#there are a few more prompts for this one as well

[biteofcherry]

Relish your scream

vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: Better the devil you know, but what if going to the Scaretale with someone you're already acquainted with doesn't mean you're completely safe? What if the club isn't your doom, but merely enhances the darkness that was already setting its trap for you?

warnings: vampire!Bucky; dark!Bucky; heavy dub-con; mind compulsion; biting; blood sucking; blood play; forced public nudity (partial); oral (f receiving); sex; captivity; objectification as a kink; conditioning;

word count: 5.4k

Author's Note: I was a little disappointed you voted vampire for Bucky, because there are so many amazing stories with vampire Bucky and I feared I won't be able to create anything fresh. But I wrote it in a specific vibe, amping up the vampire bite into very debauched kind of blood play. Perhaps that can count as something new 😜 This story is the fifth one in the Scaretale universe.

The cab driver was insistent on stopping half a street away from the entrance to the club. He was one of those superstitious people who feared magic tricking him, or a monster luring him to his doom, if he found himself within Scaretale’s range. 

You wanted to claim it’s silly, but the rumor was that the club was created and belonged to a dark fae. Who knows what their magic could do. Maybe the cabbie was right to keep his distance.

Unfortunately, for you it meant that you had to walk down the cracked pavement in your high heels to reach the club. 

It dawned on you much earlier, soon after you agreed to the terms, that meeting him in a club catered to monsters wouldn’t really provide you any safety. It would be his domain while you felt on the edge for the whole evening. Or night. However long he decided it had to last.

But he had that smooth, dark charm about him, making it appear as a reasonable public space to collect the debt. 

As you walked towards the impressive building, which glowed from within like a cursed castle, you tried to convince yourself that the place of your meeting didn’t matter anyway. You wouldn’t have any sort of upper hand no matter the place you sat in. 

Because there was something about James Barnes that put you to attention at any given moment. As if your body was attuned to his presence. Like a deer may be aware of a wolf prowling nearby. 

James was a coworker at the high levels of the international company you both worked for. And sort of a work rival, too. 

He was courteous, always well mannered and classy. Dressed like that, too. He was driven at work, reaching each set goal with unwavering determination and skills. Honestly, you had reasons to admire him and admit he was fucking good at his job. Sometimes you inwardly joked that you want to be like James Barnes when you grow up. 

There wasn’t really any competition between you two, none of you were threatened with the prospect of losing anything if the other’s department scored a few more points in the quarter. 

It was the smidge of inadequacy that made you often eye Barnes as a threat. Coming out of your own insecurities, you suspected. 

You were damn good at your job and at leading people. It’s just that you were… messy. 

Not a complete disaster, but a little chaotic and sometimes lost, sometimes too soft, especially considering the sharks that swam in the ocean of legal (and illegal) deals you worked with. 

Compared to Barnes, you were chaotic and bouncy.

But not everyone could stride through the room like a lethal blade slicing through fabric.

Barnes could. 

Everything about him screamed danger, even when he offered a charming smile, or bought doughnuts for the whole floor. Though you watched people let down their guards around him, treating him like a harmless, cute man. 

Was it only you that experienced that pulse of wariness whenever he walked into a room?

Perhaps, it was that aura of a vampire…

You’re still not sure what prompted you to bet him. Confrontations weren’t your preferred model of operating. Especially towards men you were both fascinated and scared of. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that your bubbly style was as effective as Barnes’ cutthroat smoothness. 

You veiled it as a team challenge (which both of your teams actually took as a fun twist to their usual hard work, including some subtle ribbing). If you won, you’d get to take over Barnes’ fancy office for a whole week.

It’s not like it would bother him much, since he worked evening to sunrise hours, while you were a day worker. 

But you were the messy one and it made you giggle as you thought of leaving your usual chaos in his pristine space. 

When you proposed that, Barnes held your gaze with those incredibly steel-blue eyes. Not a twitch of annoyance on his stupidly handsome face (that half of the skyscraper was pinning after). No, he was seizing you up and calculating his potential gain. Which made your pulse skip. 

You still remembered how his eyes shifted to your pulse point and your thighs clenched as you thought of his teeth sinking into your neck. 

He agreed to the bet, demanding your company, if he won. 

Which he had. 

There was a flood of tangled thoughts and doubts when you realized you agreed to be his for one night. Did he mean his night as his work day, making you do any assistant, slaving work just for the kicks? Or did he mean it as owning you for a night, as in…

His chuckle was like a tap on your cheek, stirring you from your trance when you barged into his office, needing him to explicitly state what exactly he expected of you. Then relief filled you when he explained that he wanted you as his company for a meeting. Said he’s old fashioned like that.

James didn’t mention the dress code, just told you where and what time to come. You could be a brat about it and appear in jeans and a hoodie, but you considered yourself to be honorable and a good sport. You lost a bet, but you wouldn’t be a sore loser, or petty. There was also a part of you that wanted to impress Barnes, to show yourself as someone who could pull off a fancy look. 

In your sparkling red heels and black, silk dress, you walked up the stairs of the Scaretale with your chin raised high. 

The club’s dark interior was a surprise. From the outside it appeared to be glowing, full of light and mischief, but, as you stepped in, velvet darkness wrapped around you like a shawl. 

There were points of light, but they were dimmed. A whisper of mystery and horror slithered around, quickly getting lost in the growing warmth of spicy seduction. 

It was a place known for encouraging lust and romance, but you didn’t expect the sensual brush of it to tease your skin. 

Perhaps it was why your breath hitched when your eyes met James’ across the room. 

His icy eyes always held a particular intensity, but as he watched you now it sent a ripple of something hot and exciting through your body. 

As you neared him, your heart clenched in fear, before restarting with a flutter. James was your coworker, but in this setting you lost any sense of safety around him. He was someone different here. More himself, than the persona he played in public. More the ancient beast. 

And the core of him you met that evening was scaring you.

He greeted you softly, saying your name in a way that sounded intimate and possessive. His hand rested on the small of your back as he led you toward a nook in the wall that was separated from the rest of the floor by an iron-wrought railing and heavy, black curtains draped to the sides. 

There was a rectangular table in the middle of the small room he led you to, with velvet benches surrounding it instead of chairs. Chandeliers dripping black crystals hung above, casting a soft light that didn’t fully disperse the shadows. 

“Please, sit beside me.” James pointed to one side of the table. He kept standing until you sat down, then slid right next to you. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He asked, sliding closer when you tried to put a few inches of space between you. 

“White wine, please.” You nervously twisted your fingers in your lap. 

A few seconds later a waitress appeared by the railing, though you didn’t see James summon anyone. Well, they sure had some top, attentive staff in here. You were surprised when Barnes ordered a specific brand of wine, stressing to bring it sweet.

“Why sweet?” You liked most of the whites, including some of the dry, so it didn’t really matter to you.

When James’ gaze flicked to you, it appeared it mattered greatly to him. 

“Because you’re sweet.” He stated. 

A sudden thought of him referring to your blood’s flavor made you both hot and extremely cold with terror, but his next words made that reaction appear silly.

“Wearing all those pastels and headbands with crystals and pearls. And everytime we happen to be in the same meeting, you’re always drinking pink grapefruit soda. You’re a sweetling.” 

His eyes slowly dragged down your form. You couldn’t help the quickening of your heart rate as you felt his gaze move along your body. Again, you were certain his focus lingered on where your veins pulsed beneath your skin. 

“I admit I’m quite surprised to see you in black,” when he spoke, it was lighter, more teasing. There was even a hint of that charming smile that disarms people.

“Thought it’s best to match you, since I’m your company for this important meeting,” you shrugged. 

He still didn’t express what your expected role was. If it was a business meeting, was he going to lean on you for advice? Or were you an arm candy, only there to provide a nice accent and be a trinket of power? Many conservative men still conducted their business meetings, or public appearances with that mindset. Maybe vampires did too.

“I appreciate it.” James smiled at you. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes, but darker and hungrier than simple appreciation of your thoughtfulness. 

A voice in your head whispered that perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to cater to a monster's whims, even to those of a polished, cultured one. Perhaps it was even worse than if you goaded a barely leashed werewolf. 

Because James was incredibly smart and cunning, and you were beginning to suspect that he had the ability to manipulate your reactions without you even realizing you were playing into his game. 

When the waitress appeared with your glass of wine, James took it from her and handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his cold ones, the contact sending a jolt down your spine. His skin was cold, yet you felt a sense of warmth unfurl in your belly. 

As if his mere touch heated up your blood. Which had to be a very dangerous thing, considering he was a blood sucking vampire. 

“Mhmm, you smell sweet, too.” He hummed, tilting his head so that his nose almost brushed a spot behind your ear.

“James!” You gasped, fingers tightening on the thin stem of your wine glass. 

A surge of trepidation took over as your instincts reminded you of being in proximity of the most dangerous predator. It wasn’t a good omen when a vampire commented on your tempting smell. Because it meant at some point he might want to verify if your taste matched. 

Yet the cold thought of it sucked your nipples into straining points. 

You took a sip of your wine. Then another one, in hope of relaxing your body enough to hide certain reactions. 

“Call me Bucky, please.” His voice sounded like a seductive whisper. It reminded you of a hot tickle against your ear, or neck, which you sometimes experienced when writhing on your bed amidst a wet dream. 

If your imagination was wilder, you’d wonder if this vampire had something to do with the sex dreams which occasionally haunted you on those rare stormy nights. 

“Okay, Bucky,” you smiled up at him, hanging onto the comfort of breaking a certain barrier between you two, by being allowed to use his nickname. You didn’t think you heard anyone at work call him that. 

His eyes darkened. He traced his fingers along the back of your neck, before settling his whole, big hand on your shoulder.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

“Bucky,” you said it softly, sensing unbearable tension growing between the two of you. 

“Sweetling.” His low growl reverberated right against your clit. 

You would hope he didn’t notice you clenching your thighs, but with how his own leg was pressed to yours, there was no doubt he felt the shift. 

Suddenly, his eyes sharpened, his gaze briefly shifting above your head before returning to you. His hold on your shoulder relocated as his arm smoothed around and down your back, his fingers digging into your waist as he pulled you closer to his side. 

“Don’t speak.” Bucky ordered in a hushed tone. “Don’t engage, even if he tries to address you. Just sit quietly beside me and drink your wine. And follow my lead.”

“An accessory,” you nodded, taking a sip of sweet alcohol. You didn’t feel particularly disappointed with being reduced to quiet arm candy. It wasn’t your meeting, nor for a business of your department, so you felt no urge to prove yourself. 

“You’ll be good, sweetling.” He declared, as if you had no option but to obey. 

As his eyes held your gaze, you felt something shift inside you. Like a thin string wrapping itself around your throat. Its other end seemed to be in Bucky’s hand. An invisible leash that compelled you to follow his lead, just like he said you should. 

Compelled… The word echoed in your head, scratching against your skull with some knowledge you couldn’t remember. 

You focused on it and on the sweet taste of the wine as someone entered your space. You cast a quick glance at the large man, but remained glued to Bucky’s side like he wanted. Their words flew in and out of your ears, actual information barely sticking with your awareness. You were more entranced with Bucky’s voice.

And the way his fingers started running up and down your arm. Cold, yet enticing that very lively sensation. 

Words about takeover alerted your mind, but then that shiny, invisible leash tugged on you gently and your brain settled back into its comfort of focusing on Bucky. 

At some point, his teasing fingers closed around your hand and he brought it to his lips. He kissed the soft part below your thumb then pressed his mouth to your wrist. Right over where your pulse danced. 

Your body tensed at once, a pained gasp leaving your lips as Bucky’s fangs pierced your skin.

He bit you without any warning. Like it was his privilege. 

Tears filled your eyes as you looked up at him with a flare of betrayal. His gaze shifted from the other man to settle on you, even as his lips remained sealed into your wrist, sucking slow sips of your warm blood.

Be good, sweetling. His voice filled your head. 

It hurts. You weren’t even aware that your whine didn’t form into actual words spoken aloud, but was merely a pathetic sound accompanying your thoughts. 

Does it? Bucky’s eyebrow arched as he drew more of your blood in, then swiped his tongue along your sensitive, punctured skin. 

You blinked, dazed. When he bit you there was pain, but as he sucked you… You felt the throbbing in your wrist, but its echo was a more pleasurable beat that had your nipples and clit thrumming. 

You watched Bucky lick his lips clean and return to his conversation with ease, as if taking your blood was nothing more than sipping a drink. Which he did again a few minutes later, lifting your hand and sinking his fangs a little lower into your forearm. 

A soft, little cry spilled out of your mouth, but your legs parted wider to ease your throbbing clit. 

There was no previous agreement to Bucky drinking from you, yet somehow you didn’t resist as he took. Your body simply molded to his demand. Your brain resisted, angry and sobbing at the inability to fight, but that rebellion came and went like sparks of a badly functioning electricity. 

You didn’t want it, didn’t consent to it, but it felt so good. Made you a good kind of dizzy. Ligheaded, like you had one glass of champagne too much. Your usually buzzing body felt softened and pliant. 

For once you were calm and nestled, not a chaotic shard not fitting to the surroundings.

You spread your legs wider. The table separated and obscured the view of you from the stranger, but you had an inkling that the arousal trickling between your folds wafted into the air. 

It sure reached Bucky’s senses. Behave, his hand on your waist tightened its grip.

I am, you boldly replied to the phantom voice in your head and promptly brought the glass of wine to your lips. You drank half of it in one go. 

A part of you expected Bucky to act rashly. To show irritation or impatience, but then again you never saw him lose the winter cool of his demeanor. He didn’t react to your mental hiccup either, simply carrying on the conversation with the other monster. 

However, his hand smoothed up your arm slowly. Fingertips danced over the puncture wounds which he sealed with a swipe of his tongue, then traveled upwards. 

He took the thin strap of your dress between his thumb and forefinger and dragged it down your shoulder. Black fabric covering your breast fell down, swaying in a soft roll right above your nipple. Just when you thought his retaliation was driven to the max, Bucky’s hand skimmed over your collarbone and down to the swell of your breast.

Voice not wavering even once, as he kept talking over some business details, Bucky slipped his fingers under the silk of your dress and took your tit out. 

No! Your humiliated consciousness screamed silently. 

Bucky remained unphased. He exposed your breast, running his fingertips around the areola and flicking your puckered nipple. 

When the other man started talking, simply continuing the conversation as if you weren’t lewdly displayed in front of him, Bucky tipped you back. The arm around you tightened, supporting your back. His other hand cupped your breast as he sank his teeth into the soft tissue. 

More wetness pooled in your core, even as pain from the bite zapped your synapses. 

You were nothing but a chalice of wine from which Bucky sipped whenever he wanted. However he wanted to. 

A morsel to bite and chew slowly. 

He didn’t seal that bite right away, so the blood trickled down slowly as he helped you back into a sitting position, cuddled to his side. You felt the warm liquid gather atop your nipple into a ruby drop. 

Bucky swiped it with his thumb, teasing your nub as he did. 

When he brought the thumb to his mouth to suck it clean, you stared up at him in horror and awe. That handsome face with chiseled jawline and cheekbones, pale pink lips wrapped around a marble white, thick thumb. As he released his finger, you saw a flash of his teeth - a smudge of your blood covering them. 

His thumb was coated with Bucky’s saliva as he brought it down to rub over the bite, sealing your wound. 

The hand on your waist gripped your elbow when you attempted to reach for the strap and cover yourself back. Leave it, Bucky’s low command resounded in your head. What?! No! Why? It was indecent! He wasn’t even drinking from you anymore. Just holding you partially naked and humiliated. 

Because I wish so and you’re mine to do whatever I please.

There wasn’t even a seductive lilt of teasing to his tone. It was a richly dark declaration of ownership you didn’t expect.

You wanted to protest, to scream it out at him that you didn’t want it. That even if some aspects of his actions were arousing you, you weren’t his to treat like a toy, or blood bag. That’s when your memory flashed back to the exact conversation you had with Bucky when you negotiated the rules of the bet. 

What you interpreted as company for one night, for this particular meeting, was never in fact stated as limited. Bucky never said for one evening. He only demanded that you’d give him your company. 

Now, his voice returned, as calm as before, sit still and drink your wine, or I’ll take your other tit out.

Anger and despair flared inside you, as hot as the wave of dark excitement that turned the fabric of your panties into a soaked mess sticking to your folds. 

What he said and did to you was bolder and filthier than you tried with any of your former lovers. It didn’t only push, but crossed your boundaries. But even as he did something so unpredictable like undressing you in public, there was calculated deliberation in it. Cold, lethal precision strumming your responsive pressure points. 

Will you let him drink from me? For some reason, you clenched your fingers on Bucky’s suit jacket, clinging to him as terror of what might actually happen took over.

No. You’re mine. Came his instant, firm response. 

But there was only silence when your panicked voice asked, Will you kill me?

He left you hanging with that worry as he wrapped up his meeting. The wine kept your blood rushing warm, as did Bucky’s closeness, but your heart started to drag with growing dread. Needing something to anchor yourself to, you stared at the rings on Bucky’s fingers. 

It was only when his voice reached your ears that your head snapped up and you realized the other man was gone. 

“You did really well for your first time, sweetling.” Bucky’s fingers gently took your chin. 

Despite the allure of his eyes and his hold on you, the spark of dread spread into a sticky web that filled you with all sorts of cold, breath-stealing fears. His choice of words was deliberate. Everything Bucky did was. So it meant he planned on there being a second, a third, and more events similar to that night. 

Bucky took your empty wine glass and placed it on the table. Then he readjusted your dress and helped you up onto your feet. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, muttering something about getting you a proper coat. 

A waitress waited by the exit, handing you a to-go cup of something hot as Bucky led you toward the door. Your fingers wrapped around the warm cup, scenting something sweet. 

You had a thought of making a scene, making a run for it, but this place was filled with monsters who, undoubtedly, would be on his side. And Bucky was a damn vampire, who could probably catch you before you made half a step. 

Also, whatever was in that cup was really tempting you to drink. And his hand on your back felt nice, too.

As Bucky guided you down the steps, a sleek, black car stopped at the curb. Some young man jumped from the driver’s side and gave Bucky keys with a deep bow. Huh, you didn’t know they had valets here. 

Bucky helped you into the passenger’s seat and buckled your seatbelt. So engulfed by the cozy warmth and spicy scent, you didn’t think to use the moment of him walking to the driver’s side to try and escape. 

But the question returned, rolling out on your tongue as Bucky cut through the city with speed right on the edge of limit. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

“Not yet.” Bucky’s calm, simple response was like a blade piercing through your chest. 

“The process is more complicated. There are rules-” he paused, hearing your intake of breath. When he looked at you, you were curling in on yourself and leaning against the side door, like you wanted to blend into it and disappear. 

Something flashed in his blue eyes and after a moment you were pulling away from the door and sitting back in your seat. 

Bucky’s fingers cupped your chin. Even with only one hand on the steering wheel he had full control of the car. 

“I’m not disposing of you, sweetling.” He assured you. “You’re my feeder. And will become my companion.”

Companion. It echoed in your head. You agreed to be his company. But you didn’t know it meant something more for a vampire. 

The bites on your body pulsed with awareness, reminding you of the way he sunk his teeth into you. You wondered if his cock would sink into you with the same seductive firmness. 

Your previous dizziness from the blood loss was nothing compared to the chaos that Bucky’s revelation brought. On the way to his estate he explained more, stating details of his plans for you as if he was reporting something obvious. Each sentence of the fate he weaved for you, however, leashed on your skin like a lick of flogger. Hurting and pushing your mind toward a cloudy space. 

With some last remnants of panicked will, you attempted to run when he parked in front of an impressive estate. He caught you in a blink of an eye. Then those blue eyes were staring into yours and an invisible leash tugged on you, calming you into compliance. 

He made you drink that hot chocolate, which you got in the to-go cup, as he steered you through the corridors of the mansion. Rich sweetness filled your mouth and brought a sense of regeneration. 

The cup dropped forgotten when Bucky brought you into his bedroom. Somewhere between his words about keeping you here with him for two years, until you learned all the rules, all the expectations and attuned to your role at his side, he unzipped your dress and pushed it down to the floor. 

Your hands against him held zero strength as he spread you on his massive bed, your attempts at fighting him off melting as his teeth scraped along your naked body. 

“Your blood tastes like decadent chocolate” Bucky hummed against your hip bone. “I bet your cunt tastes just as sweet.” 

He ripped away your soaked panties then spread your thighs wide apart. His lips mouthed against the delicate skin of your inner thighs. You knew there were some crucial arteries there and you wondered how much it would hurt when he bit into one. 

But he didn’t. Instead, Bucky kissed further up. He licked the seam between your thigh and cunt, then traced your outer lips with his tongue. 

It was atop your mound, a breath away from your clit, where he slowly, torturously slow, sunk his teeth in. 

You screamed and he held you down.

He didn’t suck your blood right away, but pulled back and watched it trickle down onto your glistening pussy. Dark red juice dripped down your clit and between your swollen folds. 

Bucky dove in. Feasting on your cunt with reverence and hunger he didn’t display before. He licked your blood and your slick, mixed them on you and on his tongue. His growling, near animalistic sounds vibrated against your sensitive core. 

He made you come while he made you bleed. Licking and swallowing your wetness; holding your hips down in his strong grip as your body twisted and writhed in pleasure-and-pain. 

Then he drew another blinding climax out of you, driving two of his ringed fingers into your sopping cunt and at the same time sinking his teeth back into the open bite atop your mound. 

He closed your wound, but didn’t wipe away the blood as he kissed up your body. When he bit your breast, he let the blood drip down the swell of it, too, before licking it off your skin in tantalizing, sensual strokes. 

You hurt from the bites, but Bucky’s mouth and touch brought you so much exquisite pleasure. 

He drank from both your breasts, smudging your blood all over his mouth as he kissed your skin through the ruby mess. Closed the wounds with a teasing lick of his tongue, before flicking it against your hardened nipple and sucking on it so hard you felt that suck on your clit. 

“You’re delicious, sweetling.” Bucky rasped against your ear. “And such a good girl for me.” 

You felt the nudge of his cock between your folds. Your hips rocked up eagerly, but your weakened arms drew between your bodies to push him away.

Sensations were overwhelming. You feared that your brain might completely shut down, if Bucky added to it the stretch of his cock and ripping pleasure of being fucked. 

Gently, he pried your hands away from his chest and placed your arms next to your head on the mattress. He pinned them down as he rolled his hips into you. 

“Gotta do it, sweetling,” he hushed your mewls. “Gotta break your body before sunrise, so your mind starts to learn to sleep all through the sunny day.” 

“It’ll take weeks to fully break you.” Bucky sneaked one of his hands between your bodies, to guide his cock into your entrance. “I’ll exhaust you over and over again, until your body conditions itself to shutting down with sunlight and waking up at sunset. Until you’re molded to me.” 

Your lips parted on a strained moan as he slowly penetrated you. 

Just like you suspected, Bucky drove his cock into you with a firm, steady stroke, just like he sunk his teeth into your skin. 

As his dick stretched your pussy, Bucky kissed you. Sensual and languid. Getting you drunk on his lips and taste like the most potent wine. He welcomed your yielding moan with a victorious growl.

Then, as the head of his cock nestled against your cervix and he bottomed out, Bucky’s fangs dipped into your lips. 

You clenched around him, your body tensing like a cord as he drew blood from your mouth. He sipped on you, forcing some of the metallic sweetness of your own blood onto your tongue. 

Bucky soothed your lips with a swipe of his tongue, before lifting his weight on his forearms. He looked down at you - all dark, ruthless beauty of him, with eyes glinting winter storm and mouth red with your blood. 

There were smudges of red on his torso, as well, from where his body pressed into the bloody mess he created as he drank from various spots on your chest and belly. 

“You already take me so well and feed me so sweetly,” he said, licking remnants of your taste off his bottom lip, “you’ll learn to take all the pleasure and pain I give you. And someday you’ll take my blood and I’ll show you what ecstasy of a vampire feels like.”

With that he withdrew, only to slam back in a hard snap. Your body jolted, your back arching. 

You were so weak, so lightheaded. Exhaustion was pulling you into darkness. But the way Bucky was fucking you bursted through that dark with fireworks. His name was a broken cry on your lips, so soft it may have been a whisper. Or a prayer. 

“I deliberately had the sheets changed to white.” Bucky mused, driving into you harder, making your legs jerk helplessly with each thrust of his hips. 

“Wanted to see the stains from your cum and blood on it. You make such a pretty mess.”

Your consciousness drifted away completely after he tipped you into another orgasm, relishing in the way you screamed and clenched around him. Your body was boneless as he chased his own release, groaning it not soon after you floated into sleep. 

To him you looked most beautiful: spread out on the crumpled sheets, your body smeared with blood and bearing marks of his bite. Stains of red and acidic wetness splattered the sheets between your legs. 

Bucky leaned down, one more time biting into your mound. A shallow wound this time. Just so he could watch your blood slowly trickle down in a thin stream and mix with his cum dripping out of your fluttering pussy.

You remained unconscious when he cleaned you up. As well when he ripped away soiled sheets and replaced them with a set of fresh ones and climbed into bed next to you. He held you in his embrace as you slept through the day that stretched outside; heavy, black-out curtains preventing a single sunray from sneaking inside. 

When you’d wake up late in the afternoon, Bucky was going to provide you with a hearty meal and adequate vitamins. He’d tell you more of the rules. Then he’d break your body again. 

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part four

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mattheo is in an awful mood after the party while Theo takes reader to the peony field.

Word Count: 4772

Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Theo get into it. Reader overthinks for a little bit. Mentions of drugging? One mention of Y/n. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 I can't tell you how nervous I am to post this, I feel like it's not my best work. But regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you endlessly!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“Did something happen last night between you and Mattheo?” Pansy asks, throwing the door open with an expectant look. Despite your low mood, you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of her—hair a tousled mess, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She’s the perfect picture of someone who had way too much fun last night.

“Is there any particular reason you’re asking?” You reply cautiously, eyes following her as she saunters over and slips into bed beside you. She gives the blanket a hard tug, leaving you to huff in irritation when she claims more than her fair share.

“Because I heard him and Veronica fighting. I didn’t catch much, but I did hear your name.” Pansy looks you over, taking in your rumpled clothes and tired eyes. You’re not in much better shape than she is, and she can't tell if it’s the lingering effects of last night’s drinks or the aftermath of whatever happened with Mattheo.

“Merlin,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed. You haven’t moved since Theo left about twenty minutes ago, and you’re not sure if you’ll find the energy to do so anytime soon. Honestly, the idea of staying curled up here is more tempting than you'd like to admit. “We got into it again last night.”

“Again?” Pansy raises an eyebrow, shifting to face you.

“Apparently, he does care.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

“He told you that?” Pansy shifts so quickly it’s as if you’ve shocked her. Both of you know very well that Mattheo isn’t the type to open up about what he’s feeling. Years of watching him around his parents taught you why—with how many times you had seen them scold him for even a flicker of emotion, it was no wonder he kept everything locked up.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling, “He said he wanted me to admit I have feelings for him too.” Pansy's eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in disbelief.

“Feeling for him too?” She echoes, and you finally turn to meet her eyes with a weak nod. Your best friend sits there for a moment, studying your face carefully before choosing her next words. She knows she has a nasty habit of saying the first thing on her mind without considering that it might not be what you need to hear.

Pansy sits up, grabbing the pillow she was using and hugging it to her chest as she stares at you impatiently. She’s waiting to hear if you’ve finally told the boy you’ve been head over heels for, for years, that you like him too. “Well? Did you?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Please, tell me it’s for the reason I’m thinking.” She all but begs, her eyes wide with hope.

You let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know when I stopped having feelings for him, Pans. I didn’t even realize I’d lost them until he asked me to tell him I felt the same, and there was just...”

“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.

A pause hangs between you as you search for the right words.

You hardly slept last night; your mind raced with thoughts of the past few months, trying to pinpoint when and how your feelings faded so quietly. You had liked Mattheo for so long, even convinced yourself that maybe you even loved him. But how could you truly love someone who was so closed off? Sure, he turned to you when he was struggling, but that didn’t mean he ever shared what he was feeling. He liked your presence and relied on you to be there whenever he needed support, but he never trusted you enough to truly let you in.

Not in the way you wanted, at least.

If he wasn’t comfortable with his own emotions, there was no way he would be able to handle yours. Maybe that was the heart of it—the realization that he would never fully open up to you, and that had kept you from falling in love with him. And maybe that was the best thing that could have happened, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it was to come to terms with at the beginning.

Then there was Theo. Who had promised to help you get over Mattheo, and from that moment on, he was there for you without hesitation. He held your hand whenever you needed it, and honestly, you had begun to lean on him a bit too much—being close to him had become your favorite feeling. He never made it feel like supporting you was a chore; instead, he made it seem like something he had always longed to do.

In truth, everything had changed for you. Spending time with Theo was no longer just a way to distract yourself from Mattheo; it became where you wanted to be. Being around him made you feel safe and accepted in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

And that was absolutely terrifying.

You sit up abruptly, fully facing Pansy, “When you said that you thought Theo would give me everything if I let him, did you mean that?”

“Babes,” she begins, sending you a soft smile. “I’ve always thought you would be good for Mattheo. You bring something out in him; he’s happiest when he’s around you. Veronica seemed to make him happy at first—” she adds with a snort—“but nowhere near the level you do.”

“But with Theo…” Pansy trails off. “I’ve never seen you so happy—and not the kind of happy you were with Mattheo. It’s not the relief of him not having a one-night stand or flirting with you a bit bolder at a party. It’s genuine happiness; you’re truly yourself. Theo brings out a different side of you, and you do that for him, too.”

Glancing over at the vase of red peonies, battling the tightness in your throat and the sting in your eyes. You decide you’d rather not spend the day in bed.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Since last night, Theo has been struggling to push away the thought that maybe the idea of you having feelings for him isn’t so far-fetched. Especially after you’d implied that the two of you were together to the girl who’d tried to flirt with him. The way you’d intertwined your fingers with his, staking a silent claim that he was off-limits, had left him reeling. There was no way you’d be so possessive if you didn’t feel the same. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself all morning.

And then there was the way you hadn’t been able to answer Mattheo about your feelings. Theo’s whole heart had been in his throat as he waited for you to tell Mattheo that you did have feelings for him, that you’d had them for years. But you hadn’t answered.

In a way, though, you had, hadn’t you? You’d pushed past Mattheo without a word and gone straight to him.

“Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade or not?” Enzo nudges Theo, pulling him out of his thoughts. The boys had all planned to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, a plan set firmly in stone since last weekend. But when Theo saw you this morning, he couldn’t hold back. On impulse, he asked if you wanted to spend some time together, suggesting—almost shyly—that he could finally show you where he’d been getting the peonies.

“No, I’ve got plans.” Theo shrugs, and Draco sends him an irritated look from the opposite couch.

“We made plans.” Draco huffs, clearly agitated with the change. He always hated it when the boys ditched at the last second.

“Something came up.” Theo sighs, hoping that he’ll let it go quickly. He’s well aware that Mattheo should be coming down the stairs at any second. Enzo had told them that he was taking forever to get ready, probably hungover from last night. 

“You mean your girl.” Blaise corrects, and Draco looks disgusted. His head swings back to look at Theo.

“You’re ditching us for her? Mate, that’s pathetic.” Draco scoffs. “She isn’t even your girlfriend.”

“She’s pretty damn close.” Blaise points out, and Theo tries his best to ignore the feeling that jolts through him when he thinks of you as his girlfriend.

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything—not that he would have—before Mattheo walks over to join the group. He claps a hand on Draco’s shoulder, only for Draco to shrug him off irritably. “C’mon,” Mattheo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the others rise, stretching and adjusting their robes, Theo remains seated, gaze fixed on the fireplace in front of him. Mattheo pauses, giving him a puzzled look, one brow lifting in question. “You’re not coming?”

“No.” Theo answers curtly, clearly uninterested in extending the conversation. The truth is, he hasn't spoken to Mattheo in quite a while, and when they do, it’s nothing but tension—a quiet frustration simmering beneath each exchange.

Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”

“He’s got plans with his girl,” Draco interjects with a roll of his eyes, impatience seeping into his voice. “Now, can we go? We’ve waited long enough for you as it is.”

“Wait. Hold on,” Mattheo turns to face him fully, and Draco huffs when he realizes they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. “Your girl?”

“You know what he means.” Blaise interjects calmly, his eyes shifting to Mattheo as he watches tension coil through his stance.

Mattheo gives a casual shrug, though his jaw tightens. “No, Blaise, I really don’t.”

Theo huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands, making to push past. “Why the hell do you even care?”

Mattheo’s hand snaps out, stopping him mid-step. “You know why I care.”

Theo’s gaze darkens, voice low. “Oh, you mean because of your feelings for her?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Does your girlfriend know that you told Y/n you’ve always liked her?”

Theo’s eyes flicker over Mattheo’s shoulder, catching the shared looks between Blaise, Enzo, and Draco. There’s no shock in their expressions—only a knowing look as if they’d been bracing for this moment all along. It’s unsettling, the way they seem almost resigned, like they’ve seen the tension building between him and Mattheo from a mile away.

Mattheo scoffs, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice. “Did she go and tell you everything I said?”

Theo raises a brow, “No, I overheard you. But even if she did, what does it matter to you?”

Matteo narrows his eyes, “Because I care about her.”

“Bullshit. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have put her in that position last night.”

“I care about her more than you think.” Mattheo bites out, and the boys watch carefully as Mattheo takes another step forward.

“Right,” Theo scoffs, “You care so much you went and found yourself another girl.”

Theo sees it before Mattheo even speaks—the subtle shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to—”

“So you weren’t ready for her? But you were for Veronica? I don’t get it. You can’t just expect her to always be there when you finally figure out what you want.”

Mattheo laughs in disbelief, “I wasn’t waiting, I—”

“Then what the hell were you doing?” Theo’s voice sharpens. “You had years to tell her how you felt, and you didn’t say anything. Then you get a girlfriend, she starts spending time with me, and all of a sudden, you care? Leave her alone and quit messing with her.”

“I’m not fucking messing with her—”

“You are. You’ve been doing it for years.” Theo’s eyes flash with frustration, and suddenly he feels the urge to make it clear that he wants you—that he always has, and Mattheo isn’t the only one. “She deserves better than someone who can’t make up their mind. She deserves to be someone’s first choice.”

Mattheo’s expression hardens and his tone drops. “And that’s you?”

Theo doesn’t have the chance to answer, because Veronica’s shriek causes both their heads to snap in her direction, “Matty!”

Theo watches as Mattheo steps back, anger giving way to frustration, a quiet curse slipping from his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Veronica strides forward, pushing right past Blaise and Enzo without a second glance. Blaise shoots her an agitated look, irritation flashing in his eyes as she barrels through.

“I thought you said you guys were going to Hogsmeade.” Veronica smiles, reaching out to take Mattheo’s hand, but he subtly pulls away, dodging her touch with a flicker of impatience in his eyes.

“We are.” He grumbles under his breath, but Veronica keeps smiling sweetly, unfazed, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just blatantly brushed off her attempt to hold his hand. Mattheo turns to leave, muttering something to the boys, likely a brief comment about their plans.

Theo watches as an agitated Mattheo strides out of the common room, with the boys trailing behind him. But the boys glance back at Theo, their expressions a mix of caution and confusion. Theo turns to leave as well, but Veronica’s voice stops him, soft and pointed, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You should tell your girlfriend that last night was a mistake,” she murmurs, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Mattheo thought she was me; you know how he gets after a few too many drinks.”

Theo thinks about correcting her, letting her know that he doesn’t really know what she means at all. From what he saw last night, Mattheo was tipsy—not that drunk—and Theo has had enough years of experience to tell the difference. But instead, he shrugs it off, deciding he’d rather find you than spend any more time in the common room.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Hogsmeade is that way.” You say, a bit confused, gesturing in the opposite direction as you walk beside Theo.

“I know.” He replies simply, his gaze flickering back to the trail that you’ve never gone down before. Honestly, you had no idea it even existed. It’s evident that this path isn’t used often, as moss and grass have claimed most of the walkway. Vibrant wildflowers dot the sides, their colors brightening the greenery around them. 

He’s been quiet for most of the walk, which feels strange; you’re not used to this side of him. The more time you’ve spent with Theo, the more he’s opened up—sharing memories of his late mum, the weight of his father’s expectations, and his hopes for the future. These walks, where you slowly unravel each other’s stories, have become your thing, something that only the two of you share.

You frown slightly, glancing at him as you try to piece it together. “But I thought you said you got the flowers from a shop.”

“I never said that.” Theo’s lips curve into that soft, gentle smile that never fails to send your stomach into a flutter. “I said I’d take you with me the next time I went to get some. I never said it was in Hogsmeade.”

It takes you a second, too enamored with the view in front of you for it all to click. The walk isn’t long, but as you continue down the path, you spot a patch of red ahead. It stands out against the greenery, a cluster of flowers blooming a pretty, vibrant hue. You can’t quite tell what kind they are, but when you glance at Theo, you notice the way his eyes flicker nervously, and it suddenly feels like you’re walking toward something important.

But then it hits you all at once: “They’re peonies.”

On instinct, you grab Theo’s hand, giving it a playful tug to urge him along toward the blooms. He lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, and a warmth fills you as his earlier mood seems to lift, the tension in his shoulders fading.

When you reach the edge of the flower field, you pause, still holding Theo’s hand as your gaze lingers over the vibrant blooms stretching out before you. Theo glances at you, heart beating a little faster as he wonders what you’re thinking, but he brushes aside his nerves and releases your hand, shrugging off his jacket to lay it carefully on the ground. You murmur to him, urging him not to squish any of the flowers, and Theo smiles, his expression softening as he gently reassures you that he won’t.

There isn’t much room on his jacket, so you find yourself pressed against Theo’s side—though you don’t mind in the slightest. He’s leaned back on his hands, while you sit cross-legged beside him.

The quiet is soothing, broken only by the soft chatter of birds and the occasional hum of an insect drifting from flower to flower. The warmth of the sun on your skin feels heavenly, its heat a welcome contrast to the long, cold months that have passed.

“Is this why you left? The first night you stayed with me?” You ask, glancing to the right to watch his reaction. 

From where you’re seated, you can see how the sunlight catches every small detail of his face, highlighting any imperfections. There’s the faint mole on his cheekbone, his dark lashes that you’re secretly jealous of, and the thin scar along his chin from when he fell off his broom as a kid. Another mark splits through his brow—a scar whose origin he could never quite remember, but has always just been there. It tugs at you, knowing you can recall the origins of his faded scars. It might seem trivial, but it means he’s let you in, sharing parts of himself that not everyone gets to see.

Theo nods, “I had to go early in the morning to give them to Pansy. With practice later, it was the only chance I could.”

A smile creeps onto your face as you imagine Theo, slightly awkward but determined, handing over the bundle of flowers and the little card to Pansy, who no doubt teased him relentlessly. You’d had wondered how she noticed that Theo was different with you, especially when most of your time together was just the two of you. But now, hearing this, you understand perfectly how she recognized a side of him that only seems to surface around you.

“I didn’t want to leave, y’know.” Theo continues, finally glancing over at you, and the effect is instant—those watercolor eyes meet yours, sending a flutter through your stomach as you instinctively lean closer, feeling yourself melt into his side.

“The flowers made up for it,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Aside from you, they were the only thing that made me feel better.”

“Yeah?” Theo glances down at you, tucked into his side, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Hearing you say the flowers meant something to you eases any nerves he had—because they were never just a way to cheer you up. They were his quiet, unspoken way of telling you that he was there, that he cared. And that, despite your feelings for Mattheo, he was an option too.

“Yeah.” You confirm.

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Theo sat together, talking about whatever came to mind as you picked flowers. You gathered a few, but mostly you watched as Theo picked the ones he liked the most, adding to the small bundle that sat between you both. Watching him carefully select the prettiest flowers, knowing he was going to give them to you, made something shift inside you. If you hadn’t fully realized your feelings before, you were certain of them now.

You lost track of time with Theo, but eventually, he had to leave for practice. He handed you the freshly picked flowers and walked you back to the castle, stalling as if reluctant to say goodbye. In the end, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’ You didn’t want to say goodbye either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the reason Theo might get into trouble.

It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, leaning against the door with a giddy squeal, the flowers pressed to your chest, their scent lingering in the air, that the realization hit you. You should’ve kissed him. The thought made your stomach dip with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, you entertained the idea of running after him, catching him just before practice, and kissing him. Absentmindedly, your hand rises to trace your lips, lost in your racing thoughts. 

You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice Pansy at her desk, watching you with an amused look.

“You look like you had a good time.” Pansy smirks as you startle and send her a look before pushing away from the door.

“Pansy, I’m fucked.” You whine and she lets out a loud laugh.

“You were from the second he stayed the night with you.” You pause for a moment, letting the realization settle in, and as it does, you know she’s right. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe with someone—not in the way you did that night. Sure, you felt safe with Mattheo, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t compare to the way you felt when you were with Theo.

“Did you know he’s been picking me flowers?” You ask instead, setting the new bundle onto your desk before turning to face Pansy. 

“Oh, I knew.” Pansy hums, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. 

“How did I not notice?” You wonder aloud. 

“You were a little distracted.” Pansy shrugs, and you nod in agreement.

After Pansy tells you she’s meeting Blaise after practice, you briefly wonder if you should go with her. You sit on your bed, lost in thought, weighing the decision, but before you can make up your mind, Pansy is already gone.

As much as you want to see Theo, you hesitate, not wanting to assume that today meant as much to him as it did for you. It’s clear from the fact he’s been picking you flowers that he has feelings for you, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself or risk ruining something before it has a chance to begin. So, you stay in your dorm, trying to focus on an assignment you’ve been putting off for far too long, though your mind keeps drifting back to him.

So when you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat, and before you can think, you're off your bed and rushing to the door. You know exactly who is on the other side and your stomach flutters in anticipation. You pause just before opening it, taking a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, willing yourself to appear composed. 

You pull the door open, forcing a casual smile as you try to sound unaffected. “Hi,” you say, though your voice betrays the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

Theo stands in front of you, one hand holding onto the doorframe. His hair is a tousled mess, and his cheeks are flushed—whether from practice or the rush of seemingly running here, you can’t quite tell.

And when he looks up at you, he’s out of breath and looks downright impatient, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You pause, thrown off and completely caught off guard. That was not what you expected him to say, and your mind spirals into the worst possible conclusions. Was he regretting what happened earlier? Apologizing for showing you the flowers, or for picking some for you? Giving you flowers at all? Maybe his feelings for you weren’t strong enough, or perhaps he only thought he had them? The thought that it could be too soon after your feelings for Mattheo crossed your mind, even though you’d started moving on from him months ago, gnaws at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, releasing the doorframe and stepping forward, one step, then another. He pauses, giving you a moment to pull away if you need to, but you stay rooted to the spot, unable to move. Theo stands so close now that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. He reaches up, and your breath catches when his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his hand settling just below your ear. His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words makes your heart stutter. “I should’ve kissed you, dolcezza.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he steps even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. “All through practice, all I could think about was you. The moment I walked away, I just wanted to turn around and kiss you.” His voice drops to a whisper, low and thick with a longing that sends shivers down your spine.

You murmur his name softly, but he’s barely listening, his gaze intense as he leans in slightly, his lips just inches from yours. “Fuck, you've been on my mind for months—years, if I'm being honest. I feel like I’m losing my mind, wondering if you feel even a fraction of what I do.” His hand still lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through you as if he’s waiting for something—waiting for you to say what he’s too afraid to ask.

It’s you who closes the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, fervent kiss that catches him off guard, pulling a surprised moan from deep in his throat. His body reacts instantly, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. The sound he makes causes a rush of warmth to flood your veins. He’s hardly touched, and you’re already too warm, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You let him guide you backward, the pressure of his hand firm against your back until your steps falter just inside your dorm. Every inch of him feels like fire against your skin, and your previous worries fade into nothing.

Once you’re inside, he kicks the door closed with a thud but the sound barely registers. Without any hesitation, he presses you back against the door, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. But you want him closer. So much closer. One hand rests flat against the door beside your head, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Then, it’s him who leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that deepens with an aching intensity. There’s no rush now—just an overwhelming wave of longing, a perfect culmination of the emotions you’ve both held back. Your head spins, your heart races, and you’re certain that if you could take your temperature in this moment, it would be burning hot.

But then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath heavy and uneven. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You feel the urge to close the distance between you again, to press your lips to his, because there’s something about the way Theo kisses that leaves you breathless, already craving more. But then again, maybe it’s just him—the way his touch makes a thrill course through you.

“I wanted you to kiss me before you left—”

The door jolts against your back, halting you mid-sentence as Pansy’s voice cuts through the moment. “What the hell? Open the door.” You hold your breath, hoping that if you stay silent, she might forget the whole thing and simply go away.

But that’s wishful thinking: “Babes. Please open the door."

“I thought you were hanging out with Blaise.” You call back, stealing a glance at Theo, whose expression mirrors your own surprise. Before leaving practice, he’d told Blaise to keep Pansy distracted—he wanted time with you because he had planned on telling you exactly how he felt about you.

“It’s about Mattheo.” Your brows raise is surprise at the intensity in Pansy’s voice and you fling open the door without another thought.

“What’s wrong?” Theo stands behind you, watching the way your face turns nervous.

“Veronica’s been giving him a love potion,” she says softly, her eyes studying your face as it twists in disbelief. “He’s in the infirmary... and he’s asking for you.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

[sugdenlovesdingle]

a little Tommy & Chim bffs for @rileychester

----

"Her ladyship requests, no demands, uncle Buck reading her a story before bed instead of her own mother." Maddie said, walking back into the livingroom after having gone to put Jee to bed half an hour ago.

"What can I say, it's not easy being this popular." Buck joked and extracted himself from where he'd been happily tucked under Tommy's arm on Maddie and Chimney's way too comfortable sofa. He quickly kissed Tommy, murmured something about being right back, and followed Maddie up to Jee's room.

Tommy watched him until he was out of the room and then turned back to Chim who was laughing at him.

"Damn Kinard you've got it bad."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tommy said, trying to act somewhat cool and hide his reddening cheeks behind his wine glass.

"Yeah I'm sure you don't." Chim took a sip of his own drink. "I mean I love Maddie more than anything in the world, but I don't kiss her goodbye when she leaves the room."

"Well maybe you should start." Tommy told him. If he was getting called out, he might as well own it. "It's working pretty well for us."

"She'd probably think I was going crazy and call Hen to come check me over. Who would then also ask me if I'd lost my mind." He said and they both laughed. "But it's good to see you so happy, man. Both of you. Even if I never in a million years would have guessed that you two would end up together."

"Me neither really." Tommy admitted. "I actually almost let your call go to voicemail that night. My shift was almost over and there was bad weather coming in... I just wanted to go home and catch up on some sleep."

"And there was me asking you to steal a helicopter because of a hunch. I'm sure Bobby is still very grateful you didn't ignore me." Chim said and raised his glass at him. "To team who cares!"

Tommy clinked his glass against Chim's.

"Bobby isn't the only one who's grateful. If I hadn't answered that call, i would have missed out on the greatest thing that ever happened to me. i wouldn't have met the love of my life. I wouldn't be here now. I might have downloaded that dating app again that I'd deleted off my phone a few days before or taken Lucy up on her offer to set me up with her friend." Tommy shook his head. "I'm just glad I did answer. it definitely changed my life for the better."

"You're getting sappy in your old age, Kinard." Chimney teased. "When is the wedding? Do I have time to buy a hat?" he joked, expecting Tommy to laugh with him. Only when he didn't say anything Chim really looked at him. "What? Tell me you didn't..."

"I asked Evan to marry me last night." Tommy told him after a beat. "He said yes."

Chimney blinked a few times to process the information.

"Of course he said yes! He's just as crazy about you as you are about him." he got up to hug his friend. "Welcome to the family, man. We'll officially be brothers."

Tommy smiled and finished the last of his wine.

"There is one thing I wanted to talk to you about though..."

"Shoot."

"When Evan and I get married... will you be my best man?"

"It would be the greatest honour of my life."

---

Send me a prompt and I'll write you a ficlet!

[lightseoul]

#12 please🫶🫶

12, coming right up! tagging also @tsunderelover07, thank you sm for playing <3

(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

12. "I COULD USE A HUG RIGHT NOW." (1.6k)

you’re startled to attention when your phone pings from where you unknowingly dropped it beside you on the couch.

apparently, it has slid by the edge of your butt in the few minutes of you staring blankly at the off-white wall, and the brief vibration right to your ass is enough to snap you back to reality.

your now sucky-ass reality.

picking it up, your frown deepens even more when you see the text.

(7:04 PM) bestie #1 (mina)💞: i’m so sorry i can’t be there with you rn!!!! i got called in last minute to cover for momo. i really am sorry :(((

you know it’s not mina’s fault, but your heart drops in disappointment nevertheless. not wanting to make her feel bad, however, you quickly type in a reply.

(7:05 PM) you: no worries, mina. i understand :) stay safe out there!

sighing, you’re about to place your phone on the small coffee table in front of you when your phone chimes again.

(7:05 PM) bestie #1 (mina)💞: i’ll make it up to you, promise!! can i send someone there to accompany you in my stead??

you feel your eyebrows furrow in confusion. you vaguely remember kaminari and sero talking about their patrol schedules shifting, and how they complained that they now have to cover friday nights.

kirishima’s currently overseas on a classified mission, although you guess it’s not as classified now, seeing as how he told you and the rest of the squad about being drafted in it.

which only leaves…

you shake your head. it can’t be.

mina knows you better than that—knows that out of the friend group, bakugou’s the one you’re the least close to, and you’re even convinced that the man hates you. you’re not entirely sure, but you’re starting to think he’s purposefully avoiding you—always choosing the farthest seat from you, and never attending hangouts when it was just the two of you and one other person.

he may be making it a point not to smile or laugh around you, too. which hurts, because of the unfortunate realization that mina arrived at a few weeks ago before you can even say hold up.

the realization that you may or may not have a stupidly embarrassing crush on bakugou katsuki.

so… scratching him out, who else could it be?

you’re in the middle of unlocking your phone to ask who she’s sending (because knowing her, she may be asking for permission now, but she for sure has already sent someone), when, as if on cue, a barrage of heavy knocks echo from your doorway.

you freeze.

that can’t be a mutual gal friend of mina and yours. not with the aggressive-ass knocking.

your butt remains stuck on the seat for a few seconds of silence, at least until the rapping comes back on and again, and you stumble your way towards your apartment unit’s front door.

it’s moments like this that make you wish you have a fucking peephole, but oh, well.

patting down your hair in a last-minute, desperate attempt to look presentable, you finally reach for the knob and open the door.

only to be met face-to-face with bakugou ‘it can’t be’ katsuki.

you literally feel your soul leave your body as you lock eyes with the man, who, from the get-go, is already frowning at you.

his eyes rove over your face. “don’t you look like shit?”

you can’t help but return his scowl to him even if you tried. “well, hello to you, too.”

the quip doesn’t seem to bother him, though, who only continues to study you. when they get to your eyes, however, his frown intensifies. “have you been crying?”

shit.

you forgot to check your reflection before you answered the door, but you bet there’s no lying out of this one, what with you crying non-stop ever since you got home—the second you closed the door behind you.

“yeah, well…” you start, rubbing your nape awkwardly. “i’m not sure if mina told you, but i got—”

“laid off,” he finishes for you, nodding. “i know.”

hearing it from another person’s mouth, let alone bakugou’s, sends a pang of pain straight to your chest all over again, and you have to fight the tears that are threatening to well up around the corners of your eyes.

“well,” he speaks up after a beat of silence, “are ya gonna let me in or not?”

you roll your eyes, although it’s more playful than anything, and bakugou catches you, to which he just scoffs. he enters as you hold the slab of wood open for him, closing it promptly as he crosses the distance to the kitchen in just a few strides, already familiar with the floorplan from the countless hangouts you’ve hosted for the squad.

and as he opens the freezer, you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when, as if reading your mind, he holds up two pints of what looks like ice cream for you to see. “brought your favorite.”

you beam at him. “aww, that’s so sweet of mina! thank you.”

at that, his face contorts in a look of offense as if you just unceremoniously pinched his armpit.

you frown. “what?”

he only shakes his head, although that pained expression remains on his face. “‘s nothing. sure, thank mina.”

“…okay? i just did, but okay.”

he tosses you a glare, which you just try to shake off. you’re sure comforting someone isn’t exactly part of bakugou’s repertoire, so you conclude it’s better to cut the guy some slack.

“you’ve eaten dinner?” he asks as he rummages through the rest of your refrigerator, most likely judging you for the lack of ingredients and fresh produce.

“yeah,” you respond. he doesn’t have to know that dinner was a cup of instant noodles you pathetically scarfed down in the convenience store on the way home. you figured you could treat yourself to a grand pity meal for getting laid off, but thought better against it. if anything, you needed to save money, at least until you get hired by another hero agency.

straightening up, he eyes you suspiciously as if sensing you’re hiding something. “you sure?”

you nod decisively, which you can only do because you’re technically not lying.

bakugou stares you down for a couple more seconds before nodding curtly himself, now looking absolutely stiff in the middle of your kitchen.

and as you observe the man, it hits you that you may have just robbed him of the only thing he knows when it comes to consoling a grieving person.

by cooking for them.

you’re not exactly hungry, but you can’t help but feel bad for the pro-hero as he stands there seemingly deep in thought, probably trying to figure out what to do with himself now.

you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you’re about to say.

“but you can cook—” you start.

“come work for us.”

“what?” you ask, the same time he goes: “huh?”

he’s the first one to regain his bearings. “thought you had dinner already? changed your mind, huh, dumbass?”

you ignore his snide pet name. “what do you mean come work for you?”

at that, bakugou shifts on his feet, shrugging. “you know what i mean. come work at ground riot. we have a vacancy that fits you.”

you gape at him. “you’re kidding me?”

to that, bakugou tosses you a deadpan look. “does it look like i’m kidding?”

you don’t have the heart to tell him he’s looking constipated, like he always does, so you keep your mouth shut. instead, you only stand there a few feet away from him, twitching as you desperately tamp down the visceral urge to kiss the man in glee.

he must be getting weirded out, because he only looks at you with an eyebrow raised. “the fuck is going on with you?”

“i—” you begin, clenching your fists.

here goes nothing.

“—just—i could use a hug right now, bakugou.”

“a what?”

you try to ignore the incredulous expression on his face, let alone the scarlet that’s starting to creep up his neck. “as a thank you. for the offer. and you came all the way here to comfort me, right? i could really use a hug.”

it takes him a beat to reply, mouth opening and closing and then opening again, until he settles with: “that’s pushing it, dumbass.”

despite yourself, you deflate at his rejection. you got too carried away by his generous offer and the fact that he’s here—that he went out of his way to accompany you and even bring you your favorite ice cream—that you ended up crossing a line you’ve never dared to cross until now.

you try to deny it, but it stings.

still, you muster as much of a good-natured smile as you can, adding a light-hearted chuckle to boot. “i was just joking…” you mutter under your breath.

at that, you turn your back against him, face flaming in embarrassment as you start to head toward the living room to fetch your phone when you hear him heave a deep sigh behind you.

and before you can even comprehend what’s going on, you feel something tug at your wrist, spinning you on your heel until you collide with a firm chest that can only belong to one person.

your eyes are wide as saucers when you feel his arms gently wrap around your back, pressing you further against him.

“happy?” he grunts, voice low and reverberating against you.

it takes you a second, but you can only nod from where you’re plastered right onto him, his cologne completely flooding your senses, sending your heart into a total frenzy.

so much so that you almost miss the way his is hammering like crazy, too.

[mythicalmaven]

Helloooo love, could I have nr 1, 13, 23(reader) and 28 with Daniel ricciardo?🤍 so needy for him

Forbidden - Daniel Ricciardo (requested)

As requested: a Daniel Ricciardo fanfic with a few prompts from the list! It's my first Ricciardo fanfic, so I hope I wrote it like you hoped lol :) It turned out a little longer than I expected, but I honestly like how it turned out! (I didn't proofread it, so excuse any mistakes lol)

masterlist | promptlist ↳pairing: daniel ricciardo x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 7,7K ↳prompts used: 1 - 'Use my thigh", 13 - "You're fucking soaked". 23 - "I..Uh.." - "I have never done this before" & 28 "We shouldn't do this" ↳warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, age gap (8 years), kissing, alcohol, drunk, explicit sexual content, 18+ (MDNI!), jealousy, sexual tension ↳summary: In which it's 2017 and Max Verstappen's twin sister gets a little too involved with her brothers teammate

You honestly had no idea how you'd come up with the not-so-clever idea of getting wasted in a Monaco nightclub, but right now, you couldn’t care less. The music thumped through the room, blending with the haze of alcohol and dim, colorful lights, and a certain curly-haired Australian who had slipped off to the bar for another drink lingered in your mind.

As the beat softened into something deeper, sultrier, you found yourself moving with Carlos once more. His hands rested casually on your hips, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress as you swayed together. Ever since your twin, Max, joined the Formula 1 grid, Carlos had become one of your closest friends.

Carlos leaned in, his lips close to your ear, his voice a low murmur against the music. "So… when are you finally gonna hook up with Danny?"

You scoffed, playfully swatting the back of his head. “Oh, shut up, will you?”

Carlos only grinned, knowing exactly how you felt about Daniel. He'd been trying to push you toward him for ages, but as always, you deflected. “I don’t think Max would be thrilled if I hooked up with his teammate,” you replied, though a part of you knew that wasn’t the real reason you’d been holding back.

Carlos shrugged with a smirk. “Did you forget how convinced Max was that we were hooking up back at Toro Rosso? He didn’t seem too bothered by that idea, did he?”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you swayed in rhythm with him, your fingers linking behind his neck. “Yeah, vividly. But that was different…” You let out a laugh, trying to keep your tone casual. “For one, our age gap was a lot smaller than Daniel and mine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “You’re 20, who cares? Daniel’s 28—it’s not like he’s ancient.”

Sighing, you dropped your forehead against Carlos’s shoulder. “Besides, even if he would consider hooking up with me, he’d probably be disappointed. I’ve never… well, you know. I’ve only gone as far as giving a guy a blowie in a club bathroom, and even that was a drunken disaster. Somehow, I doubt a 28-year-old is looking for a hookup with a 20-year-old virgin.”

Carlos chuckled under his breath, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “You're really that blind, aren't you? The guy is absolutely head over heels for you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Carlos shifted his grip, spinning you around so your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist to guide your movements. To anyone watching, it looked like a slow grind, intimate and close, even though he left enough space to keep things comfortable.

He steered you both around the dance floor, inching you closer to the bar. “Look at him,” Carlos murmured in your ear, lifting a hand to tilt your chin ever so slightly. “See for yourself.”

Your gaze landed on Daniel, and your breath caught in your throat. There he was, leaning against the bar, drink in hand, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. His jaw was tight, his lips set in a straight line as he took in every shift of your body against Carlos’s, his gaze dark, brooding, and unmistakably heated. The way his eyes drifted, tracing the curve of your legs, lingering on your hips as they moved, made your heart race. He wasn’t just watching; he was studying, every look brimming with tension and frustration.

Carlos’s laughter hummed against your back, pulling you out of your trance. “The guy’s been staring daggers at me since the second we started dancing.”

“No way,” you murmured, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even though your pulse hammered in your ears. “He’s just… looking. Nothing more.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he leaned down to murmur against your ear, “Who are you trying to convince? Me… or yourself?”

“Fuck,” you huffed, feeling your cheeks flush under Daniel’s gaze, heat spreading through you in a way that felt as dangerous as it was thrilling. “I need more alcohol.”

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Hours and too many drinks later, you’d long since shed your usual shyness, finding a brazen confidence in the music, the crowd, and the glimmer of alcohol-fueled ease in every movement. The world felt hazy but thrilling, every pulse of the bass reverberating through you as you let yourself sink into the beat.

Carlos watched your transformation, amused at how you threw back shots and laughed a little louder than before. At one point, you looked back at him over your shoulder, eyes bright and mischievous, completely oblivious to the intensity with which a certain Australian had been watching you both.

With a chuckle and a playful push, Carlos nudged you forward, aiming you right in Daniel’s direction. “Go on, dance with him already,” he teased, his smirk saying he knew exactly what he was doing.

You stumbled into Daniel, feeling his hand steady you, his fingers lingering just a second too long as you regained your balance. “Well, fancy seeing you here, Ricciardo,” you quipped, your voice carrying an edge of flirtation that you didn’t usually dare with him.

Daniel’s lips curled into that easy, charming smile, his fingers still on your waist. “Fancy that. You’re looking a little… spirited tonight,” he replied, his eyes raking over you with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something almost hungry that you couldn’t miss, even in your haze. He was trying to play it off, keep things casual, but his gaze lingered just a bit too long, drawn to the curve of your hips, the dip of your collarbone, and the dress that had ridden up just enough to reveal more of your thigh.

“Oh yeah?” you leaned in close, fingers grazing up his arm, catching the way his eyes followed every movement. “What do you mean, ‘spirited?’” You were close enough to catch the hint of his cologne, something warm and subtly spicy, like he was, and it made you feel just a little bolder.

Daniel chuckled, but his fingers tightened slightly at your waist as if grounding himself. “Just saying,” he replied, “I don’t usually see you dancing like that.” His eyes sparkled with a mix of fondness and something a little more conflicted. He was trying so hard to keep things cool, but you could tell he was affected. “Especially with Carlos. Didn’t know he was your type.”

You laughed, moving your body a little closer to his, playfully ignoring the tension that brewed between you. “Carlos? Nah. He’s more like… a dance partner for the night. Besides,” you added, looking up at him through your lashes, “I think my type is just a little taller… curly hair.. and definitely Australian.”

A flicker of something like surprise crossed his face, his eyes briefly widening before he collected himself. He swallowed, looking away, almost as if to compose himself. “Is that so?” he murmured, his fingers curling at your waist, his voice low.

Just then, the music changed to something slower, a sensual rhythm that had you pressing a little closer against him. Daniel’s hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his heartbeat thrumming fast under your hands as you settled into a rhythm together. You let your body sway, your hips pressing against him as his hands guided you, holding you steady and closer than he should.

“Gotta stop moving like that,” he mumbled, his voice tight, a strained note of amusement as he tried to mask how breathless he sounded.

You looked up at him with a smirk. “Why?” you asked, feigning innocence, though the mischievous gleam in your eyes told him you knew exactly what you were doing.

He swallowed, his gaze darkening as his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against him. The movement brought you closer than before, and in that instant, you felt him—hard, pressing against you through his jeans, undeniable and unrestrained. A thrill shot through you as your eyes met his, your gaze drifting downward for a fleeting second, then back up to find his expression transformed, conflicted and charged. His voice was rough, edged with that undeniable tension. “You know very well why,” he murmured, his tone thick with barely restrained desire and frustration, his fingers gripping your waist as if to hold himself back.

Your lips parted in surprise, but you didn't move away. Instead, you let a slow smile spread across your face, your body swaying against him just enough to deepen his predicament. Daniel’s jaw clenched, his gaze darting down to where your bodies pressed together, his expression shifting between longing and resistance, the internal battle clear as he tried to keep himself grounded, even as you blurred every boundary between you.

You felt the heat radiating off him, the subtle hitch in his breathing, the way his fingers trembled slightly against your waist.

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Hours later, you stumbled out of the bathroom, trying to make your way back to the dance floor but feeling far less coordinated than before. The world tilted slightly as you bumped into a table, a stray chair, and even a few club-goers who offered you amused or annoyed glances.

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night, darling,” came a familiar voice from behind, warm and steady. Before you could turn, a hand wrapped around your upper arm, steadying you, and the familiar scent of Daniel surrounded you, grounding you.

You turned to him with an exaggerated pout, his arm still holding you up. “I… I’m definitely… not,” you managed, words slightly slurred as you tried to shake off his grip, failing miserably. He chuckled softly, clearly amused.

Daniel’s gaze softened, his eyes roaming over you with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. Your dress had shifted, one strap sliding off your shoulder, the hem hitching up to reveal more skin than you intended. He took in the sight, pausing for just a moment too long before swallowing hard and composing himself.

“Let’s get you sorted out here,” he murmured, reaching to fix your dress. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, grazing your skin, and he swallowed hard, the gentle touches sending a thrill through you. His hands moved lower, trying to straighten the hem, and his fingers brushed over the curve of your thigh, a touch that made you let out a soft, involuntary whimper. His eyes darkened, and he hesitated, looking like he wanted to pull away but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.

“Mm… feels nice,” you murmured, leaning into his touch, your gaze half-lidded as you looked up at him, lips parted slightly. You noticed how he tensed, his jaw clenched, clearly struggling to resist.

“Come on,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a little rough. “Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

He led you through the club, supporting you with one arm wrapped securely around you. As you stumbled along, your hand brushed over his chest, lingering a little longer than necessary, your fingers tracing small patterns as you walked. He glanced down, swallowing, his throat bobbing as he tried to keep his focus. Along the way, you nearly collided with Max, who took one look at you and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm bringing your sister back to the hotel," Daniel explained, nodding toward you with a hint of amusement. "She’s absolutely hammered."

Max smirked, his eyes flicking between you and Daniel. "You sure? I can take her back if you’d rather stay. I know she can’t hold her liquor."

“Hey!” you interjected, stumbling slightly as you tried to regain your balance, waving off your brother with a slurred, “I-Ik ben niet eens d-dronken…” (I’m not even drunk). You gave him a half-hearted glare, rolling your eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

Daniel glanced at Max with a small, amused shake of his head. “I have no clue what she just said, but don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he reassured him. “I was planning to head home anyway, and besides,” he added with a smile, “our apartments are in the same building anyway, so it's no hassle”

Max nodded, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before turning back to Daniel. "Alright, mate. Get her home safe."

With that, Max watched as Daniel guided you gently but firmly toward the exit, his grip steadying you as you leaned against him, too tipsy to resist.

When you reached the curb, he helped you into a cab, sliding in beside you. You leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder, your hand slipping to rest on his thigh, your fingers drifting ever so slightly higher, sending a rush of heat through him.

“You’re drunk,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, trying to keep his breathing even.

You looked up at him with a playful, tipsy grin, fingers tracing the fabric of his jeans. “So?”

He bit his lip, fighting a losing battle against his own desires, his hand covering yours to stop its teasing ascent. He’d never seen you this forward, this flirtatious, and though it thrilled him, it terrified him all the same. The line between you had always been thin, but tonight, with every touch, every brush of your skin against his, you were slowly erasing it.

When you arrived at the apartment building, you had began starting to sober up a tiny little bit. Still wasted obviously, but it seems as if you had a little bit more control over your own actions.

As you fumbled through your purse, your expression shifted from confidence to frustration as you realized your keys weren’t there.

“I… I had them,” you muttered, searching again, only for the reality to settle in. “I must’ve left them with Carlos or Max.”

You looked up at Daniel with a mischievous glint in your eyes, swaying slightly on your feet. “Guess that means I’m staying with you?”

Daniel hesitated, his resolve weakening as he searched your face, taking in the way your lips quirked in that daring, flirtatious smile. He was already in too deep, the familiar ache in his chest too hard to ignore. After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh, offering a small, reluctant smile as he nodded.

“Yeah, alright,” he said softly, his hand brushing over your back as he guided you inside. “But you’ve gotta promise me you’ll go straight to bed.”

You leaned in, closer than necessary, your breath warm against his cheek. “We’ll see about that,” you murmured playfully, sending one last spark of heat through him as he led you toward his apartment, both of you caught in a delicate balance of desire, restraint, and the thrill of the unspoken between you.

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Daniel led you to his kitchen, pulling out a stool by the bar, gesturing for you to sit. But you had other ideas. Following him over to the sink, you leaned back against the counter, lifting yourself up onto it. Your dress slid up as you settled, exposing nearly everything to anyone watching.

Daniel turned off the tap, glass in hand, and was about to pass it to you when he caught sight of you. His gaze trailed over your bare thighs, and his breath hitched, eyes widening as he muttered, “Fuck.” His eyes lingered, and he dared to glance lower, noticing the smallest glimpse of black lace between your slightly parted legs.

Swallowing hard, he gripped the counter edge, his knuckles whitening as he fought the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, his lips already tingling with the desire to claim yours. Forcing himself to look away, he pressed the glass into your hand, his voice husky and tight. “Drink this. It'll help,” he murmured, barely able to keep his composure. “I’ll… I’ll go grab a shirt for you. So you don’t have to sleep in that dress.”

You downed the water in one swift gulp, letting your gaze drift back to him. The proximity hit you both, close enough for you to see the tension in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. But what captured your attention most was the unmistakable bulge in his jeans, straining against the fabric, betraying the restraint he tried so hard to maintain.

A slow smirk crept across your lips as you reached out, letting your fingers graze his arm, traveling in a slow, tantalizing path up to his shoulder, then down his chest, inching ever closer to his belt. But before you could reach it, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. “We… we shouldn’t do this,” he muttered, voice low and rough as he gently pushed your hand away, though his touch lingered just a second too long, his resolve wavering.

Undeterred, you hopped down from the counter, stepping forward until there was barely any space left between you. Confidence you hadn’t realized you possessed surged through you, and you reached out, cupping him through his jeans. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of your touch.

Bringing your lips close to his ear, you whispered, your voice a hushed, sultry tease, “That’s what you say… but your body’s telling me something else entirely.”

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Daniel forced himself to gather every shred of self-control he could muster, putting a few steps of distance between you before he turned on his heel, heading to his bedroom to grab a shirt from the closet. His mind raced as he moved. He wanted you—God, he wanted you more than anything—but he knew you were drunk, teetering on that edge where even a soft touch or glance was hazy with the thrill of it all. And as much as he ached to feel your lips on his, to let every longing he’d harbored for so long finally spill over, he didn’t want to take advantage of your current state.

Yet, you were making it damn near impossible to keep his composure. Every touch, every glance, every whisper made his restraint crumble bit by bit, leaving him clinging to the last threads of resolve.

When he made his way to the bathroom with the shirt in hand, he stopped in the doorway, noticing you struggling with the zipper of your dress, your back turned to him. The zipper was halfway down, leaving a tantalizing glimpse of your bare skin, and his heart pounded harder, fighting between propriety and desire.

“Danny, can you help me with the zipper, please?” Your voice was soft, but the note of longing was unmistakable, each word sparking something primal within him.

He hesitated, but before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, leaving the shirt on the sink, and positioned himself behind you. His fingers brushed your skin as he reached for the zipper, feeling the warmth radiating off you. You shivered at his touch, a soft, involuntary whimper escaping your lips that sent a jolt through him. He dragged the zipper down slowly, his fingers grazing your skin, unable to resist lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Once the zipper was down, you slipped the straps off your shoulders, the dress falling effortlessly down your frame, pooling at your feet. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat as he took you in, standing before him in nothing but your black lace lingerie. He clenched his jaw, feeling a wave of heat course through him, the last of his rationality slipping as his eyes traced over every curve, every inch of you laid bare.

You turned to face him, the look in your eyes a mixture of vulnerability and desire, a silent plea that tugged at the very core of him. Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you held his gaze. “Kiss me, Daniel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a soft, desperate invitation.

It was all he needed. His restraint finally shattered, and he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hand cupped your cheek, fingers threading through your hair as he captured your lips in a kiss that was fierce, urgent, filled with all the pent-up emotion and longing he’d been holding back. You melted into him, pressing closer, every brush of his lips igniting sparks that spread through your body.

His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you onto the countertop of the bathroom sink. He stepped between your legs, his body pressing firmly against yours, grounding you in the heat and solidity of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The slight tug on his hair drew a low, guttural moan from him, his chest heaving as he leaned into you, lost in the feel of you against him.

His hands roamed over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped against his mouth, a sound that turned into a soft moan, each note pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring, tasting, savoring every second. You could taste the hint of whiskey on his lips, warm and heady, mingling with his natural, intoxicating flavor. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.

Daniel pulled you closer, his grip tightening as you felt his hardness pressing against you, undeniable, unmistakable. The sensation made you dizzy, your entire body responding to him, the ache between your thighs intensifying as you instinctively rocked your hips against him. His breath hitched, and he let out a soft, unrestrained groan, his head dipping to press heated, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot behind your ear. His lips left a trail of warmth, each kiss setting your skin alight, making you ache for more.

“Daniel,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper, breathless as you held him closer, “I need… I…”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with a barely contained fire. “Use my thigh, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, encouraging you, his words laced with both restraint and indulgence. The suggestion was almost too much, the heat in his eyes spurring you on, each word sending another pulse of arousal through you.

You didn’t hesitate, shifting your hips to grind against his thigh, a soft moan slipping from your lips as you felt the friction, your panties already damp against his jeans. Daniel’s hands gripped your waist, guiding you, his own breath coming faster as he watched, the sight of you losing yourself in the pleasure unraveling him bit by bit.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands urging you to move, encouraging every motion. “Been wanting this… wanting you… for so damn long.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he spoke, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.

“Seeing you with Carlos tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, “it drove me crazy. Couldn’t stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching you” He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall he’d built around himself now shattered. “I’ve wanted you like this… needed you like this… for so long.”

Every word, every touch, every heated gaze pushed you further, his encouragement spurring you on as you moved against him, feeling the delicious friction, the warmth spreading through you as you both succumbed to the intoxicating pull of each other.

Daniel’s breathing grew ragged as he watched you move against his thigh, each roll of your hips sending a wave of heat through him. The way you looked at him, with that mixture of need and adoration, was undoing him in the best possible way.

Your breathing came in shallow, needy gasps as you looked up at him, eyes heavy with desire. “God, Daniel… you have no idea how good you look right now,” you murmured, your voice thick with arousal.

Your soft moans and whispered praises only fueled him more, each one pushing him to explore, to give you everything you were craving. His gaze darkening even more as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire and affection into it.

Without breaking the kiss, he slid you back a little on the counter, his hands gripping your hips firmly. You gasped as his fingers traced the edge of your panties, his touch light but electrifying, and he paused, his gaze meeting yours as if asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, your breath catching as his hand slipped beneath the lace, his fingers brushing over you, his touch igniting every nerve ending. His breath hitched when he felt just how wet you were, a low groan escaping his lips as he murmured, “God, you’re soaked.”

The words sent a thrill through you, making you arch into his touch, craving more. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, exploring and teasing, drawing out your reactions, each moan and gasp fueling his own desire “The way you make me feel… God, it’s like you know exactly what I need.”

Your words lit a fire in him, a spark that deepened the hunger in his gaze as he pulled you closer. His lips curved into a smirk, fingers dipping lower as he murmured, “Yeah? I think I could get used to hearing that.”

He watched you intently, captivated by every expression, every sound that escaped your lips as he continued, building the tension higher with each movement.

You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as his fingers moved with perfect rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He whispered soft words of encouragement, his voice low and full of affection. “That’s it, love… you’re doing so well. Let go for me,” he murmured, his tone both comforting and enticing.

And then, as his touch pushed you over the edge, a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you, and you cried out his name, your body shuddering as he held you through it, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once you came down from your high, your hand started making their way to Daniel's jeans, intending to return the favor, yet your movements where halted once again by his fingers around your wrist "I won't be able to hold back if you continue" he mumbled, his lips pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck.

"Maybe that's the point" you whispered seductively.

He shook his head "As much as I would love to, I'm not sleeping with you while you're drunk" he whispered as he pressed one last kiss against your cheek, before he pulled away, grabbing the shirt that was still on the sink with his free hand, assisting you to pull it over your head "We'll talk about it tomorrow, and then we'll see"

As if the post orgasm haze started to kick in, you felt yourself getting tired, giving yourself over to the Australian driver as he carefully lifted you off of the sink and carried you over to his bedroom, placing you down onto it.

He was intending to get up and sleep on the couch, just in case you wouldn't remember things tomorrow, or worse, remember it, but regretting things. But the soft plea that left your lips stopped him in his tracks "Please, stay with me?"

It was as if his legs moved on their own accord, slipping into the bed next to you, feeling you crawl into his arms, your head resting on his chest. Once he noticed you were sound asleep, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and send Max a quick text:

Daniel: Your sister is sound asleep btw, she's crashing here, since she apparently forgot her keys or something.

Max: Figured as much indeed, Carlos came over and handed me her keys, said she forgot to take them before she left. Max: Thanks for letting me know, I'll torture her tomorrow about her headache ;)

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

As the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, you stirred, feeling the gentle warmth touch your skin as you blinked awake. It took a moment to piece things together, the room unfamiliar, the quiet hum of an unfamiliar space settling around you. When realization dawned, it hit all at once. This wasn’t your apartment—this was Daniel’s.

Your eyes widened, and you scanned the room, momentarily panicked. But the bed beside you was empty, the sheets cool to the touch, which brought a small wave of relief. Sitting up slowly, you took a breath, glancing down to see yourself dressed in one of Daniel’s shirts. The soft fabric brushed your skin, and you realized, with a sudden blush, that you were only in his shirt and your lingerie.

Heart pounding, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, trying to clear the fog of last night’s hazy memories. The details were elusive, flashes of warmth, laughter, and maybe… something more. You felt oddly refreshed, but the lack of clarity gnawed at you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to find him, needing some answers.

Moving carefully down the hallway, you made your way to the bathroom, hoping to splash some water on your face, collect yourself before facing him. You twisted the doorknob, assuming the room would be empty. Instead, steam filled the space, and you froze, the faint outline of a figure behind the frosted shower door capturing your attention.

Your gaze locked on the silhouette, recognizing Daniel immediately—the shape of his shoulders, the familiar line of his back. A rush of heat flooded through you, your mind replaying a rush of emotions from last night, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to banish the sudden surge of desire. You knew you should turn around, slip out quietly, but you were rooted to the spot, utterly transfixed.

Before you could retreat, Daniel turned off the shower, reaching for a towel and wrapping it low around his waist before stepping out. His gaze landed on you, his mouth curving into a smirk, droplets still trailing down his chest and abs. His dark hair was wet, small drops sliding from his curls, and the steam radiated off his skin, casting him in a hazy glow.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he said, his voice a rich, low rumble, his signature smirk making your pulse race. “If you wanted to see me naked this bad, all you had to do was ask. No need to sneak up on me.” His tone was teasing, though his gaze held a hint of something deeper, something almost daring you to respond.

Your cheeks flushed, and you raised your hands to cover your face. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you stammered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and that same lingering heat from last night.

You heard him chuckle softly, and when you dared to peek through your fingers, he’d already dried off and slipped into a shirt and a pair of boxers. He stepped closer, gently pulling your hands away from your face, his expression softened, a trace of warmth in his morning-rough voice. “No need to be so shy, darling,” he murmured, the words filled with a quiet affection that sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced at him, unable to ignore how close he was, feeling both relieved and oddly disappointed that he was now dressed. You couldn’t deny how good he looked, fresh out of the shower, the lingering scent of soap and warmth filling the space between you.

But the question weighed on your mind, and finally, you managed to ask, “Please tell me we didn’t…?”

Daniel’s gaze softened further, his eyes flickering with an understanding smile as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder, letting it linger for just a moment before he replied. “If we slept together? No, we didn’t.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out in relief. Before you could fully process it, though, Daniel added, “But I’m also not gonna pretend that you didn’t try to… and I’m definitely not going to act like nothing else happened.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch, a wave of both nerves and arousal coursing through you. “Oh God,” you mumbled, lifting yourself onto the countertop by the sink, feeling a little dizzy, staring at the floor as you tried to piece together what he meant. “What did I make you do?”

Daniel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze steady and entirely too knowing as he took in the expression on your face. “You didn’t make me do anything, darling,” he said softly, his tone gentle yet firm. “It takes two to tango.”

The words lingered in the quiet, settling over you with a weight you couldn’t ignore. He shifted, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “Let’s just say… this isn’t the first time you’ve sat on that countertop in the last 24 hours. Although, last night it was for… different reasons.”

As soon as he said it, memories rushed back in vivid, unfiltered flashes—the feel of his hands, the press of his lips, the way he held you as if he’d waited forever to do so. Your cheeks flushed deeper, the weight of those memories flooding you, the reality of what had happened leaving you breathless.

“Oh God,” you murmured, looking down, struggling to meet his eyes. The blush deepened, and you tried to banish the embarrassment, but it was impossible to hide the way your body reacted to just being near him, recalling every detail of last night.

Daniel watched you, his gaze contemplative, and he let out a small sigh, pressing his lips together before speaking. “Look… you were drunk. I’d had a bit to drink too. I understand if you regret it” His voice was steady, but there was a subtle tension underneath, as if he was holding something back.

You took a deep breath, fiddling with your hands as you struggled to find the right words. "Yeah, about that.." you said, taking a deep breath before continuing "There might be a slight problem to that"

Daniel studied the way you were acting, unsure of what to expect “We can pretend it didn’t happen, if that’s what you want. That's no problem” he offered, though his tone held a hint of something unresolved, something unsaid.

Finally, you looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, the sincerity in your expression clear. “Well… I guess the problem is that..” you whispered, voice barely audible at first, but then you gathered your courage and continued, “I don’t regret it, Daniel… not at all.”

The words hung in the air between you, thickening the silence, every hidden feeling and unspoken desire now out in the open. His eyes widened slightly, the guarded expression slipping as something raw and vulnerable crossed his face.

Daniel's eyes softened at your words, the vulnerable confession drawing him closer, dissolving any remaining space between you. He stepped forward, situating himself between your legs once more, just like he had done last night, but this time you were both sober.

His presence warm and steady, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment. His hands reached up slowly, one gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing a soft line along your skin, the other tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze was deep, intense, and full of affection as he looked into your eyes, his face only inches from yours.

"Good," he whispered, his voice low and tender, “because I don’t regret it either.”

Without another word, he closed the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There was no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveyed every unspoken emotion he’d held back. His kiss was soft and careful, full of warmth, each touch of his lips conveying the depth of his feelings as he held you close.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you both shared a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fueled the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasped the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, tinged with longing. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, his fingers splaying against your skin. The gentle intimacy turned heated, your mouths exploring, tongues teasing as the passion escalated with each passing second. You could feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned softly against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking the kiss, your lips began to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You could feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you moved lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Each kiss seemed to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leaned into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.

You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His pulse thrummed beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.

“God, Daniel,” you whispered against his neck, letting your lips brush the words over his skin. “You have no idea how good you look like this… or how good you feel.” Your voice was soft but laced with genuine admiration and a suggestive edge that had his grip on your waist tightening.

“Fuck…” he muttered, his voice thick with need as your words and touch clearly had an effect on him. He tilted his head back, giving you more access, his eyes closing for a moment as he absorbed the sensations.

Your lips brushed his ear, and you could feel him shiver as you whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted to feel you… just like this.” Your words spilled out as you continued trailing kisses, his low groan fueling your confidence as you let your hands drift lower.

You let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness. Your hand finally ventured to the waistband of his boxers, and you pressed your palm against him, feeling the unmistakable hardness through the fabric. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushed into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.

“God, you feel incredible,” you murmured, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Daniel… wanted to know how you’d feel like this,” you admitted, voice a mix of admiration and desire.

“Shit… you’re… you’re killing me here,” he managed, his voice a strained whisper as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and filled with unrestrained want. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he lost himself in every touch, every word you murmured against him.

You continued your slow, deliberate movements, letting your fingers trace along his length through the fabric, a satisfied smile crossing your face as he groaned in response, his hips pressing into your hand. “God, you look so good like this,” you breathed, meeting his gaze for a moment, taking in the way his face was flushed, his expression filled with raw, unfiltered desire.

“Keep talking like that, and… fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he rasped, his voice low, rough with need, his hands gripping your hips with more intensity, clearly unable to resist the effect you were having on him.

Emboldened by his reaction, you slipped a hand inside the waistband of his boxers, your fingers wrapping around him, and his entire body tensed, a shuddered moan escaping his lips as he exhaled sharply. As you started running your thumb along his length, savoring the way he twitched in your hand, his face contorted with pleasure as he bit his lip.

“God… that feels so good,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roamed up and down your back, and you could feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grew heavier.

Between breaths, you whispered softly in his ear, “I want you, Daniel. All of you.” The words tumbled out, filled with a raw honesty that made him draw back just enough to meet your gaze.

In one swift, effortless motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bed. He laid you gently onto the soft sheets, hovering over you as his lips met yours once more, igniting the same passion that had brought you here. Each kiss was heated and lingering, hands tracing and memorizing every line, every curve, savoring every moment that had led to this.

As his lips left a trail of kisses along your collarbone, your breaths came faster, and the anticipation tightened around you. But then when Daniel started removing your panties, you felt a familiar wave of nerves rise, and your voice trembled slightly as you spoke.

“I… uh…” you began, hesitating, feeling vulnerable but needing him to know. “I’ve never done this before.” The words left you in a shy, almost apologetic murmur, your cheeks heating as you admitted it. You lowered your gaze, fidgeting slightly under his gaze, before adding, “I mean, I’ve done… other things. Just… never got to, well, this part.”

He paused, taking in your words, his expression softening instantly. Cupping your face gently, his thumb brushed along your cheek, his gaze reassuring and kind. “Hey, there’s no pressure here. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he whispered, his voice steady, genuine. “We can take it slow. Or… we can keep things just like this.”

You bit your lip, the vulnerability still lingering as you met his gaze. “You’re not… disgusted, or something?” you asked, feeling a wave of self-consciousness bubble up. “I mean, I probably won’t be… any good. You’re… you know…” You trailed off, your face warming as the words left you.

He let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to kiss you gently, his lips reassuring as he lingered for a moment before pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Disgusted? Not even close,” he murmured, a faint smile on his lips. “And I promise you, that thought never even crossed my mind.” His thumb brushed along your cheek again, his gaze warm and encouraging. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me. Not at all.”

You took a steadying breath, feeling his words soothe the nerves that had crept in. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and newfound confidence. “I don’t want to take it slow,” you admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper, but the words full of determination. “I want it to be with you, Daniel. I’ve… I’ve thought about this more times than I dare to admit,” you confessed, the warmth of your cheeks betraying the shyness that lingered, but you held his gaze.

His eyes softened at your words, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Then I'm all yours,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

Without another word, Daniel leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, every ounce of restraint between you both slipping away. His hands roamed up your back, pressing you firmly against him as your bodies melded together, the heat between you palpable. His lips moved over yours with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his heartbeat, each kiss filled with the passion that had built up over all this time, all the unspoken moments leading up to this.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as you felt his quiet groan against your mouth, his own hands exploring your curves, fingers tracing your waist and pulling you flush against him. His body hovered over yours as his gaze met yours, filled with both desire and a lingering tenderness that made your heart race.

His lips found yours again, and you welcomed him with a fervor that matched his own, your mouths moving in perfect sync as the kiss grew deeper, more intense. You could feel his body pressing into yours, the weight of him grounding you, making the moment feel all the more real. His hand traveled down your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as he settled between your legs, his hips pressing against yours in a way that made your entire body ache with anticipation, before slowly but surely entering you inch by inch.

Between kisses, his hands caressed every inch of your body, learning and savoring every curve, every response he drew from you. His mouth left a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your neck, lingering on the sensitive spots that made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued his slow, intoxicating descent. Each kiss, each touch seemed to stir something deeper within you, the desire building to a crescendo with every shared breath.

“Fuck…” you whispered, your voice soft and laced with longing, and he looked up at you, a question in his gaze, waiting for any hint of hesitation.

But you only pulled him closer, guiding him to you as your hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. He leaned down again, his lips finding yours as the kiss deepened, turning into something that went beyond words—a culmination of everything you’d both been holding back.

In that moment, every barrier fell away, and you lost yourselves in each other, the moment filled with soft murmurs, quiet laughter, and the tender, passionate intimacy you’d both waited far too long to share.

masterlist

[cuubism]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but: After their first meeting, while Hob still thinks it is a joke, he escorts Dream out. It is only when Dream returns to the Dreaming that he realizes his ruby has been stolen by Hob. Thus begins a game of cat and mouse through the ages, and Hob keeps slipping through his Endless fingers.

oh dear, this was from last year. fun though! could be the basis for a much longer fic. i love thief hob

-

Hob knows better than to gloat openly about his winnings, but he can't help tossing the ruby a few times in his hand as he walks, admiring it. Such a stunning gem, he's never seen its like but in paintings of kings, and even those are rare enough. Invaluable. And the strange lord had just had it about his neck, for all to see.

Hob shakes his head, tucking the ruby away in his tunic. Money can't buy common sense, it seems.

He finds his horse in the stable and leads it outside, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up into the saddle. After a find like this, best to disappear. Easy as the ruby had been to snatch, that strange young lord will doubtless come back looking for it, once he notices it's gone.

Night is falling by the time Hob reaches the treeline. He hasn't been followed--the path behind him has been empty for hours, and the trees show nothing but birdsong as he steers his horse into the darkness. Hob knows this route well, and by the time the moon is high above, he's navigated to a familiar clearing, untacked his horse, and sat back against a tree for some rest.

He can't help but look at the strange ruby one more time before going to sleep. It glows unnaturally in the moonlight, a blue-white reflection on a background of venous red. He tilts it back and forth in his palm, studying the cut. Who, exactly, is going to buy this from him, he can't yet say. But it'll pay his way for years once he finds them.

Hob kisses the ruby's cool surface, then tucks it away in his tunic again, chain wrapped around his fingers for safekeeping. He quickly falls asleep.

-

The moon is still high when Hob wakes, startling back to awareness against the trunk of the tree. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, looking around, disoriented. Strange, it's like it's been only moments since he fell asleep--

His horse is gone. So's his pack. And for that matter, the clearing is smaller, closer, darker than he remembers--

Heart pounding, he scrambles in his tunic to find--

"I imagine you are looking for this," says a low voice, and from the darkness emerges the wine-red glint of the ruby. Following it is the dark shape of the lord Hob had robbed in the tavern, only he's-- he's--

He's horrible. His eyes glow white in the dark, his hair waves in a strange wind, and everything about him is sharp and wrong, like an uneasy nightmare Hob might have in the wee hours, consequences coming back for him.

"Look," he says, holding up his hands in self-defense. Shit, his sword's gone from his belt, too. "S'really your fault for swanning about with that thing, innit? 's bandit country, m'lord."

"Is it?" He... doesn't seem angry. He's smiling. Oh, it's a terrible smile, but nevertheless. "How foolish of me, then. To expect to maintain ownership of my belongings."

"Like I said, thieves about," Hob says. "Got to be careful, now." Really, what did he expect Hob to do? Let someone else get the score?

The strange lord sits down on the grass across from Hob, still with those glowing eyes and that terrible smile playing about his lips. "And what, Robert Gadling, ought I to do, having caught one of these thieves?"

And the thing is. Authority doesn't work very well on Hob. One of his 'flaws' most like to get him killed, 'cuz Authority didn't tend to care whether it worked on you or not. Hob's been hauled before the magistrate for theft before and no matter that he knew he'd be lucky to get away with his life he could never quite bite his tongue. Always a smart mouth, his mum used to say.

It's no different with this lord. Hob's hardly about to bow his head and apologize. He remembers the smirk on the other man's face at his challenge in the tavern. Pretty little thing to be talking big words about punishing thieves.

"Dunno," he says, tracking his gaze over the soft lines of the man's dark robe, his fine neck and narrow shoulders. The longer Hob looks, the less frightening he seems, though there is still something of the otherworld about him. God's teeth, if Hob's brought the ire of the fey about him... "What would you like to do?"

And the strange creature laughs. Just a chuckle, but nevertheless. "I could make you spend your next one hundred years paying a thief's price over and over again in the Dreaming, as penance for taking my ruby," he says. "Should I do that, Hob? Cut off your hands, and again and again as you regrow them?"

"If you did you wouldn't get to see what they can do for you," Hob says. Hell, Hob'll do it even without threat of punishment. He's a pretty little lord, for certain, even if he is fey.

The lord chuckles again, and closes his fist around the ruby, stealing its light. Without the reflection, his eyes seem even wilder. "Hm. Perhaps not this time. I am too curious to waste your next century in sleeping punishment." He takes Hob's face in one hand, holding his chin in sharp fingers. "Be wary what your hands touch in the Waking World, Hob Gadling. Not all creatures will find your insolence humorous enough to wish to be merciful."

He lets go, and Hob falls backward through the tree at his back, falls into darkness--

And wakes in sunlight, his pack beside him, his sword at his side, his horse grazing a few feet away.

Heart pounding, he shoves his hand into his tunic, though he already knows what he'll find.

Or what he won't find. The ruby, gone into the darkness, into dreams, with his strange, fey lord.

Hob shivers.

Well. He'll certainly have to meet him again in 1489, now. Not to retake the ruby--that hardly matters in the end.

But answers to all the mysteries it's brought: those Hob would gladly steal.

[hellsitedotcom]

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*·˚ FIRST KISS HEADCANONS : PART ONE *·˚

ft. Aventurine, Moze.

My brain doesn't work properly, which means I ain't happy with anything I write when it comes to prompts/longer drabbles, so here's another round of Headcanons 'cause, uhhh, I had a random thought. (Unfortunately cursed to have those) EDIT: This...escalated a tiiiiiny bit, buuuut (as much as I hate my writing) I don't rlly mind.

*·˚ warnings/info: well, there's obviously going to be mentions of kissing; mentions of alcohol/drinking (Aventurine); Sunday's escalated so much, I had to make it a separate post lol. *·˚ english isn't my native language!

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⭒˚｡⋆ Aventurine ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ I'll be frank: It probably happened while you were both drinking, just ''unwinding'' and ending up having a rather good time. You were sat at a bar way longer than you should've - the employees really just wanted to get home, but you two just...weren't leaving.

⇢ You were sat further away, obscured by room dividers, only your voices audible to anyone else. Aventurine had been teasing you since you agreed to go drink something with him, and now you were both at a point at which he felt like...taking risks.

⇢ He had asked you for a simple game of poker, winner gets granted a wish - but the loser will only find out what the winner wants after the game; were you in, or were you out? And you, slightly drunk, agreed after only a few seconds. What could possibly go wrong?

⇢ And he won - of course he did. What else did you expect? But you were laughing, joking how you had nearly beat him; still in a good mood, you waited for him to tell you his wish - his ''demand''; and he did, your eyes widening for mere seconds, before you granted it.

''Royal Flush,'' Aventurine triumphantly laughed, displaying the cards on the table between you, ''I win, sunshine.'' You just groaned, though you didn't hide the amusement in your expression, ''Oh, you definitely rigged that. There's no way, come on.'' ''Well, at least I almost got you,'' you added more quietly, chuckling while he collected all the cards you had used. ''I simply don't lose,'' he countered, smirking at you as he leaned closer, a motion you followed curiously, ''I thought you would've noticed by now.'' You merely scoffed, rolling your eyes without hiding your smile, ''Sure, sure, Mr. Gambler.'' ''You just got lucky,'' you hummed in a teasing manner, leaning further across the table, ''So, what's your wish?'' Aventurine held your gaze, unwavering, and even in the dim lighting of the bar, you could tell that he was thinking. A part of you wanted to regret agreeing to this, but the other part - the louder part - only grew more intrigued. For a moment, his eyes dropped to your lips - so quickly that you thought you had imagined it - before his lips parted, your eyes widening the slightest bit at his words, ''How about a kiss?'' You could feel your face heat up, a wave of different emotions momentarily taking over your expression before you collected yourself again. ''Just a kiss?'' you repeated, making sure you had heard him right. ''Just a kiss,'' Aventurine confirmed, slightly tilting his head, ''Only if you're comfortable, that is.'' Silence settled after that, your mind still processing his wish. Despite how lost in your thoughts you were, you could notice Aventurine grow...unsure? No, that wasn't really it... You were taking too long, and the man was beginning to wonder if you would back out. And just as he was about to repeat himself, making sure you knew that you didn't have to kiss him if you didn't want to, you crossed the space between the two of you, your lips crashing against his. You weren't even thinking, merely acting on instinct...on a feeling deep inside you, an urge you had been fighting for months. The second your lips had touched his, all your restrain had vanished, and Aventurine didn't seem to be feeling any different as he reciprocated your kiss, a hand coming up to rest on your neck, pulling you even closer. Neither of you could get enough, your hands resting on the table between, but all good things have to come to an end, don't they? As you tried moving even closer, breathless from the things he was doing to you, a loud buzzing noise interrupted the two of you, making you pull apart. ''The IPC...'' Aventurine groaned, visibly annoyed as he stared at his phone screen. He had to take the call, you both knew it. And, before the man could decide if he was willing to take another risk by pressing on decline, the bar staff came up to you, informing you that it was time to leave for you anyway...

⇢ You didn't sleep much that night, or the nights that followed, your mind too busy replaying that kiss over and over again. The next time you saw Aventurine again, neither of you mentioned the night at the bar, though from the way he looked at you alone, you knew you weren't the only one unable to forget it.

⭒˚｡⋆ Moze ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ This came to me in a prophetic dream (listening to music & daydreaming), and I am a firm believer that your first kiss happened...on accident, almost. In a situation that...how did it even come to that?

⇢ You were sat beside him, hiding in the ''shadows'' away from everyone else while Moze was patrolling the area. There...wasn't really a need to do it, but it was Moze, so you didn't really question it. And while he was taking all of this seriously, you were just...laying in the sunlight, having a wonderful time.

⇢ At one point, you had just started talking, asking brief questions or sharing thoughts with him, which he - though somewhat reluctantly - replied to. Eventually, you'd even gotten him to learn over to you, and as you held his gaze in that moment, it just...came over you.

⇢ Maybe it was the fact that you were having a good day, the sunlight making you feel so alive and full of energy. Or, maybe it simply was the man's captivating presence, making you feel like you were admiring a painting. Regardless of the reason, the urge to learn in had taken over.

''I mean, I guess I just don't understand it,'' you rambled, emphasizing your confusion with your hands, ''Why make everything so much more complicated than it has to be, you know? Artisans can be a really odd bunch.'' You were lying on your back, staring up at the sunny sky as waterfall after waterfall of thoughts fell from your lips, when Moze suddenly leaned over, allowing his arm to rest beside your head. ''You talk too much,'' he huffed expressionlessly, making you fall silent as you dragged your eyes up to meet his gaze. ''Maybe you just don't talk enough,'' you quipped back, your lips twitching in amusement, ''Besides, if it bothered you, you wouldn't have stuck around me this long. We both know that.'' The man just grunted, focusing back on the crowd underneath you, ''Just try to be more quiet. I'm not helping you if we get spotted.'' ''Of course,'' you hummed, not believing a word he was saying, earning you another discontent grunt from him. Your smile just grew at that, eyes still glued to the man standing beside you. ''Just admit it, big guy,'' you teased, slightly tilting your head to get a better look at him, ''You enjoy my company.'' That made Moze turn back again, violet eyes boring into yours as he leaned over once again, making a swarm of butterflies awaken in your stomach, ''Is that so?'' His face was mostly obscured by shadows, hidden by the hood he always wore while you laid in the sun, yet her gentle warmth was entirely forgotten as you held the man's gaze, ''Tell me I'm wrong?'' Moze was quiet, just watching you wordlessly. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but you realized the longer you stared at him, the less you cared about his answer to your counter. You were too busy getting lost in a daydream, drowning in his eyes, when a sudden urge came over you. What if you just-? Your inner voice didn't even need to finish the question, your body moving on its own as you propped yourself up, not even giving the man any time to react as you pressed your lips against his. Moze seemed to freeze under your touch, unmoving at first, until you felt his hand rest against your chin, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His patrol all but forgotten, the man's lips began moving against yours until you pulled away to catch your breathe, your heart racing. ''I-'' You wanted to say something, but your mind, despite the hurricane of thoughts tormenting it, couldn't form a coherent sentence, so you just continued staring at him, eyes searching his expression for anything - any sign that this meant something to him. But you never got that answer as the man took a step back, letting go of you, Moze's expression as blank as a canvas. He was still looking at you, watching as your previously cheery expression began to falter, yet he remained quiet as you struggled to find the right words.

⇢ You didn't get any reaction out of Moze that day, nor did you ever calm down enough to actually say something to him in that moment. Eventually, Moze merely continued his patrol, telling you he needed to move to the next location before disappearing without waiting for a reply.

⇢ Since then, you've been...well, on one hand you've been trying to avoid him, but on the other hand, you still hoped you would catch a glimpse of him regardless of where you went. And, while you thought he probably never thought about the moment you shared, Moze felt the exact same way as you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[reidology13]

we could make it better (breaking every habit)

Spencer Reid x fem ex-famous!reader

Summary: After Spencer overcomes his addiction, he seeks out the company and forgiveness of an old flame. cw: talk of addiction, a little sad? mostly fluffy though a/n: technically a part 2 of my fic based off making the bed by olivia rodrigo, but it can definitely be read as a oneshot. maybe they are a bit unhealthy, but they're cute and that's all that matters. also this was so incredibly delayed cause my phone drowned so I'm posting this from my dad's computer

Part 1

They say time heals all wounds, and standing at the door of his past mistake, Spencer hoped it had healed hers the way it had his. It had taken him too long to find her, for his pride to break down enough to ask Garcia to search for her. A few years ago it would have been all too easy, a few years ago she was on the cover of every magazine. Now she was the public's favourite conspiracy theory, the biggest where did she go? post made on some website full of self important nobodies. 

Where did she go? A small house in a small town, a few hours from D.C, just close enough that Spencer had gotten in his car without a second thought the moment he had her address. Maybe it was a slight invasion of privacy, but Spencer had seen much more of her than the house she lived in.

As he lifted his fist to knock, doubt crept in for the first time since the beginning of his endeavour. Was he right to apologise, to show up at the doorstep of the person he hurt worse than anyone else in his life, and say sorry? Sorry. ‘Sorry’ was a puny word that could never hope to mean anything compared to what he had done, how he had used her. But it would have to do, because he had not come all that way to turn back at the flashing neon sign that said ‘CLOSURE’.

Knock, knock, knock. Was three knocks not enough? Knock. God four was too many and the last one had been so separate from the others it was clearly an afterthought that she would think was weird before she even knew it was him on the other side of-

“Spencer?” The door opened, just enough for her face to be visible through the small opening. She was so much more beautiful than he remembered, although he really didn’t remember much from back then. 

“I’m sorry.” Well that was one way to get to the point. He smacked himself internally, scolding himself for being so stupid and inconsiderate, not even saying hello or asking her how she was doing.

“Do you wanna come in? You look like you need to sit down.” She pulled the door open, stepping back to let him in, and Spencer froze. She was allowing him into her home, her space, he who had squeezed her dry, used her up and tossed her aside when he didn’t need her anymore.

Unsure what else to do, Spencer found himself sitting on her couch, the awkward tension between them palpable as he sat silently in regret of every decision he had made in the last week.

“So,” She prompted, gesturing vaguely in his direction, “How are you?”

“Good, yeah, better. You?” He looked around the room, trying to find something that would tell him anything about her life, about her. She was a stranger, really, a stranger that used to be someone he knew. He wanted to know who she was then, on that day, in her house sitting across from him.

“I’m good too. You look better.” He knew what she meant – he didn’t look high out of his mind. The far wall of the room was covered in framed pictures of her and what he assumed were her family and friends. Some were from her childhood, some were taken in front of the very house he was sitting in. 

What surprised Spencer were the photos, though few and far between, where he made an appearance. The Fourth of July party, a bright, sunny photo full of smiling faces. The poor quality of the picture did nothing to disguise the bags under his eyes, nor the dead look in hers. Her birthday, a photo of her blowing out the candles on her cake, blurred from his shaky grip on the camera.

“I don’t remember that one.” He pointed to a picture of the two of them, a dark photo that he nearly hadn’t recognised as himself. The ability to not remember had been his favourite thing back then, now the haze left him with a pit in his stomach.

“Makes sense, you were… you were bad. It was taken right near the end.” 

“I am sorry, really.” Neither of them spoke after that, the silence a warm blanket rather than a thick smog. The apology wrapped around them in a warm embrace, they did not choke on it.

She moved first, after what felt like the most peaceful eternity, slipping her hand around his, holding it in the space between them. He looked down at their joined hands, his gaze slowly drifting up until it landed on the soft smile spread across her face.

“I missed you.” She squeezed his hand gently, although it felt like she squeezed his heart instead, “I missed you from the moment I met you. It’s nice to get you back.”

“I missed you too.” He didn’t know how to explain the way it had taken him a month to get sober enough that reality hit and he realised what he’d lost. At least, he didn’t know how to explain it without having to actually say something about his addiction. He’d always been good at avoiding the topic, skirting around it with suggestions and subtle confirmations. The word ‘addiction’ made him feel weak, like he’d been defeated. He’d talked about his problem once, in a room full of people who had been through the same thing, and even then he hadn’t been able to say it. 

“You’re so strong, Spencer. You’ve come so far.” It was like she could read his mind, see every fear that haunted him and soothe it accordingly.

“So are you, I mean, you got out of everything.” His eyes dropped to his lap in shame of everything that he hadn’t noticed, all of the obvious signs of just how not okay she had been. All that she must have been going through, that he had been too far from reality to know existed, even when it was staring him in the face.

“You say that like you didn’t.” It was a simple sentiment, but maybe that was what hit him like a freight train. It wasn’t some mantra he’d heard hundreds of times, or a complicated conversation with his friends where they tried to talk to him without saying anything that actually mattered.

He got out of it.

“You’re perfect, you know that right?” The way he looked at her in that moment could only be described as reverential, she was the brightest star in a sky that he had never truly seen before.

“No I’m not.” The way she said it like a definite fact made Spencer’s heart start to crack, “Do you know why I have those pictures up?”

Spencer shook his head, “Tell me,” he said the words under his breath, as if they were surrounded by people in the empty room, “I’m not going to find you any less perfect.”

“Hope. I could never get the thought out of my head that you would come back.” She shook her head, gaze locked on the ground like she couldn’t bear to look at him as she spoke. “It was stupid, and then you actually did, and that’s stupid all over again.”

“You’re even more perfect than I thought.” Spencer laughed, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, happy and sad and something he couldn’t put a name to. She was still holding his hand, he realised, and he used that information to interlace their fingers, placing their joined hands in his spare palm.

“I’m stupid and lucky, that’s what I am.” She snorted, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“No, not stupid.” Spencer drew circles with his thumb on her palm as he spoke, “Lucky, maybe.” 

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, us, you know that.”

“Eventually, yes. Not right now.”

“Not right now.” She confirmed, nodding slowly. They were both there, and that would have to be enough, at least for the moment.

[somethingsteff]

Political prompt!!

President Obi-Wan and political reporter Anakin get in a heated discussion in the press conference room that leads to some heated sex😏

Almost 2k words later and I bring you this little morsel! I had a ton of fun with this and really leaned into the West Wing vibes for it (I maintain that Charlie would make a great bodyman for President Kenobi). I hope you like it, friend!

Obi-Wan felt his nails dig painfully into his palms, but he was unable to release the tight fists. It was bad enough that someone had gone after a school - a school, children! - but for one of the press corps to accuse the administration of not investigating to their fullest potential. It was unfathomable. They had just received confirmation from a local health department that the recent string of illnesses at a Mandalore school district was from someone maliciously tampering with their water supply that morning. The federal government only just got asked to intervene. 

What more could Obi-Wan have done? He had immediately quarantined the buildings and dispatched a third party investigatory team to the site. He contacted the CDC and WHO for support in quick and effective treatment for all those who have been affected. Hell, he even asked his bodyman to compile a list of names and contact information so he could make calls to all the families, personally. 

All he could think about as he got each update was how easily it could have been Korkie, poisoned and in the hospital, if Satine hadn't brought him with her to Coruscant so she could be her best friend's Press Secretary. And now she was fending off accusations left and right by one man in particular. 

Anakin Skywalker.

Though he was a relatively new member of the press corps, he was well on the way toward making a name for himself. Obi-Wan had been curious about the curly-haired reporter himself. Now he was only gritting his teeth and wishing the boy would just shut up. 

“Does this administration have any excuses for why it's not taking action toward any of the suspected perpetrators?” Anakin's angry voice rang out through Obi-Wan's screen as he watched Satine deftly handle the angry man. Again. 

He couldn't handle it any longer.

Quickly navigating the hallways in the West Wing, Obi-Wan didn't notice the wave of people standing as he approached and sitting after he moved past them. He made it to the reporters’ bullpen at the back of the Press Room in record time, and instructed an aide to hold Skywalker off after the reporters were dismissed. He wanted to answer some of his questions personally.

A guard kept the reporters from streaming past Obi-Wan, instead guiding them toward another door and out of the room, but allowed Satine to approach him.

“Don't do anything you'll regret, Obi. He's just an angry kid, he doesn't mean anything by it.”

He couldn't bring himself to answer her, but did squeeze her hand as she walked away, taking comfort in her corresponding embrace.

“Mr. Skywalker,” Obi-Wan walked into the mostly empty Press Room and gestured for the remaining staff to leave them. “I hear you have some questions about the incident in Mandalore. Rather than letting you continue harassing my staff, I thought I'd give you the opportunity to ask me your questions directly. Off the record.”

Anakin's face didn't change when he saw Obi-Wan walk in, he hadn't expected it to, but at the mention of the school poisoning anger flared up in his eyes once more.

“Gee, thanks, Kenobi-”

“President Kenobi.”

“-I do have a few questions for you. But it really all boils down to one; why are you sitting on your ass instead of doing something about the attack?”

Obi-Wan had to fight not to outwardly bristle at the accusation that he hadn't done anything. “I assure you, we are doing everything within our power to get to the bottom of this situation.”

“‘Doing everything in your power’?” Anakin mocked. “Please! You're all twiddling your thumbs until you can get an optics report so you don't lose face in the election cycle.”

A muscle in Obi-Wan's jaw twitched, but he let Anakin keep going.

“I really expected better from you Kenobi, this shitshow-”

“Enough.” Obi-Wan didn't raise his voice, but he let all the ice he'd been feeling in his veins since this whole situation started seep into his tone. “I am the President, and regardless of what you think of my actions you will address me as such and with the respect that position deserves. You will cease calling me ‘Kenobi’, you will call me ‘Mr. President,’ ‘President Kenobi,’ or ‘Sir.’”

It appeared that Anakin wanted to interrupt, so he held out a hand.

“Now. I don't give a damn about optics, especially regarding an attack on children. What I do care about is completing this investigation and prosecution quickly, thoroughly, and with as little impact on the victims as possible. I will not let this become a media storm, and I will not stand for you accosting my staff.” He looked at Skywalker for a moment before coming to a decision. “Were you aware that Press Secretary Kryze is from Mandalore? No? Well, prior to moving out here after my confirmation her son went to that school. She knows many of the children and parents, and in all likelihood she and her son would have been directly impacted were she not out here.”

Anakin finally had the audacity to look ashamed, quickly gazing down at the floor and scuffing the toe of his dress show against the carpet. His cheeks were beginning to turn pink, and Obi-Wan realized his own face felt warm and his breathing had become heavy. Throughout his lecture he had become more and more riled up, letting his famed control slip just a fraction, and it seemed to cause the boy in front of him to squirm.

Good.

While he took the time to catch his breath, Obi-Wan looked more closely at the reporter. He was fidgeting with the hem of his dress shirt - he vaguely recalled that it frequently became untucked as Skywalker used the edge to clean the lenses on his black-rimmed glasses - tugging it down lower and- oh.

Oh.

He was hard.

The thin slacks that fit snugly along thick thighs did little to hide the bulge that was now pressing along his inseam. Try as he might, there was nothing he could do to hide it from his President.

The silence finally stretched to its breaking point and Anakin looked up. His eyes were blown, pupils swallowing what Obi-Wan knew was a lovely shade of blue. “I'm sorry, sir,” he said in a small voice. “It won't happen again.”

Obi-Wan considered the stress he had been under for the past few days - really since he was sworn into office, but the additional stress of late hadn't been any help. With a deep exhale, he decided to test his luck and see if he couldn't partake in some stress relief while simultaneously ensuring this reporter really did learn his lesson.

He stepped closer to the young man, coming toe to toe and letting his breath fan across his face. “You're correct. It won't ever happen again. And we're going to make sure of that.”

Telegraphing his moves clearly so that Anakin could stop him at any time, Obi-Wan reached his hand out and cupped the nape of his neck, pulling their mouths together into a kiss that started chaste and quickly devolved from there.

Anakin let the older man's tongue slip into his mouth, submitting so beautifully, and followed his lead as Obi-Wan, President Kenobi, led him over to the podium at the head of the room. As quickly as the kiss had begun, it was over. Obi-Wan spun Anakin around and bent him at the waist, forcing him to brace himself against the podium with his forearms. 

“Now, darling, let us see if we can really drive this lesson home.”

Obi-Wan reached around and unbuckled the reporter's belt before opening his fly and pulling his trousers and briefs down to mid-thigh. 

He trailed one hand up the prone body before him and traced the plush lips. “Suck,” he said directly into Anakin's ear and felt the responding shiver as the younger man eagerly pulled the digits into his mouth. “That's a good lad.”

Thoroughly coated in saliva, Obi-Wan pulled his fingers back and let them fall to trace along the rim hidden between the perfect globes of Anakin's ass.

“Now relax,” he breathed as he slid one finger in to the knuckle.

Anakin's body quickly adjusted, and soon the single digit was joined by one, two, three more until Anakin was a panting, quivering mess. 

“Please, Mr. President. I'm ready, I'm, uhn, ready.”

“Very good, darling.”

Despite his blood supply diverting to his aching cock, Obi-Wan quickly undid his own slacks and pulled himself out of the ever-tightening confines. He spit in his hand and slicked up his own length before pressing the head against Anakin's loosened hole.

“Are you sure you want to do this, dear one?”

“Yes, Mr. President. I want you. Please.”

Obi-Wan slowly pushed in and immediately felt a glorious heat surround him. It was addicting, and he found himself hoping he could have this again and again. Once he was fully seated he paused, waiting for Anakin to adjust to his formidable size. Only when he felt Anakin's hips push backward, trying to fuck himself on the cock filling him, did he start thrusting.

Soon the only sounds in the room were the obscene slap of their hips and Anakin's constant gasps and moans.

“President Kenobi, I'm gonna-” Anakin's sentence cut off with a moan.

“That's it, darling. Can you come like this?”

Anakin nodded and Obi-Wan increased his pace, frantically slamming into the body beneath his hands. As he looked down to watch his cock disappear into the reporter - his reporter? - he shifted his grip on those glorious hips so that he could dig his thumbs in and pull those plush cheeks apart. The slight jostling must have changed their positions just enough because Anakin let out a long and wordless groan, his arms giving out beneath him. 

Obi-Wan continued to punish the younger man's prostate, chasing his own orgasm as much as he was his partners, when he felt muscles tense beneath his hands and around his length, Anakin letting out another cry as he spilled across the podium.

It only took one, two, three more frantic pumps before Obi-Wan felt his own release crash over him, hips stuttering as they worked to push his seed deep into his partner's willing body. When he finally felt the last dregs of his orgasm fade he let gravity pull his body on top of Anakin's on the podium, taking a moment to catch his breath before even contemplating slipping out of him.

“Thank you, Mr. President.” Though Anakin's voice was still a little shaky it sounded content and drowsy.

“I'm glad you've learned your lesson, Mr. Skywalker.”

He was forced out of Anakin as the younger man stood straighter and turned around. “I don't know, Mr. President. I'm a pretty slow learner. I might need another lecture.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but straightened them both up nonetheless and led the infuriating reporter over to the Residence. He had a feeling it would take more than one more lecture and he found he was very amicable to the idea.

[lady-of-tearshed]

Family trip

Pairing : Elucien

Lucien Vanserra Week 2024

Day five : Home

@lucienweekofficial

Summary: In Lucien's mind, taking a family vacation with a toddler, an energetic daughter, an adolescent that reminded him too much of his brother, and a pregnant wife sounded easy. Relaxing, even. That was, unfortunately, far from reality.

Word count: 871 words

Warnings: None.

A/N: Okay- so this is basically more of a "Family" prompt than a "Home" prompt, but... yeah. Anywayn, enjoy!

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 🧡

“Da, it's itchy!”

Lucien breathed out through his nose, trying to exhale the accumulation of stress and fatigue the trip of their family vacation had put him in.

Traveling from Summer to the Autumn Court without winnowing took a grand total of three days. Three days is nothing to an immortal lifespan. But three days of traveling with a twelve year old adolescent, an eight year old ball of energy, a whiny three year old that still struggles to express his big feelings and an overstimulated pregnant wife… that felt like an eternity.

“Look at my scarf Dad!”

Lucien's head whipped to his one and only baby girl, giving her a thumbs up as she twirled, and twirled, and twirled in her new velvet coat, her scarf dancing in the air, following her movement and accidently hitting Lucien's eldest.

“Hey!” He protested, already set to start a fight with his sister.

“No fighting! Cauldron, Aidan!” Lucien snapped, teeth bared, sounding harsher than he had intended to.

“Cauldron?”

Lucien groaned. “No, no Cole. We can't say Cauldron-” Lucien eyes widened at the pile of ashes and lack of clothes on his youngest body. “Cole! Cauld- Ugh!”

Lucien covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes. He knew damn well that when he'd open them again, the clothes would still be missing from his toddlers body, but…

“Can we go out now? Uncle Eris will be waiting for us,” Aidan complained behind Lucien, hanging himself loosely onto the doorknob. “Again.”

Lucien mentally cursed himself for that gods damned fiery blood genetics at Aiden's arrogant tone. He lifted Cole in his arms, going straight to his drawers to pick out an outfit, again.

“But Da… we don't wear that much clothes in Day…”

Lucien’s eyes softened at Cole's irresistible tiny pout, the same his mate did to trick him into any of her mischief and desires. Not that the pout was needed from Elain to make Lucien fold into her every whims and desires. He'd offer her the moon on a string if she'd ask for it.

“Because the weather is cooler in Autumn, that's why the leaves are different colors here.”

Lucien heard bickering from the other side of the door, but paid no mind. They never fought it out too hard anyway, and preventing them from doing so would cause even more chaos, and he wanted to leave this cabin as soon as possible to let his pregnant mate get some rest.

He saw the frown on his toddler's face as soon as he felt the texture of the wine red wool sweater on his skin. “Come on bud… just for a few days. Plus, grandma might give you an extra muffin if she sees you in the sweater she knitted specifically for you.”

At the mention of his grandma, Cole's eyes sparkled, his smile shining as bright as a mid-day sun. “Grandma made this one?”

“Yes, so don't burn it. ‘Kay bud?”

Lucien's ear twitched when he heard footsteps outside, then the front door opened. Quickly, he picked up Cole and rushed out of the bedroom, only to notice there wasn't a real threat.

“UNCLE ERIS!”

And damned was Elain's peaceful nap. Lucien groaned, and widened himself to the ground to free his wiggling toddler.

Eris assessed his nephews, an unnatural grin plastered on his face as he attempted to look pleasant.

Aidan beamed at his uncle when he squeezed his shoulder. “You've grown,” Eris stated, his eyes gleaming with an emotion Lucien couldn't quite tell.

“Yeah! Baba Helion says I'll probably be taller than my father someday!”

Eris hummed, then his gaze finally met Lucien's. His amber eyes scanned him from head to toe, then he grimaced when his eyes met back with his. “You've looked better,”

“You always look great,” Lucien mumbled, crossing his arms on his chest and running his hands through his hair in an attempt to look somewhat presentable.

“You're going to worry mother if she sees you in this state.”

Lucien wanted to argue back at Eris' bluntness, but before he could keep up with him, Eris added. “You rest with Elain, I'll bring them back by the end of the day,” Eris picked up Cole from the ground before he could climb all the way up into his arms. “And please, next time, at least remember to put on some pants.”

Lucien looked down in horror to confirm that he was indeed not wearing any pants, only his brief.

“Come on, rascals. We're going on an adventure,” Eris calls from over his shoulder, Aidan and Bridget following suit.

“Bye Da!” Cole waved from Eris' shoulder, his siblings already off and running ahead of Eris.

Lucien waved back, and closed the door behind them.

“Alone time?”

Lucien spun around and gasped at the sight of Elain, her skin glowing, her womb full and round with his child, Day Court’s traditional white silk robe hanging loosely onto her body. A low growl escaped his chest, and he scooped her up off the floor effortlessly, climbing the stairs as if she weighed nothing more than a feather.

“Alone time…” He kissed her forehead, heading back to their chamber. “Let's go back to bed.”

And they did.

Acotar general taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover @paige0103

[amethystfairy1]

Okay, but can we talk about how *poetic* it is that Whumptober ended with Grian and Scar making amends?

Like, you have to remember that Traveling Thieves started because of Whumptober last year- a silly little prompt that spirled into a silly little (Big. Very big.) Au.

TT started with Grian, Scar, and Mumbo's story beginning. And now, having whumptober end with what feels like an actual ending itself- not a goodbye, but rather a "See You Later"- almost a season finale esque "ending" specifically for Grian & Scar & Mumbo's story is. Well, I mean it's just fucking peak idk what else to say.

Breaking mindsets, relapsing, trusting for the first time in at least seven years, only for everything to crumple in a few HOURS. quite LITERALLY EVERYTHING. In probably not EVEN an hour. For everything to be so tense for the past couple months our time.. and weeks their time.. all build-up for this specific moment. This moment that means so much more to these characters than I think most people realize. This is genuinely heart-breaking in the best way possible.

I'm getting a little off track here opps- but my point is to having whumptober end not only with the conclusion of a major plot point in the story, but also one that means so much in so many different ways, is genuinely one of the best things I've seen seen in a long time. Whether it was intentional or not.

I definitely got sidetracked and lost some of my initial points, but, I regret nothing. Whumptober (im starting to feel like a broken record lol) was amazing, I will actually never be the same, this has changed me forever. Congratulations to finishing on time as well!! And congrats to on working with KhoirKid!!! This was amazing, but I think I need to stop talking before I never stop lol! <3

Oh my STARS Thank you for this! I love all of this and how you've read into it, it makes me SOOOO happy when people do this with my stories! There's themes! There's PARALLELS! And there's so much build up and work and that people have been enjoying all of that just makes me so so so so happy! Thank you so much for sharing how you feel about the ending to Whumptober! I absolutely love it!

[thedream14]

I really love the idea of ​​Logan assuming that Wade has always been a mutant, only to find out in some random way that Wade was actually a “fail” experiment.

In his home universe, Wade Wilson was a human with extraordinary physical abilities and reflexes, but not a mutant. So, upon seeing his face for the first time in the Void, Logan automatically assumed that this variant of Wilson was definitely a mutant. Besides, it made sense that he wasn't a human. Deadpool could survive literally anything.

(superrrr Angst/Fluff stuff over here)

****

The prompt would go something like this:

One day, while walking through Central Park, they came across a small exhibition of mutant artists. This caught Logan's attention, as he has always openly supported any kind of mutant project.

Without explanation, he dragged Wade towards the exhibition. From the beginning, Logan could notice Wade's nervousness and discomfort. He had become strangely rigid in his movements and for once… He shut up voluntarily.

Feeling a little weird with his partner's attitude, Logan decided to get away from the crowd with Wade. Once in a more private place he asked:

- Ok… Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with ya, bub ?

- Ahhhh nothing, noopeee, nada !

- You know that I can tell that you are lying, right? Like literally I can Smell it all over you…

- Well… It's pointless really… like really dumb. You don’t have to worry about it…

- Quit the bullshit, mouth! If it was a “dumb” thing, you wouldn't be like this. You didn't even comment on one of the paintings with a fucking tennis ball on it

- Gagged ! No pun intended.

- You fucking idiot - Snikt!

- Ok ok relax !!! Pull the kitty claws away…

- I swear, I never thought I'd say this, but starts talking Wade…

- Ok, it's just that... I felt a little out of place. All those mutants… like everybody was happy and talking to each other, I don't know... It's not that I have anything against mutants, of course not, I support the cause. I fuck with all the equal rights for mutants and stuff… it's just that, I don't know... I felt like I shouldn't be there... Also, what if you were recognized, Peanut? Then your community would associate you with me and let's be honest, almost nobody wants that... Nobody wants to be seen with lil old Deadpool, imma right?

Logan is a man of few words. He has always kept control of his thoughts and actions. There are very few times when he decides to remain silent, simply because his mind has gone blank. This is one of those times.

- Hey !!! Earth calling Wolvie… are you okay? Holy shit I think I talked too much again… Look, I’m reeeeeeally sorry…

- What the actual Fuck…

- Excuse me… what?

- Like What the actual Fuck, Wade… I don’t understand. How can you feel out of place among your own people? And what is all that shit about me being seeing with you?

After Seeing his partner's worried face, Logan decided to be a little gentler with his words. He didn't want to close the opportunity of communication between them. Also, Logan didn’t want to make him feel even more insecure.

He really didn't understand the situation and wanted to know what’s going through his lover mind. Soooo with an extreme delicacy, he grabbed his partner's hand and with a sweet gesture, he commented:

- Ok… Princess, don’t worry. I just… want to understand you. Please walk me through it…

- I mean… If you ask that kindly - Respond Wade with a small smile. - Like I told you, I don’t feel welcome between mutants at all… Like the X-men didn’t want me close…

- Fuck the X-men! If they don't want you around, it doesn't mean that any other mutant will feel good in your company. I love your company. As mutants we have to watch our backs together…

- Wait wait wait… I truly loveeee all this sweet speech of yours, I truly am… but peanut… Their is a detail. I’m not a mutant… or at least, I wasn’t born as one… you knew that, right? Righttt ???

Again, mind blank. This is a record, Logan should treat Wade with an ice cream as a reward.

- Ok… Well, I guess you didn't know

- How?

- Excuse me, love… How what exactly?

- How you become one? I mean… you are saying that you aren’t a mutant. Then what happened?

- Ohhh Peanut, buckle up for a sappy Origen story !!!

To say that Logan was not prepared for the story would be an overstatement. He had no words to describe the pain that was crossing his heart.

Logan could empathize with Wade's suffering, but fail to assimilate the fear and hopelessness that Wade probably felt in those darker times. It’s not easy to accept the end of the road when you have loved ones around you.

- And like I told you, I'm not exactly welcome anywhere… I'm not human enough to be well regarded on the streets and I'm not mutant enough to play nice with the X-Men and their little joy club. It's not like I want to be with them either... They're all idiots who can kiss my disfigured fucking ass ... But I'd be lying if I told you I wouldn't like to belong somewhere... I don't like feeling lost, Logan. That’s why I take good care of my family… That’s why I try to take a good care of you…

- Wade… I…

- Nope, no words Peanut. It’s ok. I’m used to it. I… I just need time. Besides, I don't want to cause you any trouble. Like I said, I want you to be happy. I don't want any doors to be closed to you because of me. I would hate myself even more if you were excluded because of me. That's why I'm worried that you'll be seen with me in such a public way…. I love you and I want the best for you, Logan…

- Wade… This is too much… I

- Ohhhh I’m sorry… I don’t want to be overwhelming… I just…

- No… It’s not that… It’s too much to process… I… Wade, I love you… I truly love you. I’m not good with words, but I could tell you how much I love you and how much I love and crave your company. I don’t give a fuck about anybody else… I want you by my side all the time.

- Ohhh Peanut, it’s ok…

- No, it’s not ok. Stop it. It’s not ok what you been through. It’s not fucking ok how you being treated and I swear to god, it’s not ok how you been excluded by the people that was supposed to help you… So fuck it ! Fuck them ! Fuck all of them !!! We don’t need them, princess !!! We are better without them !

- Come Logan, don’t say that ! That’s why I didn’t want to tell you…

- No, Wade. Don’t ever lie to me about this things. We are partners, lovers, whatever you want to call us. We are together. If you are not welcome, neither I am.

With even a greater gentleness, Logan released Wade's hands to hold his face. His eyes were tearful with emotion.

At that moment, Logan remembered how beautiful the love of his life truly was. He also made a promise to himself, he would never let anyone hurt Wade again.

- I need you to engrave this inside your head my princess, I would never be ashamed of loving you. Of holding your hands, kissing your face and hugging your body. I will never regret chosen you !

Immediately, Logan ended that promise of love with a sweet and slow kiss.

Wade did not deserve to be an open secret. Wade was his mutant lover and no one could change that fact.

***

I was cooking this in my sleepless nights… I need to rest, but my insomnia is severe and F up…

I hope you liked this 🤯

[waaayoutofline]

Murder On The Dancefloor (part 1)

(from the When the Cat and the Mouse Go For a Midnight Dance series)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Prompt: Vigilante!Reader x Agent!Natasha

Summary: Natasha isn’t having the best of luck in trying to bring one of the ex Hydras general down. You however may be able to assist her. Will you two be able to cooperate? Or is it your fate to always stand on opposite teams?

Warnings: None in this chapter.

WORD COUNT: 2510 (give or take)

A/N: Hello!! So, this is heavily inspired by the song Murder on the Dance Floor (duh). I think it really suits the dynamic between Agent Natasha and Vigilante!Reader, and I thought, okay, let’s actually write it instead of just thinking about it and eventually forgetting. There are a few changes from the canon universe. In this AU, the Avengers didn’t separate after the Sokovia Accords (I’m a child of divorce, okay), so they’re a real family here. Peter is also part of the team and was never forgotten by every single human except, well Hulk (he deserves better). Natasha is alive and well, along with Yelena.And finally (last thing, I promise), this will be part of a mini-series. Maybe with three parts.That’s about it. Enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)

//

It was too late to do this. Natasha rubbed off the tiredness of her eyes for what must be the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. This was getting ridiculous.

”…What if-“

“For the last Yelena, we are not committing arson.” The blonde grunted at the quick dismissal, sliding down the synthetic, black leather chair. Crossing her arms with a tired pout, she didnt look much to different from the six year old girl Natahsa remembered. The clock in the conference room is getting more obnoxious by the second, as if teasing them to not having an answer yet.

Across the room, the sulked eyes of Benjamin Horvat were looking right back at her. His picture was poorly pinned, hanging unconventionally by a small blade (courtesy of Yelena) on the board. Steve wont be happy when he sees it.

”It would be a small one! It wouldn’t be that hard, just some small fires around some of his clubs, see if there is any luck and make him come out. Quick and subtle.”

”There is nothing subtle in that plan Yelena.” Natahsa turns down again dryly.

It’s been six hours since Yelena payed a visit to the renovated compound, bringing her 5 month old puppy Fanny (which is currently being spoiled by Wanda and Peter). She came in with new dirt onto a possible Hydra ex-officer, one of a depressing long list that the team has yet to tackle down. Most of them ran when SHIELD fell down.

The two of them plus Steve and Bucky, managed to get intel on Benjamin’s Horvat. He was currently involved is some kind of shady precious gem business, along owning some expensive clubs that served as covers for the mafia. At first glance, you’d say that he was just another second class criminal. But that as far as aparences went. Because people like him were worth something, he was heavily guarded.

His intel was precious enough to make him valuable and well-protected. Access to him seemed almost impossible.

The worst part was that he didn’t even bother using conventional transport. Even after combing through all national surveillance, he didn’t appear on any of the cameras. Not even Redwing, Sam’s beloved drone, had managed to get a clear visual of him. It was almost as if he’d gone underground (which he hadn’t—Natasha checked). And despite his love for nightlife, the clubs he owned and frequented were highly exclusive, each with multiple layers of security clearance.

After a long evening, both Steve and Bucky called it a night, but the two sisters were too stubborn to let it go. They were both running out of ideas—or, in Yelena’s case, running through a list of increasingly dangerous, borderline illegal suggestions. Eventually, exhaustion began to take over, and the blonde started dozing off, her head slipping forward as sleep crept up on her. Natasha wasn’t far behind, her eyelids drooping as the hours dragged on.

But then—a sharp, static crackle echoed through the speakers, jolting both women awake. Instinctively, they snapped into defensive stances, eyes darting to the screens around the room as they flickered in a disorienting pattern of black and white, struggling to stabilize.

Finally, the screens gave a clear image, revealing a shadowy figure cloaked in darkness.

“Night, ladies! Glad to see you’re still awake,” a teasing, lilting voice echoed through the speakers. “Huh, take out from Luigi’s huh? Their pizza rolls are to die for.”

Natasha’s eyes widened, a flicker of recognition sparking across her face. Her posture shifted, shoulders squaring as an unconscious surge of energy overtook her weariness. It can’t be.

“I’d prefer pizza bites. Who are you?” Yelena asked, mirroring Natasha as she stood up. She’d clearly sensed the change in Natasha’s demeanor.

The redhead grabbed the tablet on the table next to her, attempting to trace the breach, but the system was completely overridden. Whoever this was shouldn’t have been able to slip past their security. She called for FRIDAY, but the AI didn’t respond.

“Aw, come on, not even a hello? Do you know how long I spent trying to surpass that stupid robot of yours?” the voice continued playfully. “It’s been a while, Natty. I thought you’d be glad to see me—or, well, hear me.”

Natasha’s face remained painfully stoic, but her white-knuckled grip on the tablet betrayed her turmoil. She knew this person loved theatrics, but even for them, this was going too far. “How many times have I told you not to call me that.” Natasha grunts in annoyance, a headache already starting to set in. There is a brief silence. She can practically see your pout from here.

“Geez, so grumpy.”

Yelena watches the exchange with curiosity, somehow not detecting a real threat. “I sense some... history here.”

“There is!”

“There is not!”

Both women snapped at Yelena, making her eyes widen as she instinctively stepped back, lifting her hands in mock surrender. “Ha, when you say that, it usually means there is…” she stated, amused.But the sentence died under Natasha’s withering stare. “Alright, just an observation. Geez, you are grumpy.” she muttered under her breath. Catching Natasha’s warning look, Yelena slid back into the chair, still grinning despite herself.

“Can we focus?” Natasha said, voice clipped.

Yelena just shrugged, casting a glance between the two of you.

“Oh, come on, don’t get shy on me, Agent Romanoff. Is it because we haven’t had our little “I run, you go after me” sessions recently?” You teased. “I promise, you’re the only one I let chase after me.”

It’s true that its been a while since you have gone under the radar. Even if you weren’t out committing your little revendouz vigilantes acts, Natasha still couldn’t help to keep an eye out for you. It wouldn’t be the first time that you took a mini sabbatical and returned with more messes for her to clean up.

Finally, from the shadows, a woman stepped a young woman, posture relaxed, radiating an air of practiced confidence. You wore your typical casual clothes, a fitted jacket and a crop under it. Your face was partially obscured by the lighting, but Natasha could see a few loose strands of hair escaping, catching faintly in the room’s dim light. Chest rising up and down rather fastly. It’s like you just returned from somewhere.

Your eyes, bright yet focused, lingered on Natasha with an amused glint. The faintest smirk played at the corner of your mouth, an expression that made Natasha feel strangely restless. There was something in that permanent look of yours that always kept her on edge.

“Who are you?” Yelena blurted out.

You gasped dramatically, resting a hand on your chest as if genuinely wounded. “Why, you hurt me, Agent! Didn’t you tell her anything about me? And here I was, starting to think that I meant something to you.”

Natasha sighed in exasperation, her gaze still scanning for any sign of how you managed to break in. But it was as if you’d been authorized from the inside. She knew you were good, hidden behind that playful demeanor, but it was exhausting how you always seemed one step ahead. “There’s nothing to tell,” Natasha replied curtly, “besides the fact that you’re a pain.”

You huffed in false offender , crossing your arms. “Archenemies would have sufficed. Besides, that is no way to greet someone who can help you with Horvat.”

Both of them froze at the name. Giving up, the redhead throws the device on the table, getting slightly closer to the TV and crossing her arms. If this was going where she thought it was, caution was very much need. Especially with you.

“A little…birdie, told me that we have, for once, a common enemy. Excluding each other of course.” You smiled at the last sentence, but your eyes were bright with a dangerous spark.

“He’s not as unreachable as you may think. I guess that by now you have figured that he frequents the nightclubs in the Lower East Side. He is supposed to assist to an event tomorrow at night. Just our luck, right?”

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “Our? What, exactly, do you want with Horvat? Did he make it onto your little blacklist?” She scowled, still irritated by the last man you’d managed to eliminate right under her nose.

As if reading her thoughts, you let out a light, teasing laugh. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t exactly call it little,” you said, an amused glint in your eye.

Natasha huffed under her breath, visibly displeased with your evasiveness. “What’s in it for you?”

Your smile faded just slightly, and for a moment, a flicker of real purpose showed through the facade. “Let’s just say he has something I need. Something personal.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, her suspicion unwavering. “And how in the world would you ever entertain the thought of me agreeing to work together?”

“Because you’re stuck,” you shot back, your voice sharper than usual. “Let’s be real, Romanoff—if I could do this alone, I wouldn’t be here. But not even you can’t get to him on your own. And…neither can I.” You admitted through your teeth. The playful glint softened, replaced by an intensity Natasha hadn’t quite seen from you before.

“I need someone who won’t mess it up if I’m going to get to him,” you continued, the amused mask slipping just a bit more. “That’s where you come in. I mean, who better to handle some undercover work than the Black Widow herself?” The slight provocation didn’t go unnoticed, but Natasha’s mind was already racing with possibilities.

The room fell into silence, the ticking clock on the wall seeming louder than ever as Natasha’s eyes bore into yours, as if trying to see every hidden motive. Perhaps she should just go fetch Wanda. Still, she held herself steady, determined to avoid letting any trace of intrigue slip. It only took a spark for you to create a fire.

Yelena, sensing the tension between the two of you growing sharper by the second, finally cut in, a note of exasperation in her voice. “So… how could you get us in—”

“Yelena, no.” Natasha cut her off sharply, her posture rigid and unyielding. “We are not entertaining this. And I’m certainly not working with her,” she added, the cold in her tone unmistakable. She turned her gaze back to you, her expression filled with deep distrust. “She does nothing but trick and deceive, and I’m not about to let her pull us into a mess.”

You held her gaze steadily, a flicker of hurt passing through your eyes—brief enough for Natasha to notice. She shook her head sturborling, she couldn’t afford to feel any remorse for you. But as quickly as the emotion came, it vanished, and you rolled your eyes playfully. That was something that sparked Natasha’s curiosity. Just like herself in the past (maybe still now at times) it seemed as if you had a mask. She didn’t know exactly how genuine that unserious facade, the one you always seemed to hide behind, truly was.

“So distrustful and uptight as always, I see. Tell me, has she always been this way?” you asked, looking at the blonde. Yelena shrugged, starting to answer but clamping her mouth shut as Natasha arched an eyebrow in warning.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about this either. But it’s the only way. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so,” you said, your tone uncharacteristically steady. “I’ll even compromise and act like one of your ‘goody-two-shoes’ heroes.” You almost gagged on the words. “Swear I’ll play by your rules, as long as it gets us to him. If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I don’t lie. Have I ever lied to you, Natasha?”

There was no mockery in your voice this time, just an unexpected sincerity. Natasha paused, caught off guard. Had you deceived her? Absolutely. Tricked her? Too many times to count, wounding her pride each time. But lied, outright and blankly, right to her face? As shocking as it was, she couldn’t recall a single instance. No matter the game, you’d always been blunt about what you were going to do.

Yelena, noticing Natasha’s hesitation, leaned in. “сестра (sister), maybe… maybe she has a point. We’re no closer to him on our own. And if she can get us in…”

Natasha looked at her, seeing the reason in her words, though every fiber of her instinct fought against trusting you. After a long pause, she rubbed her temples, exhaling heavily. As sad as it was, there wasn’t any better option. But to admit that she had no other option than to work with you, of all people, was burning her pride.

“Fine.”

Yelena gave a small fist pump of victory, relief lighting her face after the hours they’d spent trying to come up with a solid plan. Meanwhile, you grinned, satisfaction gleaming in your eyes.

“But—” Natasha cut in, fixing you with a hard look. “No tricks, no double-crossing. As you said before, do this by my rules, is that clear?”

You raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of your usual defiance flashing in your expression. “Well, I mean… it is my plan so technically—”

“My. Rules.” Natasha repeated, her voice dropping to a dangerously low tone that left little room for argument. Her stare bore into you, unyielding, and the confidence in your face faltered just a bit. “Understood?”

You swallowed, any spark of rebellion snuffed out under the intimidating weight of her gaze. “Understood,” you muttered, a hint of surprising, begrudging compliance in your tone.

“Oooh, scary mean glare,” Yelena muttered under her breath, clearly entertained as she watched you two bickering. A mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned back, curious to see how will play out between you two. Perhaps she should pay visits more often.

“Enlighten us, then. What in the world does this great plan, legal plan of yours involve?” Natasha inquires dryly. Another cheeky grin on your face was enough for her to know that she won't like it in the slightest. It was almost sinister, how much you enjoyed to push her bottons.

”Well…that answer can vary. How are your dance moves, Agent Romanoff?

Clearly baffled, she didnt have time to answer when someone blasted through the door, startling all three of you. “You! Are you the one you hacked FRIDAY?” demanded a frantic Tony Stark, dressed in Iron Man-themed pajamas, bags under his eyes and a steaming coffee pot in hand labeled “#1 Best Hero” (a gift from Peter). Honestly, Natahsa is a firm believer that he bought it himself but whatever.

You giggled almost manically. “Oops, that’s my cue! Talk to you later to get into details, Agent.” You practically purred, teasingly waving goodbye before cutting the connection in one swift motion. Natasha was met with her reflection on the now dark screen, your last words hanging heavily on the air.

Natasha drops on the chair heavily, grunting and rubbing her temples while looking at the roof in despair. How does she always end up in these situations?

[nonbinary-potatoes]

New obsession with these two

Prompt: muggle 06/11/24 @moonwater-microfic

Word count: 536

Regulus stared down at his textbook with his hands in his hair. It wasn't supposed to be a difficult subject, but this homework was impossible. Barty was working on the same peice, breezing through the essay to the point where he'd broken his first quill from writing too fast.

"Bab," Regulus kicked Remus' shin under the table they were sitting at in the library. Remus looked up from his work, a history of magic essay he'd drafted 3 times already. He cocked his head and placed his biro down gently. Regulus found it odd that he refused to use quills anymore, something his friend Lily Evans had taken up after Snape had called her a mudblood. He supposed it was just a way of supporting her, and it had really taken off with other muggleborn students.

"Yeh Reg," he muttered, stifling a yawn and scrubbing his eyes with his hands.

"You're friends with Evans, the muggleborn... can you help me with my muggle studies work" Regulus asked timidly, he wasn't used to needing help with his work and it was easier to ask Remus over Barty who'd loom it over him for the rest of forever.

"My mums a muggle..." Remus said, slowly like it was something bad to reveal to Regulus. He was taken a bit aback, the Lupin name despite not being one the sacred 28 was still a pureblood name. An oversight on Regulus' behalf for not asking, but he didn't really like prying into home lives because Merlin knew he didn't want to answer questions about his.

Remus clicked the top of the pen, and a small spring made the tip of it pop out. He clicked it again, and it went back in. Regulus thought someone ought to recruit more muggle intelligence into the wizarding world because quills and ink wells seemed ancient compared to this. Most of the wizarding world was still stuck in the mid-1600s. Hence, Regulus is struggling so much with the homework;

"Explain three methods of muggle transportation, including at least one method of flight." Regulus read the set task aloud and looked at Remus expectantly.

"Ummmmm.... trains, planes, and busses. " Remus shrugged, offering a small smile as he read the textbook upside down. It wasn't fair him and all his weird friends were so effortlessly smart.

"I actually wanted to do hot air balloons instead of planes," Regulus muttered sheepishly, half prepared for a lecture on how that was stupid.

"I've been in a hot air balloon once" Remus replied thoughtfully "the way they work is easy, just uses the concept of hot air rises essentially. There's a flame that heats the air in the balloon bit and that makes it take off, less flame to go down and more flame to go up" Remus explained softly, scribbling down a few bullet points and drawing a small sketch of a hot air balloon.

It was the small things like that, things that reminded Regulus that love could be soft and kind and warm. Love wasn't harsh words and unbearable punishment to ensure the perfect heir. Love was milk chocolate, parchment notes, and fiction books; sugar mice, secret smiles, and clicky pens. Love to Regulus was Remus Lupin.

[glacialswordsman]

so, i am gonna be honest and mention i will be a little scarce here and there. might pop in to do the odd reply here or there, or send in random inbox prompts or ask to plot, because things are admittedly very difficult right now but i still feel like i need to do things in order to ground myself a bit, but... it's so fucking hard.

explanation is under the cut, but you are 100% not obligated to look. just know that the same above still applies.

tw medical stuff and also death mention.

point blank, my nephew is dying.

he's been battling cancer since he was two or three years old. he's only seven now.

the cancer/tumors fortunately went away after extensive treatment, but it left his lungs irreperable and so, so weak that he's had to be put on oxygen. despite this, he was doing so well, and we thought he would've been able to make it through a few years to qualify for a lung transplant...

but, things suddenly took a turn for the worse a week or two ago. his heart had stopped, and they were fortunately able to bring him back—but since then he's had constant desaturations, and each one takes upwards of 10 or more to stablize him. his o2 has gone below 27. we know he's had tremendous damage to his brain because of this, but we can't even do a CT scan because he's been hooked up to so many machines including an oscillator/ventilator.

there's no chance for him, and right after i went to sleep, one of his lungs fully collapsed. it gave out completely. now it's just a matter of waiting for his heart to stop.

i'm sorry for putting this all out here. i just... sorry.

[pikxelbit]

A/N: let's pretend he's taller/the same height as you are

Slow Dance

Turbo x Reader | One shot | Fluff

Warnings: None

Prompt: A good dance for comfort.

It's been a few weeks, and you've noticed Turbo has been a bit of downer recently. Or well, let's just say he's not exactly acting the same way. Currently in the past few days you haven't really hung around him.

Gazing downwards, Turbo leaned gently on his car's hood. His mind churning slightly in disdain, the new games popularity has shaken him slightly. Although he was jealous, the one thing that bothered him the most was the frequent teasing and a few insults a few people have thrown at him these past few days. He knows it's stupid to even regard those hurtful remarks but he just couldn't help but get wounded. He isn't exactly perfect, he's a boastful jerk sometimes but whose to say he deserves getting hurt? Nothing really resolves well, even though it might humble him slightly, with enough repetition it could drive anyone in a low mood.

Heading towards Turbo Time, you looked around for Turbo. Having been busy for a few days didn't help with the situation as though it feels as if the connection between both of you are getting severed by the second. So deciding to leave early from your own duties, you try to find Turbo to at least check up on him.

Your interactions together haven't exactly changed that much, he's still getting you wrapped up in a witty banter sometimes, but other times he gets a bit more lost in thought when both of you are interacting with other characters. His charisma and confidence is still noticable, it seemed to have slowly settled down over the course of a few weeks.

Although you do try to get him to open up to you, he would just deflect you with a seemingly forced, charismatic reply saying he's doing just fine, he's Turbo after all...

Running through the wide open space, you head towards the garage. The garage door is seemingly open, and soon you finally find the familiar face you've been looking for.

"There you are," breathing heavily, your quick approach startled Turbo slightly.

"Huh..? Y/N?" He asked, quickly fixing his composure, a slight smile sprouting on his face.

"What? Is it wrong for me to visit my dear friend?" You replied in a joking tone.

He sighs, smiling slightly. With arms folded together, he stood up straight. Although seemingly happy, you could still sense he's in a bit of a downer mood.

"How are you? I haven't seen you in the past few days..." You asked, leaning forwards.

"Oh you know, I'm doing fine just as always!" He replies, his smile widening sightly in a forced manner.

Humming, you nodded slightly. Not falling for another facade of his, just then an idea strikes your mind.

"Are you doing anything?" You asked suddenly looking through the cabinets in the garage.

Confused, he watched you go through a few of them, "...no? What are you doing?"

Plugging the radio somewhere, you pick out a cassette tape randomly from the box and started playing it. You both found this radio a few days ago because of getting lucked in during a storm. Since then, this has been used frequently, and since them you have figured out Turbo's secret of liking dancing. He may not be the best in the sport but hey, he looked like he was having fun last time...

"What-" holding his wrist, you pull him towards you. Surprised, he only stared at you in confusion, his face starting to flush slightly.

"Let's get you out of that mood..." You mumble in a low tone, but being a bit too close however, he replies to you shortly afterwards, "What are you talking about."

"Well, since you're not doing anything, what if I try to teach you another dance?" You asked, your hand slowly sliding downwards to hold his own.

Still a bit confused, he hesitantly agrees. He didn't exactly understand why you'd do this, but holding his hand right now made his day a little brighter. He agrees he hasn't exactly been able to hang out with you, although he denies it, he grew to long for your presence. So agreeing, he does his best to follow suit.

...

Soon though, as the song suddenly transitions into a slower, much more relaxing tune, you casually help Turbo get his footing right. And soon you both started to waltz theough the room. Surprised, Turbo slightly looked a bit unsure. He didn't exactly expect this to turn into a slow dance. But he didn't exactly complain, he admits this was...quite nice.

Remaining silent, the song continues to play in the background as the melody gently guides both of you to a peaceful sway together. The tone continued to progress in a tranquil manner, the silence between both of you soon settling down. And as you both gaze into each other's eyes, you took this chance to gift him something you've been wanting to give for some time.

Slowly, you start to wrap your arms around him. Caught off guard he stops the waltz, his whole body tensing. Frozen in place, he stood still in your embrace as he felt his heart pound faster.

Tightening your embrace, you whisper,

"It's going to be okay..."

Even if you may not know exactly what he's going through, you really did just want him to feel...to know that he'll be okay. Things will be okay. No matter the problem or scenario, you just wanted to give him comfort. And to this, he just can't help but slowly melt in your arms. As his muscles loosen slowly, for this moment he lets himself bask under your comforting embrace. No longer caring for his own ego and pride, just this time he lets himself be a subject of your consolation.

Slowly, Turbo reciprocates. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he exhales deeply before letting himself relax against you. Closing his eyes, he cherishes this moment, feeling as if all the weight on his shoulders have gone.

And so as the tune slowly turns into a lullaby, you both slowly sway to the calm rythm of the song. Each having a blissful smile on your faces, you enjoy this moment of tranquility.

(Alternate ending)

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he lets himself lean forward. But once he does, you slightly stumble backwards because of his sudden weight. Finding the wall however, you let your back lean on it for support.

Seemingly in bliss though, once you both are somewhat settled in, Turbo then resumed to snuggle his face to your chest, a sweet smile widening on his features. As his embrace tightened around you, his face continued to flush red, a silly smile still stuck in place. He never wanted this moment to end.

Gradually though, you both then descended towards the floor. Sitting down, the warm embrace you both share still continues, your arms resting on his shoulders as Turbo lets himself go lower, his arms still wrapped around your waist.