#that jawline is heavenly i agree

[ofmd-ann]

Bonus:

Taika Waititi And Michael Fassbender Rate New Zealand and Irish Food - Snack Wars 🍺

@agaywithcoffee Here's your snack 😋

[ghysry]

Hii! Idk if ur requests r open, I’m sorry if there not, but I had an idea :3

I’m kinda obsessed with Brisket Five…and all the diner fives. Srry if this makes u uncomfortable but maybe a smut with Brisket Five?? IF NOT just some nice fluff would be nice. Something like Brisket hasn’t seen us and we died in his time line or something-so he’s just all over reader <3 Ty!

ERMMM I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO WRITE SMUT I AM SO SORRY

Pairings: Diner Fives, all obsessed with you, kisses everywhere, BRISKET FIVE *lick emoji* x Reader

Tags: brisket five, diner fives, Five Hargreeves, Five x reader, Five Hargreeves x reader, smut, can't even say this is smut, I swear I tried my best bro, did I forget SMUT

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"Can't choose between us? Just choose all of us."

Well this certainly wasn't what you thought would happen after stepping into a random diner you found. You and Five had a fight about something stupid which led you to pettily step out of the subway and find yourself another place to go, which also proved your stupidity because only halfway off did you remember that it was a time subway and not a normal subway. Good god. Now you're here in the booth seat with your back on the cushion as you laid there and a Five that looks way cuter than the one you had a fight with kissing all over your face ranting about how much he's missed you.

"Mm..missed you, where have you," he kisses your right cheek, before trailing down to your jawline and pressing hefty kisses on your skin. "..been?" He had his legs on either side of you as you laid, making sure not to put too much weight on your body while one of his hands were messing with your hair and the other propping himself up. "Brisket Five are you done? Some of us want a turn, and I thought we agreed an hour per person?" Another Five in the background called out, folding his newspaper and rolling his eyes at the display of affection, knowing he himself would probably do something even worse, if not for all the people in the diner.

Brisket Five shrugged his shoulders, or tried his best to shrug his shoulders, before diving back in and pressing his nose on your neck, relishing in the familiar scent of your body. "Don't you ever die on me again.."

------------------------------------

Who knew so many of them would be into voyeurism?

"Fuck--huff...ugh," This Five was a lot more vocal than the others that came before him, and a lot needier too. His hands were touching all up on your body, squeezing your breasts and dipping down to bite at your skin while he was still pumping in and out of you.

Literally every Five needs you carnally, WHATTT WHO SAID THATTT

"Don't ruin them, it's my turn after you." While another Five is watching you go braindead over some cock, his hand on his crotch and pressing down on the bulge, hissing at how painfully hard he's gotten.

You cried so prettily while Brisket Five was deep inside you that he came twice in the span of thirty minutes. Literally can't help it, would cum ten times if he could, you're just so pretty.

You find it a weird turn on when some of them are so needy and untouched that they cum in minutes..which is almost all of them..WHOO WROTE THAT, THAT WASNT ME

Some of them huff and pant and whimper like dogs in heat. Confirmed.

"Missed you.." while Brisket Five is bottoming out inside you

Aftercare is literally HEAVENLY

Kisses all over your body, warm blanket for good measure, lots of "you did so well today", then being wiped clean by a wet towel

You're fed a whole lot of food after it's insane

Trust me. They'll do anything for you.

[heresan]

When you're perched so prettily on his lap with your arms loosely coiled around his neck, Wriothesley truly wonders what he's done to deserve this一to deserve you and your love and your affections.

There's an endearing boyish smile on his face as you lay only the softest and sensual kiss after sweet kiss on either side of his cheeks, the small scar just at the prominence in deserving of a little extra attention from you. His thoughts become addled when the warmth of your lips spread from his jawline, neck and the corners of his mouth before the long-awaited blissful exchange after enduring all your teasing.

When you draw back slightly, your boyfriend's face is stained all over by the lipstick you'd been wearing since the morning. But there's a reason behind this gesture of tenderness, a greater purpose that lies with all the women in Fontaine in hopes of developing a long-lasting and transfer-free beauty product, or so that's what you like to tell yourself.

Sigewinne had asked you to test her newly formulated cosmetic and provide her with your honest feedback in her survey, while mentioning that at her recent beauty lecture a few audiences had brought to her attention if there's a possibility of such a product. And so, here you are testing how the lipstick wears after food and drink, with a personal experiment of your own for its kissing-proof capabilities.

"Perfection. Would you believe me if I said you look much more handsome this way?" You're almost admiring your handiwork as you do a once-over, but remember that the product doesn't hold up to its original purpose. The lipstick checks out on moisturizing long-wear while still being relatively low-maintenance, but you'll just simply have to report your findings back to the Head Nurse to improve the final product. "I suppose I'll have to let Sigewinne know that there's a bit of transfer."

"More handsome with all this lipstick smear? It might just be because I have someone so beautiful to kiss me." Wriothesley chuckles, as his thumb wipes the slight smudge overlining your bottom lip that’s already begun to fade after doing a number on him. "Perhaps she only needs a little more practice in making a product that can survive our kissing. But a little lipstick stain isn't going to hurt anyone."

You offer a content hum, agreeing with him as you lean forward to press a peck to his lips that he more than gladly returns with a fervor of his own. Wriothesley brings you closer to him by the waist and his tongue runs along the seams of your lips for entrance, deepening the kiss in a heavenly traverse and you instinctively clasp your hand gently into the back of his hair. The pigment spreads and stains upon his lips once more before what's left connecting you both is a string of saliva, and the sound of soft panting for air fills the silence in the room.

Your cheeks feel warm and your heart impossibly full as your head rests comfortably on his shoulder, your fingers fiddling and twirling with his maroon tie as you revel in this feeling of giddiness. "Thanks for letting me steal you away from your work again. I was afraid you wouldn't have time for me between managing the prison and your scheduled uninterrupted tea breaks."

Wriothesley laughs softly at your teasing and plants a chaste kiss to your temple. "Don't worry about it at all, sweetheart. You shouldn't be surprised that I always have time for you. Besides you're not doing anything but letting me have my fun."

He then peers at the swell of your messy lips, a playful smirk gracing his features with a quiet craving behind his gaze. He only wants to feel more of you, like his hands and mouth can't stop wanting to search for every last part of you. And you can’t really blame him for finishing what you started. "Perhaps I should kiss you again and again until it's all but disappeared, hm?"

[darkurgetrash]

I'm still a little bit off finishing the next chapter of Lead Me Through the Dark, so allow me to fluff you up while you wait. ♡😘

Spoilers of what's to come below the cut. CW: Suggestive, alluding to sex.

Tav grinned against him, her heart fluttering as his tenderness had her thinking back to the night before: their first step towards even deeper intimacy. It had truly felt like nothing she’d ever experienced; her body and mind acting on pure feral instinct and overwhelming love. Though they had both been clumsy and awkward in their movements, unable to maintain themselves the way she knew was seen as desirable, it hadn’t dampened the experience at all. In fact, she’d been surprised to find she’d liked that aspect of their love making — because that’s what it was, the true definition of making love, even if not in a traditional sense. Besides, if anything, it only meant they had a lot to look forward to.

She’d drifted off to sleep not long after the act, her entire body at peace; fatigued in the most blissful way. When she then woke again, the cool sun shining through a gap in the curtains, the first thing she felt was the heavenly sensation of Rolan’s body: bare, hot, hers. His head was softly rested on her breast, and his legs intertwined with hers as his tail wrapped around her thigh, as had become natural for them whenever they lay in bed together. She’d sighed happily, feeling so relaxed and content that she couldn’t bear the idea of having to leave the bed. 

“Hmm,” she heard Rolan sigh, a happy sound to match her own as he nuzzled his face against her, his rough cheeks warm even against her slightly clammy skin. His hand ran tenderly down her torso, fingers delicately stroking the indents of her hip bones as he opened his eyes and looked up at her through long lashes. “Good morning, my love.”

“Morning,” she whispered back, smoothing down his long, wavy hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Hm. Magnificent.”

Rolan’s eyes glistened with affection, his face tilting up to kiss her jawline before settling back down on her chest, his arm wrapping tightly around her waist as he cuddled her tighter. His body was so warm that Tav wondered if she could convince him to be her weighted blanket every night, or, at the very least, agree that nightclothes should be rendered obsolete. 

“Me too.” she exhaled, sighing contentedly once again as she ran her fingers along his spine, counting his vertebrae and imagining herself kissing each one, dreaming of sending shudders through him with every tender touch.

“Allow me to apologise again for my… poor stamina,” Rolan muttered into her skin, planting tiny kisses against her sternum. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded, softly. “I told you, I liked it!”

“I know. But even so, a greater person may have done better than ‘liked’–”

“There is no greater person, silly wizard! I loved it – the entire thing.” She clarified, stroking the shell of his ear. It twitched as she touched it and she noticed his cheeks turning red, his tail clamping tighter around her thigh. 

Just then, a sudden thought occurred to her: were tiefling’s ears sensitive? Tav had, of course, stroked his ears before, yet she’d never stopped to wonder if Rolan actually liked her doing so or if he just put up with it because he knew that she liked it. She paused, taking a moment to take in his expression: smiling eyes, a content smile, yet his body felt tense on top of her, conflicting…

As if reading her thoughts, Rolan opened his eyes and looked up at her, pouting as he furrowed his brow.

“Why did you stop?”

[dandeliicnsarchiived]

@depictedblue asked: [ TRAIL ] : sender presses a trail of kisses from receiver’s chin down to their waist. || 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒. turned into drabbles || accepting

Tyler's relationship with Cassandra is an interesting one. Despite all the history that came with her, Tyler did his very best to show that sexual intimacy wasn't something that she was required to do in a relationship. Of course, this was something he learned himself after his relationship with Natalie Andrews and getting a decent education from his sister, Rosalie. The eldest Atlas, out of respect, always tried his best to put forth other aspects of the relationship forward. Dates during broad daylight ranging from activities like cooking and baking, to walks in the park, to even doing some of Cassie's own hobbies that he would join in on.

However, this evening was a bit different from the rest that they'd spent together. This time, they agreed to actually work on sexual intimacy, and it was an evening that they were both looking forward to. Planning everything out to a 'T' so it could be memorable. Candles were lit, music gently played in the background and the lights were dim. Their shadows casting on the wall as they displayed their emotions, physically and emotionally.

Luckily between them, everything came naturally. It wasn't a total shock that Cassie was well-experienced in this part of the relationship. He acknowledged that and respected it, however, he wanted to show her that she could both be submissive and dominant if she wanted to. That was the biggest thing he wanted to express, she didn't need an assigned role, Cassie could be whatever she wanted to be in the bedroom and Tyler would simply follow her lead.

Laying back on the bed feeling the silk satin sheets pressed against his skin, he held her by her hips as they shared a passionate kiss. Tyler could feel her hips rocking back and forth against him, teasing him slowly. However, he kept his hands where they were, he was given specific instructions to not move unless she wanted him to. He could feel his body heating up, he was thankful that the lights were low, hopefully, she wouldn't pay attention or even care that the steam was starting to form from his abilities.

As they kissed, he felt her hands reach for his and then move them from her hips to above his head. Tyler couldn't help but chuckle softly, she was a natural. Gazing at her face, he saw how motivated and how much fun she was having at the moment taking control and having the freedom to do whatever with him as she pleased. Of course, it was awkward at first, but Cassie did express that she's always been, as she put it, Head down and ass up. Of course, Tyler being the man he was, didn't mind that position but he wanted Cassie to explore a different side of herself and re-wire her mind that she had choices and her own fantasies that she could explore as well.

Once his hands were above his head and she leaned down to whisper Stay there, he gave her a nod in understanding and soon let out a small groan as she pressed her lips against his jawline. He could feel her trail from his jawline to his neck. Ever so slightly, he bucked his hips upwards as she left bites on her neck. So after that movement, he felt one of her hands gentle grab his chin. Manicured acrylic slightly digging into his flesh. He didn't mind as he looked up at her; Cassie was in control and she was the boss. Hearing her words; I told you, no moving only turned him on more. However, he did respond with a soft Yes ma'am. It made him smile seeing her reaction how she was surprised but also enjoyed the response she gave.

Proceeding to her kisses, Tyler was lost in thought as she felt lips once more, soon enough her bare chest pressing against his. Everything about her was soft, warm, and just right to him. Her hair smelled heavenly; it took him back to the time when he tended Victoria's garden feeling the warm sun and gentle breeze. To him, Cassie took him back to that those times. She reminded him of a spring sunny day, the day after it rained and everything was in bloom. A time when he felt peace instead of anger. Added to the kiss she was leaving, the feeling changed when he tasted a perfect combination of sweet and salty food that left him in a euphoric state.

Cassie made him feel so many emotions as they shared their intimate moments together. Coming back to the moment, Tyler then began to feel her lips trail to his collarbone and then his chest. Of course, little bites were left as she did so. He took it as a sign of that she was marking him as his. At that moment, Tyler was at her mercy and he didn't mind at all. Trying his best to stay put like she ordered him too, he watched her as kissed and felt along his body. Her nails dug just enough to scratch his skin that after this was done, he'd have red marks on his body. As she got closer to his navel, his heart began to thump against his chest. His breathing became a little heavy, as he watched. Her big hazel eyes met his, she had the innocent look her face and he could help but mutter out "You're killin' me Cas."

Keeping that same look, she only giggled and went back to her work. her fingertips gently went under the band of his boxer briefs and slowly, almost painfully slow, began to pull down but not enough to where everything was exposed to the cool air-conditioned air. One last kiss followed another bite was left on his waist. And almost in an instant she came back up and flopped next to him in bed. Obviously, she had fun and it left him shocked that she stopped all movements just like that. He could hear her giggling, it was reassuring to hear that she enjoyed herself in the moment.

Finally, he letting go of his breath and relaxed his arms. His own hazel eyes met hers, and a smirk appeared on his lips. Now, it was her turn...

[webangchan]

✧✦ insatiable ✦✧ changbin x fem!reader 860 words kinks & warnings: thigh riding, d/s undertones, a touch of spanking, daddy kink, use of derogatory terms (slut), a sprinkle of meanness from changbin, some soft feelings thrown in near the end because i am who i am.

It's much too early when you wake up seemingly out of nowhere, groggy and more than a little horny.  You roll from your side onto your stomach, frowning when your panties stick uncomfortably to your folds.  A quick glance to the digital clock on your nightstand tells you that it’s only been an hour and a half since Changbin got home and fell into bed beside you.

2:23 AM

The logical part of your brain tells you to behave and leave him be.  He needs the rest; he’s been working long hours lately and you don’t want to disturb him.

But your libido has other ideas.

Changbin is sprawled out on his back, right arm curved so his hand rests on his bare stomach while his left arm is stretched up and tucked under the pillow.  His handsome face is turned away from you so all you can see is his strong jawline and the curve of his ear.  You inch closer and closer to your boyfriend until you’re partially straddling him, one of his thick thighs nestled between your legs.  You stretch your body out over his and plant soft kisses along his collarbones, hoping that he’ll be more agreeable if you wake him gently.

He groans at first, still dealing with the remnants of sleep when his hands automatically find purchase on your hips.  You know that he’s fully awake when his fingers dig into you hard enough to make you yearn.

“What are you doing?”

You whine and lave the crook of his neck with your tongue, your hips wiggling minutely, afraid to do much more. “I need you.”

Changbin sighs and it sounds annoyed. His hands leave your hips to settle on your ass and you shouldn't be surprised to feel twin smacks on both of your cheeks. You gasp and jolt forward, a moan catching in your throat when your covered pussy rubs along his thigh.

“My little slut is always so needy, hmm? Can't even let her Daddy get some well deserved sleep.”

The way that he's talking to you, dirty and a little bit mean, has you throbbing with need. You plant your hands on his chest and give his pecs a little squeeze because you just can't help it. Changbin is so muscular, so beautiful, it’s always a challenge for you to keep your hands to yourself.

“Go on then, slut. Get yourself off.”

You give Changbin a questioning glance and he stares at the light pink cotton covering your pussy. He flexes his thigh and you shudder when you realize what he wants you to do. 

“But Daddy…” you trail off with a whine when Changbin levels you with a fiery gaze, “I wanted your cock.”

Changbin scoffs before grabbing you by the hips again and showing off his strength by moving you himself, a sensual push and pull that has your pulse racing. Although it's not what you originally wanted, it still feels heavenly.  It would be better if you were bare but at this point, you don’t want to annoy Changbin any further.

“I don't care what you want,” Changbin bites out, the muscles in his arms flexing as he continues to guide you. “Only good girls get what they want and you haven't been very good, have you?”

You angle your hips down until your clit is getting stimulated with every movement and you get lost in the feeling, Changbin’s grip slackening until he’s no longer controlling your movements.  You’re riding his thigh on your own now, chasing after an orgasm that you’re not even sure you’ll get.

“I haven’t,” you agree quietly, and the shame burns nearly as bright as your arousal.  “I’m sorry, Daddy.  I just wanted you so, so much.  You always make me feel good.”

The hard look on Changbin’s face softens a bit at your apology and he sits up just so he can plant a kiss on the tip of your nose.  Your heart stutters in your chest and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, staring into the endless depths of his eyes as your feelings crawl up your throat just to spill out of your mouth.

“I love you, Bin.  I love you so much and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you, I’m sorry--”

Changbin cuts you off with a kiss that’s equal parts lust and love and you’re so close to your release you can nearly taste it.

“You’re my everything, you know that?”

When he murmurs those words against your lips, you’re a goner.  He whispers his love as you shake and fall apart in his arms, the rutting of your hips slowing down as you pant and moan into the crook of his neck.  Changbin’s touch is soothing as he runs his hands up and down your back, underneath your shirt so you can feel the warmth of his skin.

“You okay, baby?”

You hum and lift your head with a little difficulty because it feels like it weighs two tons. You blink sleepily at Changbin -- your boyfriend, your lover, your heart -- and kiss him soundly with a smile curling your lips. 

“I am now.”

[iznsfw]

Midnight Moans

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

"Please. Just let me put it in my mouth… just once. I promise I will—I will—"

"You and your promises, Eunbi. You're so needy for me, aren't you?"

Tears run down Eunbi's face as she squeezes her eyes shut, her head bowing while her pretty lithe fingers grip your thighs tightly. They send a delicious sharp pain up your body.

She draws in a sharp inhale and looks up at you again with teary eyes. "Please. You can do anything you want to me, just let me have it."

She whimpers as you capture her chin in between your fingers, harshly lifting her chin to study her teary face.

She really is so beautiful. You have never seen a prettier girl. Her face looks like it was sculpted by the gods themselves: a sharp jawline that you carefully run a thumb over, pink pouty lips which exhale soft shuddering sobs, and long black hair that drapes over her shoulders and sticks to her wet face.

So pretty.

You lean down to tug on Eunbi's irresistable bottom lip lightly with your teeth, sucking it roughly before sparing a soft lick across it. She yelps quietly, gasping against your lips as her own swollen ones stretch themselves into a pout.

You kiss her for long blissful seconds. Eunbi's lips are intoxicating, yet you keep going for more. You give her an open-mouthed kiss before letting your tongue explore her mouth fully, not allowing a single inch of it untouched. All the while, the tent in your pants only grows tighter, and Eunbi's whimpers get louder as her hand trails back down to her center and rubs her clit fervently.

You release her lips briefly. "Anything?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. You just have to clarify; she surely wouldn't want to regret saying that, would she?

She nods quickly. "Anything." She carefully touches your dick, wrapping her little hand around it. She slowly jacks it off, looking at it almost cross-eyed, as if she hopes what she's doing is right. "Just please."

You resist the urge to throw your head back. Oh yeah, she's doing it right. Her warm hand grips your cock and her thumb rests on the head, running across the slit.

You give in.

You nod, too pleasured to even speak.

The look on her face is almost adorable when she learns you've agreed. "Thank you," she gasps. She almost cries out of relief. Wrap her pink lips around the tip and suck it harshly. "Thank you. I promise I'll be good." Garbled words come out as her mouth is stuffed with cock.

You somehow want to bundle her in a blanket and kiss her and tell her she's the prettiest girl you've ever seen. You feel a little bad for making her beg; after all, she is still your princess. But you forget about everything once she looks up at you with her big desperate eyes, slowly bobbing her head up and down.

You sigh loudly. Eunbi is really good at this. Her mouth is incredibly warm. She tries to take it all in one go, but ends up gagging, more tears sliding down her cheeks. She cries a little in frustration. She tries again, slowly this time, attempting to fill her poor mouth of more.

She succeeds. But only because you take matters in your own hands.

You fuck her mouth at an alarmingly fast rate, fist curling her dark hair into a ponytail. Her muffled whimpers vibrate pleasurably against your balls. Her throat is heavenly tight and her pink tongue swirls around your dick as she messily sucks on it.

"Fuck, Eunbi." You love her so much.

She moans, then desperately goes up for air. A string of drool connects her lower lip to your dick. It is blown off by her heavy pants. Her full round breasts heave up and down, restricted by the white dress.

You think she is going to tell you it's too much. You wouldn't blame her if she did; in just a span of a few minutes, her curled hair is messy, and face wet from tears and saliva.

She looks like a slut. Used and edged till she breaks like a porcelain doll. Quivering lips releasing tired breaths.

Did you break her?

When she finally regains the ability to speak, her words are quite the opposite of your concerns.

"Don't be gentle. Use me. Use me however you like till I can't do anything but be hungry for your cock."

Oh, you definitely will.

"Ah, ah! Oh, please!"

No mercy or regret is left in your body. Eunbi cries softly as you piston your dick into her lips mercilessly. You are not allowing a millisecond to go by that isn't a thrust to her face. She tries her best to stuff her cheeks with all of you, saliva and tears mixing as they trail down your erection.

"Hah, shit," you groan. This is definitely one of the best facefucks you've done.

The gulping and gagging sounds Eunbi makes, and the soft whimpering sobs she lets out drive you crazy. She grabs your dick and slides her tongue around the slit of the mushroom head while she jacks off the rest of the length.

You fuck her fist as if it were a fleshlight. She moans as she feels the thrusts in her hand. But she puts it away, placing it on your thigh instead for leverage.

Exhaustedly placing her lips around your length for the last time, she brings her mouth down, till her lips touch the hairs of your pubic patch, and takes it all in at last despite her gags.

Holy shit.

You finally crack. Seeing Eunbi deepthroat your and hearing the gulping noises from her are just enough to make you blow. You twist her hair tightly and fuck her mouth, ropes of white creamy cum shoot from your cock.

"Hngh! Mmph!"

White drips from Eunbi's mouth. You could see how she tries to not let anything go to waste, hurriedly swallowing your load even if they spill down her mouth. Meanwhile, you throw your head back as the last of the hot, searing euphoria runs through your veins.

"Hnghh." She whines frustratedly, withdrawing her mouth from your dick once you've blown your load completely.

Her cheeks are full with cum. She looks up at you fearfully, seeing your stern eyes monitor every move, and quickly stutters out pathetic apologies in between breaths.

"Oh—oh, I'm so sorry! I, I couldn't take all of it—"

You lean down and firmly trap her wet chin in your hand once again. Your dark shadow looms over her face in the dim light of the studio.

"Swallow it."

Obedient as ever, she gives you a quick, quivering nod. She carefully opens her mouth, showing the pooling white cum you've just released, and gulps it down with difficulty.

She gasps after she does; the rough session has taken a toll on her. If you look closely, you could see her squirt on her fingers after the last shove she does into her center.

A scream echoes in the room.

You watch her cum on her fingers, mouth open in a silent moan. Under the ruined dress, you see her carefully remove her fingers from her wet hole.

She's a screamer.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you," Eunbi whispers quietly. She rests her head against your knee. Her tired eyes close, and one last tear slides down her cheek. "Thank you."

[myfeetkeepdancing]

A/N: The gif and the idea of soldier!Tom made me feel things. Not sure if I used right terminology for the army ranks. But enjoy!

NSFW! 18+

The unbearable heat, the sand, and the distance between home. It gets to you. With the sun sinking behind the horizon of sand, you make your way to the latrine. Simple plywood boxes, a couple of shower stalls, and sinks. It's a strange place. Searing heat in the day and cold nights as soon as the sun sat low. You can already feel the temperature drop as the first breeze of the cold wind blows past your exposed arms. Pushing against the door, you welcome the warm and somewhat damp atmosphere. But a wave of disappointment washes over as you spot another person in the corner of your eye. Once again, you don't have the place to yourself.

"Sergeant." You salute in one hand, the other holding your bag of clean clothes. The higher your rank, the better the facilities. That was a blatant lie. Nothing was better. You get a plain simple salute back from the other and continue on inward. You take the other stall, preparing yourself to change out of your clothes. Already feeling the unease of sharing the latrine with someone else.

"Dude...." A familiar voice calls out to you. "You look like shit."

 You turn back, and only then do you notice the person you share the latrine with. Small goosebumps shoot up your skin. "Holland." Unable to keep a straight face. A ray of sunshine between all the bitter and harsh realities. "Yeah… Thanks" You sniffle at his comment. "You too."

"I heard you went outside." He says with a serious look on his face.

"Yep… we went out for patrol." You nod, sighing as you recollect what happened hours ago. "We got caught in a firefight." Jabbing two fingers near your left shoulder. "Connor got shot." Indicating the hit.

"Shit… How's he doing?"

"Lost a lot of blood. But... eh... he'll be fine." Ending the conversation by turning your back to him. Seeing him undress made you nervous. Privacy wasn't much here, but you at least try to respect the others. Hoping to get it in return.

You strip without another word and step into the shower cubicle. Opening the rusty valve connecting the shoddy pipework to release a stream of hot water. That feeling of finally being able to wash away the dirt and sand from your pores is heavenly. The sand gets everywhere. Sometimes you wonder if it's gotten into your brain as well. You close your eyes and let the water pour onto your face. Cleanse yourself of sweat, sand, dust, and stress.

With a squeaky sound beside you, your stream of water cuts half in pressure and dips in temperature. Tom got under the shower as well. "And you?" He continues, standing in the other shower cubicle. Being square in size, made of plywood, and covering very little to nothing. Shower curtains are something the army never heard of. No privacy whatsoever. "You don't look too good."

"I'm fine." You grumble and avoid eye contact. It felt weird in many ways. If you wanted to talk with someone, you preferred to do that somewhere else. "Just… counting down the days, you know…" And try to shrug off your thoughts. Turning away slowly from the conversation.

"Yeah… You and me both." He confessed. "Damn desert. Sand gets everywhere." Chuckling to himself.

"It really does..." You sigh as the water runs down your face. Relaxing you. But time and water are limited. Opening your eyes, you reach beside you for the shampoo.

A shot of heat coursed through you. As if being caught. But you weren't. You caught Tom, arching forward, staring down into your stall. It happens quickly, and you manage to catch glimpses. While his one hand continued washing his abs and chest. The other surely wasn't doing that. You share a glimpse of eye contact. You couldn't help it either. You looked. Your eyes were drawn to it. It was awkward enough for the both of you to look back away right after. Tom shifted his gaze to the front of him, looking at the stream of water. Anything to avoid each other. You pour the shampoo in your hands." Eyes to yourself, Holland."

"Yeah, Yeah…" He mumbled while continuing to scrub himself clean. Instinctively you both turned your backs to each other. "I eh… was looking for my shampoo." Scraping his voice with rather an unease and slight nervousness.

"I… I don't have it, Tom." You said, scanning the floor around you. "M-Must have fallen down the other side." Taken aback by the sound of your own voice. You weren't sure if the last remaining bits of adrenaline from earlier were surfacing or that which you saw earlier. But the authority in your voice was softened. And one thing is sure, you're trembling lightly. Watching the shampoo wiggle in your hand. You try to steady your breathing. You try to shake it off. Continue cleaning yourself. Let the water run down your face again. Count down from ten. Think of happy things. Cats. Dogs. Home. The beach. Shirtless Tom…

You cursed yourself under your breath. Feeling the blood race to places you wish it wouldn't. Think of other things. Reset your mind. But you can't. The trembles become worse. And you can't fool your body any longer. You feel it. The terror grows as quickly as your length hardens. The quick-paced footsteps coming from the other stall send you into a panicked state.

"Let me use yours." He announced as the plywood makeshift door creaks open behind you. It's enough to make your heart skip several beats. You want to scold him, bellow in outrage. Entering one's shower cubicle was strictly forbidden. You know the rules. You knew them all too well.

Turning on your heel, ready to face him. Snarl him a disciplinary warning. "We agreed-..." The words came out shakingly. Quieter than you had planned. But they were silenced. Tom had closed the distance faster than the plywood door could fall shut on its own. You embrace the feeling of his lips on yours wholeheartedly. You close your eyes and let it happen. Moaning softly into the kiss as you both inched together. An erratic groan escaped both your lips as you watched each other, feeling your cocks come in contact. Like blunt swords battling it out. "T-Tom… We p-promised we'd never…."

"No, shut up…" He cut you off, cupping your cheeks in both his hands rather aggressively. Followed by a smashing on his lips on yours. "I missed you so much." He whispered, staring at you with this loving glint in his eye. “Your touch... all of it.”

"I missed you too." You reply with a growing smile. The emotion in Tom's eyes, the passion, the care. Nothing made this hell hole of a desert easier than being with him. Feeling a mutual smile grow. "I love you." You both whispered in unison. Careful not to speak it out loud.

"We have little time." He glanced back at the white clock hanging beside the door. Even showering time for Sergeants had its limits. With a quick gesture, you wind the chain of his dog tag around your fingers. Pulling his lips in. "Will you be quiet for me?" You command, more than ask, pinning him to the corner of the cubicle. Tom's pleading eyes said enough as you put the dog tag between his teeth. Nodding eagerly in agreement. He looks drop-dead gorgeous. But you have little time to take it in. Tom swings both arms to either side of the plywood walls. Seeing him all ready and willing, you quickly grab both his legs and hoist him up by the knees. Quickly repositioning your hands on his hips, and then the asscheeks. Stabilizing the position as you align your cock to his hole.

Air escapes your lungs as Tom's tight hole slides over your cock. Welcoming you with a warm, tight embrace you've missed for so long. You both shudder, shake and quiver in utter bliss. The position allows you to penetrate deep into him. Forcing a whimpering groan of pleasure from Tom. Clenching his jaw as he struggles to stay quiet. Desperate to drown out the sounds. His teeth gritting on the metal of his dog tag. Throwing his head back and tightening his grip on the plywood, he fights to stay in the game.

The first few rolls of your hips are controlled and almost without the sound of flesh on flesh. Careful not to make much of a commotion. Careful not to break the plywood. Careful not to let emotions get the better of you.

But seeing Tom like this. Feeling him. It's all too much too quickly. That short hair. Sharp jawline. Whimpering sounds. The way the muscles in his arms strain and his abs flex and relax. The sway of his muscled chest ebbing to your pounding thrusts. It's a build-up that finds a release faster and faster.

You've been stationed with Tom for months. Both of you leading a squad of your own. Luckily. You couldn't really pinpoint how it started. How the love manifested in the first place. Was it the shared training? That talk on the plane? That firefight? The dinner talks? Somehow you managed to find each other. Talk and enjoy each other's company. Or was it the lack of girls around? Tom assured you it wasn't. Taking every ounce of doubt you had with a kiss you'd never known you wanted.

It didn't make it easier. Because you simply couldn't work together. You only had eyes for one another. Especially in an environment where danger lurks around each and every corner. That dreaded feeling when a squad went out for patrol. For some of them, it might be their last. And Tom thought the same. The grueling long hours of waiting for them to return. Hearing sounds in the distance. It gets to you.

But the happiness of seeing him return. It's unmatched. Bloodied and bruised. It didn't matter. He's alive. You wanted to jump in one's arms. Celebrate life. But you couldn't. A nod had to suffice.

The others didn't know. And you wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't healthy in the least. Some days, you avoided each other like the plague. Differentiate your breaks as much as possible. But once in a while… you needed each other—more than ever.

"You're gonna make me cum..." Tom breathed out. He shook and losing part of his balance. His one arm snapped onto his bouncing cock. Jerking fervently along his length. Grunting and gasping for air. His dog tag sliding back on the chain. You feel him tighten around you—all in a matter of seconds. Tom shuddered in your hold as you try to keep him balanced. Angling his hardened cock onto his stomach as he felt the wave surge.

Cum is hard to clean. It's sticky and leaves a weird residue on most surfaces. Tom knew, when aroused, he could shoot quite the load. Even more so when it's been weeks. Shooting in arches even artillery specialists could learn from. One final rub of his fingers on his cockhead and his balls did the rest. You hold him. Keep him steady. With your cock sheathed deep into him. You watch him shoot his load. Splattering his abs with unfathomed speeds and intervals. Covering his abs and curves in bursts of cum.

"C'mere… baby." He commandeered with a shaken voice. Tom feeling your climax and understanding the need of you pulling out of him. You simply couldn't finish inside of him. But that was easier said than done.

Tom, still recovering from his climax, trembles shaking his frame and muscles weakened by the ecstasy. He helps you pull out, feeling the urgency of helping you with your climax. Your knees already weak, and your hands shaking. You push Tom down as soon as he has his feet to the floor. Forcing him down the plywood plank, ass on the floor. You manage to take a small step forward, one hand of your cock. The other reaching for plywood, holding on for support. Salvation at hand. You try to aim, but thankfully Tom helps.

Warm, wet lips envelop your pulsing length. Tom takes no chances to let you spill any on the floor or on walls. Helping you climax with the help of his mouth and an unexpected finger up your ass. In reflex, you arch forward to the towel in range of you. And clench your teeth down hard on the towel. Desperate to drown out your groan of pleasure. Your knees begin to buckle, and you hear Tom struggle. Gurgling as you length pushed further into the back of his mouth. Almost down his throat. Tom had worked a finger between your asscheeks and pushed deep into your hole. Drilling at your insides. Making you close to spasming out of pure bliss. Forcing you to shoot your load down his throat.

Your vision is hazy and so in your mind. You're barely able to breathe. And nor could Tom. Holding on for dear life on the plywood wall. But you manage to regain your footing. Pulling your length from his throat. A rough cough and wheeze followed, suppressed by him shielding his mouth with his arm. Making sure to wipe away any saliva and more.

Tom sits there on the floor, the water from the shower falling in between his legs. You watch him as you catch your breath. Leaning with both arms crossed on that half wall of plywood. Tom coughing the last bit of wetness from his throat. You comb your fingers through his short hairs. A bit roughly. But he likes it that way. Letting his head follow with the force of your hand. Hanging back against the wall. Seeing his muscled chest rise and fall. A smile out of thousands. It's precious. Eyes that make you flutter. "Almost a minute." You wink. "That was really quick."

"It's been too long." He smirks. With no time to waste, you hunch down in front of him and pull him into the waterfall of the shower. Letting your lips reunite as the warm water washes away the sweat from your exhausted bodies. Giggles go back and forth in relative quiet, giving him a helping hand with cleaning the cum from his stomach and abs.

Something as simple as that, yet loaded with sexual tension in that moment. Simple strokes of your fingers, guided by his hand. Helping him clean. You have to stop yourself from going further. And so does Tom. Seeing your cocks harden within seconds. In the end, it's a necessary clean-up. No evidence. Making sure it does run down the drain. No traces.

Blood on the other hand became a normality. The sight of it doesn't scare you anymore. Seeing trials of thinned-down blood collect in the drain. "Don't worry…" Tom assures you as you observe the whirls of water mixing together before disappearing into the drain. "Old wounds. See?" Turning his torso to the side and showing you cuts and bruises on his back.

"You got a new one." You murmur, running your finger along the cut. It's long and not that deep. But bleeds slowly.

He looks over his shoulder, following your finger. "That's from just now." He beams. "I'm wearing that one proudly." Kissing you as you let that sink in. Slowly starting to get on his knees, ready to go.

"Promise me-..." The air stocks in your throat. And try to blink away the tears welling in your eyes. "T-Tom…" You whisper with a trembling voice, trying to get his attention again as you both rise to your feet. Knowing the moment is there. Tom not letting one moment go by without his lips praising you. Small kisses peppered across your skin. No pattern. No hickeys. Just adoration and love.

With one hand, he reaches for the back of your head, placing his forehead against yours. "Listen to me, (Y/N)." He says staring deep into your eyes. "You have to stay strong. We're almost done here. Just a little bit more..."

"I know." You sigh. "I know…"

"Please stay safe, darling." He whispers. The words burn into your very soul. His kindness and caring nature. It's impossible to keep the tears from rolling. "I know you can do it." Patting your cheek. "Please do…" Rubbing the first tears from your eyes. "Cause I heard your boys talking about how reckless you've been lately."

"I will…" You nod. And kiss him goodbye. "Now go." Slapping him on the ass. "Go before they start noticing anything." Pushing him out of the cubicle.

"Promise me, (Y/N)." He veered back. "I wanna bring you back in one piece. Alive."

"I promise." And you can't help but smile.

"Good, cause my parents are dying to meet you..." Kissing you back before storming out of your cubicle. Taking his towel and closing his shower. "I've told them all about you." He winks. Leaving you all in awe. And a reprimand for showering too long.

[fific7]

Even His Name - Part 1

Sirius Black x OC

Summary: Friends forever? Maybe. Maybe not.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, slight consent issues, 18+ please due to NSFW content including unprotected* sex. The age of consent in the UK is 16, sorry if that’s not in line with the laws in your own country/state.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

A/N: Looking at this photo, I can kinda see why Ben Barnes got fancast as Sirius Black. This story is non-canon and takes place in my imaginary HP AU with OC, Celeste (meaning celestial or heavenly).

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Sirius Black. Even his name was beautiful.

She watched his tall, lean figure approaching as she sat & relaxed against one of the shady trees beside the lake.

She drank in every last detail before he got too close, before her out-and-out staring was noticeable to him.

The lazily slouching but graceful walk, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

The pale, porcelain-like skin, the aristocratic cheekbones, the trendy light scruff of moustache with matching scruff along his jawline, the full sensuous lips, the famed long black wavy hair. And of course, those hypnotic grey eyes, ringed by long dark lashes. Those eyes could change like mercury, from silver to dark pewter within a heartbeat.

As he got got closer, her eyes almost totally closed, but she wasn’t dozing off, it was a ruse to disguise her intense staring. Her eyes continued to eat him up like he was a very large chocolate eclair.

It was Saturday, so no school uniform. Trademark bad-boy attire, then. Her heart sped up at the sight of the scuffed leather biker jacket, the Led Zeppelin t-shirt, distressed jeans & leather work boots. Not properly laced up... of course.

All in black, a living embodiment of his name.

She heaved a long sigh, letting it escape without thought, and her eyes closed fully.

She was aware of a shadow blocking the sunlight falling on her closed eyelids. The sound of somebody settling themselves down next to her, still partly casting a shadow onto her.

Her eyes opened a sliver, and her head rolled to the side towards him of its own accord.

“What’s the big sigh for, Celeste?” in his deep, slightly hoarse, breathy voice. The voice which sent a thousand female hearts beating like drums.

“Sirius.” She sighed again, her eyes opening slowly. “You’re blocking my sun.”

He grinned, chuckling. He gestured to his body with one hand, “This ... masterpiece... of a man joins you for a pleasant interlude by the lake, and all you can say is that I’m blocking your rays?!”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled again. “Ah c’mon, you know you love me.”

She rolled her head back to its original position. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“And maybe it’ll come true?” he smirked.

“When hell freezes over.”

He leant over, placing his head on her shoulder as he did so, puppy dog eyes in play, complete with pouted bottom lip.

“Now, you know that isn’t true. You’re desperate to get me into the sack.”

“But, Sirius,” she said innocently, “there wouldn’t be enough room in the bed for me, what with you and your massive ego already in it.”

His head shot back, his unmistakable & glorious barking laugh issuing forth & attracting the attention of every female within earshot.

“You’re hysterical,” he continued laughing, more quietly. “No, I’m Celeste,” she smirked, throwing her version of his favourite line back at him.

He groaned, “You’d use my own comeback against me? Really?”

“Every time,” she nodded.

He was grinning back at her, when she was suddenly aware of another shadow falling across her. She frowned involuntarily, looking up to see who it was. A tall Ravenclaw girl stood there, confidently smirking down at Sirius. She didn’t spare his current companion even a glance.

“Hi,” she smiled brightly at him. “Thought you’d maybe like to take a walk with me, Siri?” giving him a suggestive sideways look, all the while twirling a strand of her long brown hair round a finger.

Celeste rolled her eyes, smirking & tutting loudly. She muttered, “Pathetic,” under her breath & began to gather her books, getting ready to ‘exit stage left’.

Sirius looked over at her, smiling and laying his hand on her arm, stilling her movement.

He looked up at the other girl. “Sorry, love,” he said with a grin, “spending some one-on-one time with my best girl here.”

She still didn’t look at his ‘best girl’. “Well, why don’t I just join you here while you do that, and then we can go for a walk by ourselves afterwards?”

Sirius looked down, and Celeste knew what was coming next. He’d given her his polite brush-off, now here came the not-so-polite one.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m here with Celeste,” he said, voice harsh, glaring back up at her.

She stopped twirling that lock of hair, recoiling from his glare & tone. “Well, you know, I just thought...”

“You just thought wrong then, didn’t you! Now, run along dear, off you go.” Voice cold, eyes narrowed.

She turned on her heel and scuttled back to her little band of giggling friends. Something told Celeste that her friends wouldn’t be all that sympathetic. If there was one thing almost guaranteed to break up friendship groups, it was who did, or didn’t have, Sirius’ attention.

Celeste laughed, “Lordy, I don’t know how you put up with all that fangirling.... ‘Siri’.” she imitated the girl in a high-pitched tone. “They make me ashamed to be a woman. Don’t they have any self-respect?!”

Sirius laughed, “But Cel, they’re just rightfully worshipping ... this!” Again, one hand gesturing up & down the length of his body.

“What.. a skinny boy?” she questioned, looking him up & down, “Really? What’s the attraction then?” she laughed.

He’d sat up straight as she’d been speaking, faux offended. “Celeste! How could you? Firstly, I am a man, not a boy.”

“Sirius, you’re sixteen. You.. are.. a.. boy!”

“Nah, nah, nah! I.. am.. a.. man!” dramatically emulating her slow delivery before continuing, “And I’m nearly seventeen. Secondly, I am not skinny. I’m tall and athletic.”

“Skinny.”

“Athletic!”

She laughed. “You don’t even play Quidditch any more. So where do you get this ‘athleticism’ from? Running away from Filch and the prefects after a prank?!”

“Thank you for answering your own question!” he said, laughing back at her.

He again leant towards her, eyes boring into hers, changing to dark & stormy mode, lips so close that she felt the little huffs of his breath on her own lips as he spoke.

“Don’t fight it, Cel. Just give in and admit you want me! We’ll head to my dorm right now and spend the entire night together, having hot, sensual, sheet-tangling sex!”

She burst out laughing, turning away momentarily, eager to break the close proximity to him. “The gods love a trier, Sirius. Pity I don’t.” She looked back at him, “And no doubt one of your fangirls is already curled up under your quilt, just waiting on the god that is Sirius Black to arrive and rock her world!!”

“My bed is exclusively reserved for you.”

“OK... curled up in her bed then, waiting on Mr I Never Stay The Night to arrive.”

“You pierce my heart!”

“Sirius, you may be one of my closest friends, but I can honestly say that you, within just the last few weeks, have become a total man-whore. And a barely legal one at that.”

“Celeste!! Just bloody well admit you want me.”

“Can’t that huge ego of yours handle the fact that there’s at least one girl in this school who doesn’t drop her panties the second you look at her?!” her laughter pealed out over the surrounding area, catching the attention of and sparking the venomous jealousy of the Sirius Fangirls’ Club.

He also burst out laughing, inciting the Fangirls even more.

“Ah.... Cel, my ego is perpetually the size of a peanut whenever you’re around.” Innocence personified, wide grey eyes gazed at her. “It never gets the chance to grow any bigger.”

Then the trademark smirk appeared. “Unlike a certain other part of my anatomy.” One eyebrow quirked up at her, long fingers slinking down onto his jeans zip. She couldn’t stop her eyes following them. His lips slid upwards into a pleased grin.

“Urggghhh!” she groaned, closing her eyes briefly before starting to pack up her stuff. “On that note, I’m off!”

“Awww, don’t go! This was just about to get interesting. You almost agreed to give me a quick blowjob!”

She stood up, brushing grass off her denim cutoffs and slipping on her low wedge sandals. Sirius raked his eyes up and down her figure as she did so.

She leant back down to him, knowing full well that he was getting an eyeful down her tastefully low-cut frilly top. She had on a translucent lacy bra, and she heard his breath catch as soon as he spotted it.

Putting her lips right next to his ear, she said, “Firstly, I don’t give blowjobs to sixteen-year-old skinny boys.” She huffed out a breath onto his earlobe, “And secondly, even if I did, it would.. not.. just be a quickie, darling.”

She pulled back and stood up straight, looking down at Sirius. A deep pink blush was spreading up from his neck over the entirety of his handsome face, his mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide, a glazed look in them.

She grinned, starting to walk away, “Have fun with the fangirls, Sirius!”

He was still staring after her when the first wave of girlies washed over him, clamouring for his attention in various tried, tested and (to him, at that moment) very tedious ways.

They were all to be disappointed. Sirius swatted them off like they were so many irritating mosquitoes, stretching out & lying on his back with his hands crossed under his head, staring up into the blue of the early autumn sky, deep in thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

She leisurely strolled back to the castle, sniggering to herself at how easy it had been to wind Sirius up into a tight spring.

Her smirk dropped somewhat though, when she contemplated the bigger picture. What a shitshow.

She was slap-bang in the middle of the biggest cliché the fates had ever created. Best friend really fancies best friend, but won’t admit it in case it either doesn’t work out and/or ruins the friendship. Yeah... that old chestnut.

Sighing, she made her way to the Gryffindor common room, spotting Lily and Mary on their favourite corner sofa. She plopped herself down next to them, instantly becoming enmeshed in the girlie gossip which was currently in progress.

However her mind drifted to the beginning of that school year, their sixth, when she and Sirius had met up again after the summer holidays on the Hogwarts Express. She’d been frankly amazed at the change in him after such a short time.

From awkward, gawky schoolboy to man-god in the space of a couple of months.

She learned from him that he’d run away from Grimmauld Place at the beginning of the holidays and was now living at the Potters’. She was very glad to hear that, knowing what he’d gone through at the hands of his parents. He certainly seemed to be thriving there, having apparently sprouted quite a bit over the summer.

Everything about him suddenly seemed long & slim. Long legs and arms, with big hands and big feet to match. Long slim fingers. Long slim feet & toes which she stared at, fascinated, every time she caught a glimpse of them.

She’d instantly known that their friendship would change in future. She’d never thought of Sirius as anything except a little schoolboy buddy, but over the summer he’d emerged from his post-pubescent chrysalis as a hot, sexy teenager with shoulder-length hair, designer stubble and attitude with a capital A.

He’d always attracted a fair bit of female attention over the years. He’d never really acted on it though, too caught up in Marauders mischief to care.

But holy hell...now? All the girlies were going to go batshit crazy over him.

He’d also - right there on the train no less! - boxed her into a corner and immediately started flirting up a storm, which had mildly terrified her. This was the guy who, only two months before, had been a kind of surrogate brother figure in her life for the previous 5 years.

Now he was making sexual innuendoes and inviting her into his bed every five minutes. She just couldn’t figure out his agenda.

As predicted, at the start of term, the Hogwarts female population - irrespective of year - quickly lined up behind Sirius and adoringly dogged his every footstep. As did a fair proportion of the male population, it has to be said.

Sirius quickly accepted his new-found godlike status & revelled in it. Flirting his way around school and through classes and meals. Getting caught in broom closets, empty classrooms and corridors, snogging for Britain.

It was only 4 weeks into the new term and she already found it all mildly disgusting. Hence she’d decided to knock the flirtatious idiot back down a peg or two every chance she got.

However, his flirting behaviour with her hadn’t dialled back at all, if anything it had increased, and this is what she was pondering on.

Her name was suddenly yelled right into her face. Lily was staring at her as if she was an alien.

“Uh, sorry - what?”

“We’ve been waiting on you to answer Mary’s question, for like, 15 minutes.”

“Oh shut up! I just zoned out for a minute or two.”

Mary sniggered, “And no prizes for guessing who the subject matter of said zoning out was!!”

She sighed. “OK, OK, alright - yes - it was Sirius.”

Scoffing noises from her friends.

“Look - I just can’t get my head round the way he’s still behaving towards me. Flirting & shit.”

She shook her head, and continued, “This was my annoying little ‘school brother’ 3 months ago! So he’s either had a brain meltdown and actually fancies me, or else he’s practicing all that crap on me to then use on his fan girls! And let’s be honest, one reason’s as bad as the other!”

They both exchanged significant looks, grinning at each other.

She huffed, “What’s wrong now?! I’ve just told you what’s on my mind!”

“Can you, hand on heart, swear you don’t fancy the pants off Sirius?” asked Lily.

“Look, I can see why girls find him attractive, yeah. But you’re forgetting that for five years, he was...”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Mary, rolling her eyes, “..your surrogate little brother.”

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@omgrachwrites

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Their evening ended at the Art Deco-era rowhouse which Hope called home, where they sat on the weathered stone stairs admiring the stars.  Their conversation had finally dwindled, with each silently recognizing that the moment had arrived at last.  The high point of the dance they had been doing since Hope had asked to sit beside him ‘neath that silver maple back in Washington Square Park. Side by side, shoulder to shoulder, thigh against thigh.  Stephen had rolled down his sleeves as the night air had cooled, while Hope shivered just a little despite her buttoned cardigan—providing him a handy excuse to slip an arm around her as he asked if she was cold. “Yeah…a bit,” she admitted, allowing his small advance before resting her head against his shoulder.  “Thanks—this is…” Hope drew a deep breath, and let out a sigh, “…this is nice.” “It sure is,” he agreed, pulling her a wee bit closer, smiling into the darkness at how she felt against him.  She was still trembling, and Stephen secretly hoped it was on account of him; a shiver of anticipation, perhaps, for what surely came next. Given the tremendous changes in his life, Stephen hadn’t had the pleasure of ‘what came next’ in a couple of years and was just thinking of how to begin—when Hope solved that question for him, raising her head to lay a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek.  She moved away enough to allow them to face one another. “Well hello,” he murmured, “And what was that for?”  His heart had begun to beat a little faster as he waited on her answer, the light from the streetlamp enough for him to read the bold encouragement in her eyes. “That? Um…that…” she shrugged, slyly impertinent, “That’s for dinner, of course.  What else could it be for?” Stephen was watching her mouth, the tempting curve of her bottom lip, the pale pink of her lip gloss which suited her perfectly, and that cheeky half smile that directly challenged him to taste her.  “Well I could think of a few other things.”  He strove to calm the eager edge in his voice, “But sometimes, actions really do speak louder than words…”  He trailed off as he leaned into her and laid two fingers along her jawline, drawing her face closer. “Thank goodness,” she replied softly, near enough now that he could feel the whisper of her breath against his lips.  “I was starting to think you might not be interested after all.”  How pretty she looked as her eyes fluttered shut, and how willingly she let him lead her into the kiss. He tried to be soft to begin with--for both their sakes--so that as first kisses went, it was patient and gentle.  In truth, he was going far more patiently than his blood was urging him to go.  Her lips were slightly parted, providing a perfect fit with his own, and when he withdrew, she lingered her bottom lip against his, reluctant to let go.  “Wow,” she whispered, so that he had to smile, even as he returned for more. Cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand, Stephen held her steady, thoroughly kissing her this time, kissing her breathless.  When he broke from their heavenly, lengthy series of kisses, Hope drew a deep gulp of air; he saw that her upturned face was softly flushed from his attentions, her lips a little swollen from the insistence of his kisses.  He found her quiet, natural beauty all the more beguiling, seeing his effect upon her.  She opened her eyes, pools of deep blue that bid him continue.  “Don’t stop now,” she urged him, “This night seems made for kissing.” He took her face in both hands, marveling at her gentle wisdom. “As do you, Hope,” he murmured, laying a kiss between her brows, and then on the tip of her nose, before leaning his forehead against hers.  Of all the magic he had learned since coming to Kamar-Taj, the magic of first kisses under starlight remained one of the most extraordinary of all.

from my story ‘Friday in the Park with Stephen’

(continued text under the cut)

“You really are silver-tongued, aren’t you?”  Her voice was low, breathy, and irresistibly feminine.

“Hmmmm…” Stephen nuzzled his way across her cheek and down the side of her neck, growing distracted by the sweet scent of her skin.  “Not so much,” he murmured, placing a moist kiss beneath her ear, “I really just…”  He wondered if she could hear the smile in his voice, “I just call ‘em as I see ‘em.”

“Of course you do,” she purred, and stretched her neck enough to encourage him to spoil her throat with warm, tender kisses, “How could I expect anything less…”  Hope slid her hand beneath his collar to caress his neck; her palm was slightly cooler than his skin, her fingers possessed of a nimble familiarity as she threaded them through the hairline at the nape of his neck.

In reply, Stephen traced the shell of her ear with his fingertip—his reward to feel her shiver, knowing for certain this time that she trembled for him—and then forged a path of heated kisses from her throat to her ear, to finally breathe her name against it.  Hope hummed in the back of her throat, a sound like dark, plush velvet, visceral enough to make him speculate about the sort of sounds she might give him at the height of pleasure.

She had cupped her other hand against his, where he held her face--and then began nestling her cheek against his palm, her breath warm as she tendered open-mouthed kisses against it; gently adoring his ruined hand, as if to prove her declaration that she found it beautiful.  It was nearly too exquisite for him to bear.  Stephen sighed hard at the pleasure of it, and the urge to taste her kiss again become too potent to deny.

Hope gave a little moan when his lips found hers once more, swiftly opening for him, and allowing him to tease the tip of his tongue along the inside of her bottom lip.  Stephen slid his hand around to cradle the back of her head while he deepened the kiss, a shudder of lust coursing through his veins as she accepted the full thrust of his tongue, tasting him as eagerly as he was savoring her.  Not even his wildest imaginings had let him think he’d end his day so deliciously connected, as a need long denied began to assert itself despite his better intentions.

The more fraught with yearning he became, Hope grew ever softer, yielding to him without hesitation.  The soft little sounds she made were intoxicating, confounding his usual reason; the play of her hands—one in his hair, the other tightly gripping his shirt—impelled him, like a promise of satisfactions to come.  The night sounds of the city around them had faded away, replaced with the hard beat of the blood in his brain, and the rushed gasps for air each caught between kisses.  Stephen was glad for the darkness that cocooned them, for the divine illusion it gave that even the occasional passerby could not disturb their little world.

Made bold enough by the night and his growing need, he finally drifted one hand down to cup the curve of her breast, eliciting Hope’s sweetest moan yet.  Her lips grew slack while she arched into his touch, and she laid her cheek against his when he circled the pad of his thumb upon her stiffened nipple.  She breathed out hard; breathed his name while she feathered her lips from his cheek down the side of his neck.

Stephen leaned his head back a little, loving the feel of her slow, moist kisses and the warmth of her breath on his skin.  It felt like forever since he’d been treated so tenderly, and every nerve in his body seemed awake with the need for more.  “Hope…honey…” he groaned, lost in her softness, even the barest eloquence eluding him, “Do you think…ahhhhh…could we maybe…hmmm…maybe take this upstairs to your…your place?”

“Oh god,” she whispered against his skin, suspending her lips from his flesh before withdrawing enough to lay her cheek against his once more, “Oh, Stephen…I…um…I’m not…I’m not quite ready for that…”

He let his hands fall away from her; nodding, and feeling like an utter, ridiculous fool, he told her, “I…I understand…oh, shit…I’m sorry, Hope…I shouldn’t have even asked or…or…assumed you would want that…”

She moved to look him squarely in the eyes, a small, regretful smile gracing her pretty mouth, “Believe me, Stephen—I would like that…honestly…very, very much…”  Hope stroked the fingers of her right hand along his goatee and jawline. “Do you have any idea how charming you are? And smart…and…and too damn handsome for a woman in her right mind to resist?”  Stephen smirked a little, flattered to have her speak such compliments so plainly.  “And despite this little…interlude…you’ve been a total gentleman.  I feel like I discovered a diamond in this…cracker jack box of a city.  Damn…dammit,” she cursed herself, and her nose crinkled so adorably with it that he had to smile despite feeling a fool, “I am so tempted to say yes right now…but…well…I’m just not built that way…”

Stephen nodded again, looking down, embarrassment and disappointment still vying to be his chief emotion, despite her flattery, “I get it, Hope…I…I do.  I truly do…”

“Really?” she asked, taking his hand in her free hand, and rushing her words a bit, in her urgency to be clear, “Because I need you to know that I don’t normally do this kind of thing. I am not the sort of woman who picks up strange men in parks and spends the rest of the day with them…and on such brief acquaintance, lets them buy her dinner…and then invites them…home.” That she spoke the last as a clear euphemism gave him another cause to smile.  “So, I’m sorry if I gave you that impression…especially as we’ve been sitting here,” Hope rolled her eyes, and sounding sheepish, continued, “…so deliciously…engaged…for a good while now.”

Stephen softened with relief, treasuring the look of regret on her face, and the clear notes of it in her voice.  “Yeah—I know. I do.  And I’m pretty sure I knew that about you from the get-go.”  Stephen leaned closer, mastering his own disappointment, needing to see her troubled expression relax back to its usual, lovely mien.  “Don’t blame a guy for trying?”

She grinned back, and squeezed his hand lightly, “Oh hell…I would’ve been disappointed if you hadn’t!”...

tagging:  @aeterna-auroral-avenger​  @battledress​

[candy-and-writing]

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

part iii

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they’ve been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you’re the perfect little doll for their plan.

General Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, princess, ie; oral sex (female and male), fingering, (forced?) poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

Chapter Warnings: non consensual touching and kissing, non consensual drugging, mean! Steeb, soft bois, stucky fluff

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Part Two // Part Four

Masterlist

It took you fifteen minutes to gather the courage to take a shower. Another ten to undress. You hated how exposed you felt, how at any moment Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes could walk in and see you naked.

The shampoo smelled heavenly, and as you dried your hair you marveled at how soft it was, how the scent lingered in your hair.

You clutched the towel to your body as you rummaged through the dresser drawers, searching for the least provocative set of underwear. You settled on a pair of lacy briefs that showed more of your ass than you initially thought and a matching bra.

You sorted through the wardrobe five different times, trying to find something to wear. Should you wear a dress? Did they want you to dress up? God, why were you complying with them?

You decided on a white sleeveless dress with a pink floral pattern and a flattering neckline. You paired it with a light pink cardigan, pulling the sleeves down past your wrists.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, you find what you need to style your hair, applying a quick layer of mascara to your lashes. While contemplating whether or not to put on some lip gloss, you grabbed the Chanel perfume bottle, examining it carefully before spritzing a little on your neck. It smelled like jasmine and roses. You liked it.

You shouldn't like it.

You're looking through the extensive makeup collection when you hear the door unlock. You turn your head and watch Bucky close the door behind him, balancing a tray with three plates of food in one hand. He spots you in the bathroom and his jaw drops.

"Wow, doll, you look—you look amazing."

You give him a timid smile and watch as he moves out of sight. You follow him to the threshold of the second room, the one you hadn't yet looked in. A small dining table sat in the middle of the room, with an absolutely gorgeous diamond chandelier hanging above the table. A large bookcase filled with books lined the wall. Skimming the titles, you realized that most of them were books that you had at home—or at the very least the same authors. Some were books you've never heard of before, a few were ones you've always wanted to read. Others were older, classics like the Oz series by L. Frank Baum and the Lord of the Rings series. Books that Steve and Bucky would have read in their childhoods.

"That was Steve's idea," Bucky says, walking up to you after he set the plates down on the table. "Wanted to get you something a little more personal."

You hummed in response, not knowing what else to say. Were you supposed to thank them? For what, for kidnapping you? For buying you expensive luxuries you didn't want?

Bucky hooked his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"You look absolutely stunning in this dress, doll," he murmured, his voice low. You swallowed before finding your voice.

"It's just a dress. . . ."

His eyes were gorgeous. Tantalizing blue-grey like the sky at the first signs of a storm. You found yourself lost in them, at the little specks of a deeper blue, of green. You didn't realize he was closing in on you until his lips touched yours.

He smirked against your lips as you squeaked in surprise, your shoulders tensing as your hands flew to his chest to push him away. You felt like you were pushing against a brick wall; the solid mass of muscle beneath your palms wouldn't budge. When Bucky seemingly got tired of your resistance, he gathered your wrists in one of his hands and pinned them to your chest.

He moaned against your mouth, coaxing your lips apart as he dipped his tongue in. You stayed frozen in your spot, letting his tongue roam within your mouth. His hand trailed down to your breast, squeezing softly as you whimpered. His lips moved to the corner of your mouth, then to your jawline, kissing and sucking his way down your neck.

"You're wearing the perfume," Bucky commented, murmuring against your skin. "Do you like it? It reminded us of something women would wear back in our day. Something that fits you."

You shut your eyes, biting back a whimper as he nibbled on your neck. He intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning your hands flat against the wall and he suckled at your pulse point. You let out a weak mewl as he licked over the dark mark he created, his knee pushing against the apex between your thighs.

"Bucky asked you a question, sweetheart," Steve said suddenly, standing in the threshold, holding a bottle of wine by the neck and three glasses by their stems. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him and you try to push Bucky away, but he doesn't budge.

"When one of us asks you a question, you answer it." Stave's voice was surprisingly stern, sending a shudder down your spine.

It took you a moment to gather your voice. "Yes. . . it smells very nice." If either of them heard how shaky your voice was, they didn't acknowledge it. Steve hummed, setting the wine down on the table.

"Buck, dinner's ready."

"Mmm, I got dinner right here," he mumbled. Bucky grabbed your hips and pulled you down on his knee, grinding your core against him. You yelped, pushing against his chest in desperation.

"Bucky."

Bucky grumbled in response, fingers digging into the divot of your hips as he licked a stripe up your neck before finally relenting.

Your knees were shaking so much you could barely keep yourself upright, your hands plastered against the wall for support. Mascara streamed down your cheeks as Bucky held his hand out to you.

"C'mon, doll, let's eat."

Steve pulled out a chair for you, Bucky guiding you to sit down. Steve wiped your stained cheeks with a napkin, shushing you as you whimpered.

"Buck and I made your favorite, sweetheart," Steve beamed. "Fettuccine Alfredo with broccoli. We even got a bottle of Cabernet to share."

You nodded, mumbled a small 'thank you', and let Steve set your plate in front of you.

"Eat up, sweetie."

You were allowed one glass of wine during dinner, which was barely filled a third of the way up. You wanted to drink from the entire goddamn bottle—it seemed appropriate, considering the circumstances.

The fettuccine was good, admittedly, which made you sick to your stomach. You weren't very hungry, you had hardly taken four bites of your pasta, and Steve and Bucky had noticed.

"What's the matter, doll?" Bucky asked. "Do you not like it?"

"No!" you rushed. "No, it—dinner's wonderful. . . I'm just not very hungry."

"You haven't eaten all day, sweetheart," Steve chided. "And you didn't have very much to eat  yesterday, are you feeling okay?"

You scoffed at that. "Other than the fact that a couple of psychotic superheroes have kidnapped me?" you muttered. "Oh, yeah, I'm great."

"Watch the attitude," Steve warned. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your uneaten food.

"Steve." Bucky looked at his friend, giving him the puppy eyes he couldn't ignore. "Give her a break."

Steve sighed. "If you really don't want to eat, fine, we'll go over the rules instead. Buck, you mind cleaning up?"

Bucky downed his wine, sighing as he and Steve stood. You were hesitant to follow, but when Steve held out his hand for you to take, you realized you didn't have much of a choice. He threaded his fingers in yours, guiding you back to the bed.

"Sit," he told you. You took a seat on the edge of the bed, Steve standing in front of you. "Good girl."

You couldn't stop the involuntary shudder that ran down your spine at the pet name. Steve smirked at your reaction.

"We're going to go over the rules, okay? There aren't many." He waited until you nodded to continue. "First off: We won't tolerate disobedience. You'll do as you're told when you're told, and you'll drop the backtalk. Got it?"

You couldn't understand the fear that settled in your gut. You should be angry—furious—at him for trying to control you, but you were just unbelievably scared. They held all the power here. You were helpless.

"Second rule," Steve growled, "you answer when Bucky or I talk to you."

"Okay," you forced out. Steve's expression relaxed a little.

"Good. Until you can show Bucky and me that you're ready to move upstairs with us, you'll stay down here. We bought you some books already, but if you want anything else to keep you entertained, just tell us. We'll get you anything you want, within reason. And you can make as much noise as you want down here—we soundproofed it. Doesn't mean you won't get punished for causing a ruckus, though."

Your lower lip wobbled a little as you responded with, "I understand."

"You will treat us with respect. You'll use your manners, you'll be sweet. You will accept what we give you, and you'll do as you're told when you're told.

"You disobey us, you will be punished. And trust me, Bucky and I can get pretty creative when we want to be. Your attitude at the dinner table was your only warning."

"I understand," you said quietly. "I'm sorry."

The apology slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

"Buck and I will do everything we can to make you happy and comfortable. That's our job, sweetheart, to make you happy." He gently cupped your cheek, his hand so warm you had to stop yourself from leaning into his touch. "You already make us so happy, we just want to return the favor."

You frowned at that, confused. Steve could see the wheels turning in your head, an amused smile on his face.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, princess?"

"Why am I here?" you asked carefully, your shoulders tense as you avoided his gaze. "I just—I don't understand."

Steve sighed, squatting down so he was level with you. "Because, sweetheart, we need you. You are perfect for us, baby, I knew that the moment I first saw you on the ice. The way you danced was so—so beautiful, you know? Like you were walking on water. I saw the way you seemed to relax, like every burden was being lifted off your shoulders. It's the only time you've seemed truly free. You're always so busy, sweetheart; between classes and practice, when do you have time for yourself? You're gonna work yourself to death, baby. We can help you, we can make you happy. I know you don't understand right now, but we are what you need.

"And you'll make us happy. We want you with us, want you in our relationship. We love you, sweetheart, we just want to show you that we love you."

You didn't realize you were crying until Steve brushed his thumb against your cheek to wipe away a tear.

"I know it's a lot, baby, but it's the truth. We're gonna take care of you, princess. You'll be safe here."

Your hands shook as you folded them in your lap, wringing your dress through your fingers. The fearful pout on your face had Steve trying to stop a smile. The crease between your brows was just too cute.

"But—I was happy," you sniffled. "I love skating, I love dancing. . . I was going to graduate in the spring. You're taking my life away, why can't you see that?"

"We know it's tough, doll," Bucky said, leaning against the threshold, his arms crossed against his chest. "We know it'll take some time for you to acclimate to your new life, but if you're patient with us, we'll be patient with you."

"No. You don't understand—" Your fear was quickly dissipating into anger. They weren't listening to you, they weren't going to listen. "I don't want to be here. You say you care about me? That you want to make me happy? Then let me go, please."

Steve sighed, looking back towards Bucky. His gaze turned hard as he looked back at you. "You're staying with us. We'll talk about some things we can get you to keep you from growing bored."

Your face fell at his comment.

"My ma used to cross-stitch," Bucky commented. "I would watch her and my sister go at it for hours. I'm sure it isn't too hard to figure out."

"Or knitting?" Steve piped. "You ever knit, sweetheart?"

You shook your head after a moment, appalled that they were having this conversation so nonchalantly. Rage radiated within you, angry tears threatening to spill past your lashes as you dug your nails into the palms of your hands.

"There anything you like to do, princess?" Steve asked.

You shrugged simply, looking down at your hands. Steve frowned, opening his mouth to speak when Bucky stopped him, resting his hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, doll, think about it for a bit." He gave you a small smile before giving Steve an exasperated look. "Stevie and I'll take the dishes upstairs, why don't you go ahead and get ready for bed?"

You swallowed thickly, nodding.

"Good girl, we'll be back down in a bit."

You watched them leave, the big heavy door locking you in behind them. You felt numb—fuzzy—like you weren't actually there. Or maybe you were just hoping you weren't. That maybe this was all some drunken-induced nightmare. Maybe you had drunk too much and wound up in an alcohol-induced coma.

You stood, stiffly walking toward the dresser. You shuffled through the drawer, looking for something suitable to sleep in. All you could find were silky slip ons and vintage nightgowns with lace on the hems and little bows—you hated it. You hated how they picked your wardrobe like you were a doll, how they were keeping you down here like a. . . a pet. Like you were a puppy they chose to take home from a shelter, keeping you in the basement to acclimate you to the house.

You groaned in frustration, slamming the drawer shut. You pace back and forth between the width of the room, pulling at your hair as you tried to put your thoughts together. Your head was spiraling, completely overwhelmed as you drowned in rage and fear and stress until you felt like you couldn't breathe.

You jumped as you heard the door unlocking, turning your head just in time to see Steve enter the room. You frowned, watching him wearily as he smiled at you, closing the door behind him. "Hey, sweetheart."

"What are you doing here?" It slipped past your lips before you really thought about it, mouth clamping shut as soon as you saw the way Steve's jaw clenched.

"Made you some hot chocolate," he said, holding up a mug. "Sprinkled some cinnamon in it, just how you like."

You felt your stomach drop. You blinked once, twice, swallowing the bitter disgust that was threatening to overflow your senses. "Oh, um. . . thank you."

He moved to set it down on the nightstand, turning back to you. "Why haven't you changed yet?"

"I—uh—I just—" You looked down at your florally dress, eyes flitting back up to meet his. "I couldn't decide what to wear," you lied.

Steve watched your eyes flick to the side, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress. He smiled, stepping close to you and hooking his finger under your chin to tilt your head up. "Why don't we go find something, huh? Come on."

He wrapped his hand around yours and guided you to the dresser, opening up a drawer. He started to shuffle through the clothing. "Let's see. . . how 'bout this, sweetheart?"

He pulled out a little black silk slip-on, holding it up by the straps. Your jaw dropped, completely appalled as tears quickly began to well in your eyes in panic. You had just started to stutter out an answer when Steve chuckled.

"I'm just kidding, sweetie, relax."

Your stomach flipped as you watched him smile—a genuine smile that split his lips and showed off his pearly white teeth. You blinked, stunned, taking in the smile lines in the corner of his eyes and the barely-there dimples on his cheeks.

"How 'bout this one?"

He showed off a modest nightgown with strings laced up the neckline, doily lace trimming the hem of the collar and the skirt and pink bows decorating the fabric. You scowled, barely stopping a grimace from spreading across your lips. Steve caught it anyway, huffing out a laugh.

"Not that one either, huh? Okay. . . . What about this one?"

He pulled out a sleeveless silk sleep-dress with lace tracing the neckline and the straps. The color of the silk reminded you of something a newly wed would wear on her wedding night, that off-white ivory that many women dreamed of. Knowing that was probably the simplest nightgown you had, you let out a sigh, your shoulders dropping.

"That one works," you told him.

Steve beamed, his eyes sparkling as he shut the dresser drawer, handing you the nightdress. "Alright then, go ahead and get changed."

You nodded, giving him a small smile back as you went to turn. He caught your arm, his grip firm yet gentle. "Where ya goin'?"

You frowned at him. "The . . . bathroom? To change?"

His grip on your arm tightened for only a second, enough to send a shudder down your spine. You bit the inside of your cheek to try to steel yourself, hoping you didn't look like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"You don't need to go to the bathroom to change, doll. You can do it right here."

"But—"

"Now, sweetheart. I won't ask again."

You nodded, shuffling the sweater off your shoulders. You ducked your head, your hands wringing the sweater tightly. "Could you—um—could turn around, at least? Please?"

Steve sighed and you dropped your gaze. "Fine. But you're gonna have to learn to get used to Buck and me eventually."

You nodded and watched as he turned, thanking him. You were quick to unzip the dress and let it pool at your feet. You struggled to unclasp the bra, grunting in annoyance when it wouldn't come undone.

"You need some help, sweetheart?" Steve taunted. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"No."

You decided to just slide the straps off your arms and shuck the bra down your body until you were able to step out of it, dropping it on the floor and pulling the nightgown over your head. It was shorter than you anticipated, the hem reaching mid-thigh instead of your knees.

"Okay, you can turn around."

Steve took two steps and he was facing you again, smirking down at you.

"You should drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold," he said.

"Oh, uh—right." You sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping your fingers around the mug before you took a small sip. Steve watched you intently, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. "So —um. . . where's Sergeant Barnes?"

"He's finishing the dishes," Steve told you. "Should be down here soon. Why, you miss him already?"

You felt your cheeks heat up, your fingers tapping against the ceramic of the mug as you sputtered out your answer. "N-no, it—it's not—I was just curious, is all."

Steve chuckled. You swallowed nervously, taking a prolonged sip from your mug—mainly as an excuse to avert your eyes from Steve's gaze. You kept silent, focusing on the warmth that flooded your chest every time you took a sip of your hot chocolate. You blinked lazily, your body feeling heavier. Steve sat down next to you, and as you turned your gaze you realized for the first time he had changed. Before, he was wearing trousers and a button-up shirt. Now, though, he's in sweatpants and a plain white shirt.

"Bucky thinks you'd like a record player down here," he said, "something so it isn't so quiet. We could get you some cd's, some records. Does that sound good?"

Not how does that sound? or would you like that? But does that sound good? He wasn't giving you any other option but to comply. To be okay with his decision. You blinked again, finding it harder to open your eyes this time as you nodded, muttering a soft, "yeah."

Steve smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. You jumped, spine going rigid as you felt his lips split into a grin against your skin.

"You're too cute, babydoll."

You swallowed, sucking in a shaky breath, bringing the near-empty mug to your lips. You couldn't tell if it was the trembling in your arms or if your hands were really shaking, but you gripped the ceramic tighter so you wouldn't drop it. You had never been called that before. Babydoll. You always hoped you would have a partner who would call you by that pet name, but the few boys you dated in high school and freshman year of college were. . . shallow. Your second boyfriend hardly ever told you he loved you. But—even still—you never thought the first time someone would call you that would be a situation as fucked up like this one.

The loud click of the lock broke you from your thoughts, the solid steel door opening slowly. Bucky Barnes stepped in, shutting the door behind him, smiling at you as you heard the dreaded lock click again.

"Hey, doll," he greeted. He ran his flesh hand through his cropped hair, smiling down at you as he crossed over to you and Steve.

You honestly couldn't tell if you acknowledged him or not. Your vision was clouding and your eyelids felt heavy like you could fall asleep in a second if the two men would let you.

"She drink her hot chocolate?" you heard Bucky ask.

"Practically chugged it," Steve answered. You frowned, not understanding their words. You looked down at your empty mug precariously, your brow furrowed as you tried to look for something obvious. Like a roach.

You shivered as Bucky took the mug from you, his fingers ghosting over yours and he smiled. You shuddered again, goosebumps rising upon your skin when Steve started combing his hand through your hair.

"What's the matter, baby?" Bucky asked. "You cold?"

It took you a moment to answer, your eyelids closed, as you mumbled out a soft, "yeah."

You felt Bucky's hovering presence leave for only a moment before it returned; you cracked your eye open to see him holding out a cardigan sweater.

"Go on."

You took it with a soft 'thank you,' and pulled the woven wool over your shoulders. It was so soft against your skin, you hugged your arms around your body as the plush fuzz tickled your bare arms, letting out a sigh. Your head started to droop after you closed your eyes and Steve had to nudge your chin up with his finger. You heard him chuckle.

"I think that's our queue to go to bed," he said. Your world was spinning then, as two hands came under the crooks of your shoulders and lifting you. You let out a lazy yelp as Bucky plopped you down on the center of the bed. You bounced on the mattress a few times before you settled, your eyes falling on Steve as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Wha. . .wha're ya doin'?" you slurred, heart racing as you felt the bed dip.

"We're goin' to bed, baby," Bucky said like it was obvious, crawling into the bed beside you. You frowned at him, your mind foggy as you tried to wrap your brain around what was happening.

"I. . . no—I don't want—"

Steve shushed you, climbing into bed on the other side of you. His hand pressed against your chest, the width from his thumb to his pinky finger spanning across your entire front as he pushed you back with little effort. Your back landed on the plush mattress with a soft 'oof'. "You're just tired, sweetheart," he smiled. "Go to sleep."

You couldn't fight it. Their body heat engulfed you like a typhoon engulfing the mainland; it was overwhelming. You were imprisoned between the two supersoldiers and being forced into a slumber so violently it was like you were being smothered with a pillow. You let out a breathy whine as Bucky wrapped an arm around your torso.

"Hush, doll," Bucky cooed. "You're okay. Just close your eyes."

You fought some more, sluggishly flailing your arm and trying to bat away hands until Bucky had pinned you down, hugging your body flush to his. He crooned your name softly against your ear, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down your spine.

"You're alright, baby," he hushed. "Just relax, Stevie and I are right here. Just go to sleep, princess."

You didn't know if it was the drug or the cozy heat that radiated off of the supersoldiers—maybe it was both—but you drifted off soon after, your body feeling like maple syrup was running through your veins. Steve and Bucky watched as you settled down, your shoulders dropping as your breathing evened out.

"Is she asleep?" Bucky asked softly, lifting his head to look at Steve.

"Yeah, she passed out quick, I might've put too much of the sedative in her drink." Steve was on his side, arm under his pillow as he looked down at the girl curled against his chest.

"I told you, she isn't very big—half a dose would've done the job just fine."

"I just want her to be comfortable," Steve pouted, letting out a sigh. "She was so scared earlier. I just wanna show her she doesn't have'ta be afraid."

"It'll just take some time, Stevie," Bucky told him. "Soon enough, she'll see that this is what's best for her, I promise."

"Yeah." Steve paired with your hair, listening to your soft snores as silence filled the room.

Steve agreed with Bucky—it was too quiet down there. Apart from your small breaths, Steve could only hear the quiet buzz of silence. He thought about records he and Bucky could get you; you liked soft music—acoustic and folk/indie. You really liked an artist named Taylor Swift. Steve tried to ask Bucky if he knew who she was, but he didn't, so Steve ended up downloading her entire discography onto his phone—with Sam's help, who refuses to leave him alone about it. Steve actually liked a lot of her songs; he thought they suited you.

"Do you think it's too dark in here?" Bucky's low voice seemed to echo throughout the silent room.

Steve had been thinking the same thing. There was only a little night light plugged into the bathroom, so you had a little bit of guidance, but they'd have to get you another—maybe in the other room, if they got one bright enough. You were used to the city noise, the light seeping through the cracks of your blinds.

"Yeah," Steve whispered back. "We could get her another nightlight?"

Bucky hummed in response. "Maybe something that sits on her nightstand? It'd be a little brighter than a plug-in."

"Yeah, we'll look for something in the morning."

They stayed quiet for a while, both supersoldiers admiring you while you slept soundly between them. Steve ran his fingers through your hair while Bucky's traced shapes over your bare thigh under the blankets.

"This is perfect, Stevie," Bucky smiled, breaking the silence, reaching over you to grab Steve's hand.

Steve lulled in agreement, still watching the way your chest rose softly with your quiet breaths. "We waited so long for this, Buck, to have her here. She's gonna learn to love us, We just need to be patient."

"I just. . . she's right here, Steve. We're holding her and all I wanna do is fuck her until she can't think—but she's so scared. I don't wanna scare her."

"I know," Steve sighed. "But soon we won't have to control ourselves, she'll be begging for us soon enough."

Bucky had to stifle a groan just thinking about it — about how your little voice would sound begging for his cock, begging him to fuck you silly.

You shuffled between the two of them, letting out the smallest grunt as you readjusted. Bucky gripped your hip to still you, his thumb rubbing small circles into the divot of your hip. You stopped squirming, letting out a small huff before you relaxed.

"She's restless," Bucky noted quietly like he was talking to himself.

"Side effect of the sedative," Steve said. "We'll have to play around with the dosage. Maybe try half a dose tomorrow night, see if even that's too much."

Bucky nodded. "She'll need to eat more tomorrow, too. What she ate at dinner wasn't nearly enough."

"She had a big day," Steve countered. "She was hungover, for one. And she was a little shell-shocked, poor baby couldn't wrap her pretty head around all this."

Bucky huffed out a laugh as Steve grinned.

"I love you, Stevie."

"I love you too, Buck."

--

Your body protested the first time you woke up. Your senses were fuzzy, only half awake as you protested with a high pitched whine, curling in on yourself. You were so warm, so comfortable, it was lulling you back to sleep as you were struggling to wake.

"Shh, babygirl." There was a hand carding through your hair, drifting you back into slumber. "It's alright, go back to sleep."

You were too tired to actually comprehend the voice, or the hands in your hair and on your hip, running up and down your waist. You were too lagged to feel the two bodies crowding you between them, trapping you between their heat.

You drifted off again just as you felt the lingering touch of lips on your cheek.

The second time you awoke, you were much colder. Maybe that's why it was easier to open your eyes. It was pitch black in your room and for a moment you worried it was still the middle of the night—until you felt the bedsheets. It wasn't nighttime, there just weren't any windows in your prison. It could be noon and you wouldn't be able to tell.

You forced yourself into a sitting position, groaning when your head started to throb so violently you thought it was going to explode. You leaned forward to search for the edge of the bed, yelping as your hand never touched the mattress and you went toppling off the edge. You landed on the floor with a dull 'thump', pulling the covers down with you. You weren't able to catch yourself in time before your head smacked onto the floor.

"Fuck. . . ." you whimpered, shakingly bringing a hand up to your forehead. The lights flipped on, and two pairs of hands were on in less than a second.

"What happened, doll? Are you okay?" It was Bucky. His hands rested on your forearms as he pulled you up, cradling you to his chest. Steve's fingers grazed the bump that had started to form along your hairline and you winced, trying to escape the pain that jolted through your head. "C'mon babydoll, use your words."

"She hit her head," Steve said gently.

"M'fell," you grumbled, clutching at your temples.

"Why don't you let Stevie look at it, princess?" Bucky coaxed, hooking his finger under your chin and turning you to face Steve. You let out a high pitched whine in protest as you were forced out of the darkness the crook of Bucky's arm provided, your eyes closed as your head throbbed in the light. Bucky shushed you, his fingers running through your hair gingerly.

"She might have a concussion," Steve mumbled to himself, his thumb just barely grazing the contusion. "Nothing major."

You grumbled out a garbled response and burrowed your face back into the crook of Bucky's arm.

"No, baby, I need you to look at me."

When you refused to move your head, Bucky kissed your hair, whispering to you, "C'mon, precious. All you gotta do is look at Stevie for a little bit, then we'll turn the lights back off. Can you do that for us?"

You were quiet for a moment before you looked back up at Steve, cracking your eyes open. He smiled at you, sneaking a quick look at Bucky before he returned his focus to you. He holds his pointer finger up in front of your face and tells you to follow it with your eyes. He glided his finger to the left first, and your gaze followed until the appendix left your vision. He did the same thing to the right side. Your head was pulsating under your skull and you had to close your eyes, squeezing the bridge off your nose to alleviate some of the pressure.

"She has a small concussion," Steve confirmed. "We'll just have to keep an eye on it. Nothing else we can do about it."

"Get off me," you scowled, shoving yourself out of Bucky's lap. You were shaky as you stood, tripping over yourself before you found your balance.

"We're just making sure you're okay, doll." Bucky grabbed Steve's hand to keep him from shouting at you.

"You're the reason I fell in the first place," you grumbled, scoffing as you rubbed your temples. They were the ones who brought you to this basement, it was their fault you couldn't find the edge of the bed when it was so god damn dark.

"What'd you say, sweetheart?"

"Let it go, Steve," Bucky pleaded. Steve didn't listen.

You didn't have time to even blink before he was on you, hand gripping your jaw tightly and shoving you against the wall.

You winced when the back of your head collided with the wall, his fingers digging into your jawline.

"You wanna try that again, sweetheart?" he scowled.

A whimper escaped your lips, your small fingers wrapping around his large wrist.

"St—stop."

"Last chance, Sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," you squeaked. "I—I didn't mean it. . . I'm sorry."

Steve closed his eyes, inhaling like he was physically restraining himself, and stepped back. He let go of you and you gasped for breath, doubling over and wheezing.

"I'm not gonna tell you again," Steve glowered. "We won't tolerate your attitude. That was your last warning."

You nodded furiously, tears welling in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

"Get dressed," Steve ordered, motioning for Bucky to stand up. "We'll be back down with breakfast in a few minutes."

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself. 

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that. 

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys. 

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present. 

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!” 

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed. 

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel. 

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing. 

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?” 

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.” 

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance. 

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch. 

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were. 

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.” 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?” 

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars). 

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside. 

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.” 

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking. 

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person. 

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien, 

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!” 

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her? 

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

[booksarelife-stuff]

Gold Rush

Jily (James Potter/Lily Evans), Minor wolfstar

Word Count: 4856

Lily didn’t expect to be having these feelings for James when 7th year starts. Featuring a jealous and pining Lily. 

Read on AO3

When James caught her eye from across the Gryffindor table, she didn’t expect a fluttering feeling in her chest to blossom. 

Summer had been kind to him in ways that almost made Lily angry. He seemed to grow into his features. His cheeks had lost all the baby fat, making sharp cheekbones appear, and he had gotten new glasses that seemed to frame his face a lot better and highlight his hazel eyes. The dimple in his left cheek still made appearances when he smirked and god, his jawline was heavenly. His voice had also deepened to a nice even baritone that when Lily first heard it, it had taken a second to realize that James had spoken. 

Alarm bells started going off as he smiled at her. She quickly smiled and turned away, hiding the blush that was starting to form on her cheeks. 

She could not be thinking about James Potter like that. 

~~~

Lily hadn’t been particularly thrilled with having to share a living space with just him. It could be worse, as she had been expecting Remus and he wasn’t the tidiest. She had been in the boys’ dorm a few times and it was never messy, but Remus told her that it was because James cleaned it. 

It hadn’t been bad, besides the fluttering in her stomach when he walked in. 

Lily was reading a book on professional level charms, her legs stretched out on the sofa by the fireplace. The head dorm was nice and Lily wondered if it changed based on who were the heads that year because it resembled the Gryffindor common room closely, with more cushy furniture than necessary. 

She was about to turn the page when the bookcase that hid the entrance swung open. 

She hated the butterflies that formed in her stomach.

James stepped in, soaking from the rain. He had had Quidditch practice. 

“It’s raining horribly,” he said as a greeting. 

Lily opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. His hair was flat for once in his life and sticking to his forehead. He had a curl plastered on his forehead. His t-shirt was clinging to him. James wasn’t buff, but he was lean and his defined muscles were nothing to laugh at. 

“I swear I almost drowned in mid-air,” he said. “Is that even a thing?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Lily said, turning away and looking at her book. He got out his wand and started charming himself dry. 

“Practice went okay otherwise,” he said, finally getting his shoes dry. 

“How’s the new seeker?” she asked, not looking at James as he flung himself into the sofa across from her. 

“Doing good. Just need to make a few improvements on her techniques,” he said. 

Lily spared a glance and wished she didn’t. His legs were spread out and his head threw back, exposing his neck. She hoped that he didn’t see her blush.  

“Who’s the first game against?” she asked. 

“Ravenclaw,” he said. “They got a strong keeper, but I don’t think they’ll be a problem. Hufflepuff has a great line up though and it has me a bit worried.”

“It’ll be fine. Gryffindor always pulls through,” she said. James laughed a little. 

“Yeah, but doesn’t mean I can’t try to eliminate a struggle,” he said. Lily looked up and saw he was looking at her. “I like it when I can crush them with little to no problems.”

Lily rolled her eyes. 

“I think a struggle is a better show of feat,” she replied. “Shows how you work under pressure.”

“Ah, but when there’s no struggle, it shows that we don’t have any weakness,” he said. 

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” Lily said.  James laughed and the butterflies in Lily’s stomach started up again. 

James asked about what she was reading and she found that she forgot about the anxiety that had started to surround her when he was near. He was easy to talk to, always had been when they weren’t intent on arguing for the sake of arguing. 

~~

When Lily joined in with James at the breakfast table of trying to throw sausages into Sirius’s mouth, that’s when she knew she had a problem. 

Lily was never one for rules, especially if they were unfair. She upheld the ones she agreed to, sometimes bent them when she saw fit, but the outward display of joining in the Marauders was crossing an invisible line. 

Lily didn’t see that line until Marlene pulled her aside after History of Magic and casted a silencing charm around them. 

“So when did you realize you’re head over heels for James?” she asked. Count on Marlene to always jump straight to the point.

Lily almost dropped her books. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked. 

Marlene rolled her blue eyes at Lily.

“Come off it,” she said. “It’s obvious. The Lily that despised him fifth year would never have spent the morning trying to break his sausage-throwing record or share your notes with him.”

Lily felt angry.

“Just because I’m being friendly doesn’t mean I like him!” she hissed. Marlene was unphased by Lily’s anger. 

“Oh Lily, don’t be upset. He’s fit as fuck and a decent guy,” she said. “I would be shocked if you didn’t!”

“You know how much I hate crushes,” Lily said, fighting the urge to stomp her foot like a child. “It’s pointless!”

Marlene laughed. 

“Sometimes, you can’t fight it,” she said. She waved her wand and the silencing charm around them faded. “Let’s get to lunch.”

Lily walked beside her in silence, fuming. 

There were a few reasons why Lily hated crushes. She hated how they painted the world in rose colored glasses, obscuring truths. She thought about the crush she had had on a 7th year Ravenclaw when she was in fifth year. 

Lily didn’t remember his name, just that she had tried many times to speak to him when they were at the library at the same time. Lily felt like she was flying every time she saw him, with every word he spoke to her.

Then came the bone-crush. He kissed her one day over her charms homework and the next day she found out he had a girlfriend, a fourth year Hufflepuff. 

Lily felt disgusting and immediately told her. 

When she looked back at that experience, she felt hot anger and embarrassment. The rose colored world she had seen had blinded her from the truth. 

She should have noticed how flippant he was when she asked him questions. How once he caught on to Lily’s crush, he would find a table in the back, out of the way from passersby. Lily had thought it was because he wanted alone time, not because he was hiding from his girlfriend or anyone who might rat on her. 

She had vowed that she was never going to make an utter fool of herself again. 

Lily pushed down her anger and looked forward to have a nice peaceful lunch with her friends that she missed so dearly. Alice, Dorcas, and Mary were waiting for them at the end of the table, but as Lily’s eyes looked on, she found a sight that made her almost vomit. 

There was James, sitting across from Amelia Bones, a Hufflepuff in their year. 

He was flashing her his signature smile and laughing at something she said, running a hand through his messy hair. 

She peeled her eyes away and took her seat next to Alice, forcing herself not to stare at them. 

She picked at her food and tried hard to pay attention to her friends. 

“Hogsmeade is next week, right?” Lily asked, suddenly. 

“Sure is,” Mary said, sipping some of her juice. 

“I want to get plastered at the Three Broomsticks,” Lily said. The girls laughed. 

“It’s date,” Marlene announced. “I’ve been waiting to see you drunk since you took that shot of firewhiskey.”

Lily rolled her eyes, thinking of the time Marlene snuck a firewhiskey up to their dorm last year and Lily almost threw up after one shot. 

The girls started planning the trip. 

Despite her resolve, she shot a glance at Amelia and James, who were just getting up from the table. James met her eyes and winked at her, to which Lily rolled her eyes because it let her do something other than blush. 

~~~

Lily would be an idiot if she thought that she was the only one to notice James. That didn’t mean she had to like it though. 

James had been asked out three times in one breakfast and though she had no claim to him, it was grating on her nerves. 

“So Prongs,” Sirius started as the brave third year who just asked James this morning left. “You’re turning into quite a lady killer.”

James snorted. 

“I’m starting to think someone is cursing them,” he said. “It’s mental.”

“Face it, Prongs,” Sirius said. “You’re a hot ticket item.”

“They’re dying to have your babies,” Remus said, not looking up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. 

“They’re going to kidnap you and force you to go on a date with them,” Peter added. 

“Probably going to slip you some love potion,” Lily said. James whipped his head and looked at her. 

“I expect them to gang up on me, but you Evans? Betrayal,” he said. 

Lily smiled and bit back the green monster that was going to reel it’s head if she thought about it too hard. 

“I know what’s going on,” she said. 

“Please, be our insight into the female mind,” Sirius said, brushing a strand of dark hair behind his ear. 

Lily rolled her eyes. 

“Teenagers are horny,” she said. “James is headboy, plays Quidditch. Every fifteen year old’s dream.”

Lily kept her eyes on her tea as she took a sip. She could feel his eyes on her. What she really wanted to say is that she got it. She got why these girls were dying for James. Lily herself felt like she would die in order to have James touch or snog. 

She was trying to get that to stop. 

“And he’s fit,” Remus said. Sirius glared at his boyfriend. “Objectively speaking. Not my type, sorry James.”

“I don’t take it personally,” James grumbled, taking it personally. 

“Just be happy you can get a date,” Peter said. “I can’t get one for the life of me!”

“How about this Pete,” James said, resting his elbows on the table. “Tell me who you fancy and I’ll ask their bestfriend out and see if I can’t get a double date?”

Here was the bone-crush. Here is where the misery came and grabbed Lily. 

“You’d do that for me?” Peter asked, his eyes wide. 

“Once,” he said. “I’m going to help you woo the pants off of this girl and hope you get a second date on your own.”

If Peter said who he fancied, it was lost on Lily. She stared at the cup of tea in front of her, watching the surface of the liquid vibrate. 

She could imagine going on a date with him, so vividly it hurts. She could practically picture walking with him down the slope, hand in hand. Sitting across from him at the Three Broomsticks and stealing his chips. And that image hurt as she watched them plan their double date.

James nudged Lily, jarring herself out her thoughts. 

“Time for Transfig,” he said. “Ready?”

Lily nodded and stood up. As she grabbed her bag, she saw Remus watching her. He gave her a small smile and she tried to return it. 

James, Sirius, and Peter were already walking ahead of them when Remus came beside her. 

“So, I take it you’re against the double date?” he asked as they started up the stairs. 

“No, why would I?” she asked quickly. 

Remus sighed deeply and just shook his head. They caught up to the other boys. 

~~~

Once Lily heard James was taking Amelia Bones to Hogsmeade, she was even more determined to get wasted at the Three Broomsticks. She was a rational person. She knew that getting wasted to forget a stupid crush was immature, but she could be immature for a night. 

She put more effort into her appearance than normally for a girls night out. Normally she would be fine with jeans and a jumper, but Mary had suggested they act like they were going to the hottest nightclub in the U.K. 

Lily didn’t have a lot of clothes appropriate for that, but Mary was her size and had tons of sparkling dresses that she was willing to let Lily borrow. 

Mary had picked a gold sequined dress that was a little shorter than Lily was used to, but she knew she could make it work. It was strapless and Lily had a slightly bigger breast than Mary, so Lily placed a sticking charm on the sweetheart neckline. 

Lily also did some beauty charms. One to make her hair have more beachy waves than her own slightly sad waves. The make-up charms turned out better than she thought as her emerald eyes looked bigger with the eyeliner charm. 

She checked the time, gave herself one final look over, and then grabbed her coat, and left her room, stepping out in the common room. She heard something fall as she closed the door. 

James was standing at his door, staring at Lily like he was deer caught in the headlights. 

He was ready for his date, a nice dark green shirt and pants that had been pressed. He looked good and Lily hated it. 

“Evans, what are you wearing?” he asked. Lily looked down at her dress. 

“A dress?”

“You look…” he started, eyeing her up and down. “Stunning.”

Lily felt her cheeks heat up. 

“Thanks. It’s for the girl’s night,” she said. The air felt awkward as the silence fell. 

James looked away, clearing his throat. 

“Where are you going? For the girl’s night,” he asked, picking up his wand that he had dropped. 

“Three Broomsticks,” Lily replied. “Where’s your date?”

“Madam Padifoots,” he replied. 

“Aw, that’s romantic,” Lily said, forcing a smile. 

“Pete picked it,” he said. “I would rather be drowning in some Butterbeer.”

Silence fell again. Lily wanted to say something, but she found it hard. James hadn’t looked at her since he picked up his wand. 

“Well, have a good time,” Lily said, making her way to the bookcase. 

“Same,” James said. 

The walk down was freezing, but once Lily sat in a booth, squished between Mary and Dorcas, she realized it was worth it. 

They started out with some food, but soon enough the drinks kept coming. Lily felt wobbly as her and Mary sang a Muggle song on the top of their lungs. She was spinning when Alice admitted her and Frank had had sex in his childhood bedroom over the summer. 

She was absolutely gone with Remus and Sirius stood at the end of the booth. 

“You lot are cut off for the rest of the night,” Remus said. Lily started giggling at his stern expression. 

“Oi! Remy,” Mary said, her words slurred. “How big is Black? We have a bet.”

“I’ll have you know I’m packing,” Sirius said, not the least bit phased. 

Lily snorted.

“He’s average,” Remus replied. All the girls started laughing. Lily felt tears in her eyes as Sirius elbowed Remus. 

“He’s joking,” Sirius said. Remus shook his head, unknown to Sirius, and the laughter started again. 

“We’re escorting back to the castle,” Remus said. 

The loud “aw” that escaped their lips was enough to make the rest of the bar turn and look at them. 

Marlene almost fell when she tried to walk and Remus ran out for a second. He came back with James. 

Normal, sober Lily would be ashamed of herself in the morning. 

“James!” she yelled. James smiled and widened his eyes. “I’m drunk!”

James ran a hand through his hair and smiled, his dimple making an appearance. 

“I can see that, Lils,” he said. 

He helped her up off the bench and caught her as she stumbled. His hand was warm on her arm and goose flesh appeared. 

“Let’s try to get you back in one piece, alright?” he said. 

“Carry me,” she said, giggling. James gave her a look she was too drunk to read into. 

“I will if I have too,” he said. 

He helped her put her coat on and then placed his arm around her in order to steady her walk. 

The rest of the group was in front of them. Mary and Dorcas, stumbling, but they were fine compared to Alice, Marlene, and Lily. Alice was Sirius’s back while Marlene was basically using Remus as a cane. 

“Where’s Peter?” Lily asked. 

“He had a pretty nice date,” James replied. “I think they’re still out.”

At the mention of the date, Lily pouted. 

“So your date was nice?” she asked. She hated that tears were forming in her eyes. 

James took a moment to answer. 

“I mean, Amelia and I just talked about our Divination project. I told her it was for Pete,” he said. “We aren’t interested in each other.”

Lily’s heart soared and her eyes dried. 

“Why’d you get all dressed up if it wasn’t a real date?” she slurred. 

“Because it was real for Pete and Ingrid,” he replied. 

“It’s a shame,” Lily said, frowning. 

“What’s a shame?”

“That Amelia could pass you up looking like that!” Lily said, stumbling into him a bit. “I mean your arse looks fantastic! Almost as good as your Quidditch pants.”

James paused for a second and Lily almost tripped but James caught her and steadied her. 

“You’re more drunk than I thought,” James said. Drunk Lily didn’t notice the tightness in her voice.

“Yes,” she said. “And it’s fantastic!”

“You won’t be saying that tomorrow,” he mumbled. 

The boys brought them all back to the head dorm, which made the girls squeal and get excited about a sleepover. James deposited Lily on the couch and quickly made his way over to the potion station in the corner of the room.

“I love the dorm!” Alice chirped, looking around. 

“These couches are ten times better than the ones in the tower,” Marlene said, curling up on the couch by Dorcas. 

“I agree,” Mary said. 

Lily’s eyes wandered to James, who was at the potion station. She was staring at him, but was jared when Sirius sat next to her. 

“How many drunk head girls do you think entered this dorm?” he said, smirking at her. 

Lily threw a pillow at him. 

“Probably all of them,” she replied. “You don’t make head girl without a dash of mischief.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Lily Evans and mischief? I find that unlikely,” he said. Lily felt offended. 

“Who hexed Avery to make his voice high pitched, huh?” she said, crossing her arms. 

Sirius widened his steel blue eyes. 

“That was you?” he said. 

“Of course it was bloody me! He called me a mudblood and I just snapped!” she fired back. 

“That’s not mischief then Lils, that’s justice,” he said. Lily laughed, loudly. 

“And I’d do it again,” she said. “I also stole Snape’s potion essay once.”

“Evans!” Sirius said, clutching his chest like he was scandalized. 

“He was being a prat! He kept going on and on about he was the best in potions! So I took his essay before it was due,” she said, rather proudly. “He got detention and I found a major error in his essay. I circled it and stuffed it back into his bag.”

Laughter erupted around her, making her feel warm and proud. Alice was clutching her side.

“What else have you done, Evans?” Sirius enquired, leaning back on the cushions and crossing his legs. 

Lily hummed and thought for a second. 

“I changed James’ quidditch robes to neon pink in fifth year,” she said. 

“That was you?!” James exclaimed from across the room. “I didn’t talk to Sirius for a week!”

Sirius doubled over with laughter. 

“I remember that!” Mary said, clapping her hands. “You did it because James threw a piece of parchment at you and asked you out in the middle of the hallway!”

Lily remembered it and laughed. 

“He was such an arse!” she said. 

“Was, did you say Evans?” Sirius inquired. 

“Yes, was,” she confirmed. Sirius shot her a look. 

The conversation drifted away from Lily’s mischief to how Mary engorged Marlene’s tongue when she thought she told the school one of her secrets. Lily’s eyes drifted back to James, who was bent over a steaming cauldron. Lily, ever the potions master, decided she must know what he was making. 

She wobbled across the room and stood next to James, so close their arms bumped. 

“Whatchya making?” she asked. 

“A sober-up potion for you lot,” he said. “Then I’ll make a hangover-be-gone tomorrow for you guys.”

“I don’t want to sober up,” Lily pouted. She grabbed James’s arm and leaned her head against it. James didn’t say to protest it. 

“You’ll be thanking me in the morning,” he said with a smirk. Lily rolled her eyes. 

He was finely chopping the roots and Lily watched him, her could feel the muscles on his arms move, but she didn’t want to move and James wasn’t pushing her away. 

“Shouldn’t you dice them?” she asked. James scoffed. 

“You’re drunk and you’re still critiquing my potions,” he said. 

“I wouldn’t have to critique if you did it the right way.” James erupted in laughter. 

“Trust me, Evans. I’ve made this a few times,” he said. Lily didn’t reply, she just watched the cauldron bubble from her spot on James’s arm. 

“I’m sorry about asking you out that way in fifth,” he mumbled. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “You were just an obnoxious little boy.”

“You don’t think I'm still an obnoxious little boy?”

“Nope,” she said. “You would have never made headboy if that was the case.”

“True,” he said. He turned the potion off and stirred it until it was a clear color. Lily let go of his arm once he was ready to pour it for them. 

Lily drank hers and watched as James started handing out the rest to her friends. 

As the minutes ticked by, she realized she was going to regret a lot in the morning. 

~~~

Lily remembered everything of her drunken night clearly, which is why she was determined to put as much space as possible between her and James. 

She told him he had a nice arse! That was something she could never come back from. Ever. 

He didn’t mention it and she was grateful for it. He did get her back from making his Quidditch uniform pink and during breakfast when her black robes turned a stunning shade of pink. When she made eye contact with James down the table, twirling his wand in his fingers, she just laughed. She left them that color for the rest of the day. 

The only thing is that James started walking closer to her in the corridors when they patrolled together. His arm brushing against hers constantly. She often wondered what would happen if she just grabbed this hand. Which is why she started making the distance bigger.

Lily was spending her time in their shared common room when he was gone or at practice. She knew the time that James would be in and made sure to either be at the library, her bedroom, or in the Gryffindor Tower with the girls. 

She was packing her things up, about to move to her bedroom before James came back from practice. She wasn’t expecting the bookcase to swing open ten minutes early and reveal a sweaty James Potter. 

She fought the urge to get up and run without saying anything, but she held firm and tried to put her books away without looking like she was trying to do so as fast as she could. 

“Hey Evans,” James said, smiling a little at her. 

“Hey Potter,” Lily said as evenly as she could, darting her eyes back to her textbook. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a hot minute,” James said. 

Lily glanced up to see him standing by the couch. 

“We ate breakfast together,” she pointed out. 

“You sat like, three people away from me,” he said. 

Lily took a deep breath. She was getting irate and couldn’t quite place why. 

“I talked to you in Transfiguration,” she pointed out. 

She heard James sigh. 

“I just asked to borrow a quill,” he said. 

Something in his tone made Lily look at him. He was standing at the side of the couch looking utterly frustrated, running a hand through his damp hair.  

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Lily said, looking back at her book before their eyes could meet. 

There was a heavy silence. 

“I don’t get you,” he said after a moment. 

“‘Get me’?” Lily asked, snapping her book shut. Lily looked up and saw that James looked frustrated. 

“One minute, I feel like we’re finally getting on and then next you act like I’m a second year who just wants to pull your hair,” James said. 

“We are getting on,” Lily said, crossing her arms. 

“Are we?” he questioned. 

Lily stood up, anger flaring in her stomach. 

“Well, we were,” she said, crossing her arms. 

James took a deep breath and turned away from Lily. 

“Can you just tell me what is going on?” he snapped. “I know I’ve done some pretty shitty things in the past. I’ve been trying to be better! Snape cursed me in the hallway and I didn’t curse him back because I knew you’d be upset!”

James opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but he quickly shut it. He just stared at her from across the room, his chest heaving slightly. Lily had seen an angry James quite a few times, but there was something in his eyes that showed Lily he was more hurt than anything. 

“It’s not your fault,” Lily said, holding his gaze. 

“What isn’t?” he asked. 

“Me being weird,” she said, throwing her hands up.

“Explain it to me. Because one second you’re telling me I have a nice arse and the next, you can’t even look at me,” he said. 

As Lily stood across from James, she realized that there was no way out of this mess besides the truth. Lily didn’t know if she was ready to throw her cards down, but God, she couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you!” she yelled. “Every bloody day, I see girls tripping over themselves to get a scrap of your attention and I feel like I’m a fool!”

James’s jaw dropped as Lily fell silent. She felt heat rise in her cheeks and wishes she could stuff the words back into her mouth. 

“What changed?” James asked. It was so low, Lily almost didn’t hear it. His eyes kept her captivated. 

“A lot of things,” she replied. “Like the fact that you weren’t an utter tosser last year and this year.”

“You told me I was one quite a few times if I remember correctly,” James said, a smirk on his face. 

Lily smiled a little, despite the feeling that she messed something up between them. 

“It was different,” she said. “You just… know how to make people laugh, even when teasing them.”

James smiled, wide and bright and Lily finally looked away, choosing to stare out the window and look at the bright blue sky and fluffy clouds that were outside. 

“I don’t want to get hurt James,” she said. 

Lily felt him walk over. 

“Why do you think I’d ever hurt you, Evans?” he whispered from beside her. 

“Because you’ll realize there are better options out there,” she said. James snorted. 

“I have nothing against the other girls in Hogwarts, but I doubt there is anyone that could ever compare to you, Lily,” he said. “Especially to me.”

James placed a hand on her shoulder and Lily turned to look at him. He was still sweaty from Quidditch, his glasses were crooked, but Merlin, she had never seen a better sight. 

“Fancy a dinner in Hogsmeade?” he asked. She smiled. 

“Hogsmeade is in two weeks,” she pointed out. 

“I’m not waiting two weeks,” he said. “We don’t have patrols tonight. I’ll be ready in twenty, if you want to go with me that is.”

Lily hesitated for a second, not because of James, but because sneaking out. James seemed to get this. 

“You said yourself, ‘what’s a head girl without a little mischief?’” he pointed out. Lily smiled and nodded. 

Lily didn’t think James’s smile could get wider but it did.

“Give me twenty minutes!” he said, moving to turn around and rush to his dorm. 

“Wait a second,” she said, causing James to pause. 

Lily threw all caution to the wind . Just cupped James’s face and brought it down to hers, capturing it in a kiss that made Lily wish she had done this sooner.

[diavolodigitale]

Dream Sequence. Lucio

It’s been a while since I had so much fun writing something. No plot, really, it’s a pretty light read and I am proud of it.

All parts of the trilogy: Lucio - Asra - Julian - All stories in PDF

A part of the "trilogy" about dream encounters dedicated to Lucio (because I love him, apparently). Nothing special, just You (or the Apprentice, or the Reader, however you view it) and Lucio spending some time together (if you know what I mean, which you probably don't, so go ahead and read it, it's pretty short, I promise). My character was male, but you are free to imagine whoever you want since there are no references to it in the text.

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Humor, Dreams, POV First Person, One-shot, Light-hearted

Pairing: Lucio/Apprentice(or Reader or You or Whatever)

Characters: Lucio, Reader/Apprentice/You

Rating: G for Geez that’s a good story

Size: around 2500 words

I open my eyes and look around. The room I am in is quite spacious. Despite barely containing any decorations or even furniture, somehow it still feels inviting and cosy. It is dimly lit, the only light sources that I can spot are a few candles standing here and there.

Suddenly, I hear a loud thud, as if something heavy fell on the floor, and I hastily turn around to investigate. I immediately spot an empty decanter lying on the ground at the leg of an old wooden table and a figure crouching beside it. The figure looks like it’s glowing in the darkness of the room because everything about it is so brightly white.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” says Lucio awkwardly and stands up, cradling the decanter in his arms. “Or did I?” he immediately proceeds to ask, roguish smile plastered on his face.

I smile in return and shake my head. This is probably another dream we’re sharing. It happened a few times before. There is no logical end to it, no specific purpose, nothing. We just seem to linger in an accidental place, surrounded by whimsical decorations or nothing at all, until one of us wakes up and cuts the ties to this place rendering it forever lost in time and space. I suppose it has something to do with our connection as the spirit of Lucio seems to be drawn to me whenever I slip out from the deep slumber and see dreams.  

“And why would you want to do that?” I ask and cross my arms, raising my eyebrow inquiringly.

“Isn’t it obvious? If you’re scared, you will seek my protection and want to hold hands. Maybe, even more than that,” he responds without even a hint of embarrassment and casually puts the decanter back on the table.

“Oh, you would need to do more than that to scare me, don’t you know?” I say playfully. This encounter doesn’t seem to differ much those we usually have, so I decide to behave as I always do around him.

“What a shame…” he says and pouts, hardly being able to supress his impish smile. “I was hoping I could find a reason to hold you.”

“Since when do you need a reason to do that?” I ask as he slowly approaches, his walk as gracious as ever.

“Huh, true,” he says and grins, now standing much closer to me. There is not enough light in the room for me to see the features of his face clearly, but I am nevertheless able to spot the playful glim in his eyes.

“What do you feel like doing this time?” I ask more seriously. We’ve been on quite a few thrilling trips in my dreams as they are often filled with peculiar apparitions and location, but right now I cannot find anything that could interest Lucio with his insatiable appetite for adventures.

“Hm…” He puts an index finger to his lips and musingly looks around. As I expected, nothing in the room is able to pique his curiosity so his gaze wanders back to me.

“I have an idea,” he says mischievously and immediately covers my eyes with his hand for a second. When his hand is removed, the only thing I can see is complete darkness.

Intrigued, I summon a small glowing orb to light up the place. To my surprise, we are in a completely different room that resembles a closet more than anything else. The place is a tight squeeze, with Lucio standing right before me and the orb hovering above us. Though we’re not actually close enough to be touching, there is hardly enough room to move around at all.

The room quickly fills with heat and I feel my head spinning. The feeling of almost tangible warmth around me reminds me of the time I first met Lucio. His presence had the same effect on his surroundings, which seems to be the sign of him being agitated or excited about something. My gaze is wandering from his jawline to collarbone and back since I don’t want to stare him directly in the eyes. Lucio might be shameless, but I immediately feel flustered in such a situation.

“You are quite a fast learner,” I say nonchalantly, looking up for a split second. He grins even more, flattered by my words.

In spite of his utter incapability when it came to using magic in the real world, he somehow was able to learn to manipulate matter in my dreams quite easily. There was rarely a need for him to resort to this skill, but his still tried to use every opportunity he had to give it a try.

“I can do many more things,” he says and moves closer to me, resting his heavy gilded hand against the wall right above my head and leaning a bit closer. “You know, I am very talented.”

I nod and look down. The orb illuminates every little detail of his face, and I am afraid he is provided with the same sight of mine, so I do my best to hide my flustered expression. I find the position we are in uncomfortable, but I am also curios to see what he has on his mind.

Lucio leans even closer, propped up on his arm, and starts whispering into my ear.

“Have any plans for tonight?” he asks, his eyes narrowed in a cunning smile.

“No, not that I am aware of at least,” I reply. “What are you up to?”

“Well, I was thinking we might find a monstrous beast for me to slay…” he whispers, tickling my ear with his warm breath, “I would look exceptionally good swinging its ugly head left and right, with a few light wounds here and there and covered in its blood. Or we might show up to an extravagant ball and have the time of our lives there. We could demonstrate the public our best, most elaborate dance, and they would cheer and applaud, flabbergasted at our awesomeness and grace.”

I chuckle a bit at how unsurprisingly flashy his suggestions are. But it is usually my job to tease him, so I can’t let him beat me so easily, even if I seem to be much less at ease in such… circumstances.

“Your idea certainly sounds entertaining,” I mutter and slide my hand down his side and onto his waist.

“Wh– which one exactly?” he asks, visibly taken aback by my display of interest.

“Both of them, actually,” I say, as my hand wraps around him and pulls him a tad closer.

Lucio’s face blossoms with light-pink and he lets out his breath with a loud sigh. The air of confidence he always has around him disperses in a matter of seconds every time I unexpectedly agree to play by his rules. He just cannot get used to it for some reason.

“And… which one would you chose?” he asks carefully, moving away from my red ear to steal a glance at my face. He is a bit taller than me and stands so close that it’s hard for me to look at anything else except for his squinted eyes and blond locks of hair framing his face.

I pull him even closer, pressing him to me and squeezing his side, and rest my other hand on his cheek. His face is growing redder every second and he starts to squirm a little, trying to avoid my gaze and the intimacy he seems to still secretly enjoy.

“I believe, I have an even better idea,” I say, smiling, and raise my hand to cover his eyes for a split second.

Before he has the time to protest, we are back in the room we first appeared and it is hardly different from the way we left it. I release him from my grip and give him a light push on the chest. With nothing to grab on his way down, he helplessly falls onto the bed behind him, a startled “Ah!” escaping his lips.

I smile, savouring the look of surprise on his face, and approach the bed.

Lucio is flushed but doesn’t seem to mind losing control over the situation. Invitingly, he reaches out with his hand to me, but I shake my head and climb on the bead on top of him without his help.

The bed is incredibly soft so I doubt he felt any discomfort landing on it. It reminds me of the one I saw in Lucio’s old chambers, only in its pre-catastrophic state. The cover is pleasant to the touch and seems to be crimson, but it’s difficult to discern the colour in almost complete absence of light in the room.

“You’ve got something red on your cheeks,” I say playfully and run my hand over the side of his face. It’s warm, hot even, and I feel the muscles twitch on his face as he smiles at me.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he says casually, “when I felt you were here, I ran with all my might to get to you as fast as I could (and had to cover infinitesimal distances, of course) so now I might feel a little too warm.”

I quickly land a kiss on each of his cheeks, pressing him more with the weight of my body, and he laughs merrily, trying to catch my hands in the process.

“There’s something here as well,” I say and kiss Lucio on the tip of his nose.

He tries to escape my touch and turns away, giggling, so I kiss his ear shell which is even redder than his face now.

He struggles playfully a bit, but it doesn’t feel like he really wants to win this fight. I stop to look at him, and he returns my glance without a second thought. His hands are resting on my thighs and he moves them up and down carefully.

“You’re as light as a feather,” he notes, tilting his head, “we need to start feeding you properly. What is your favourite food?”

I take a second to consider my answer.

“Bread. With spices,” I reply, remembering fondly the times Asra and I would go to the bakery near our shop and enjoy the heavenly taste of freshly baked bread.

“Then it’s decided!” says Lucio excitedly and lands his hands on my thighs with a clap. “When I’m officially reinstated as the Count, I’m going to buy you all of the bread I can find! No, the whole stall! No, wait, the whole street! I will buy you a whole street worth of shops with all the bakeries you want!”

I cannot help but laugh at how foolishly he behaves. He pouts and turns away, trying to pretend that he lost interest in me.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say, still laughing. “I am truly sorry, Your Highness. How could I ever make up to what I have done?” I ask inquisitively, observing his face.

Lucio’s eyes spark with mischief again and he pretends to be thoughtful before proceeding to say what has been on his mind, perhaps, this whole time.

“I might forgive you if you lend me a hand for something. There seems to be something wrong with me…” he says worriedly, but I am not buying into his act. “Something wrong…” he repeats, slyness becoming visible through his cracked façade of seriousness. “It’s become so hard to breathe, I am almost suffocating… Could you please help me with this problem? Pretty please?” he says and dramatically rests his hand on his neck. I look into his eyes full of fake innocence and nod with understanding.

Lucio moves his hand away and starts watching me with unhidden curiosity and excitement. I carefully touch his chest which is rising and falling steadily and, to my surprise, notice, that his coat is buttoned up more than usually. It even makes me think that it really might be hard for him to breathe as he is definitely not used to walking around like this.

I go ahead and start untangling the lace that holds his cloak. I feel soft fur brushing against my hand as I purposefully tinker with the clasp much longer than is really needed. Lucio is growing visibly impatient but seems to do his best not to hurry me. I, in turn, try to hold back my laughter.

Having delt with the cloak, I proceed to unbutton his jacket. The fabric is very delicate, and I again take my time to tease him instead of just dealing with it quickly.

Lucio loses what was left of his patience and opens his mouth with a frown of unsatisfaction.

“What’s taking you so long?”

I look up at him as if he was a child with which I had to reason.

“We wouldn’t want to damage your magnificent attire, would we?” I ask and airily brush my finger against his bare chest that is now partly exposed. “Better proceed carefully.”

He flushes again because of my touch and appears to be at a loss for words. In the end, he just swallows loudly and pretends he did not want to say anything in the first place.

I occupy myself with the buttons again, and this time he waits almost patiently until I finish torturing him. Every time I “accidentally” land my hand on his skin instead of the soft fabric, I feel his pulse quickening, and every time I am forced to bite on my lip to hold back my treacherous smile.

Once I am done, Lucio exhales with relief. I don’t know what he expects me to do next, but suddenly an idea flashes in my mind and I already know I just have to do it.

With his eyes half shut and mouth a little agape, he watches as I delicately lay my hands on his sides and stroke him. It looks like he wants to say something, but I don’t give him a chance as I begin to tickle him violently, running my fingers along the skin between his ribs.

Lucio struggles and kicks below me but cannot do anything to escape my attack. He breathes erratically and I hear his muffled giggling when he jerks up from the bed and presses his body against mine to give me no room for movements. I decide to spare him and hug him instead, wrapping my hands around his neck.

“Well, that didn’t help me at all!” he exclaims jokingly, hugging me back and burying his face near my collarbone. His gilded hand is stroking my back and it feels a bit ticklish because of how sharp the tips of his fingers are, but I decide not to complain as it is more pleasant than anything.

I nestle closer and start twirling a strand of his hair around my finger. He has calmed down and I can hear him breathing steadily against my chest.

“I wish we could sit like this forever,” he says quietly.

“And who told you we can’t?” I ask, and he looks up at me, astonished and puzzled. “Show me who said that and I’ll give them a nice thrashing!” I say and it makes him laugh again.

“Not if I do that first!” he exclaims and plops back onto the bed with me startled but still securely held in his arms.

“I’ll be there to watch then,” I say, resting my chin on my arms crossed on top of his chest.

“Of course, you will! Why else would I do that?” he asks with indignation. “You just watch me. Don’t watch anybody else, just me, okay?”

“Oh, I would never…”

[naerysthelonesome]

Missing Hours

Some of the missing hours from The Sanctuary scene.

(No POV)

“Thomas…” Alastair breathed, as he gripped the man’s face in his hands, looking right into his warm eyes. Just his name, whispered like a prayer. What more had he to say? Alastair tilted his head up to gently place a kiss to Thomas’ lips, eliciting from him a pleased shiver. His fingers slipped up into his hair, and wound themselves in the soft strands. One of Thomas’ large palms pressed into the small of his back, drawing him closer. Alastair did not know for how long he would be allowed to rest in this heavenly creature’s arms, but for the hours he did get, he knew he would be eternally grateful.

Alastair pulled away smiling uncharacteristically sweetly, still within the circle of Thomas’ arms, unwilling to move too far. The way he looked, with his hair disheveled, and lips kiss-swollen, made heat pool in Thomas’ chest, rippling out to the tips of his fingers and toes, and making his head go all fuzzy.

“You’re beautiful, Alastair”, he said, and watched as his cheeks darkened at an almost alarming rate. It made him look so lovely Thomas thought the whole thing should be outlawed. One man should not possess so much power over another. If Alastair had asked for Thomas to declare his affections for him to Matthew, Thomas feared he would have done so without question.

Alastair made to turn his face away in embarrassment, but was stopped by a hand gently cupping his chin. He met Thomas’ intense gaze and was greeted with a look so full of adoration and longing, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss his face off or burst into wretched tears.

He decided on the former and slipped his arms around Thomas’ shoulders, deftly shucking the other man’s coat off. He pressed his lips to his cheekbones, moving down along the smooth skin to mouth at his strong jaw. The blessed bone structure of this man. Unbelievable. He let his thumbs rub light circles into his temples, then leisurely trailed his fingers down his face to rub under his jawline. Thomas stayed still under these gentle ministrations, as if his any movement would drive this Alastair away.

Thomas’ head was tilted up to allow Alastair space to lick a line down the column of his throat, all the way to his collarbones. He finally jerked into motion when he felt the smaller man undo the first three buttons of his shirt, grasping the fabric of Alastair’s shirt, loosening them out of their confines in the process.

“Wait”, he said softly, and startled at the way Alastair immediately jumped away. The man blinked, as if surprised himself, and looked sheepishly back at Thomas.

“I just thought we should take our shoes off… so as not to dirty the mattress?” he said, now feeling slightly embarrassed that he may have ruined the flow of the proceedings for such a thing.

Surprisingly enough, Alastair laughed in apparent relief. “Oh! Yes, of course Thomas.”

The two quickly kicked off their shoes and spats, eager to get back to what they’d been doing before Thomas’ very considerate interruption.

Thomas sat back against the wall and watched as Alastair undid his cuffs and crawled back over to him. The smile he flashed him was fond, but also teasing, this time making Thomas blush to the tips of his ears. Alastair stopped right in front of him, and slowly lifted a hand to caress Thomas’. He leaned forward to lightly bump his nose into Thomas’ before sitting back and squeezing his hand reassuringly.

Still looking him in the eye, Alastair lifted his limp arm into his lap and began to undo the buttons at the cuff, and began neatly folding up the sleeve. Thomas was unsure what exactly he was trying to accomplish, but wasn’t complaining in the least.

When the sleeve was tucked safely above his elbow, Alastair moved his eyes to look down at the exposed skin. Thomas followed the movement and saw Alastair’s nimble musician fingers trace the inky lines of his compass tattoo.

“I remember the day you told me you planned to get one of these”, he said, effectively making Thomas’ breath hitch in his throat, “I’m glad you did, Thomas. Suits you.”

Alastair had remembered. That gesture meant more to Thomas than all the messy, hungry kisses, all the soft touches. He grabbed the front of Alastair’s shirt and pulled, making him groan and pitch forward, nearly onto his lap. He smashed their lips together, kissing him hard.

Alastair responded in kind, sucking at his lower lip, and letting his tongue run along his teeth. An especially skilled move made Thomas jerk his head back in pleasure. But instead of stopping, Alastair, in a state of dizzying bliss, simply chased after his mouth, until WHAM! Thomas’ head smacked right into the wall.

The sound of it, and the pained groan it pulled out of Thomas were enough to halt all movement. Alastair looked positively stricken.

“Thomas! All hell- Are you alright?” he shouted, hovering over Thomas’ face. He looked so worried, Thomas couldn’t help but laugh. This did nothing to ease the expression on his face, or the idea that their sacrilegious escapades had caused Thomas to get concussed.

“I’m alright Alastair!” he said, wincing and rubbing the back of his head, “Just a little bump”.

Alastair’s brows remained pinched, but the rest of him relaxed at he brought his palm up to press tight circles into to the back of the other man’s head.

“Maybe we should take a short break anyway” he said, much to Thomas’ apparent dismay.

Thomas’ mind then inexplicably conjured up the image of Alastair as a mother hen, leading him to the conclusion that maybe he had hit his head too hard.

“Yeah…” he agreed, instead of making the arguments he so desperately wanted to. “Bridget’s lovely cooking is right here, just waiting to be eaten after all.”

Alastair nodded with a short laugh and moved to uncover the food.

“Sandwiches, apple slices, and cider to wash it all down”, he said, looking quizzically back at Thomas. “These are your favourite foods?”

“Don’t you dare insult Bridget’s glorious sandwiches, Alastair”, he said, playfully punching the other on the shoulder, “Some crimes cannot be forgiven, even by one so merciful as I.”

Alastair offered him a sandwich then picked one up for himself. He gave Thomas a look that essentially said this better not disappoint and bit into the bread as he watched with bated breath. Thomas needn’t have worried, of course. Bridget would die before she let her cooking disappoint, and the euphoric look Alastair was sporting was proof of it.

Thomas couldn’t wait to dig in either, and it wasn’t long before all the sandwiches were disposed of. They sat in each other’s comfortable presence, occasionally making mindless comments and laughing, sipping on sweet cider. They talked of Paris, and Michelangelo’s David, and Alastair’s favourite books.

They maintained this decent enjoyment of gentlemanly company until Alastair decided to munch on an apple slice. Thomas’ brain near short-circuited at the seemingly innocent action. He couldn’t help but take in the movement of Alastair’s perfect jaw as he chewed, or the way he licked at his lips to prevent the juice from dribbling down his strong chin. Alastair, unaware of the effect he was having on the other, continued to talk about 13th Century Persian poetry, stopping only to bite into the damnable apple slice.

“Now in the Golestan, Sa’di himself--- Wha? Thomas!” he stuttered as Thomas tackled him back onto the mattress, kissing him with ferocious urgency. Alastair seeing no reason to stop him, gasped and drew him closer, hard enough to send them both rolling off the pallet.

Barely stopping for long enough to get comfortably settled again, they each continued their onslaught on the other’s body. Hands scratching over backs and shoulders, arms gripping hard enough to hurt, toes curling in needy anticipation.

In an unexpected burst of yearning, Thomas’ hand slipped to the waistband of Alastair’s pants, fingers digging roughly into his hip-bone. All activity halted for an endless second, before Alastair’s utterly debauched face broke in a smile so saccharine, it made Thomas’ heart ache.

“I want to Thomas,” he said steadily, “but if something serious is to happen between us. It will not be because you were bunged into the Sanctuary on account of being suspected of murder.”

Alastair wanted nothing more than to get as close to Thomas as one humanly could, but he did not want to make a decision so heavy in the heat of the moment. Besides, neither could be sure the Sanctuary was safe. They could be interrupted any minute, and Alastair refused to do anything else that might cause Thomas harm.

Thomas’ face fell for just a split second, before he regained his composure and smiled brightly.

“Sound decision, Alastair” he said coyly, positioning himself between Alastair’s legs, and slipping a warm hand up under his rumpled shirt. Thomas felt him shiver as he slid his palm across the smooth, perfectly defined slopes and dips of his body, “There’re so many other things we can do instead.”

The wicked grin he got in response wholeheartedly agreed.

[deja-you]

angel wings + wedding rings

part four | angels in the early morning

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: both of you say things that you don’t really regret.

word count: 3.4k

masterlist | previous | next

When his eyes were shut, Lafayette could only feel guilt.

He felt guilty for everything. For convincing you to marry him when you were both so clearly drunk. Then for trapping you in this marriage even though he had nothing to offer you. For keeping the apartment so cold. And for making you stay up late worrying where he was. Now, he felt guilty for not telling you no when you asked for meaningless sex; he knew it wasn’t meaningless to him.

The kind of guilt that embedded itself into your soul and swallowed you from the inside out. An ocean of guilt that he was now drowning in, the icy water filling his lungs and preventing him from calling out for help. The guilt was a siren, a warning of impending doom, a disaster about to make landfall and destroy everything in its path. 

But then he opened his eyes and saw you. 

Staring right back at him, the corners of your lips turned up at the corners and bright eyes staring back into his. Lafayette’s heart began to beat again-- when had it stopped beating? Your smile was infectious, and he couldn’t stop a smile from forming on his face as well. He hoped you couldn’t see right through his smile, to the heart hammering in his chest. 

“You’re beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking,” he said after awhile, his eyes following the slope of your nose and traced your jawline. 

You laughed through your nose. “You don’t have to keep flirting with me, love. I already had sex with you. Three times.”

His grin widened and he slowly nodded in agreement. “Three times.”

“I have to say, I’ve heard the rumors, but I didn’t think they were true.” You let your head fall back onto the pillow, sighing softly and allowing for your eyes to close shut.

“What do the rumors say about me?” Lafayette asked curiously, propping himself up on his elbow. 

You opened one eye to see him grinning smugly at you, and you scoffed softly. “Oh, no. Your ego’s already big enough as it is.”

“I’m curious. Come on, mon ange, tell me.”

You only shook your head. “I’m sure you have girls tell you how good you are in bed all the time.” You paused, your eyes snapping open as a thought occurred to you. “Maybe you should be on the complimenting side of the post-sex conversation.”

“You want me to talk about how good you are in bed?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Coming from you, it’s a big deal.” You shrugged, then pinned him with an expectant stare. 

Lafayette considered you for a moment, and found no words to be acceptable. It wasn’t that there was a lack of things he could compliment you on; that wasn’t the problem. There were so many things he wanted to say. Words filled with affection and love, but mostly truth. He knew he wouldn’t be able to tell you how much he adored you without letting it all slip out. 

Especially since you were so insistent last night that this was purely about the sex, no emotions involved. No strings attached, you had said. Lafayette hated himself for agreeing, but he knew he would agree again in a heartbeat. He would do anything if he got to be the one to draw those lyrical moans from your lips, if he was the one who got to make you feel that good.

“Well?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

Lafayette reminded himself to breathe, and offered you an indifferent smile. “I guess you were alright.”

“Just alright?” You scoffed, sitting up in bed, and pulling the sheet to your chest. “We both know I was more than alright.”

He grinned, and wanted to tell you that yes, you were much better than alright, but Lafayette knew he wouldn’t stop himself there. He turned away from you, grabbing a pair of sweats and pulling them on. 

“I’m going to make breakfast, feel free to use my shower. The water pressure’s much better than the guest bathroom’s.” He stood up from the bed, giving you a nice view of his toned back, and the early morning light from the window outlined him in an almost heavenly way.

Your eyes followed his figure as he exited the room, and you sighed softly, letting your head fall back against the soft pillows. It was so easy to wake up next to him. In his bed. In his house. It was just easy. 

After taking a moment to stretch, you forced yourself to climb out of bed and pad into his bathroom. You started the shower, and once the water got hot, you got in and let the water wash you clean. You had time to really think now. To think about this whole arrangement. To think about last night. To think about how much you wanted to feel his lips on yours again. To think about how much nicer his shower was than the guest bathroom’s was. 

You figured you had taken long enough in the shower at this point. California experienced frequent droughts, it wouldn’t be environmentally conscious to stay in the shower any longer. You shut off the water, and wrapped yourself in one of the fluffy white towels Lafayette kept in his bathroom. Had he really been hoarding the quality towels and soaps in his bathroom? You made a mental note to reprimand him about it later. 

Barefoot and concealed only in a towel, you walked out into the kitchen where the fragrant smell of coffee wafted through the air. Lafayette heard you enter the room, and he turned to face you. You could’ve sworn the relaxed smile he wore grew ever so subtlety when he saw you. Or maybe you had just hoped it had. 

“Made you coffee. To your exact specifications.” He slid the hot mug over to you.

Your heart began to beat a little faster at the thought of caffeine and potentially at the thought that of Lafayette memorizing how you like your coffee. “What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing husband like you, sweetheart?”

He snorted softly. “You got drunk in Vegas.”

“I suppose drunken mistakes have their benefits.” You took a sip of the coffee and let it warm you from the inside out. 

“Careful, mon ange, you keep calling me a mistake and you might hurt my feelings.” His tone was teasing, but he was careful to look away from your gaze and turn back to the breakfast he was working on. 

“Now I could ask more questions about your upcoming film, but I think we need to discuss the elephant in the room. Your secret marriage to Victoria Secret’s angel, Y/n L/n.”

The conversation you were currently having with Alex and John paused at the mention of your name on the TV screen. 

Lafayette was on Ben Franklin’s talk show, and John had convinced you and Alex to come over to catch up and watch the interview. John and Alex were dying to ask you about your marriage, since they really hadn’t been told much more than what was printed in the tabloids, but Ben had beaten them to the question in his interview. 

You watched Lafayette put on a practiced smile. A smile viewers would just assume was a result of the mention of his wife, but you knew Lafayette better than that. He was mentally preparing the rehearsed story the two of you had crafted together. 

“Well, Ben, what do you want to know about Y/n and I?” Lafayette asked.

The eccentric host’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward on his desk. “Everything. For starters, when did you two start dating? And how could you keep this secret from dear old me?”

Lafayette chuckled. “We met through our mutual friend, Hercules Mulligan, and... and I was just awestruck from the moment I met her. I had the biggest crush on her, and one day I finally got the guts to ask her out.”

You pursed your lips as you watched the interview. Was it at all possible that Lafayette had liked you? You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining what would’ve happened if he had asked you out, but then you reminded yourself that he was a professional actor. He didn’t mean any of it. It was just a cover. And that didn’t bother you.

“Somehow I convinced a literal angel to go out with me, and for some reason she’s stuck around. What’s it been? A month and a half? We had a small ceremony, neither of us wanted anything big.” Lafayette laced his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. “I still can’t believe that she’s my reality.”

The audience and Ben aww’d at his statement, and the irony of his statement tugged at your heart. This fake marriage was fucked up, you both knew it, and you found yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Y/n must be one special girl to make the Gilbert de Lafayette settle down. You have quite the reputation y’know,” Ben said suggestively. 

“That’s all in the past. Y/n’s my present and my future.” Lafayette looked away from Ben for a moment, his eyes lingering on the ring on his finger. “This last month and a half being married to her has been the best month and a half of my life. I just... I love her.”

Another round of awws from the audience, and this time Alex and John joined the audience, glancing at you for a reaction. You gave them what you hoped looked like a contented smile, but inside you were a twisted knot of shock and anxiety. 

Lafayette had just said he loved you on national television. There was really no going back now; surprisingly, that’s not what you were focused on. He had said it with such sincerity that even you were convinced he meant it. You forced the warm, overflowing sensation back into your gut and reminded yourself it was all an act. A very compelling act that manipulated your emotions with ease, but an act nonetheless. 

Ben and Lafayette thankfully moved onto another topic, and John turned down the volume on the TV. Alex and John turned to face you, ready to begin their own investigation. 

“You have to know, we’re both very upset that we weren’t invited to the wedding,” Alex began. “We’re supposed to be friends, Y/n!”

“It was pretty spontaneous.” Understatement of the year. “We really didn’t invite anyone. Not even family.”

“You didn’t even tell us. I read about your wedding in a magazine. We didn’t even know you were dating,” John said. 

You shrugged. “You heard Lafayette. We kept it quiet, but had been dating for awhile.”

“If we’re being honest,” Alex said, “I think I knew you two were dating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was pretty obvious in the way you guys would stare at each other all the time.”

“We didn’t... We didn’t stare at each other all the time.”

John nodded in agreement. “No, no. Alex’s right. It was right in front of us the whole time. You guys always spent so much time together. I should’ve suspected something was going on.”

“I always knew you liked him, Y/n,” Alex said, “but you’re really in love with him? You never thought to tell us?”

“We’re married. Of course I love him.” And God, did you wish you were lying. 

“I brought you lunch.”

You examined the box in Lafayette’s hand, smiling a little when you recognized the logo from your favorite restaurant. You grabbed his arm and pulled him out of earshot from the group of models who were watching the two of you and whispering to each other.

“Y’know you don’t have to bring me lunch, we’re not really married,” you said quietly when you were sure no one could hear you. 

Lafayette only shrugged and thrusted the box of food into your hands. “I know. Just think of it as a way for me to say thank you.”

“I think you’ve thanked me enough. I’ve got a new Rolls-Royce, don’t I?” You grinned. 

“She’s all yours, mon ange.”

You were smiling up at Lafayette, and he responded with a dazzling smile of his own. To any onlookers, it was a sweet moment between two newlyweds in the Honeymoon stage. And it sure felt like it. You remembered where you were and quickly looked away from him.

“I wish I could eat lunch with you, but I have to get back to work,” you said. 

He nodded. “Of course. Tuesdays are busy for you. But Wednesday is your day off. Get lunch with me tomorrow.”

Sure, you’d had plenty of breakfasts and dinners with him, and a few lunches just for public appearances, but this felt different. It was the soft way he asked; the slight shaking of his voice that told you he was nervous. The way his eyes were a wider, more hopeful and tender. 

“Lunch? Tomorrow?” You asked slowly. 

Lafayette swallowed thickly. “Yes. Lunch tomorrow.”

You paused. “Like a date?”

“Like a date.”

Maybe all the planets had aligned perfectly in outer space just to make sure you made a decision you promised yourself months earlier that you wouldn’t. A decision you knew was stupid and could end poorly. But between the tugging in your gut and the nervous smile on Lafayette’s face, any coherent thought was drowned out in a pink haze. 

“Okay. Let’s go on a date,” you said.

Any doubt about whether you had made a bad decision flew out the window when you saw Lafayette’s shoulders relax and his smile take over his face. That smile could light up the darkest room. He bounced excitedly back and forth on his feet. 

“Great! I’ll make reservations.” He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his excitement, shaking your head a little. “We’re married and we’ve already slept together, but this is what gets you excited?”

“Maybe it’s because I just really like lunch,” he said. Maybe it’s just because this is actually real, he thought. 

“You’re ridiculous. I really need to get back to work now before Hercules comes and yells at you for distracting me,” you told him. 

He nodded and leaned forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Have a good day, mon ange.”

The first date was perfect.

It wasn’t anything special. Lafayette took you to a quiet restaurant just outside of L.A. He didn’t buy flowers or have anything spectacular planned, it was just a casual lunch. You ordered your food, talked about your day, ate, paid the bill, and left. That was it. And it was perfect. 

The problem was that once you said yes to a date once, you couldn’t say no. And in Lafayette’s opinion, the second date was more significant. 

Lafayette tried to calm himself when he asked you again. When he was around you, he couldn’t help but feel panicked. Not panicked in the scared or terrified kind of ways, but panicked in the way he didn’t know how to stop or slow down. He was a car going full speed down the highway with no breaks and no intentions to stop. 

But you weren’t the same. He knew you had to bend your morals and ideals to even say yes to a first date. He would slow down for you. Or, at the very least, he would hide his panic. 

“Do you want to go out?”

Out like a date? you’d wanted to ask. Or maybe just out like ‘you’ve been in my apartment for too long and I’m afraid there’s going to be a permanent you shaped indent in my couch.’ You glanced up at him, first noticing the easy smirk he wore. Then you saw the slight panic in his eyes and you nodded to yourself. Yes, he means like a date. 

“Yes.” You would’ve thought that one little word was a drug the way Lafayette’s face lit up at the mere sound of it. 

If Lafayette was still trying to contain his panic, he wasn’t doing a very good job at it. He took your hand in his and grabbed the keys to his car with the other. In a second you were situated in the passenger seat of his car and Lafayette was pulling out into the road. 

“Where are we going?” You asked him while he helped you connect to the car’s sound system.

“I... I hadn’t thought of that yet,” he admitted, and you laughed. “Where do you want to go?”

“Don’t ask me, this was your idea. I don’t want to make a decision.”

“Okay, okay. Then we’ll just drive until we find somewhere we want to stop.”

The word ‘we’ felt so natural on his tongue. Like it was his mother language. You were his wife, his partner. Even if you just saw it as a temporary thing, and even if Lafayette knew it could only be a temporary thing, every now and then he liked to pretend that this was all real. 

Neither you nor Lafayette would remember every detail from that night. The two of you were intoxicated, not by alcohol or any other form of inebriation, but by something stronger and more languid. Memories came back in poetic proses, broken glass on the sidewalk that looked like glittering stars, camera flashes that documented a fake marriage and real smiles, and desperate displays of affection that only delayed catastrophe. 

You don’t think anything Lafayette ‘plans’ to do that night is intentional. In fact, you don’t know if anything he’s done in his entire life has been intentional. Sometimes that worries you, but right now you can’t help but love the spontaneous man that pulls you out onto the Santa Monica beach. 

It’s already getting dark, and you’re certain that if you take your shoes off now to meander around the beach, you’ll never find them again. And you like these shoes. But Lafayette insists you run around barefoot with him. You mutter something about “I don’t know why I do these things for you.” You know the answer. You’re careful to make sure that because I love you doesn’t slip out. 

“Lafayette, I swear if I lose these shoes, I’m getting a divorce,” you say as your bare feet sink into the cool sand. 

He scoffs. “Well I wouldn’t want your shoes to be ruined by ocean water.”

“Why would they be...” your eyes meet his, then move to the waves lapping at the beach, then back to Lafayette. “No.”

“Yes.” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

You’re not given the opportunity to say no again, because his hands snake behind your knees and the next thing you know, you’re thrown over his shoulder and he’s racing toward the water. You yell a few times for him to stop, but it’s drowned out by your own laughter. 

Lafayette is waist deep in the water, your feet, calves, and knees sink into the water, but you grab fist fulls of his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep the rest of your body warm and dry. Your actions are made in vain, because he takes a deep breath then pulls the both of you under the waves. He lets go of you after you’ve been completely submerged and you quickly resurface. 

“I’m going to kill you,” you say as you gasp for air. 

He laughs, and it’s so warm and full you forgive his previous transgressions for just a moment. “You might want to take out a larger life insurance policy before you do that.”

Lafayette wades over to you, his hands falling to your waist. They fit there perfectly, like your body was made for his hands to hold. He pulls you into his warmth. 

“I don’t know what possessed you to drag me into this freezing water at night,” you groan, burying your face in his chest.

You can feel the soft vibrations of his laughter. “We’ve got warm, fluffy towels at home.”

Your heart flutters a little bit at the mention of home. “I do love your towels.”

“They’re your towels. I got them for you,” he admits. 

“You did?”

Lafayette rests his head on top of yours. “Got new pillows, too. And a new coffee maker.”

“Just for me?” 

“Mmhmm,” he hums softly. “I’d do anything for you.”

You sigh out the name of some deity, maybe it’s his name, and you just stop thinking. “I love you. I’m so in love with you.”

He pulls away to stare at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

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