just his way of riling you up, of getting you to want to tie his pretty body up in knots.

You smile at Ethan’s quickness to follow your demands. His hair is messy, brunette curls strewn haphazardly, and his nude body is resting beside Chad. His cock is hard, leaving a long trail of precum along his torso. He’s your obedient boy, and he isn’t going to cum until you say.

Chad, however, is not so compliant.

You tut at Chad’s words, long acrylic nails scraping against his chest, and he inhales sharply.

“I wouldn’t be a brat tonight, baby. I might save this pussy all for Ethan if you don’t behave.”

He clenches his teeth when Ethan begins lubing up his red, achy cock. The boy looks beautiful in front of him, and Chad wants to reach out and push away the strands of hair that decided to haphazardly cover his handsome face.

But he can’t. And that makes him seethe, makes him thrust his hips up against Ethan’s hand as he rubs the cool gel all along his length.

Your hand goes up to harshly slap his face, and he huffs, his wrists turning white from trying to break loose from his binds (to no avail; Ethan is oddly good at tying him up).

“Shut the fuck up,” you scold. “This is why you aren’t cumming tonight. You’re such a fucking brat.”

And then you’re looking at Ethan, and he smiles at you. Your eyes soften, and you beckon him over.

“C’mere, angel.” you coo, and Ethan crawls over to your naked form. You push his hair out of his eyes and press a soft kiss to his lips. Chad narrows his eyes, jealousy raging. He watches as you praise your shared boyfriend, watches as you ignore him.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Eth? You do what you’re told?”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips, and he quietly asks, “can I kiss you again, momma?”

You nod, and he surges up to press his lips and his body against you even more. You bite his lip teasingly, and pull away. You order him to sit, and he complies happily. Sitting down behind him, you pull him to your bare chest, making him face Chad.

The tied up boy looks distraught, now. A little bit desperate. But not enough to let his resolve slip.

Until you bring your hands down to circle Ethan’s nipples, and then Chad’s heart rate is speeding up. Ethan whines, thrusting his hips up into the air; he’s always been sensitive, especially near his chest, and Chad wants nothing more than to be him and be you. His head is spinning, his cock so hard that it hurts.

“Let me out, momma.” he grunts, and you laugh sadistically.

“You’re really not in the position to make demands, baby. Now shut the fuck up and watch me touch my favorite boy.”

You’re mean, incredibly so, and it pains Chad a bit; although he knows you love him, and that Ethan loves him, and vice versa, it’s still humiliating to watch him get touched and favorited.

Your hand goes down to Ethan’s impressive length, and you begin to stroke him fervently. He keens, hands going to the one on his cock, soft little tongue lolling out.

And since Chad knows he can’t make you relent, he begins to coo to Ethan as he drips all over your hand.

“C’mon, E,” Chad says. His eyes look into Ethan’s, pleading. “Why don’t you let me out, sweetheart? Please?”

“Oh! Mmhh- n-no, Chad. Can’t…‘m supposed to do what mommy says.” He huffs, and Chad tilts his head., a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“If you let me out of here, I’ll give it to you good and hard later, pretty boy. Don’t you want to follow daddy’s orders, too? Hm? Please, baby. Please.”

And that makes the boy begin to babble, his hands gripping yours tighter, as you death stare Chad from behind.

“God.. I-I don’t know! ‘M.. mommy’s makin’ me feel so good, but I love your cock, and-”

Your hand grips Ethan’s throat to cut him off, and when you shove your fingers into his mouth, he chokes. And then his balls are drawing up, and he’s cumming. Warm, white ropes spill all over your hand and his belly, and he whimpers as he comes down from his high.

And then you’re pulling the boy towards Chad, and he’s apologizing profusely, thinking he’s about to be punished, too.

“Momma! I’m so so sorry!” His eyes are welling with tears, and you know he doesn’t mean what he did. You stop, mid way, to kiss him on his forehead and shush him.

“No, no, baby.. I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault at all. I just need you to do something for me, okay?”

He sniffles, and nods.

“Okay,” you look over at Chad, who’s chest is heaving with adrenaline. “I need you to go over there and hold his hips down, alright? Can you do that?”

“Yes ma’am.”

And he does just that, and when Chad gives him a glare, he just smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry!”

Chad rolls his eyes, and you crawl over to him and begin oiling up your hands with the bottle of lubricant so you can stroke him.

And when your hand comes down onto his aching dick, he almost whimpers.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. The ring around his base is supposed to make the pleasure less prominent, but all this teasing has got the poor boy so worked up. He grunts, and tries to thrust his hips up, but to no avail. Ethan’s grip is harsh on him, to assure he doesn’t fuck up into the air.

“Bratty boys don’t get to cum,” you infer. And then you’re making Ethan move to spit down on Chad’s cock, just so he can feel the warm liquid hit his skin and make him twitch.

“C’mon, momma.” Chad whines. “Don’t you wanna taste me, make me feel good? You can’t- oh! You can’t keep this up!”

“Oh, but I can. Because I don’t like sluts who don’t do what they’re told.”

And then there’s a moment of confusion. You slip off the cock ring, which makes Chad almost sob with relief.

But then you slip it right back on. He makes a noise of disapproval, one that sounds like a growl and a sound of frustration.

“You’re so mean…” he cries. You tut.

“I’m very nice, actually. But I don’t reward people who don’t listen.”

He sighs, and tries to calm his breaths as his cock begins to turn a light shade of purple.

“Please let me cum…” he murmurs, and your eyes lighten up.

“What was that?”

“I said please let me cum!”

He’s practically whining now, and you can see the glint of tears in his eyes.

Two firsts, in your sex life now: Chad is crying. And, for once, Chad isn’t getting what he wants.

“I want you to beg some more.” You command. “Beg me to touch your cock, and beg me to let Ethan fuck your throat.”

His mouth gapes open, and he breaks.

“Please, momma. Please touch me, please let me taste Ethan. I’ve never wanted something so bad in my life…”

And that’s enough for you to wrap your hand around him. He mewls, and Ethan finally let’s go of his hips. He begins fucking aggressively into your hand, and when Ethan begins to straddle the boys chest, his eyes roll to the back of his head. The boy, following your orders, shoves his cock in between Chad’s open lips.

At this angle, it’s hard for Chad to take Ethan, really. His throat is slanted, so the moment the cock is inside his mouth he begins to choke. But it’s pleasurable to him. He likes the feeling of having his throat being stuffed full, whether it be at Ethan’s hand or yours. and it might sound bad, but Chad is a pro at sucking cock. He knows exactly where to put it, how to rub it; he knows how to breathe through his nose and hold himself down for a long time… those many years of being on a football team with hot men has taught him a lot.

Ethan is so whiny, now. He’s already came once, but his cock has managed to gain full hardness for a second time. But the overstimulation makes him clench his teeth and whimper at the feeling of his used prick, and Chad’s hot throat makes him keen.

“So good…” Ethan murmurs. And when Chad looks up at him through heavy lashes, he almost falls apart again.

You watch as Chad’s cock jumps and twitches in your hand. It’s so ready for release, his balls ready to be emptied. You know his wrists have got to hurt now, and you begin to feel a sort of guilt. As Chad gags on Ethan, you let go of him. He moans, and you move up beside them to begin untying his wrists.

The tears in his eyes fall now, out of relief. He feels the rope being released from his grip, and his hands can finally rest.

“E, let him breathe, honey.” You say, gently, and Ethan flushes.

“Sorry, mommy.”

He pulls Chad’s mouth off of him, and moves off of his body.

Chad lifts himself up, distraught, spit pooling down his chin and neck. You move over and begin to play with his cock a little bit more. He hisses through his teeth, and lets a small ‘fuck’.

And then, as you finally take off the cock ring, Chad almost screams with relief. He feels less constricted, less tense. You smirk as his hands sit at his sides. It seems like you’ve tamed him, at least for tonight.

“I’m going to touch you now, baby.” You say, and he nods eagerly, lifting his body up a bit more to prepare himself. You beckon Ethan towards the scene.

“If you wanna cum, you’re gonna do it in his mouth, sweet boy.”

Ethan nods, and Chad opens his mouth so Ethan can slide his aching cock back inside. He thrusts slowly, to pace him.

And that’s when you begin to stroke Chad. He gasps around Ethan, makes a sound low in his throat, as he gushes down your hand. His orgasm is approaching quick, and he drools around Ethan’s cock as he finally lets go. His load shoots up and over onto your hand, and he cries as he fucks himself through his orgasm. And then Ethan’s whimpering, cumming down Chad’s throat.

“You’re both so good for me. That’s it…” you praise.

And when they’ve come down from their orgasms, Ethan slips out of Chads mouth and sits down on the bed with shaky legs. His head rests on Chad’s shoulder as he breathes shakily.

You move over and kiss the tip of Ethan’s nose. He smiles, sleepy, and then buries his face into Chad’s neck.

You smile at Chad, and he shyly looks away. You move over to him and begin peppering kisses along his face.

“Are you going to be good, now?” You ask, and the smile on his face makes him look almost high.

“Yes ma’am.”

#I’m just in a silly goofy mood tonight #Ethan landry #Chad meeks Martin #Ethan landry x reader #Chad meeks Martin x reader #Ethan landry x fem! reader #Chad meeks Martin x fem! reader #Ethan landry smut #Chad meeks Martin smut #Ethan landry x Chad Meeks Martin x reader #Ethan landry x Chad meeks Martin #sub! Chad meeks Martin #switch! Chad meeks Martin #sub! Ethan landry #switch! Ethan landry #dom! reader #scream 6 #scream

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ashwhowrites · 1 year ago

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Older! Dealer! Eddie x reader, she goes to his house every Friday to buy from him, Eddie likes her, but he doesn't know if she likes him, so when they are dealing, he acts more flirtatious than usual, and that ends up in smut

I combined these requests since they are similar. Then I realized not everyone is into older!Eddie so if the anon that requested is uncomfortable with older!Eddie, please reach out and I can rewrite it :)

I sat on this fic for three days because I could not get the creative energy for the smut so the smut is like building up smut and not full blown, I do apologize. I wanted to finally get it out because I had a feeling it's going to take me a while to get that right mood to write

Older dealer

Eddie opened the door as Y/N knocked. Her contagious smile and gentle voice made Eddie's head spin. Y/N has been coming to Eddie for months now for deals. Eddie never mixed his business with his personal life, but he couldn't get this girl out of his head. She was in her 20s and Eddie was in his 40s, the age difference was the only thing stopping Eddie from making a move.

Too many nights he thought of her, lying awake as he thought about her, if she was single, her type, and if she was somehow interested in him. Eddie knew he wasn't the perfect bachelor. He lived in a small trailer and sold drugs as a quick cash grab. She seemed put together, lived in a bright world, and was so young still. She had so much to learn and explore. But he wanted to sink his teeth in her before anyone else did.

"Hey Eddie" she greeted with a big smile, sitting down at the familiar kitchen table. Eddie looked down at his watch as he sat across from her.

"Like two hours early, sweets." He teased, grabbing his bags of weed as he passed them over to her.

"Yeah, I had a date and got stood up. Figured might as well come here while I was out." She shrugged, sliding over her cash as she put the weed in her purse.

Eddie felt himself clench at her words. She was dating, but of course she was. She was gorgeous, hot, and young.

"Who's stupid enough to stand you up? Is he blind or just stupid?" Eddie asked, crossing his arms as she laughed.

"Second one. I can't tell you how many horrible dates I've been on. These guys are so shallow and boyish. Never have respect or manners. Just trying to get laid and bounce out." She complained Eddie found a sense of excitement knowing she was failing miserably in the dating world.

"Sounds like you need a break from the young ones." Eddie winked, maybe this was his shot. He pushed his head on his hand, a little smirk on his face as she tried to read his face.

"And what are you suggesting?" She asked, her eyes looking from his eyes to his lips and back. Eddie smirked at the action, licking his lips as she looked at them again.

"That you need to try an actual man," he stated, looking into her eyes as he kept his voice low. "Someone that knows how to touch a girl like you, hit the right spots, make you whimper, and make pretty sounds. Someone who will be there when you wake up." Y/N felt herself shivering at his words. Her brain thought of his hands touching her, ruining her.

Y/N felt like her throat was dry as she tried to speak up.

"And do you have a man in mind?" She asked, not realizing she was leaning in.

"Depends, are you into older men? Maybe twenty years older than you?" His eyes looked down at her lips as she kept leaning closer.

"Not until I met you. Then I couldn't get you out of my head" She confessed, Eddie smiled at her words. He pulled back and stood up. She blinked confused as she watched him.

He grabbed her hand and yanked her up. She yelped in surprise as he picked her up and placed her on the table. He stood between her legs and wrapped a hand around her neck, tilting her head up.

"I was worried you'd be too young for me. But fuck, you never leave my head. Can't believe those boys don't realize the chance they got." He said, his lips ghosting over hers. Giving her time to stop it if it wasn't what she wanted.

"What about you? Dating around?" She whispered, she knew he was with others and she hated knowing his body was touched by someone else.

"Eyes just on you, baby." He admitted, his lips even closer to hers. He moaned when she smashed her lips on his, her arms around his neck as she tried to control the kiss. He let her have the control for a little while. He took his time to taste her and feel her body under his hands.

He pulled away, she whimpered as he did. Her hands are trying to yank him closer. He pecked her pout softly.

"Patience darling." He whispered, he stood between her legs as he stripped her clothes, admiring her as she laid bare underneath him. His hands moved to her chest, squeezing her breasts softly as he kissed down her neck. His mouth wrapped around her left nipple, sucking softly. His right hand moved down her body, rubbing her clit slowly.

Y/N never thought she'd find herself under her older drug dealer, gasping and cumming over and over. But she was grateful that every bad date led her to this.

Eddie figured people would have shit to say about their age difference, but he didn't care.

He wanted her and he got her. That's all he cared about.

Tags!

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

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson smut x female reader #eddie munson smut #older eddie munson x reader #ashwhowrites

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britneyshakespeare · 11 months ago

Text

he's like a goddamn gay dennis prager

wait james somerton sounds a lot like some people on tumblr when they start spouting off about queer history or supposed controversies within it. is that where you guys are getting your stuff? is it james somerton brain poisoning?

#cont #i just got to the section on how he says after the aids crisis all the survivors were conservative rich gays #who didn't care about art or culture or anything but accumulating capital for themselves and assimilating???#i cant even count how many ways that that is so insensitive and offensive not to mention ahistorical #i feel like that take alone. the smugness with which he says it too! like it's pure fact! a real phenomenon #and other people just cant handle how right he is!#oh my god that goddamn assertion should've ended his career and all his credibility that is just so evil and gross #that's the kinda thing that if you claim to be a cultural connoisseur or media specialist or ESPECIALLY a queer historian #that you should just not be allowed to talk with authority anymore. but on the internet you dont need credentials #you can just say you know stuff and then make up the stuff you know and get away with it.#people who dont know any better will be like 'this guy sounds legit'#i wanna be like 'why was he accepted by queer internet users?' but thats bc we accept everybody #in many ways thats good. thats a good trait of us. that we accept people widely regardless of who they are #but we should never accept INFORMATION like that.#and there are so many people who are not well-informed enough of our own history (or who are poisoned against it)#to take what he would say. THIS TOPIC IN PARTICULAR IM STILL FUMING #to take this sort of opinion naively as if it's pushing back against a conservative narrative #NO it isnt. he's insulting survivors and activists and rewriting their histories oh my god i cant #my head is still spinning im not gonna recover from this section #worst thing in the whole video yet #everything he says to link it to some supposed devaluation of art is fucking stupid and brainless too

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cruisebuckley · 2 months ago

Text

“Talk about love.” — JJ Maybank X Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: JJ is in love and he doesn't know how to confess, he has never been good with words, he keeps it a secret until he can't hold it back any more on a party — the problem is (Y/N) doesn't seem to be on the same page.

MUSIC: “Talk about love” by Zara Larsson

A/N: feedback it always welcome!! this is the first OBX fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it lmao) and it was inspired by TAL a song by Zara Larsson, the first version of this story was sadder and I didn't inted to make a second part at the time, today tho I sat down to rewrite and repost it and decided this jj and y/n deserved more of a happy ending so there'll be a second part inspired by another poster girl song!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language. Cursing.

WORD COUNT: 2.180

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD] [PART 2]

JJ drinks the last of his drink, eyes flickering to where she was dancing with her friends, a wide smile on her face while she moves her hips in the beat of the song. He was having a hard time taking his eyes off her all night long. She was gorgeous, always was, but she was even prettier today. Maybe it was because of how happy she looked, singing with all she had, smiling with her friends.

“JJ, I’m gonna get more beer, do you want some?” Kiara asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he nods, thinking it would be good to use the drinking games with John B as a distraction from (Y/N). He doesn't know what's motivating him to keep his distance for so long, he had come to the party with the intention of talking to her, but now he just couldn't, something was holding him back.

“Dude, you should do something,” John B. says.

“Yeah, you’ve been staring at her the whole night.” Pope rolls his eyes, “you’re never like this, why don’t you just talk to her?”

JJ snorts, but inside he feels more insecure, why was he so nervous?

“I’ll talk to her, it’s just…” JJ clears his throat, trying to think of an excuse.

“Just?” Pope raises his eyebrows.

“She’s with her friends, you know, having fun and all” JJ shrugs.

“Please,” Pope and John B. exchange looks before Pope continues, “this was never a problem for you before, JJ. Tell us, did something happen?”

“No.” JJ sighs,“I just want to talk with her about something, and… it’s bothering me, that’s all.” Kiara gets back and hands everyone their beers, she gives him a questioning look before sitting down again.

“Talk with whom? (Y/N)?” she asks then, and JJ nods, “so, what is it?”

“Nothing important.” everyone scoffs, “what?”

“If it is bothering you, it is important, idiot.” Kiara rolls her eyes.

“Look, if you don’t want to tell us, that's okay, but for fucking sake, go talk with (Y/N).” John B. says, and Pope and Kiara agree with a nod of head.

“Okay, I’m going.” JJ says with a roll of his eyes, he takes one sip of his beer before setting it down on the table in front of him and finally gets up to talk with her.

His friends all make cheering noises, and he only gives them his middle finger and keeps on walking.

As he gets closer to the dance floor, though, he can feel his resolving weakening again, he can feel the bubbles of anxiety accumulating in his throat. He stops just at the end of the dance floor, a few steps of distance between them. It takes about five minutes for (Y/N) to notice him, she spins and stops when she registers it is him. Her smile grows bigger and even then, JJ can't avoid it but smile too.

She frowns, however, as she approaches him and swiftly places her arms on his shoulders, “Why are you standing there?”

“I was only watching you.” He shrugs.

“You're never one to just watch,” she says playfully.

JJ laughs, still timid but starting to enjoy being this close to her.

“Is there something wrong?” She asks, usually she would already have greeted him with a kiss, but she is cautious now, and JJ knows she can read in his face that there is something he wants to say.

“Nothing.” he smirks, “you're just too pretty tonight.”

(Y/N) laughs, he can, she is going to let this one pass, and he is relieved. They slow dance for some minutes, totally ignoring the upbeat song playing, but soon enough as they drink more, they fall into the agitated rhythm of the others also on the dance floor.

JJ tries his best to forget what he wanted to say, tries to bury it and keep it quiet, he doesn't want to ruin any of this, doesn't want to risk it all.

But (Y/N) feels it, the change in the air again, walks him to an empty spot close to the wall and stays holding his hand when she gives him a quick, but reassuring kiss on his lips.

“Did something happen?”

When he doesn't answer, she continues, “you know you can tell me.”

JJ can't look at her when he says it, it is pathetic, he knows, but he just can't.

He misunderstands, “J, you've been acting weird since you got here, haven't talked with me and not even looked at me properly, what's happening?”

At those words, JJ snaps his head back, “(Y/N)? You're serious?” She nods,“I've been staring at you the whole night, I can't take my eyes off you.” He says then, refusing to be ashamed.

“So why don't you say anything? Why… Why are you different?” She walks closer and gives his hand a squeeze.

“I love you.” He blurts out. Never one to find the proper words or the right time.

(Y/N) takes a step back, but doesn't let go of his hand, “what?”

JJ clears his throat, there is no pointing in denying. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“Things are good, JJ.” she looks at him worriedly.

“I know, but-”

“We agreed on it, right? That it would be simple between us, no love, no dating, nothing of this girlfriend and boyfriend thing,” (Y/N) raises her eyebrows “we were fine with that, weren’t we?”

JJ feels the bubbles of anxiety starting to gather on his chest and throat again, “We… I was fine with it, I swear I was. But things changed, I don't know exactly when, I don't know how, but-” his voice cracks, betraying him, showing how much her reaction was affecting him.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath, calming herself, and JJ watches as her eyes wander his face, he wishes he could read her mind. “What changed?”

“I don't know. Maybe I did.”

She doesn't answer.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“JJ, I don't want to talk about love.” She replies, a whisper. “But it's not you, it's not you.”

He sighs, it's not conscious, but he distances himself, trying to hide somehow. There's no place for him to go, not when they are in the middle of a party, not when he just confessed his feelings while they are surrounded by people. JJ is trying to think of something to say, how to answer this, how to take it well.

But she searches him again, a step closer, a hand on his cheek, making him look at her again.

“JJ, what makes you think you’re in love with me?”

He knows where she wants to go with this, he knows, but he also knows what he truly feels, and it's not him rushing things or being confused.

“Luke's party,” he says and her face changes, “it was the first time I ever felt… jealous.”

“Jealousy?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Let me explain,” he says, and she nods. “I was feeling… different for some days already, but it was the party that made me stop and ask myself what those feelings were.” He stops to breathe, he is happy that her hand is still cupping his cheek, or else he might stop talking with the look she had, “I was fine with it, (Y/N), but it changed. These last few days, all I can think about is you. And I know I suck with words, but I am trying my best here.”

“You don't even know me.” He can tell it was not meant to sound harsh with the way she grimaces right after, but it hurts anyway, “I just… what I mean is, we don't even spend time together outside of this,” she gestures between the both of them with her chin, “what we have is different JJ, I know nothing about your friends, you know nothing of mine, we know nothing of each other.”

“What if I want to?”

She sighs, and he can see tears pooling in her eyes, it takes him by surprise.

“I told you I didn't want…” she trails off, shaking her head and retrieving her hand from his face.

Around them, a slow song started, the couples stared at each other with wide smiles and started to dance together. Fucking great timing.

JJ is frozen on his spot, he is trying his hardest to think of what to say, but she seems to always be quicker.

“I'm sorry, JJ, I really am. But I can't.”

“Why not?” He doesn't want to sound childish or insistent, but it just leaves his mouth.

(Y/N) closes her eyes with a deep breath, he wants to get closer again, hug her to try to calm her.

“We are good at this friends with benefits thing.”

“Why can't we be more?” He gulps, “I am confessing (Y/N), I am in love with you.”

“I know!” She gives an exasperated sigh, opening her eyes, the tears are still there, “I just don't know if I want more.”

He nods, “you are right, I am sorry. I shouldn't… I am sorry I insisted.”

“No, I…” (Y/N) frowns, “I-”

“No, you're right, you don't have to correspond with my feelings.”

“I'm just not ready, please don't be mad at me.” She knits her eyebrows together and for the first time seems to let her guard down.

“It's okay,” he says, trying his best to give her a reassuring smile, “really, (Y/N), it's okay.”

It feels awkward to stand there, he's not sure if he should try to comfort her some other way, if he should just leave. But he has so much to say yet, and she is looking at him like she also has. So he waits, he wants her to be the first.

“What if…” she breathes, “what if this is not love?”

“Why'd you say that?”

“Well,” she clears her throat, “it can be something else. We're young. And,” a dry chuckle leaves her lips, “there is so much, so many people to know, what if tomorrow you meet someone that makes you regret this?… I just want you to understand me.”

“I can wait,” he says then, surprising even himself.

“What?”

“You said you're not ready, I can wait.”

“I can't make you do that.”

“You're not making me,” he finally walks closer, finally takes her hand in his, “I want this.”

“What if it's not what you want?” She raises her chin, “and one day you wake up just to be bored? What if it doesn't excite you?”

JJ knits his eyebrows, “I really like what we have, I love it, and it is not… I don't want an exciting thing, not all the time at least.”

“And what do you want?” There is a hint of doubt there, and JJ hope grows.

“Something simple, something like what we already have.” He smiles, not quite sure of himself, but feeling better when she stays silent and lets him go on, “We chase our dreams at dawn, and it is our secret, that's what you always say.”

He manages to get a laugh from her and his chest erupts with happiness, a welcoming feeling that suppresses the anxiety in his chest.

“I just really want to call you mine.”

(Y/N) looks at him like she is about to break his heart, but he doesn't walk back, by God he'd let her, he'll let her.

“You don’t live with me JJ, you don’t know how I am. I don't think you would like me as your girlfriend.” She says then, and he can see she is trying to sound gentle. “We don’t even spend enough time together to be in an official relationship.” She stays in silence for a few seconds, as if thinking, JJ can't move away from her even if he tries. “I am afraid I am not what you think, that you have a totally different idea of who I am for real.” her voice breaks in the last sentence, and her tears finally spill, JJ feels the lump growing back on his throat.

“I’m sorry, I truly am. ‘Cause I like you. But we are not meant to last, we chase our dreams in the dawn, we are always smiling, we are always having fun, we do things without worrying about the consequences until it's too late. We are good in bed and…” she takes her hands off his, “we are a teenage summer romance. We're not meant to last.”

They stay in silence again, JJ watches her, heart hurting, and still, so in love, somehow even more sure that this is indeed love. (Y/N) wipes her tears off and tries to give him a smile. He doesn't say anything, he knows she needs to go, he needs it too, to think, he knows the best thing to do now is to go home and sleep with these thoughts.

He only gives her a smile back, assuring her that he did understand.

She leaves.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfic #outer banks x reader #obx x reader #jj mayback imagine

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