#there's just that bit of unsettling to her when you talk to her more than surface level and get beyond the pretty surface layer

[analyticallyminded]

jemma has hozier vibes. deeply romantic and slightly unsettling.

[angelfic]

— I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you haven’t seen theo since he supposedly left you to join the other side. now that he’s back and has revealed his true intentions to you, you’re finding it hard to be forgiving.

warnings: swearing, kissing, tiniest bit of angst, very unedited. not much else other than a whole load of waffle… my bad

author’s note: this is a sort of fix-it fic… kinda. yes I am very much stealing the essence (you could say) from marauders fics because I prefer writing those and yes it’s basically this drabble recycled and yes grimmauld place is still the order headquarters well into the war just don’t question my timeline and you’ll be fine ok ty enjoy xoxo

12 Grimmauld place feels unsettling at the best of times, what with the portrait of Walburga Black hurling insults at you every time her curtain slips open and the row of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall. The Order of the Phoenix holding hushed up meetings in the dining room while you and your friends are forced to stay upstairs isn’t anything new or surprising, but the last few days feel different.

Instead of Mrs Weasley telling members of the Order to whisper when you, her kids and Harry and Hermione are in the room, she flaps about ordering them to stop talking altogether. At first you think you’re imagining it when her eyes flick over to you every time, until you bring it up to Ginny and Hermione.

“You’re not imagining it,” Hermione mutters as she shuts the door of the bedroom and casts a quick Muffliato charm before settling cross legged on the bed opposite you and Ginny. “I overheard Mrs Weasley and Tonks in the kitchen this morning, talking about how the Order is arranging transport for some Death Eater spies to come back here.”

You gasp, pretending to be scandalised. “You mean you were evesdropping. That’s not very prefect-y of you.” Ginny snorts at Hermione’s indignant glare and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way her cheeks have slightly reddened. “Sorry, sorry, you know I’m kidding. But what’s that got to do with her looking at me like I’ve gone through a personal tragedy?”

“Your ex-boyfriend did leave you to go join the Death Eaters,” Ginny points out. Hermione gapes at her, but Ginny merely throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, he did! No point beating around the bush!”

A lump rises in your throat at the mention of Theodore. Truth be told, you’ve tried not to think about what happened since the last time you spoke about him. ‘Spoke’ being a strong word since it was mostly crying and sniffling and blowing your nose into tissue after tissue in Ginny’s room at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had made your favourite dinner that night and brought you up a hot chocolate to make you feel better. And it really had- so much so that you refused to speak about him since.

You’re more angry than you are sad now, which makes you nod at Ginny’s words. “You’re right. He’s an arsehole, there’s no point in tip-toeing around it for my sake.” Hermione frowns a little, worry clear as day on her face, but you don’t stop talking. “Besides, we’re on opposite sides and this is a war happening. Not some silly, childish break-up. He chose to be a Death Eater and if we have to fight him, so be it.”

Hermione and Ginny stay quiet for a few seconds and watch you breathe heavily. Thankfully, before either of them can speak, Harry and Ron come bursting into the room.

“They’ve only gone and brought Death Eaters into the bloody building!” Ron shakes his head.

Harry snorts at Ron’s dramatics. “Ex-Death Eaters. Apparently. Still a bit dodgy, in fairness.”

“I thought they were spies,” you say, unable to help your curiosity as you stand up. Ginny and Hermione follow you out of the room as you all peak over the bannister to try and get a glimpse of the action downstairs. Annoyingly, there only seem to be a couple of dishevelled looking Order members milling around.

“Maybe Mrs Weasley and Tonks got it mixed up, or maybe they aren’t privy to what’s going on…” Hermione frowns, deep in thought. “I don’t think anyone but Dumbledore knows what’s actually going on.”

Harry makes an irritated sound. “What’s new?”

“Oh, by the way, Mum sent us up to get you lot for dinner,” Ron says absentmindedly as he tries to get a good look over your shoulder at whatever is happening in the hall downstairs. “Mind you, that was before all the Death Eater business so she’ll probably send us right back up.”

The five of you quickly shuffle downstairs to get to the dining room and while your stomach is growling loud enough to forget any thoughts of Order business, Ron and Harry linger in the hall a little in an attempt to get some answers. You don’t doubt Harry will get some, being the Chosen One and all.

You nudge and elbow your way into the dining room where you’re happily surprised to see a messy-haired Tonks yawning over a bowl of soup. She smiles sleepily when she spots the three of you.

“Hi, girls,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. I keep falling asleep in my soup. Good thing it’s mushroom.” She points to her newly platinum blonde hair that matches the contents of her bowl.

“Why’re you so tired?” Hermione asks as she ladles some soup into bowls for you, Ginny and herself. Her voice is quiet as not to attract attention from Mrs Weasley with her questioning. “Is it to do with tonight’s, uh, Order business?”

“Yep.”

Tonks looks as though she’s about to drift off and Ginny seems to jump at the opportunity to gather information.

“So, what are their names?” She gets straight to the point, glaring at you when you choke on your soup a little, not expecting her to be so blunt.

You and Hermione stop eating and wait with bated breath for Tonks to refuse to answer. She merely yawns again, before talking. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Meet them?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Aren’t they… uh, you know… dangerous?”

“Dumbledore doesn’t seem to think so,” Tonks says, shrugging. You grow a little frustrated at this, since Dumbledore isn’t exactly known for having straightforward plans. While you know his intentions are good, someone he thinks is safe could very well be the opposite. While you ponder this, Tonks’ next words quickly turn your irritation into shock. “The others were understandably quite wary, what with one of them being You-Know-Who’s son and everything, but…”

You feel a ringing in your ear and every word coming from Tonks may as well be directed to her mushroom soup because you aren’t listening anymore. You-Know-Who’s son. You haven’t seen Mattheo since term ended, and even then it was only from a distance. You hadn’t spoken to him since Theo revealed his Dark Mark to you and you’d since avoided his entire friend group like the plague. If Mattheo is in the building, you can only hope and pray that Theodore isn’t with him.

Vaguely aware of someone shaking you by the shoulder, you snap out of your thoughts. “Who else is with Mattheo?” you ask Tonks, your voice sounding rough to your own ears. She blinks through her sleepiness, slightly startled awake by your unwavering eye contact. “Voldemort’s son. Who’s with him? What do they look like?”

You’re so focused on getting an answer from Tonks, and Hermione and Ginny are clearly on the same page as you now since they’re both silent and waiting for a response, that none of you notice Mrs Weasley entering the dining room.

“Tonks, is he blonde or-?”

“Enough!” Mrs Weasley interrupts you hastily, making everyone jump. She sounds panicked, but the look she throws Tonks is stern, like a warning to keep silent. When she turns back to you however, her eyes soften and her voice is gentle, albeit with a hint of annoyance. “I asked Dumbledore not to bring them here while everyone was awake. I didn’t want you all upset again, dear. Look, you can have your dinner upstairs, I’ll bring it up to you!”

You’re grateful for her concern, but it’s a little hard to feel anything other than the pit in your stomach since she’s just confirmed what you were dreading.

Ginny speaks up first, angry on your behalf. “Mum, she deserves to know if that awful git is in the same house as her! I say she ought to go and deck him in the face.”

“Ginny!” Hermione looks at her in exasperation as Mrs Weasley gasps, horrified. “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You’re right,” you mumble, getting up from your seat.

Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“I should go and deck him in the face.”

Hermione’s sputtering falls to deaf ears as you abruptly leave your seat to go out into the hall, the scraping of chairs behind you indicating that everyone is following closely.

Realistically, you have no plans to actually hit Theodore. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever successfully landed a punch before in your life. This doesn’t stop you charging into the hallway and elbowing your way through the huddle of Order members to get to the door they seem to be crowded around.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is the last of them to stumble out of your way, clearly too surprised by your sudden presence to continue guarding the door. You raise a shaky hand to the doorknob and hesitate for a second, suddenly nervous. Kingsley takes this moment to snap out of his surprise and redirects his attentions to what you’re about to do next.

“My dear, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to-”

“Kingsley, do you have any idea why I’m standing here?” you say curtly, cutting him off.

He throws a quick glance at Mrs Weasley, almost as if it’s by reflex. Clearly she’s told more people than Dumbledore to keep word of Theodore far from you. “I, uhm, I may have heard a thing or two…”

“Right, so are you going to stop me entering this room, then?” you ask boldly. Your voice catches slightly on the end of your sentence and Kingsley falters a little.

“Well, really I should-“ he begins, eyes darting to your own slightly teary ones. He sighs. “No, I’m not. Just try not to hex the boy.”

He steps out of your way and you finally barge into room, the door swinging open as you stay lingering near the entrance. The room is just as dingy as the rest of the house, lit up by some candles dotted around the room

You first see Professor McGonagall getting up abruptly from her chair where she was previously sat next to a standing Dumbledore. He merely peers at you over his half moon spectacles and raises his eyebrows.

You suddenly feel a little silly, and rude for barging in like that. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-“

You stop talking when see movement on the other side of the room from the corner of your eye. Just as Tonks had said, Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort is standing right there, flanked by Lorenzo Berkshire… and Theodore. Your mouth goes dry.

As soon as you catch his eye, he smiles broadly at you. You don’t return the gesture, taking his appearance in instead. He’s thinner than the last time you saw him. No visible injuries, but he’s definitely seen better days. His dirty blonde hair is overgrown and unruly as it falls into his eyes which, despite brightening up at your presence, are tired.

You keep your expression as impassive as you can, slightly angry with yourself at the twinge of concern you feel. It was all well and good interrupting whatever meeting was happening in here before you came in, but now that you’re here… you have no idea what to do or say.

Theo’s smile falters when you continue to stand there with clenched fists and a stony face and you’re tempted to just run out of the room when Dumbledore clears his throat.

“Well,” your Headmaster says pleasantly, as though you were all engaged in polite conversation rather than a strained silence. “This reunion was certainly a little earlier than anticipated, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I think we ought to give Mr Nott and Miss Y/L/N a moment alone.”

“Uh, can’t we stay in here too?” Lorenzo asks with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting to the watchful crowd standing right outside the door. You can’t blame him for wary, being an ex-Death Eater in a house full of Order members.

Mattheo nods, throwing an arm around Theodore’s shoulder, ignoring the glare he receives. “Yeah. These two won’t mind a bit of company. Right?” he asks you cheerfully. You blink at him.

“Relax, Berkshire,” Professor McGonagall says, rolling her eyes at the way Lorenzo has inched further into the room. She snaps her fingers to get them moving out the door. “Nobody is going to hex you, you silly boy.”

“Can’t say the same for Theo,” Mattheo mutters as he walks past you and follows everyone out, shutting the door.

You don’t really have any choice but to look at Theo now. He tries a smile again, despite the fact you’re not returning it and he takes a step towards you.

You immediately step back.

Theo flinches ever so slightly, his eyes unable to hide that he’s hurt.

Good, you think viciously.

Sighing, he looks at you imploringly like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. “You’re angry with me,” he settles on muttering, his voice quiet in the dark room.

You let out a derisive laugh. “Angry? You worked that out, huh? Death-Eater’s didn’t completely addle your brain then, did they?”

“Darling, please let me explain,” Theo pleads, taking another few steps towards you.

Rather than stepping back, you whip out your wand and point it right at him. He doesn’t back away, merely raising his hands in surrender and arching an eyebrow as if to ask you if you’re serious. This angers you further.

“Do not call me darling,” you hiss, raising your wand further. Theo doesn’t react, as though he knows you’d never actually use magic to hurt him. Your hand trembles with the weight of the realisation that no, you wouldn’t hurt him. That you’ve actually been more worried that becoming a Death Eater would get him hurt than him betraying you. He left you with nothing but a cold goodbye and you still can’t help caring.

Feeling stupid, and a little bit pathetic, you drop your hand to your side and allow him to continue standing before you as he lowers his hands. You grit your teeth and cross your arms. “Explain.”

Theo lets out a relieved breath. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and you immediately roll your eyes. “I- no, look at me. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t explain the fact that you did,” you deadpan, turning away to leave. Theo quickly reaches out to grasp both of your arms and gently turns you towards him.

You stiffen at the first physical contact you’ve had with him in months, your body betraying you and erupting goosebumps all over your arms in spite of your anger.

“I lied about it to protect you,” he whispers, peering at you through the strands of hair that are stubbornly falling into his eyes from weeks of neglect. Theo looks slightly pained and you recognise his expression to mean that he’s desperately trying to phrase his next words correctly. His eyes flick over to your right arm. No. To his left wrist, where you know his Dark Mark to be. “You can ask Dumbledore if you don’t believe me… Me and the others only ever took the Mark so we’d be able to spy on The D- on him.”

The relief hits you like a freight train and lightens your heavy chest all in one go. You hadn’t just felt betrayed by your boyfriend leaving you all those months ago. You had felt dread at the possibility of him joining a Pureblood supremacist’s cult. Dread at the idea that the views he’d shared with you were all lies and that he was a completely difference person to the one you loved.

Despite the relief, the sting of the breakup still lingers with you.

“That meant you had to be a prick when you left me?” you ask, voice shaking against your will. His eyes soften.

“Yes,” he says weakly. “How else could I have left you without worrying that… that he could use you against me if he found me out? I never wanted to take the Mark and it killed me when I saw the look on your face.”

Your scowl, trying your best to distract Theodore from the fact that your vision has gone blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. By the look on his face, you doubt you’re doing a very good job. “Do you really think I would have cared about a fucking tattoo, if you had just told me the truth?”

“No, I know,” Theo sighs, absentmindedly drawing closer to you. “I’ll explain anything you want, but the work we did was too close to The Dark Lord to risk telling anyone about at the time. Dumbledore made me, Mattheo and Enzo swear not to say anything. It was safer that way.”

“Did you make an Unbreakable Vow?” you whisper, stiller than ever.

Theo furrows his brows. “No, but-”

You pull away from him abruptly and back away to the door, ignoring the way his hands reach out in an attempt to hold your arms again. “Then I hope the information you got for Dumbledore was worth it.”

You don’t look back at him, nor do you check to see if anyone is in the hallway as you run upstairs and into your room, slamming the door shut as you lean against it, breathing heavily. You stay there for a while, reeling from your anger and irritation at the fact you still have to stay in this bloody house while Theodore’s in it.

The next few days are confusing to say the least. Theo doesn’t seem to have any plans to avoid you, but he respects your space.

Sort of.

He isn’t badgering you every second of the day, but somehow whichever room you’re in, he finds himself in as well. Whenever you try and reach for something, even if it’s not on a particularly high shelf, or particularly far away, Theo beats you to it, ever the gentleman.

It’s starting to unnerve you a little.

One particular afternoon, you walk into the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea in peace. At the table sits Theo, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. When he spots you, he sits up straighter and you dawdle stupidly at the entrance.

Before you can snap out of it and remember what you came in here for, Theo gets up and walks over to the mugs. “Tea?” he asks politely, and, you think, a little hopefully.

“Will you make it and let me drink it alone?” you ask bluntly.

“I’ll make it and sit with you in silence,” he offers, undeterred despite your coldness.

Narrowing your eyes, you glance at the clock and sigh. It’s too early in the morning to put off having your tea, so you allow it. “Fine. Milk and-”

“Two sugars,” he cuts you off with an annoyingly smug smile. “I remember.”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, but stay silent as he turns his attentions to the kettle. Theo’s face quickly falls when he realises he has no idea how to use it. Your impassive expression almost cracks and you have to bite back a laugh as he examines the thing. Walking over to the counter, you drag the kettle so that it’s closer to you. And so you don’t have to be as close to Theo, but that’s besides the point.

“It’s already filled with water, you just need to flip the switch so it starts boiling,” you explain, pointing to the little part. Theo places his cigarette in between his lips as he furrows his brows, clearly skeptical of the muggle contraption. You suppose you can’t blame him since you, Hermione and Harry have had to explain the kettle to countless members of the Order since it was introduced to the house a few months ago.

You still don’t know where the plug socket is and considering the fact that Grimmauld Place has never inhabited muggles, you aren’t going to bother asking.

When Theo flicks the switch and sees the light turn red, a satisfied smile graces his lips where the cigarette still hangs. You look away from his mouth very quickly and go to sit down. Unable to leave without making things awkward, you decide the only thing to do is watch Theo make two cups of tea. He doesn’t need instruction since he knows exactly how you like it, but something catches in your throat when he uses a green mug. Your favourite colour.

The only sound in the kitchen is the clink of the spoon swirling in the cups and Theo soon brings both cups over with an incredibly concentrated frown to make sure there’s no spillages as he sets one down on the table. The other he hands to you himself and you have to clench your jaw when you grab it, your own hands brushing against his, which he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to move away.

“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to use the burning heat of the mug against your skin to distract from the fact that you have tingles.

“S’alright,” he replies, a barely restrained grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the mug as you sip your tea.

Damn, you think to yourself. Why is it always so good when he makes it?

The two of you settle into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you drink your tea and he smokes. The puffs are very carefully directed away from you, but you can’t help wrinkling your nose out of habit. Back when you were still together, you were always firm about him cutting down and now you have to restrain yourself from reaching over and plucking the cigarette out of his lips to throw it away like you used to do with ease. He never objected.

Theo notices your looks all the same, and it’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts. He raises a brow, almost daring you to remove the cigarette yourself. “You want me to stop?”

“I don’t care,” you say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Shrugging, you try your hardest not to react to his obvious bait, but it’s like a bloody reflex. “It’s your lungs on the line, not mine. If you want to lose five years off your life, then by all means, go ahead. I really couldn’t care-”

“As you wish,” he interrupts you, grinning like an idiot again. The next thing you know, he’s putting out the cigarette, and sipping his tea instead. He doesn’t even like tea.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” you grumble, slightly pleased nonetheless.

He merely hums, taking a gulp of his tea. You accidentally let out a snort of laughter when he grimaces at the taste. Theo’s lips quirk up in amusement when you laugh, unrestrained and it’s only when you catch him staring at you that you quickly stop.

The smug expression on his face quickly returns as though he knows you’re finding it hard to be fully angry at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap, drawing your knees up on your chair towards your chin. “You look stupid. And your hair is too long.”

Theo huffs out a surprised laugh. “My hair is too long?” he asks incredulously, reaching up to tug a piece down so it reaches the bottom of his nose. “Hm, you’re right. You cut it pretty good that one time. Would you do it again for me?”

“Mrs Weasley is better at it,” you say, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted if you just ask.”

“The way she looks at me, I’d be lucky to get away with my head still attached to my body,” he drawls, wholly unimpressed by your suggestion. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not done being angry with you yet,” you reply simply, draining the contents of your mug. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me anywhere near your head with a pair of scissors either.”

Theo nods slowly, a smile gracing his lips— strange, since you just threatened physical violence. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not going to be angry with me forever.”

“I- Well, I didn’t mean-” you stutter pointlessly, cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early for this, leave me alone.”

“That was the first cigarette I’ve had since before I left,” Theo says quietly, searching your face for a reaction, almost nervously.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to this random piece of information and you find yourself floundering. “Uhm. Okay, good. That’s… Yeah, that’s great for you and your lungs, well done. Saves money too. They were actually, uh, saying on the news the other day that the average amount people spend on-”

“Darling, as much as I appreciate it, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he interrupts, the ghost of a smirk at his lips. You scowl at him for letting you go on for so long and motion for him to get to the bloody point. “Every time I brought a cigarette to my lips, I remembered you weren’t going to be there to nag me about it. It just feels pointless now.”

You stare at him. “Nice to know that my nagging was what you remembered me by.”

“That’s not-” Theo cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds halfway to a groan. “Merlin, you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, Harry walks in which you find odd considering it’s so early in the morning and him and Ron are usually only out of bed when Mrs Weasley yells them down for breakfast.

“Morning,” he says through a yawn. The greeting is directed at you, but he sends an expectant look at Theo right after. “Time to leave, Nott.

“Leave for where?” you ask before you can help yourself. You realise with a start that Harry and Theo are dressed and ready while you’re still in your pyjamas. “Where do you have to go?”

“Horcrux hunting,” Harry says flippantly, as though he’s just announced he’s going fishing. Hermione had filled you in on the information Theo and the others had ascertained from their time with Voldemort, but you didn’t even consider them or Harry would actually be going with the Order to find them. “Nott and the others know more than we do, so they’re coming with.”

You level a look at Theo, who seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “Thanks for sharing that tiny tidbit of information, by the way,” you mutter sourly.

He winces, getting up slowly from his chair. “It, uh, didn’t seem that important. It’s only a quick little task anyway. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m not stupid,” you scoff, standing up so you can attempt to look a little more dignified as you confront Theo. Harry, on the other hand, looks as though he regrets his decision to enter the kitchen in the first place. Despite this, you hadn’t missed the way he furrowed his brows when Theo spoke. “Even if Harry wasn’t looking at you like you were speaking gibberish, I would know that you’re lying. It’s a Horcrux you’re leaving to get. Not the weekly food shop.”

Harry snickers at this, though quickly turns it into a cough when Theo sends him a withering glare. Sighing, you decide to ignore him for the moment and turn to Harry instead

“Be safe,” you say, gentler than before. “And don’t be a hero, just try and get out of there safely.”

“Pfft,” Harry waves you off, a sarcastic tone entering his voice. “When have you known me to do that?”

You roll your eyes, cracking a smile as he walks away, supposedly to find the rest of the group.

“Don’t I get a ‘be safe’ as well?” Theo tries for a casual, joking voice. A hint of irritation seeps through it though. You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, slightly flustered at his obvious jealousy.

“Uhm, okay. Bye,” you say stiffly, fiddling with the loose string of your cardigan sleeve so you have something to do with your hands other than ball them up at your sides. Theo seems to be satisfied with the curt response, or more likely your lack of insults, and he nods, turning away to leave. As you watch him walk away, a familiar sense of anxiety bubbles up in your stomach and you blurt out the only thing you can think of. “Don’t die!”

He slowly turns around, very clearly holding back a grin. You think you might thump the boy. “Will you forgive me if I come back alive?”

“Well,” you huff, crossing your arms. As petty as it may be, you’ve always found it hard to loosen a grudge. You settle for a shrug instead. “Come back alive first and then I’ll see.”

Theo takes two steps forward and closes the short distance that was previously allowing you to keep a cool- well, cool-ish, head. He keeps both arms behind his back, however, as he dips his head down slightly.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” Theo says in a low voice. His proximity flounders you for a moment and you don’t even protest that no, you’re not his anything. The way your breathing turns shallow would be contradicting that greatly though. “I’ll try my best. And if I don’t come back alive, I promise you can yell at my ghost.”

You scowl, and this time you actually do thump him on the arm. “You’re not funny, you idiot. Now, go. I can already hear Mattheo irritating the patience out of Harry.”

Theo gives you a little two-fingered salute and a wink before he walks away again, leaving you alone with a funny feeling in settling in your stomach.

You aren’t the only one who sits anxiously in the living room waiting for the group to return with the infamous Horcrux. Ron has eaten his way through three bowls of cereal and rapidly makes a start on his fourth while Hermione tries to distract herself with reading a book that she hasn’t noticed is upside down.

After another hour goes by, Ginny, who was previously pacing up and down the stairs, sighs and turns Hermione’s book the right way up which startles her, causing her to give up altogether.

You sit cross-legged and completely still, other than switching your legs every time one of them goes numb. Eventually, you get so sick of watching Mrs Weasley mop over the same spot on the floor for the fifth time that you jump up from your seat, causing her to start and knock over the bucket of dirty mop water all over the floor.

“Oh, dear,” she mutters, waving her wand and siphoning all the water up in a second.

“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” you say, wincing. “I’m just a little stressed since it’s been ages already-”

You get cut off by Hermione gasping at the sound of the front door opening along with voices. She grips your arm tightly. “They’re back!”

Barely registering the pain of her nails digging into the skin of your arm, you waste no time in running into the hall with the others to greet everyone at the door. You can’t help the relieved smile on your face when you do a quick head count and find everyone present.

As you get closer, you see how exhausted they look. Not to mention the fact they’re dripping water all over the rug. Harry stands at the front of the group looking like he might collapse if he stands any longer and Hermione and Ron pick up on this as they rush over to help him inside.

As they stumble him across the hall, you stop craning your neck as Theo comes into view. The relief you previously felt leaves you faster than your body knows how to deal with and you have to force yourself to breathe when you take in the state of him.

At first glance he doesn’t look particularly worse than the rest. They all have a vaguely haunted look in their eyes along with a sickly pallor like they haven’t seen the sun in days.

But the way Mattheo and Lorenzo are holding him up brings attention to the fact that all of his weight is being put on one leg. The other, to your horror, has a deep, bloody gash trailing down his thigh and onto his calf. The sight of blood steadily dripping onto the floor below has you frozen, almost mesmerised in a terrible way, and it’s not until Dumbledore speaks that you snap out of it and to attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, if you could please fetch Madam Pomfrey for me,” Dumbledore asks, his voice a lot calmer than you feel. You nod, turning away quickly before Theo can see the panic which is probably clear as day on your face.

It takes a scary second to find Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as you do, she gets down to business preparing her supplies in the living room which is as far as Theo seems to be able to make it.

He lays on the sofa, breathing shallowly as Madam Pomfrey crouches down beside him to begin assessing the wound. Peering at it closely, she looks up at Dumbledore sharply. “Inferi?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replies solemnly and you let out a choked sort of whimper.

“Merlin,” Ron whispers, looking like he might be sick. Whether that’s because Madam Pomfrey is cleaning Theo’s leg, or because of the mention of Inferi, you aren’t sure. “What the hell were you guys doing?”

“All will be explained, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore reassures him, looking over his spectacles. “However, I must insist that for now we allow dear Madam Pomfrey to tend to Mr Nott’s injuries.”

“Will you be able to heal him?” Mattheo asks, swallowing hard. The concern in his voice for his best friend has your heart clenching and you look to Madam Pomfrey just as earnestly for an answer.

“Yes, I dare say I can,” Madam Pomfrey says grimly, but she pulls out a couple little bottle of potions from her bag with a frown. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be extremely painful, unfortunately.”

“Can’t imagine what pain feels like,” Theo mumbles, shifting his position on the sofa slightly and wincing. His face goes whiter than before and he shuts his eyes tightly from the pain, but he still manages to talk, however hard it may be. “Not like I’ve just had Inferi mistaking my leg for their lunch.”

“No talking and no moving,” Madam Pomfrey instructs Theo, sending him a stern glare.

“Sorry-”

“Shhh!” you hiss, giving him a glare of your own. Theo’s eyes flutter open slightly and his lips quirk up when he sees you leaning over him as close as you can get without Madam Pomfrey shooing you away.

His smile quickly drops when Madam Pomfrey pours some purple liquid into the open wound, causing it to hiss and smoke. The groan that leaves Theo has you holding your breath and you fight the urge to shut your eyes and turn away.

“Merlin, I can’t watch,” Lorenzo gags, his skin turning even sicklier than before. Turning away, he holds onto Mattheo’s shoulder to steady himself, the latter looking more interested than anything as he peers at Theo’s sizzling cut. Lorenzo shakes his head and holds a hand over his mouth every time he can hear Madam Pomfrey pouring more of the potion. “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”

“Mr Berkshire, if you are unable to watch, then don’t,” Madam Pomfrey snaps, screwing the bottle shut and grabbing another one. She waves her hand in an impatient shooing motion. “In fact, everyone out. Now! This isn’t a Quidditch match, for heaven’s sake!”

Dumbledore starts filing everyone out and you consider staying for a minute but Madam Pomfrey’s raised eyebrows have you hurtling out of the room with everyone else. Theo starts to say something, but a drop of something else makes him grit his teeth and the green smoke produced by the potion follows you out the door.

The next hour or so is filled with Harry, Mattheo and Lorenzo being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, who insists on them going up to bed once they’ve cleaned up and changed into dry clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of you, this means you won’t be getting an update any time soon. Dumbledore is, as always these days, nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder if they found the Horcrux,” you say under your breath to Hermione as she anxiously taps her foot against the kitchen floor.

“They did,” she says grimly, glancing impatiently at the clock. She has her thinking face on, brows furrowed and gaze distant. “It was in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Harry quickly told me before Mrs Weasley sent them off. I wonder when they’ll wake up though… They didn’t look too happy, and I have a feeling it wasn’t all to do with Nott.”

You nod slowly, a weight lifting off your chest despite the last part. If, after all this, they hadn’t retrieved the Horcrux, you think you’d probably have gone to the bloody cave yourself.

“Theodore’s resting now, anyway,” Hermione adds, giving you a quick glance as though she’s waiting for a reaction. You keep your face as impassive as you can, attempting a casual nod. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s healing nicely and his leg will be fine. It’ll just be a bit sore for a few days. I’m sure he’s awake if you want to go see him.”

“I might,” you mumble, shrugging. You try to sound flippant, but the urge to clamber out of your seat probably shows because Hermione rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh, why don’t you just put him out of his misery?” she asks, her words coming out at the speed of light, like she’s been wanting to say it for a while. You blink at her in shock. Sighing, she leans over the table and her tone becomes gentle. “I know he lied to you, and you should be angry with him for that! But… well, it’s been a really awkward few days with him asking us where you are every second of the day. And, technically, he was never really a Death Eater, he was helping our side!”

Hermione takes a deep breath and exhales, slumping back in her seat as she waits for your reaction. You try not to laugh. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since the second he turned up here,” she says, sagely. “Now, don’t change the subject! Go and see him. Go on, off you go!”

You stand up, swiftly dodging Hermione’s flapping hands to try and rush you out the door. “Okay, I’m going. It’s probably about time anyway,” you grumble, a fond smile creeping up on you nonetheless.

Looking satisfied, Hermione stops trying to usher you out and you make your way over to the living room again. The door is open and you sigh with relief when you notice the room is empty, bar Theo who’s in the same position as he was the last time you saw him. His eyes are shut and you wonder if he’s sleeping until you step on a creaky floorboard and he cracks one eye open.

“Hey,” you say quietly, tip-toeing into the room to perch on the coffee table adjacent to the sofa. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Theo replies, moving to sit up as much as he can. You suspect he’d have the same answer even if he was asleep. He looks a lot more awake than he did before and you feel your chest squeeze tightly when you realise how glad you are. Theo seems to notice this and he reaches over to hold one of your hands, detaching it from the way you grasp them both together. “I promised you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”

You snort, shaking your head at his ability to be so chipper. “Alive and dripping blood all over the carpet. You know if Kreacher finds out it was you, he’ll murder you in your sleep, right?”

“It doesn’t count if I die now,” Theo protests, frowning as if you’re talking about a serious possibility and not joking. “Deal was you’d forgive me if I came back alive after finding the Horcrux, remember?”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think deeply about it as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It causes you to momentarily lose your focus. “What I remember saying is that I would think about it.”

Theo shakes his head, a look of mock concern overtaking his features. “I think the stress of my injury has gotten to your memory… What I remember is you vowing to forgive me the moment I stepped foot in this place.”

“I think Madam Pomfrey’s painkillers are getting to you,” you say drily, moving to kneel on the floor next to him.

“She didn’t use any,” Theo grumbles, looking mournfully at the bandages on his leg. “She’s really sadistic, I’m telling you.”

You laugh, ducking your head so you aren’t flustered by the way Theo’s eyes focus on your smile with a grin of his own.

“You know what she told me would help with the pain?” Theo asks quietly, his enviously long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down at you, almost nervously.

“Let me guess,” you say, sitting up so the distance between your faces is much shorter now. “A kiss to make it all better?”

“Healer’s orders,” he says, shrugging. His breathing quickens when you don’t move away and he swallows hard, eyes dropping lower to your mouth when you bite your lip to stop from cracking a smile. “I’m not saying you have to, but if you’re okay with going directly against her orders, then-”

You cut him off by pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he inhales sharply, unmoving for a split second before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Theo’s hands move to your waist where he uses his remaining strength to hoist you up onto the sofa next him, one of your legs thrown over his waist as you half-straddle him.

You gasp into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip and the sound he makes in the back of his throat has your cheeks warming up and you kiss him harder. The fact it’s been so long since you’ve even been near him has you both kissing for what feels like hours and you only pull away when you need to breathe and you’re worried you’re leaning on Theo’s leg.

Pulling away, you scan Theo’s face and pause for a second to take in his beautiful features. His eyes are blown wide like he can’t believe he’s here with you, kissing you. A warm feeling starting in your stomach spreads all the way down to the tips of your fingers as he looks at you.

“Any other very important requests from the Healer?” you ask breathlessly, feeling a shiver run down your spine where Theo lightly skims his fingers. A dangerous smile overtakes his face and his lips, pink and swollen from kissing you, curve up, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I think she mentioned something about a sponge bath?”

You whack his arm and he yelps, grabbing your wrist to stop you assaulting him further. “Hey, I’m an injured patient!”

“Your leg is injured, not your arm.”

“It is now,” he says, pouting as he rubs dramatically at his bicep where you lightly thumped him. He grumbles when you roll your eyes and press another kiss to his lips to get him to stop pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Hm,” you hum, settling your face in his chest and sighing at the warmth of his arms, feeling him smile against your forehead where he kisses you.

© angelfic 2023.

[afterglowkatie]

daylight | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x williamson!reader | 1.5k | you and kyra have been seeing each other for a little while but she doesn't know you're leah's sister and leah doesn't know about kyra

ˏˋ°•*⁀ my new daylight universe. i've been trying to get this one going for like six months now and finally had a breakthrough and got most of this series planned out! hope y'all enjoy it

‘You know, you kind of look like someone I know,’ Kyra was standing by the counter watching you put together a little flower arrangement for an order you had later in the day. 

Since Kyra joined Arsenal and moved to England she had come across your shop and couldn’t stop herself from frequenting quite often. Spending way too much just to have an excuse to keep coming back and seeing you. From the moment she stepped foot inside your shop she was enchanted by you. A pull inside her that she couldn’t ignore.

‘Oh really?’ You looked up at Kyra briefly, a small smile on your lips every time you laid your eyes on the girl in front of you. Kyra in the beginning was quite awkward and you could tell she didn’t really want or need to be buying as many flowers as she was, you could tell her excuses were just that. But you found it quite endearing and played into the little game.

After a few weeks of Kyra’s almost daily visits, you were well aware of her attraction towards you. You weren’t oblivious but you wanted to see if she would get the courage to actually ask you out or how many more weeks of pointless buying of flowers were you going to watch Kyra do. It ended up being quite a few.

‘Yeah, oddly familiar,’ You just chuckled and shook your head, focusing back on the flower arrangement in front of you, while Kyra kept trying to think of who she knew that you looked similar to.

‘How are you finding Arsenal? Settling in well?’ You changed the topic, you didn’t mind having Kyra’s eyes on you, watching you. But having her staring at you intently was a little unsettling, not like her normal gaze towards you.

You smiled, listening to Kyra talk about her work. Your sister would always bore you when you asked about her teammates, to the point you had to tell her you didn’t really care about each person’s skill set but how they were doing. By this point you’d met the majority of the team at Arsenal, you were friends with quite a few just by being Leah’s sister.

‘You should come to a match,’ Kyra whined and you smiled even more, reaching over to rest your hand on top of hers. You were honestly surprised she hadn’t seen you had a match yet, you liked supporting your sister and watching her play. Though since meeting Kyra you had stayed a bit more hidden at matches than you normally would, Leah telling you that some of the others were complaining that you hadn’t been around much after matches or accusing Leah of hiding you away from them.

It wasn’t completely intentional. Things with Kyra were going slow but steady and had been going quite well. You wanted her to know you for you and not as Leah’s younger sister. Also not wanting to ruin anything by telling her, though a part of you knew that the longer you waited the more complicated it might be. For now you were ignoring that part and just focusing on the girl in front of you.

Also your sister had a tendency to scare away people you were involved with. You didn’t want that to happen with Kyra, especially since Leah and Kyra were teammates. Which added another layer to this complex web you’d created. What if Kyra knew you were Leah’s sister, would she still want to see you? 

‘Hmm, maybe I could be convinced,’ You smirked, leaning over the counter slightly, your hand still on top of Kyra’s giving a little squeeze.

‘I think seeing me in my kit on the pitch would be convincing enough,’ Kyra smirked, she knew how you reacted when she had come straight from training to your apartment for dinner one night, still in her full training kit. Dinner was completely thrown to the side. Kyra imagining what you’d be like after you actually came to one of her matches. Though she obviously didn’t know you were Leah’s sister and that you’d already seen her play.

Leaning closer into you, Kyra closed the gap and connected your lips together. The kiss was anything but work friendly, luckily it was your own shop and you had closed and locked the door while you had your little lunch date with Kyra. You deepened the kiss, your hand cupping Kyra’s cheek while your other hand laced your fingers with hers, ‘Want to take this out the back?’ You asked, mumbling against her lips. 

Safe to say, Kyra definitely ‘convinced’ you and that following Sunday you were dressed in your Arsenal beanie and scarf, your sister's jersey underneath your puffer jacket. You weren’t supposed to be coming to this match, so Leah was definitely surprised to see you in the stands, but for Kyra you were able to move around your other commitments. Honestly, you just couldn’t resist Kyra’s pout and would do anything she asked you. 

You were in the same area as your mum, who was aware you were seeing Kyra and also kept it a secret from Leah having seen how protective Leah could be over you, but you weren’t so close to her and kept interactions as little as possible in case Kyra noticed. 

Both Kyra and Leah had seen you during warm ups, thankfully at different times so you gave them both a little wave and smile. Kyra’s eyes lingered over to you quite often, she already told you how cute you looked when you sent her a photo earlier, but seeing you in person was a different story. 

You and Kyra weren’t official in terms that you hadn’t talked about the label of being each others girlfriend or anything, but you both weren’t seeing anyone else, spent a lot of your time in each others apartments, going on dates all the time and the other week when someone had referred to you as friends she corrected them and called you her partner. You didn’t really know what it meant, you both danced around actually talking about your feelings but you were hers and she was yours.

‘You’re going to have to tell them both eventually,’ Your mum leaned over slightly. You always cursed how well your mum could read you, she could see how you were internally panicking on how today is going to turn out. At the end of the day you did this to yourself, and if worst happens you’d rather Kyra finding out you hadn’t told her you are Leah’s sister rather than Leah finding out you are seeing Kyra.

‘I know,’ You groaned slightly, running your hands over your face, ‘But everything’s just been so good lately. I don’t want to ruin it all,’ Your mum was always warning you that the longer you took the more complicated it would all get and she wasn’t wrong. The pit in your stomach wishing there was a way that you could back and admit everything from the beginning because it definitely never got easier or a more right time to admit what you weren’t telling.

‘They’ll be upset you didn’t say anything but you aren’t going to ruin anything with either of them,’ Your mum gave your shoulder a little reassuring squeeze, ‘Plus you know I’ll want to officially meet Kyra soon enough,’ You smiled and rolled your eyes at your mum. 

Even though you never played, you were still just as passionate as Leah was when it came to football. Your supportive passion could never be matched by anyone else, it was how you and Leah were so close despite the slight age gap between you and your older siblings, ‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ Leah was the first to approach you after you did hide yourself away a little but Kyra was just being her goofy self annoying her fellow Aussies out on the pitch after the match.

‘Well surprise,’ Not trying to come up with an excuse as to why you suddenly were able to be at the match knowing Leah would see right through you, ‘Can’t I just randomly turn up to support my sister?’ Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms feigning annoyance towards your sister.

‘My bad. Forgot I wasn’t allowed to question what you do anymore,’ Leah dramatically held up her hands, the corner of her mouth turning up into a slight smile. You laughed out, when you were a teenager Leah was way too protective over you so you told her to get lost and stop pestering you about what you did and who you did it with, now she always brought it up when she was messing around with you. You were quite the dramatic teenager, Leah was glad you grew out of that phase, ‘Come on, everyone misses seeing you after a match. We just won, come celebrate with us,’ 

Leah practically dragged you down and over the barrier onto the pitch. No matter how much you tried protesting your older sister, she wasn’t taking no for an answer. It was good getting to see the girls again, you had avoided a few of them since you started seeing Kyra, and even when invited to their little outings some of them would have, you made up excuses to not go.

‘Have you met Kyra yet? I think you’d get on quite well,’ Even though Alessia was also a new signing you had obviously already met her with her and Leah playing for England together.

‘No she’s been avoiding me after matches. I haven’t had the chance to introduce them,’ Before you knew it Leah was dragging you over to where Kyra was pestering Steph.

‘Kyra,’ She smiled when she saw you but it was quickly replaced with confusion with you next to Leah, ‘Meet my sister,’

[aemondsbabe]

Come What May

summary: aemond gets his first true taste of battle, you comfort him in the aftermath.

pairing: aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is described as having long black hair to suit baratheon standards but no other physical descriptors are used, spoilers, mentions of canon character injury but no gore, angst, breast/nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, slight possessive aemond, soft aemond, vulnerable aemond, we love men who cry

word count: 5.8k

a/n: i've had this idea in my head for the longest time and i think it turned out much more delicious than i was expecting! hope you all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty

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“My love, surely Ser Criston can hold his own,” you plead, wringing your hands nervously as your husband reads from the small scroll that was delivered to your chambers only moments ago, “It’s already been days, surely if they were going to retaliate, they would’ve done so by now.”

“We made the mistake of underestimating my sweet sister and her traitorous lot once before,” Aemond sighs, lilac eye scanning over the rolled parchment once more before before holding a corner of it to one of the many dripping wax candles housed on the small desk in your rooms, “It’s an error we can never afford to make again, not after what happened to little –” The muscles in his jaw clench as he cuts himself off with another harsh sigh, tossing the burning paper into a small metal bowl before turning to you. 

“It’s an official summons,” he continues, voice softer now as he swiftly crosses the room until he stands before you. “I can’t simply ignore the Hand, nor my brother,” he murmurs, pulling a sigh from your lips as his hands wrap around your waist. You let your eyes slip closed for a moment when he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head before resting his forehead against yours, your own hands gripping tightly to the front of his black tunic. 

“I understand,” you say softly, swallowing thickly as you try to ignore the tightness at the back of your throat, a million unsettling what if’s playing in your mind's eye, “I just want you to come b-back to me.” 

Upon hearing the break in your voice, Aemond pulls away with a tight smile. “Shh, little wife,” he whispers, gently wiping at the corner of your eyes as tears begin to gather, “I will return to you, I swear it.”

A slight flush covers the apples of your cheeks as you peer up at him, still so cautious of being weepy and emotional so soon into your marriage despite the prince’s many assurances that he was more than happy to have you exactly how you are. After a moment, you manage to blink the tears from your eyes and steady your breath, giving your husband a reassuring nod just as the doors open and a flood of servants and squires rush in to assist Aemond with his armor. 

Leaving them be, you step out onto the balcony of your chambers, grateful for the cooling breeze rolling in from Blackwater Bay. Resting your hands atop the rough stone wall, you gaze out over the calm waters, watching as the sun rises and paints them in shades of orange and pink. Each time you spot a stray seagull, your heart clenches tightly in your chest – worried for a moment that it’s Meleys and her rider, come to finish what they started at Aegon’s coronation. 

You startle as rough hands wrap around your middle from behind, a small gasp leaving you as your eyes pop open, seeing the sun a bit higher in the sky now before you look over your shoulder. 

“Dare I ask where your pretty head was?”

“Praying,” you answer your husband with a smile, turning in his grasp, “Asking the Seven to protect you, to bring you back to me in one piece.” 

Chuckling, Aemond tenderly cups your jaw with one hand, the smooth leather of his glove soft against your skin. “I assure you they will,” he says, dipping his head and kissing you with a small sigh, the metal plate armor on his torso cool against your skin, even through the fabric of your nightgown. “I do not fear this battle, sweetling, not with Vhagar at my side – she has more years of experience fighting in wars than either of us could dare imagine, many more than that old cunt or her beast. I trust her to know what’s right.”

Nodding, you follow him inside, a small smile on your lips while you listen to him talk about his dragon, finding endless amusement in the way he always speaks of her with such reverence. The two of you stand together in the low, flickering light of the many candles in your chambers, the early morning light from the drawn curtains casts faint shadows across the room as you look over your husband, unused to seeing him in true armor. 

“I suppose you’re ready, then?” You ask, glancing over the fine black plates, each custom made to hug his lithe form perfectly. 

“Almost,” he says, the corners of his lips quirk into a small smile in the same instance that familiar, mirthful glimmer takes residence in his eye. 

“Oh?” You question, already familiar with where this is going; the smile on your lips only grows as he takes your hand and leads you over to your vanity table by the wardrobes. 

“Braid my hair,” he says, always one to keep his requests of you simple, “As you do before I go riding… please.”

It’s the small please that always gets you, a courtesy Aemond so rarely bestows upon others. With a small nod, you watch as he sits on the small silk-covered chair, his lilac eye watching you from the mirror as you lean forward to grab the ornate metal hairbrush Alicent had gifted you after your wedding to her son. 

Meeting his eye in the mirror once more, you give him a small smile before focusing on his hair. You run the brush through the pale, silky strands with a practiced ease; before you, the prince hadn’t dared to let anyone do his hair, and was quick to snap at any of the servants if they tried. But with you, he was quite different – much more vulnerable behind closed doors than many would expect. 

Glancing up in the mirror as you brush through his long hair, the smile returns to your lips when you see his eye closed, a small sigh leaving his lips as he allows himself to relax for a moment more. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm in the quiet of the early morning, your hands steady as you run the fine brush through section after section of hair, humming a song to yourself as you go. 

Finally, you set the brush back down and carefully section off a lock of hair at one of his temples, already knowing how he usually preferred it be styled. Just as you have it separated into three sections, however, one of his hands closes around yours and you lift your eyes up to his in the mirror.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” he replies softly, his one eye glancing away from you, almost nervously, “I simply have a favor to ask of you, my lady. Something I’ve been unable to get off my mind, not since the threat of war became real.”

“Ask it, then.”

With a small sigh, Aemond turns in the chair, moving to face you as he takes your hands once more, calloused thumbs rubbing gently over the backs of them. “I know it is a strange request but… I would like a lock of your hair, sweet one, to braid into my own.”

Your brows knit together at his words, having not expected a request such as that, and your head tilts to the side questioningly, “I see no problem with doing it, but may I ask why?”

“I am not a superstitious man, as you well know,” he starts, smiling when you nod along with his words, “However, I have come to think of you as a good luck charm, of sorts.”

“A good luck charm?” You echo, a little blush coloring your cheeks as a shy smile tugs at your lips, your heart racing at the thought of being something so precious.

Aemond squeezes your hands and nods, “These past few moons have been difficult, between my brother adjusting to the crown and everyone else shuffling about, and the horrors that my sweet sister endures, little Jaehaerys, the numerous threats from Dragonstone, everything, I…” He pauses, brows furrowing as he stares at the stone floor, jaw clenched. 

Your heart clenches in your chest as you raise a hand to his cheek, thumb stroking over the scarred skin just below his sapphire eye, the sight of it mystical to you even after so many months spent with him. Studying his face, you can’t help but notice the darkness under his eyes, a product of the many restless nights he’s faced, though a small sad smile claws at your lips as he leans into your touch – eye closing briefly as he savors it, practically purring like a housecat. 

“Your presence has been the only thing that brings me comfort,” he murmurs finally, lilac eye peering up at you as he makes no move to lean away from your touch, “I find my spirits lift when I’m around you – your touch, your sweet scent, they… they calm my mind, steady my heart.”

“Oh, Aemond,” you breathe, heart racing in your chest at his words. 

“I would like a piece of you with me always,” he continues, lilac eye brimming with sincerity, “To calm me when you’re away.”

You’re nodding before he can even finish his sentence, “Of course, my love, of course we can do that.” You sniffle, trying your hardest to keep your emotions at bay as the backs of your eyes sting with love-filled tears. 

Again, Aemond watches as you quickly walk over to the small side table where you keep your needlework supplies. Shuffling through the small woven basket they’re stored in, you locate the small scissors used to cut thread and make your way back over to the vanity. 

Bending at the waist a little, you look into the mirror, briefly meeting your husband’s eye again as you select a small lock of hair toward the back of your head, one that will be easily hidden among the rest as it grows back. With practiced motions, you quickly knot the fine strand into a thin braid before getting the scissors as close to your scalp as you dare. You carefully cut away at it until it comes away, the bundle of strands clutched tightly between two of your fingers. 

Returning the scissors to the basket, you grab a small bundle of thread, close to the same dark color of your hair, and return to the prince, quickly tying off both ends of the braid before holding it up with a small smile. 

“Good?”

“Good.”

Quickly taking your place by Aemond, you once again separate a lock of his hair into thirds, adding your own strand to the mix before easily winding them together in a long, silvery braid, the black of your own hair standing out strikingly against your husband’s. Finally, you gather the rest of his hair into its usual half up and half down style, thick braid skirting down one side of his head before joining the rest as you secure it with a thin leather cord. 

“There,” you breathe, stepping back just enough for Aemond to stand, “All done.” 

“Perfect as usual, sweetling,” the prince smiles, tight lipped, “Thank you.” He murmurs, again, a courtesy reserved for you.

“Of course,” you all but whisper, both you and Aemond pausing as you stare at one another, neither of you wanting to say goodbye first. 

You nearly jump out of your skin as a knock interrupts the moment, both of your heads swiveling to the doors of your chambers as they creak open. 

Ser Willis Fell, a member of Aegon’s Kingsguard steps into the room, bowing politely as he addresses you both. “Prince, Princess,” he says curtly, one hand balanced on the pommel of the sword that hangs from his waist, “I apologize for the intrusion, I’ve been instructed to inform the prince that he is to depart for Rook’s Rest immediately – King Aegon is already waiting at the Dragonpit.”

Aemond nods with a heavy sigh, turning back to you. Before he can get a word in, you practically throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as the doors click closed once more. “Please come back to me,” you breathe against the crook of his neck, tightness once again taking residence at the back of your throat as his arms wind around you, one hand rubbing soothingly up and down your back. 

“I will, my sweet girl, I swear it,” he promises lowly, long arms squeezing him to you as tight as he dares, not wanting to bruise your skin against his armor, “I swear upon the Seven I’ll come back, I will not leave you, I refuse.” 

Nodding, your breath catches in your throat as you slip away from him, just enough to angle your face up to his. His eye glances over your face quickly before he presses his lips against yours, both of you desperate to pour as much emotion into the kiss as you can as your lips move together for a moment. 

Finally, he pulls away with a pained sigh, holding your face in his hands. “Avy jorrāelan,” he whispers, the very first Valyrian phrase he taught you. (I love you.)

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha valzȳrys,” you reply, the practiced phrase coming easily to you after all these months. (I love you too, my husband.)

With one final kiss, Aemond departs, the walk toward your chamber doors seeming like the longest of his life. 

The rest of the day passes by painfully slowly, though you do all you can to entertain yourself. Everything from taking a much longer time than usual to eat meals, forcing yourself to stomach what little you can with your belly in nervous knots, to spending hours walking through the Red Keep’s gardens. 

Which is how you find yourself now, in front of the fire in one of the many ornate sitting rooms, wiling away the time by half-heartedly working on a needlepoint. Alicent sits next to you on the small sofa, restlessly reading over a small stack of letters as Helaena paces, wringing her hands and mumbling to herself under her breath, a common sight following the death of her son. 

With a tired sigh, you put down your embroidery hoop, fingers too sore and overworked to continue. “I just want him to come back,” you mutter, staring vacantly into the fire, “Or to get some word, some update. Just to know.”

“He’ll come back, sweetling,” Alicent murmurs softly, setting the letters aside as she places a comforting hand on your knee, “They both will.” She finishes, glancing over at her daughter with a longing stare, wishing there was anything she could do to ease her pain. 

The both of you sit for a while longer, the navy sky outside growing steadily darker, before Alicent sighs and looks at you with a sad half-smile. “You may as well go to bed, dear,” she says softly, “Staying up worrying won’t do any good.”

Knowing she’s right, you quickly bid her goodnight before taking your leave.

You lay in bed, tossing and turning for a long while, thoughts filled with nothing but your husband, before sleep finally takes you. Even then, it’s not restful, dreams filled with visions of blood and fire, of the sounds of screaming and swords clanging together. 

It isn’t until the wee hours of the night, almost sunrise, that a sound wakes you – clanging again, only soft this time, like metal on stone. 

You blink your eyes open, a little groan leaving your lips as you rub at them with your fists before –

“Aemond!” You breathe, scrambling under the blankets to get to him, nearly toppling off the bed in your haste. 

He makes a small “oof” noise as you throw yourself against his chest, catching you in his arms and holding you tightly. “Careful, love,” he laughs softly, letting his eye slip closed as he kisses the top of your head, breathing in the familiar lavender scent of your hair. 

“You came back,” you breathe, winding your arms around his waist as you kneel at the edge of the bed, knees digging into the plush mattress. Upon hugging the prince, you come to realize that the small clanging noise that woke you had to have been him quickly untying his plate armor and stripping off his chainmail, leaving him in a soft tunic and pants – the aforementioned garments lying haphazardly on the floor, their sheen reflected somewhat in the dim glow of the fire. 

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, stroking a hand over your back, “I swore I would, didn’t I?”

The two of you fall easily into a comfortable silence, arms wrapped securely around one another as the only noise in the room is the sound of soft breathing and the crackling from the hearth. You can’t help but notice that Aemond smells smokey, much like he does after riding on Vhagar but stronger now, no doubt having been around dragon fire for hours. 

After a moment, you peer up at him, eyes finally adjusted to the low light. When you do, you can’t help the small, pitying little gasp that leaves your lips and one hand rises to gently cup his cheek. You’re no stranger to seeing him after a long day training in the yard with Ser Criston, but this is wholly different. 

In the pale light, you could make out small dark splotches on his face and neck and upon skirting your thumb over one on his cheek, you come to realize it’s remnants of ash, staining not only his skin but the bits and pieces of his tunic and pants that weren’t covered by armor as well. His hair was still fixed how you’d left it, though messier now – windswept and slightly dusty as well, many of the white strands stained a faint grey, the flash of black from your own braid still cutting through the paleness of his like a knife. 

But what really stopped you was his eye, his lilac one; you frown when you notice the uneasy look in it, full of a bitter sadness. “My sweet husband,” you say softly, brows furrowing when you notice a few scant tear stains on his cheek, their paths carved through the spots of ash, “What happened? What did they do to you?” You question, heart racing at the thought of the horrors he must’ve seen – his first real taste of battle.

The prince gazes at you for a long second, his lips parting as one of his hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. All at once though, the sadness in his eye changes to a familiar fire, one that makes your heart race for an altogether different reason and desire curls in your belly, coming to rest like a cat in a sunbeam. 

“Aemond?” You question, blinking up at him. Suddenly, his lips are on yours, hot and insistent and you’re all too eager to comply, easily melting against him. A whimper leaves your lips, instantly swallowed by his mouth as it moves against yours. 

The kiss is more teeth and tongues than anything else, your husband’s slipping against yours with a practiced ease. His hand threads more harshly through your hair, making you moan against his lips as your hands cling tightly to the dark fabric of his tunic, a growl reverberating under them as it emanates from his chest. 

“Need you,” he breathes raggedly as his lips part from yours, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck. You shudder against him as his teeth nip gently at your skin before his lips suckle at it gently, painting bruises on your throat that match the many he surely has. 

“But –” you start, a myriad of questions swirling in your mind despite the pleasure threatening to blot them out. 

You’re stopped mid sentence as Aemond suddenly cups one of your breasts, palming eagerly at the tender flesh in a way he knows makes your head spin and don’t miss the ghost of a victorious smirk on his lips at the way you cut yourself off with a small, shuddered moan, squirming in his hold as his thumb skirts over your nipple through the thin fabric of your nightgown. 

“Please, sweet one, I need this,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your neck. His hand at the nape of your neck slips down to wrap around the small of your back, arching you against him, “I need you, I need to feel… t-to feel something good again.”

Once more, you’re nodding before he can even finish his request, chest heaving as you fight to keep your eyes open, wanting to keep him in your sights as if he may disappear again if you don’t. “Then take me,” you sigh, a broken moan leaving your lips as he kisses down your neck and across your chest. The hair at the back of your neck raises on end as he mouths over the fat of your breast, dampening the front of your nightgown.

Both of your hands claw desperately at the back of his head, tangling into his long hair messily just as his lips close around your nipple. “Gods!” You cry as he suckles at it needily, still pawing at the other one, savoring the feel of it in his hand. 

Just as your thighs begin squeezing together, your center aching, Aemond pulls away, smirking when you whine. Impatient as ever, he quickly pulls at your nightgown, tugging it up and over your head, and tosses it onto the floor with his armor – delicate silk pooling over hard metal – before quickly undoing his tunic, eye glimmering proudly at how you always stare at him with such reverence. 

“Fuck,” he growls, hands descending passionately against you once more, one again kneading at your breast as the other slides against your hip, long fingers digging into the fat of your ass, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.” He whispers against your lips, strands of silver hair falling loose from his braid and fanning around his face. 

His lips press against yours once more, teeth teasingly nipping at your lower lip as your nails dig into his shoulders and chest, anxious for more even as you blush at his words. Always one to please, the prince wastes no time in trailing kisses back over your neck, pausing to nip and suck once again at his marks from earlier, needing to see remnants of himself on your delicate skin.

Again, he traces a bath down across your chest before licking over your nipple, needing to give attention to the breast he’d missed earlier. His tongue laves over it greedily and you moan at the feel of his length, hard and hot against your lower belly even through the cotton of his trousers. 

Just as his teeth nip softly at your taut bud, the hand on your hip shifts toward your center, making your breath catch in your throat. Suckling at your nipple once more, Aemond gently runs his fingers through your already dripping folds, pulling a loud, whiny whimper from you as his lips curl into a smirk, a pleased hum radiating against your breast. 

“Husband, please,” you whine, finding your voice once more as he rests his forehead against yours, chuckling at your cries. 

“Seems I’m not the only one that needs this, hm?” He teases, eye glancing over your face as his fingers lightly rub against your aching bud, your breaths mingling together. 

“A-Always need you,” you say breathily, your hips moving of their own accord as he plays with you, your own hands clutching at him like an anchor, “I’ll always, fuck! I’ll always need you, Aemond.” 

He feels his heart skip in his chest at that and once again grows restless, the need to have you, to feel nothing but you burns through him like fire. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he thinks how the sincerity in your tone reminds him of your wedding vows, whispered to him in the Sept as if the two of you were the only people in the universe – how he wishes that were true. 

With a grunt, he presses his lips harshly against yours once more before leaning forward, pressing himself over you until you have no choice but to buckle and fall to your back against the bed. Unable to think of anything else, he wastes no time in kneeling at the side of the bed, knees against one of the many fur rugs dotted over the floors of your chamber. 

A squeal leaves your lips as the prince clutches at your ankles and pulls you toward him, until your ass is nearly hanging off the edge of the bed. A breathy whimper leaves you as you peer down at him, resting back on your elbows as your teeth bite into your lower lip. 

Your hips buck as Aemond kisses up your thighs, long hair tickling your soft skin, and you whine as he licks at the curve where your thigh and center meet. A breath leaves him as he uses his thumbs to part your folds, licking his lips at how your arousal already coats them, wetness catching in the dim light of the fire. 

“The Stranger himself wouldn’t be able to tear me from this,” your husband murmurs lowly, nearly growling as he glances between your face and your dripping heat like a starving man looking over a feast. 

With a groan, he finally dives in, moaning nearly as loud as you do as he greedily mouths at your cunt, tongue licking harshly over you from bottom to top. Every muscle in your body seems to seize as lightning bolts of pleasure crackle up and down your spine. 

Your head flops back against the bed as Aemond licks and suckles at your folds, burying his face against your center as he licks into you, nose pressed tightly against your pearl. Your fingers tangle into his hair once more, back arching as he groans into your heat, all but fucking you on his tongue as obscene wet sounds echo about the room. 

“Oh Gods, f-fuck,” you whine, hips rutting against his face as the heat in your belly threatens to boil over already. Your eyes roll back as he chuckles against you and licks up to your bud, suckling at it eagerly, making you clench around nothing.

“Gods, you taste good, so sweet,” the prince mumbles against you, lapping at your pearl as he runs two thick fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal. “I would kill Death himself for this, my love,” he rasps, leaning up to watch the expressions on your face as he presses his fingers into you, impatiently crooking them up in just the way you like, fucking and rubbing them against the sensitive spot within you with practicied ferocity. 

“Please, please, please,” you pant, belly knotting tighter and tighter at his words, the gruffness of his voice, head so clouded you aren’t even entirely sure what you’re begging for. 

Aemond smirks and licks and sucks at your bud for a moment more, savoring every whine and whimper he pulls from you. “Let go, my love,” he murmurs, grinning at the way your heat clenches tightly around his fingers, “Peak, let me feel it.”

You wail as the cord within you breaks, shuddering and babbling the prince’s name again and again as pleasure washes over you, your muscles tensing and relaxing in a dizzying rhythm as he works you through it. You nearly peak again as he groans against you, lips wrapped around your pearl as he suckles, gradually slowing his fingers within you.

Finally, you come down, though the fire within you still burns brightly, still aches for him. You watch through half-lidded eyes as he rises from the floor, lilac eye looking over your disheveled form proudly as white strands of hair cling to his face, still sticky with your arousal. 

His chest heaves as he quickly undoes the ties of his trousers and tugs them off his long, lean legs. He wipes at his lips with the back of his hand as he leans back over you and you whine when you feel the heat of his length pressing against you, trapped between your two bodies, the tip already red and leaking against your belly. 

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs softly, leaning forward to kiss you as he savors the little gasp that leaves your lips as he reaches down with one hand, positioning his cock at your sensitive entrance, “My perfect, sweet girl.” 

You nod your head, hands cupping his face as he pushes into you. Your mouth falls open in a loud gasp and you tremble in his hold as he presses forward, sheathing himself inside of you completely with a pleased groan. 

“Oh, my love,” you finally pant, savoring the way his length feels within you, pressing against every part of you as he fills you completely, “You feel so good, husband, always so good.” 

He growls at that, the breathiness of your tone making his eye flutter shut as he begins rutting against you, grinding his hips against your own. “You were made for me,” he muses, groaning when you begin kissing over the pale column of his throat, “Made to be mine.”

“For you,” you agree between kisses and licks, heart fluttering at the way his thrusts stutter each time your teeth graze over his skin, “Only for you, my sweet prince.”

Aemond groans above you and settles into a practiced rhythm, thick cock spearing into you again and again as your legs wrap around his hips, holding you to him as if he would ever dream of pulling away. One of his hands rests at the nape of your neck again, holding you against his throat as the other grabs at your waist, marveling at the way your breasts move against his chest, bouncing lightly with each thrust. 

The thought of them full of milk, your belly swollen with his seed, flashes across his mind and he growls low in his chest, cock twitching within you. 

As you squirm beneath him, your husband can tell you’re close, as if the steady pulse of your core around his length wasn’t warning enough. “I would go to war for this cunt,” he groans, locking eyes with you as your foreheads press together once more, “I would burn whole villages to the ground just to have you like this, sweetling.” 

His words cascade over you like lava, making your brows furrow together as you gaze up at him, mouth agape. You all but forget to breathe for a moment before a loud, whining moan tears itself from your lips, chest heaving as you fight for air. 

“A-Aemond, Aemond, Gods,” you babble, legs tightening around his waist as your nails scratch down his back, making him grunt above you. After only a few more thrusts, you break once more, writhing beneath him. 

Distantly, you hear the prince groan and grunt above you as your cunt squeezes around him, determined to hold off his own pleasure long enough to watch you peak once more. 

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, Aemond surrenders to the fire within him and moans, voice breaking, as he lets it consume him. Your eyes flutter open as you feel his cock kick inside you and you watch him, mesmerized, as warmth fills you, his seed adding to the sticky mess between your thighs. 

He collapses against you, hips still rutting against your own in broken, twitching movements as his own high fades. The two of you lay like that for a moment, panting as you catch your breath, until you realize your husband’s shoulders are shaking beneath your hold, his breath coming in unsteady bursts against your neck from where his head rests against your shoulder. 

“My love?” You question, cupping his cheek and bringing his face up just enough to see him. Your heart nearly breaks at the sight of tears pooled in his eye, a few already running down his cheek, “What is it? What’s wrong?” You question, quickly glancing over him, searching for some injury, some source of pain. 

Aemond merely shakes his head and sniffles, blinking to dispel his tears as his cheeks flush – he hates the thought of you seeing him so weak. “I��m… I-I’m sorry,” he chokes out finally, holding you against his body tightly despite his embarrassment. 

Immediately, you shake your head, pressing a hand against his shoulder until he rolls over, pulling you with him. A soft gasp leaves your lips at the feel of his softening length slipping from your drenched folds as he comes to rest on his back, you at his side, one hand across his chest.

“Shhh, husband,” you murmur, cupping his cheek once more as you lean up on an elbow, “You needn’t apologize to me.” He nods, somewhat half-heartedly, at your words and sighs deeply, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly, trying to chase away the tightness at the back of his throat. 

You stay silent for a moment, giving him time to calm down, and let your eyes sweep over his form. Aside from the blotches of ash on his pale skin, and some bruises here and there, he looks nearly untouched. A small smile tugs at your lips despite the situation when you see your lock of hair still wound into his, pale braid practically falling apart by now, most of it pulled free of the leather tie holding it together. 

“What’s happened?” You finally ask once his breathing evens out some, your thumb rubbing soothingly over his cheekbone. 

“Aegon,” he chokes out, jaw clenching once more as tears run down his cheek yet again. 

Your heart clenches as a shot of adrenaline all but knocks the wind from your lungs, “He’s not… h-he didn’t –” You start to question, stopping yourself once Aemond shakes his head.

“No, no,” he confirms, voice ragged and soft as his chest heaves with a sniffle, “Almost, but no.”

“Almost?”

“He… He’s hurt,” Aemond starts, barely a whisper as his eye finally meets yours, “Badly. I don’t… I don’t know what comes next, o-or what to do, what’ll be expected of me, of you –” He mutters, breath picking up as panic rises within him, regretting each time he’d looked at his brother with envy – saw the black crown atop his head, glimmering with red rubies, and thought bitterly that it would suit him better. 

“Shhh,” you breathe once more, draping yourself over him like a blanket and pulling a tired sigh from his lips as your touch immediately slows his racing heart. You run your fingers through his hair, black intertwined with white, and press a soothing kiss to his cheek, “I don’t care what comes next, my love.” 

Your soft words draw his attention and he looks at you, brows furrowed in surprise, “You don’t?”

“Not at all,” you murmur, steeling yourself to be strong for him regardless of the future, “Whatever happens, I shall face it with you. That’s enough for me.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

aemond tags: @demirunner @iloveslasher @neithriddle @moneypriestess @anak1nsx @angelinap09

hotd tags: @cuddlejeongin

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[f1goat]

more than friends ; lando norris + part six

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

a/n: this is a rewritten story, you can find the explanation on my profile

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

The dinner is going on and on. Normally you really like the dinners with the McLaren team, but tonight you can’t seem to focus on anything that’s happening around you. Lando isn’t seated close to you like normal, you don’t know how it happened but there is a couple seats between you. It causes you to stare at him all the time. Oscar however is sitting next to you. He’s nice and polite, but the both of you are a bit shy. Something that causes the conversation to go not as smooth as when Lando is with you. You couldn’t stop yourself and drank a bit more then you’d normally do. You try to talk it right for yourself, but all your excuses are around Lando. Instead of doing the wise thing and order a water or a soda, you order another cocktail when the waiter asks you for your drink order. Oops?

You don’t know what’s going on with you. Since you have arrived in the restaurant, you have been feeling vague. At first it was just because Lando was seated a bit far away from you, but eventually something else happened what causes you to feel like this. Maybe vague isn’t the right word, but you can’t confess the right word. That would make things so much worse. 

The weird, unsettling feeling in your stomach and head started when Lando started to talk with another girl. You don’t know her personally and you haven’t seen her around before. Nothing too weird since McLaren is growing rather fast and hires a lot of new employees quite often. If she’s from McLaren, you don’t know for sure. Lando is talking and laughing with her, it causes you to feel terrible. Every time he lets out a laugh, you feel yourself getting jealous. 

Oscar sends you a confused look when you take a big gulp from the cocktail the waiter just brought you. He seems even more confused when he looks at his own glass, which is still half full and was order a round earlier. You can only hope that Oscar doesn’t say anything about it, but you’re quick to let go of that hope when Oscar starts to talk. 

“Everything okay?” He asks you.

You show him a simple nod as a reply. 

“Do you want me to switch places with Lando?” He asks you with a small smile, “I understand if I’m a bit boring tonight, but I’m exhausted from the race.”

“Oh no,” you quickly state, “I’m also pretty tired, so I’m not the most fun person tonight as well. And I can’t focus on anything right now.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re drinking quite a lot for someone who wants to focus?” Oscar jokes.

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re right,” you agree with him, “Don’t even know why.”

“Maybe because of the girl who’s flirting with Lando?” Oscar says without even a single doubt. Are you that obvious? Fuck. Before you can say anything to Oscar - not that you know what, are you going to lie to him or confess? Oscar is already talking again, but this time softer. “Let me help you. Just follow my lead and this is fixed in only minutes.” 

You show Oscar a confused look, but still nod at his words. Oscar says a loud hi to someone who’s sitting next to you, quickly starting a conversation with him. You look at what he’s doing, but you still have no idea how it will help you right now. 

“Did you already meet Y/N?” Oscar suddenly asks the guy. The guy shakes his head. “Really?” Oscar asks confused, “This is her, you should really get to know her.” In only seconds the guy is shaking your hand and introducing himself as Pedro. You introduce yourself as well. A small conversation is started rather quickly. Pedro is pretty interested into you, Oscar is quickly fading to the background of the conversation. You try to keep him into it as well, but Pedro keeps focussing on you. 

“We should totally dance together at the club later!” Pedro tells you full enthusiasm, you chuckle and tell him that you’re a terrible dancer. Something he doesn’t seem to care about. Conversations with him are pretty easy, before you know it he talks about how he got by McLaren recently and what he does. It seems that he’s involved in Lando his trainings, helping the team with making a better rhythm for your friend and assisting his main trainer John when it’s needed. 

“I can teach you how to dance later tonight,” Pedro tells you with a smile. It sounds a bit suggestive now that you think about it. Before you can realize, you see Lando coming closer to you. He presses a kiss against your cheek. You almost jump up when he does, since when are you doing this in public as well? 

“Hi babygirl,” Lando softly greets you. 

Pedro sends you an embarrassed look. Before he can say anything, Lando greets his shortly as well. “Pedro,” he simply says with a small nod to the guy. You don’t know if you’re right, but Lando his tone seemed different when he greeted Pedro. It almost sounded annoyed. When you look at Oscar and he shows you a grin, you realize that this was his plan all the time.

“Sorry Lando, didn’t know you two are a thing,” Pedro quickly says, he stands up and walks away after saying so. The words to deny it are still laying on your tongue. Lando is quick to take Pedro his seat next to you. You show him a confused look. What did just happen? Why didn’t Lando deny it?

“Sooo, the two of you are a thing?” Oscar asks his teammate with a small smirk on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing by letting you meet Pedro. You send him an annoyed look, but don’t say anything. Lando can fix this. He acted this strange. “We’re not dating,” Lando states.

“Oh then why did you kiss her cheek and call her babygirl?” Oscar asks.

“It’s just the alcohol,” Lando mutters. 

Oscar laughs. He doesn’t believe the tiniest bit of it. Lando makes things even worse for himself by grabbing you on a soft way by the shoulders and pulling your body onto his. You show him a confused look, but then you allow your body to lean onto Lando. His hand find yours, he plays with your fingers before interlocking them with his own. 

“And that’s the alcohol as well?” Oscars asks while laughing.

“Fuck off mate,” Lando sighs.

“Weren’t you talking with that other girl?” You can’t help yourself and ask Lando. When you look around and let your gaze wander to where Lando was sitting before, you notice that the girl is already looking at Lando and you. You quickly look away from her, feeling uncomfortable with the stare. 

“Which girl?” Lando asks you. “The one who’s looking at us,” you reply.

“Oh, her,” he says, “She’s a bit too interested to be honest. So smile at me and act like you love me,” he continues to joke. You do what he says, you press a small kiss against Lando his cheek. You don’t even have to act like you love him. You know all to well that it’s not an act. It has never been an act. 

+++

When you’re finally in the club, you’re quick to find the dance floor. You’re dancing for fun with a couple of McLaren team members. Lando has find a place on the sidelines where he can focus all his attention on you. He laughs when you almost bump into another girl. Oscar has found a place next to his teammate. The words Oscar is saying aren’t landing by Lando, he’s way too focused on you. 

He’s completely focused on you and the dress you’re wearing. The dress has been on his mind for the whole evening. It’s unfair how good you look in it. It causes him to want to spread your legs for him so he can pull out another orgasm from you. Or for you to drop on your knees, so he can fuck your mouth and finally can get rid from the sexual tension that has been hanging around him since his podium. Or just your hand firmly around his boner to give him his release. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t care how it happens as long as there happens something. And the best would be if you were just close to him, showing everyone that the beautiful girl on the dance floor belongs to him. Only you don’t. It causes him to have a headache. Why aren’t you his? He really needs to change this.

“There’s really nothing going on between Y/N and you?” Oscar asks Lando.

“No,” Lando quickly states.

“So you won’t mind if my friend asks her on a date?” Oscar continues to ask, “Since you acted a bit weird with Pedro giving her attention..”

Lando doesn’t even react to the question, he can only focus on one thing. “Who?” He asks. His head is filling up with all kind of questions. Which friend from Oscar wants to date you? Would you date that friend as well? He lets out a sigh. This is the worst.

“Logan.”

Logan? Does Logan even know you? Do you even know Logan? Lando starts to wonder if he ever saw the two of you talking. Would you say yes to Logan if he asks you on a date? Fuck. Why didn’t he thought about this before. Of course there’s someone interested in you. 

“Do they even know each other?” Lando sneers. He can’t help himself.

“Kinda,” Oscar shrugs, “they talked a couple races ago when Logan DNF’ed. She made him feel a lot better about it.” 

“Fuck,” Lando sighs. He can’t hold the words back anymore. “Fuuck.”

Oscar laughs. “That says enough, don’t you think?” 

“No,” Lando quickly mutters, “I mean if he wants to he should, you know. It’s up to Y/N what she says.”

This time it’s Oscar who lets out a sigh. “Lando just be honest, you like her so you don’t want anyone else to date her. Why aren’t you telling her that?”

Lando doesn’t answer to that question. He wachtes you dance and sip from your drink. When he watches the people around you, it’s not surprising to him how many guys are doing the same as him. Watching you. He’s quick to realize that Logan, or Pedro, aren’t the problem. There’s always someone who would want to date you. The problem is always that you aren’t his. How is he ever going to fix this mess? What if you meet someone who you want to date? Someone who can offer you anything you want? Like being always there for you instead of needing you to travel across the world with them? What if he loses you want you start to date someone else? Lando can’t stand by the sidelines while watching you have a relationship with someone else. Right? He would lose his mind. 

It doesn’t even surprise Lando when he sees Logan coming closer to you. He sighs. It’s pretty normal that after a race a lot of the drivers are clubbing, so he isn’t surprised that Logan is her as well. But still, it stings. It’s stings even more when you greet Logan with a hug before talking to him full with enthusiasm. He wachtes away. He can’t see this. 

“You’re an idiot,” Oscar sighs when he notices the way Lando looks away from you for the first time that evening.

“I know,” Lando mutters, “and you don’t even know the worst parts.”

“Worst parts?” Oscar asks curiously. 

Lando knows that everything that’s happening between you two is a secret, but he also knows that Oscar will keep it that way. Right now he really can use some advise from someone. Oscar can probably give him some, he even has a great relationship. Lando stops questioning it and starts to confess to Oscar. This must be because of the alcohol, otherwise he would have thought about it longer.

“The short version is that we’re fucking,” Lando confesses, “or not really fucking, but doing a lot of other sexual stuff. Probably fucking soon.”

Oscar almost drops his drink. Then he lets out a loud laugh. “And you’re still doubting if she wants you?” He asks. “Fuck man, you’re stupid. Why would she do those things with you without being interested into you?”

“Because she wants sexual experience,” Lando explains.

“But still, why with you? There were probably enough others who wanted to help.”

“I offered,” Lando states.

“Same question, why did she chose you?” 

Lando doesn’t reply at first. He watches Logan and you again. The two of you are dancing. Logan looks if he tries to get as close to you as he can manage. Fuck, that should be him. Lando curses himself, he should have make sure that he was on the dance floor with you. Embarrassing himself, but having fun with you. 

“I don’t know why with me, probably because I offered and she didn’t have to contact others to ask. She’s embarrassed about her experience, so she probably wants to keep it a secret,” he explains to Oscar.

“Lando she won’t be doing this with you if there wasn’t some sort of interest,” Oscar quickly states.

Lando just shakes his head to disagree. He focuses on Logan and you again. There’s still a lot of dancing happening and it’s getting more closer with the second. He can’t watch this anymore. Without saying anything else to Oscar he starts to walk towards Logan and you. He hasn’t even a plan, but he needs to do something abut this. Oscar lets out a laugh when he notices the way Lando is walking towards you. He didn’t tell his teammate that he told Logan before that it would be dumb to ask you onto a date, since you’re too close with Lando. Oscar believes that Lando needs a push and this could be exactly the push Lando would have needed. And who is he to not give his teammate that much needed push?

It doesn’t take Lando long before he stands in front of you. You stop dancing to focus on him. What’s Lando doing? Logan also stops dancing and wait for what’s going to happen. Oscar already warned him for this, but he still wanted to try. “Can we go back to the hotel?” Lando asks you. 

He notices that Logan takes a bit more distance from you. Something he’s glad abut. You look worried at Lando. 

“Back to the hotel?” You ask him, “What’s going on?”

“I’m not feeling well,” Lando lies. Although he doesn’t feel well, but that can be easily fixed if every guy would leave you alone. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask him worried. 

“Just a bit too much alcohol,” Lando continues to lie. He can’t confess that he isn’t feeling well because of the attention every boy is giving you tonight. You send Lando another worried look and get closer to him. 

“Let’s go back to the hotel then,” you tell Lando. 

“Sorry if I’m ruining your night right now,” Lando says apologetic. He almost feels ashamed of himself for acting like this, but he can’t help it. He needs you for himself right now. He wants nothing more then to lay in bed with you right now and to cuddle up against you, instead of worrying about every guy around you. 

“It’s fine Lan,” you quickly say. 

Then Logan starts to meddle in the conversation. He sounds a bit unsure when he talks, a bit nervous even, “I can also bring you back to the hotel?” He suggests, “If you want to stay longer of course.”

“That’s really sweet of you Logan,” you say. Before you can say anything else Lando is talking as well. He feels himself getting more frustrated. Who does Logan think he is by suggesting this? He doesn’t even think about his next actions. He just acts. Word are quickly leaving his mouth. 

“We share the room and I only have one pass,” he states with a harsh undertone in his voice, “so you can’t.”

You look confused at Lando. Why is he acting like this? Doesn’t he notice that Logan is trying to help? Why is he this rude? Since when can Lando even act like this? You don’t know this side of him. 

“Oh sorry I didn’t know,” Logan quickly says, “I just wanted to help.”

You feel ashamed when Lando continues to talk. “That’s unnecessary,” he states. You quickly take a step closer to Logan, you don’t realize that it causes you to stand in front of Lando while doing so. Lando on the other hand is quick to notice. 

“It’s really sweet of you Logan,” you say, “but I’ll get back with Lando. Enjoy the rest of your night.” To give your words a bit more power, you give Logan a quick hug. When Lando sees your action he almost loses his mind. He feels like the most childish person when he grabs your hand and drags you away with him. He doesn’t take the time to say goodbye to anyone, he just needs to get you into the car with him. When he is outside the club, he starts to feel more ashamed for his actions. He barely dares to look at you. What are you thinking about him right now? You are probably really annoyed with him. And he gets it.

“What’s wrong with you Lan?” You ask confused, Lando is just happy that you still use the nickname for him. “Logan only tried to help.”

Lando doesn’t reply at first. He lets out a small scoff. Of course you’re dragging Logan into this as well. 

“You acted really rude,” you tell him annoyed.

“Of course side with Logan,” Lando sighs, “give me an even bigger headache right now.”

You let out a sigh. “You’re acting crazy,” you state frustrated. 

Lando doesn’t reply anymore. He’s glad when the taxi is standing in front of him. He opens your car door and walks towards the other side to take place himself. He knows that you’re right, but he really doesn’t want to confess that right now. Unsure he grabs your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours. He smiles when he notices that you aren’t pulling away from him, but even give him a small squeeze. 

After a short taxi ride, Lando and you are quick to find your way back into the hotel. When standing in the room, you change your outfit. The dress from before quickly lands onto the floor and is replaced by a shirt from Lando. Lando can only focus on you walking around in his shirt with only a thong underneath. He wants nothing more then to hold you right now. Maybe remind you of your earlier promise, he still has an awful hard dick that can use some help. 

You on the other hand are thinking about other things. One of them being Logan. “You should apologize to Logan,” you softly tell Lando after a comfortable silence, “He only tried to help us.”

“He tried to get in your pants,” Lando scoffs annoyed. The frustrated feeling of before is coming back rather quickly. Why are you starting about Logan again? He wonders if you really don’t realize that Logan only wanted to bring you back to the hotel so he could get more from you? 

“Lan,” you sigh annoyed, “now you’re just exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Lando quickly replies.

You let out a big sigh and take a seat onto the bed. Lando is already laying in it. “You are,” you tell him while sending you an angry glance, “not everyone who’s nice to me is trying to get in my pants.”

“But he was,” Lando exclaims with a raised voice. 

“Why?” You ask.

“Because Oscar told me he wants to date you,” Lando confesses.

“So?” You ask, “That doesn’t mean he wants to fuck me.”

“Y/N,” Lando sighs, “just believe me on this one.”

“Even if he is, why do you care?” You eventually ask Lando, you’re done with this conversation but it doesn’t seem to be even close to ending. You can’t help yourself from questioning it. Why does it seem like Lando cares this much about Logan wanting to date you and maybe wanting to have sex with you? It gives you a tiny bit of hope that Lando might return your feelings. Could that be possible? Is he just acting jealous? It almost seems so. 

“I uh,” Lando stutters a bit, he doesn’t know what to say. “I uh, I just want to be sure that your first is with someone who cares about you,” he says after a bit of stuttering. That is a good reason, right? 

“Are you afraid you won’t be my first anymore?” You ask Lando confused. 

Lando doesn’t know what to answer. He realizes that you’re right. He is afraid that things will change and that you don’t want - and need - him anymore. He really wants to be your first. “Maybe,” he confesses eventually. 

“Don’t,” you tell Lando. 

“Don’t?” He asks confused.

“You’ll still be my first,” you tell Lando, “I trust you and I want it to be with you. But..”

“But?” Lando asks. 

“But you still need to apologize to Logan, otherwise I will find someone else,” you joke.

“Fucking hell,” Lando mutters annoyed. He grabs his phone from his nightstand. You lay down on the bed next to him in the mean time. You get yourself close to Lando, you lay your head on his chest. Lando plays with your hair while scrolling in his phone, you watch the screen with him. You see Lando searching for Logan’s contact. When he finds him, he’s quick to type a message. 

Lando: Hey Logan. Sorry for my behavior tonight. It was rude, I understand now that you were only trying to help. Sorry.

You smile when Lando hits send. What the both of you don’t know is that Logan and Oscar are reading the message right now together. “I told you so,” Oscar tells Logan, “She has him all wrapped around her finger.”

When Lando puts his phone away, he is quick to focus his attention back on you. He doesn’t have to do anything to get your attention as well. You’re quick to move closer to him and press your lips onto his. The kiss was meant innocent, but Lando is quick to turn it into a make out session. 

“Fuck babygirl,” he mutters, “I’ve been so fucking turned on the whole night because of you.” 

You look at Lando. All the annoyed, mad feelings from before have melted away like snow for the sun. He grabs you and moves you on top of him. When you’re sitting on his lip, you feel his boner pressing on your body. 

“Can’t get the taste of you out if my system,” he continues to say, “Have been thinking about all the things you can do to me all night. All the ways you can make me cum. Fuck.”

You grind your ass on Lando his lap. “You like that don’t you?” Lando asks you, “When I talk dirty to you.” You show him a nod. “My dirty girl,” Lando continues to speak. His words cause you to grind on his crotch again. You feel the pressure from his boner sliding on your pussy. Fuck that feels good. 

“I need you to do something about it,” Lando groans when you take his boner into your hands. You won’t let him say that twice to you. Without giving it a second thought, you unclasp Lando his belt. Within seconds you pull down his pants and boxers. His boner springs free. When you take his boner into your hand and slowly stroke it. Your small movements cause Lando to let out a soft relieved moan. 

You try to remember what Lando likes. After a few firm strokes, you move down your head towards Lando his member. You place a few small licks around the top, making it wet. After that you carefully take his boner in your mouth. Slowly bobbing your head while sucking harshly on it. You use one of your hands to stroke the bit of his dick that doesn’t fit in your mouth. 

Lando sees the way you subtle move your head a couple times to remove the hair from coming in your sight. He lets out a low chuckle. Then he grabs your hair with one of his hands. Pulling it behind your head in a ponytail and keeping it in his hand like that. You increase your pace a bit. 

“Babygirl,” Lando suddenly says, “I’m going to give you a pace, but if it’s not okay you need to let me know. Okay?”

You remove your mouth from his boner only to tell Lando yes. When your mouth is back around his dick, Lando firms his grip on your hair. Slowly he shows you what he means. He softly pushes and pulls to make you get on his pace. He lets out a loud moan. “Fucking hell baby.”

Slowly you use your other hand to explore Lando his dick a bit more. Eventually you let your hand find Lando his balls. You use your finger to trace over them. For Lando this is a bit new as well, he always knew it would feel good but former girlfriends weren’t interested in it. He loves the way you doing things like this out of yourself. He doesn’t need to ask, you just explore the exact same things as he wants. When he feels your hand form around his balls and softly squeeze them, he lets out the hardest moan so far. It feels insanely good. 

You continue doing the same over again. It doesn’t take Lando long before he feels his balls getting a bit more tight. He lets out multiple moans before one hard grunts leaves his lips. It says enough to you. Lando his grip on your hair loses. A salty taste enters your mouth. You swallow it before sucking slowly until Lando is completely empty. 

“You’re the best,” Lando eventually says to you. You show him a smile. Lando pulls you close to himself, causing you to land on his chest with your body again. He plays with your hair. “Don’t give me that innocent look,” Lando says with a small smile, “because I know for sure that you’re not that innocent.” You show him a smile again, not knowing what to reply.

“I can’t wait to find out how you feel around my cock,” Lando tells you. 

“I’m ready for that,” you tell Lando shyly, “Maybe we can do that soon?”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

Then Lando realizes that he has no idea what will happen after that. Will this thing between you two end when Lando takes your virginity? He realizes that he needs to think about that and talk to you about it. But for now he focuses his attention onto you again. He presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

part seven

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[azrielbrainrot]

Such a Perfect Place To Start

Pairing: Azriel x Healer!Reader

Description: Something happens that has you questioning the nature of your relationship with the shadowsinger.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3911

Notes: When I started writing this I didn't think it was going to lead to that. Hope you like it!

Healer!Reader Masterlist

When you were called to the House of Wind so urgently by the High Lady herself you were expecting a more pressing matter, a life or death situation like you're used to, not exactly a library full of books. You don't know how long you've been sitting in this chair but you couldn't feel your butt anymore, no matter how many different positions you tried to sit in. You were used to doing some research while studying new healing techniques or herbs but these millenia old books on magical symbols were a little different.

There had been some attacks across the Night Court, including in the mountains surrounding Velaris, with some pretty disturbing details. After being killed, the victims' eyes had been removed and a symbol had been carved into their chests. All the symbols were different and, at this time, their meaning was still unknown. Unfortunately, none of the victims had survived either so there weren't any witnesses and, even after Azriel's thorough investigations, there was no evidence left behind by the culprits. It was as if no one had even been there.

You had heard some rumors about this before getting called in. Gossip spread around fast in Velaris and, even with the Inner Circle's efforts to keep panic to a minimum, people had found out about some of the details. The area around Velaris is relatively safe so to have multiple killings in a short time and in such gruesome ways was causing a bit of a fearful atmosphere to fall upon the city of dreamers. The increase in security wasn't easily missed either.

After being summoned to the River House, Feyre and Rhysand had briefed you on everything they knew and asked you for your help, seeing as they could only trust a few select people. Since there were no other clues left behind besides the symbols, the High Lord decided that, for now, everyone should focus on finding their meaning, so he sent his most trusted people to his private library to look through every book that might help.

You had obviously felt incredibly honored and happy that they trusted you this much. You've been getting closer to the inner circle after your talk with Azriel a few months ago, and sometimes still feared your friendships were a bit one sided.

As honored as you felt that they trusted you, though, you had spent days searching through old books just to come up empty. It was more tiring than a week at a war healing tent. Not to mention having to do so by Amren's side. You had no personal problems with the newly turned high fae but she still scared you profusely. Your power gave you a sense of people's aura and hers had always felt unsettling at best, even after getting turned.

At least, you weren't alone with her, everyone in the Inner Circle and some of the Valkyries had shown up at the library to help at some point. There was no way of knowing who could be behind these attacks and, from what you gathered, these fae had been moving across the court too easily, meaning they could be from the night court or even Velaris, so you couldn't involve the priestesses in the library.

The sky was already completely dark outside, making way for the millions of stars to shine in the sky. The atmosphere was a little too quiet for this time of night, usually there would still be fae walking around the city, in and out of bars and theaters. Amren had already left. The ancient one had tucked a book under her arm and walked out without much of a goodbye, leaving you with Feyre and Azriel in the library.

“I think it's time to stop for the day,” your High Lady's voice cut through the silence suddenly, “Rhys just finished at the office too.” Sometimes you envied how convenient the daematis abilities were. As her eyes glaze over and a smirk threatens to play at her lips, you know her mate is giving her a good reason to go home.

“I'll stay a bit longer,” you hold your finger over the passage you were reading, these old books had tiny fonts and you'd already lost yourself in enough of them to know better now, “I have to go to the clinic tomorrow so I wanted to at least finish this book.” There were only about half a dozen pages left of it so, even if your body was screaming at you to go to bed, you wanted to get this done first.

“Alright,” the High Lady adds her last book to the pile and looks at you one more time, “Don't stay too long. We need you to be focused at the clinic.” Her eyes shift to the shadowsinger and narrow slightly, her tone a little sterner, “You too, Az. Get some sleep.”

The spymaster nods dutifully at his friend's warning and she seems content enough with the response or in enough hurry to meet her mate, as she gives you both one last smile and turns to the door, saying one last goodbye over her shoulder.

Azriel stayed with you, even though his book had just started and there was no way he would finish it tonight. You were torn between thinking it was because he didn't trust you in the House by yourself, as the ever protective spymaster, and just writing it off as his willingness to help his court even at the risk of his own health and comfort, you don't even wanna think how many sleepless nights the spymaster has spent working lately.

You shake off your thoughts and keep reading the boring book. The sooner you finish the sooner you can go to sleep. Even your healing abilities can't do much to fight the headache you were feeling after spending the whole day reading symbols and their uses in dark magic, some of the rituals described were also making your stomach queasy.

Just as you're about to finish the last page, you hear a soft groan coming from Azriel and can't help but look up at him. His head was thrown back, showing off the column of his neck. His eyes were closed tight like he was fighting the same headache as you. With his wings stretched as far as they could go, it looked like they were taking up most of the private library, not that it was a small room by any means.

The spymaster looked exhausted. He's been spending his days meeting up with his spies and informants all around Prythian, trying to find any information on the attackers and investigating any strange movement in the court. At night, he comes home and joins you in the library to help with research, sometimes even staying up later than everyone else. You know he will do the same thing tomorrow and the day after, until you find any relevant clues and catch the killers.

Azriel takes these things more personally than maybe even the High Lord and Lady. His job as spymaster is finding any threats to the court after all, preferably before they happen. You know he must feel like he's failing his court and you wish you could show him that he's doing more than enough, that it's not his fault. Under the tough exterior and immense power, Azriel has an extremely kind soul, you've felt it. He'd make the impossible happen if it meant he could protect his court, his family, even if it cost him his own life.

“You should go to sleep,” you can't help but worry for him, “You were out all day before you came here. You must be really tired.”

You wonder how long it's been since he's had a good night of sleep. Even before this situation, it was no secret that the shadowsinger was a bit of an insomniac. You had given him a few sleeping tonics before in hopes of helping him have at least a few moments of peace.

“I'll wait for you,” he tells you, meeting your eyes. You can see the fatigue swirling around in his unguarded gaze, it seems you had been right to assume he hasn't been sleeping. “You're almost done.”

You look back down at your book and wonder how he's been keeping track of what you've been doing while reading his own book. Still, if finishing this means Azriel can go to sleep, you'll do it as fast as you can. Reading through the last page intently to make sure nothing escapes you.

Just as you're about to finish you make a silent request to the House, and two steaming cups of tea appear in front of each of you. Passionflower tea to lessen his stress and help with sleep, you've given it to him before and he told you it helped so you hope it does the trick once again.

Since you're focused on the book, you miss the way his eyes finally stray from your form to look down at the tea now sitting in front of him. You also miss the smile on his face when he reaches for it and the way his shadows let him know you were the one who asked for it, gushing about how you took care of their master.

“Do you still not trust me, Spymaster?” You close the book and put it into the ever growing pile. Stretching a bit before taking your tea into your hands and blowing on it gently.

“I trust you with my life, sweetheart.” The seriousness in his statement makes you pause with the cup halfway to your lips for a moment. You didn't need the Morrigan's gift to know he was telling the truth. The nickname takes a little longer to register but as soon as it does color rushes to your cheeks.

“Then why wait for me?” You hadn't actually thought he didn't trust you in the library but you still weren't sure why he had stayed behind after Feyre left.

“Wanted to keep you company until you finished,” he shrugged. His voice is a little gravely with sleep which is a big problem for the butterflies already fluttering in your stomach. “We've been spending a lot of time together but we've barely talked.”

He wants to talk to you. You can't help the smile or the giddy feeling washing over you. He's tired but he chose to stay up a little longer to do something as trivial as talking to you.

“What did you want to talk about then?” The way he's picking at the painted decorations in his teacup makes you think he might be feeling a little nervous but you're not sure why.

“Anything you want,” he answered a little too fast. Maybe it's the low lights in the room but you swear there's some color dusting his cheeks.

“It's hard to pick a topic like that,” you say before biting your lip slightly. For some reason you suddenly feel a little pressure to come up with a good topic, not wanting to disappoint or bore him. “Lately, all I can think about is this,” you run your finger over one of the books' spines, “It's hard to focus on anything else after spending hours in here.”

“If you feel like this is too much you can tell me. I'll talk to Rhys and he'll send you back to the clinic,” he frowns. His shadows reach a little towards you, as if wanting to comfort you. You didn't mean to worry him.

“That's not what I meant,” you start, “I want to help. I've just never dealt with anything like this. I've been to war but this… killing innocent fae in such a disturbing way is different.”

“I understand,” he nods, “If you need anything you can tell me. Even if you just want to talk.”

“Alright.” Azriel has a way of talking that leaves you not knowing how to respond sometimes. He's so sincere in what he says that you almost feel like any response would fall short. “You too. If you need help with anything I'm always here for you.”

He gives you a single nod before hiding what looked like a bashful smile behind his tea. You finish your teas like this, enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the night.

You can't hold back a yawn when you set your teacup down. As much as you'd love to stay up talking to Azriel all night, your body is about ready to crash on you.

“We should go to sleep,” he says as he stands up, making the teacups disappear. “You have to be at the clinic early.”

“You're right,” you agree with a sigh, standing up to follow him to the door. You've only been going to the clinic twice a week ever since Feyre asked for your help with this case so you know you'll have a long day ahead of you. “Will you fly me down tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he tells you as he opens the door for you, “What kind of male would I be if I let our favorite healer walk down the thousands of steps by herself?”

“Favorite? I'll tell Madja you said that,” you point your finger at him playfully.

“Second favorite then,” he takes it back with a wink, making you laugh. The smile lingers on your face all the way to the guest room you're staying in and it only deepens when you realize he walked you all the way to your door.

You turn and look up at him expectantly. It looks like he wants to tell you something with the way he's searching your face and his shadows pool at both of your feet. If you didn't know any better you'd think they wanted to crawl up your legs. You've found that they can give some of Azriel's emotions away sometimes, when he doesn't have a grip on them at least.

Your body doesn't react when he bends down slowly, pausing for a brief moment before kissing your cheek softly, murmuring a good night against your skin. It doesn't react after either, when he pulls back to watch your reaction. In fact, it's not until he walks over to his door and lets out a small chuckle, that you finally move and almost crash into the room, fumbling with the doorknob and slamming the door behind you.

As you lean your back against the door, you put your hand over your chest and stare wide eyed at the window across the room. You almost thought you were imagining things. He can probably hear your heart beating all the way in his room across the hall, you wouldn't be surprised if everyone in Velaris could hear with how loud it's beating. You let yourself slide against the door until you're crouching.

You hadn't expected him to kiss you. You know Azriel isn't one for a lot of physical touch. You've only gotten a hug out of him once, during the war after an attack on the healer's tent. He had thought you were dead then, after watching so many die he'd just been glad to see someone he knows still breathing. Actually, you might have been the one to hug him first. You had never been so close to death and were scared out of your mind. It was your first war after all.

You and Azriel had been getting closer over the months, closer than you were with the rest of Inner Circle. Even before your talk that night, he's always been friendly to you, but the shadowsinger was kind to all the healers - to everyone that wasn't his enemy really - so you never thought much of it. But this felt different. Tonight felt different.

You hadn't fully admitted it to yourself yet but the more time you spent with the shadowsinger the more your crush evolved. What had once been a silly crush based on appearance and his kind nature had quickly turned into palpable feelings. You liked him. A lot.

However, acknowledging this could destroy the friendship you had built with him for the past few months, maybe with the rest of his family as well. That's what you thought before at least. You assumed Azriel would never have feelings for you. The idea seemed so preposterous it never even crossed your mind, but now you're not so sure.

Maybe it seemed like you were exaggerating to think this after a little kiss, on the cheek no less, but this kiss made you think back on the last months you've spent with Azriel. He's been insisting on flying you up and down the stairs every time he's around, usually this task would be left to Cassian, who loved showing off his wings to you.

He's been going to the clinic more often too, stocking up on anything he can think of when he's never done that in the century you've been working in Velaris. Azriel was always one to not think much of his own health, it bothered you to no end. He also came to you with every injury. Usually when a member of the Inner Circle was hurt, Madja was the one who was called. You'd only accompany her if she needed assistance or go in her place if she wasn't able to go herself. Of course over the years they'd come to use you more and more, which is why you didn't even think of it, but looking back now… You don't know what to think anymore.

Getting up with a sigh, you make your way to your closet to change. Your thoughts consume you while you get ready for bed but your tiring day catches up to you as soon as your head hits the pillow. However, this doesn't spare you from dreaming of a certain shadowsinger.

You take longer to wake up than usual, making you hurry through your morning routine. Your body isn't used to the schedule you've been putting it through lately, and it's starting to show. But because of this, it isn't until you go to open the door to the guest room that you remember Azriel is going to fly you down to the clinic. And the incident that had you spiraling before going to sleep.

Deciding walking down the steps by yourself isn't a viable option, you go to find him and pray to the Mother things aren't too awkward between you. It had just been a little kiss on the cheek and your lack of reaction could totally be blamed on the long day, your brain was just having trouble catching up, that's all. It had been a completely normal exchange between friends, not that you're blushing just thinking about it or anything. You could just pretend it didn't happen.

As you make your way to the front door, the shadows dancing around in the hallway catch your eye instantly. You've seen them do this before, when Azriel doesn't need them and they don't want to brave the light, they just linger around the room in curious little wisps. You can't help the smile as they gravitate slowly towards you.

Right after they notice you, their master appears through the door. One of them must have warned him of your arrival, they're so cute sometimes you forget they're spies. Of course they'd tell on you.

“Good morning,” he greets. Azriel may be a shadowsinger but he looks breathtaking in the morning light. His skin glows beautifully and his eyes look a little lighter, it makes him look younger. Gods, how can he be so beautiful?

He looks a little relieved to see you. Maybe he thought you'd escape by yourself or ask someone else to fly you to the clinic to avoid him. It makes you feel a little bad that you had him worried but it's his own fault for playing with your heart like that.

“Good morning,” you smile, walking up to him. “Are you ready?”

“I was just waiting for you,” he says as he extends a hand for you to take. This has the nerves already lingering inside your body make themselves more noticeable. You almost forgot flying you down means he'll have to carry you. It had taken a while for you to get used to not only the flying but also the way he had to hold you - funny how you never had this problem with Cassian.

You take his hand and try not to move too much or gasp as he picks you up off the floor like you weigh nothing. He immediately starts walking to the edge of the stairs, holding you close to his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he breathes into your ear, extending his wings and getting ready to take flight. You do as he says and wrap your arms tighter around his neck, praying he can't feel your heart beat inside your chest.

You'll never get over how stunning Velaris looks from above or how the wind passes around you as you soar through the clouds. It's a real shame that you weren't born with wings. You understand why Illyrians are so protective of them, after knowing what this feels like, it's hard to imagine never being able to do it again.

“You know I won't drop you.” You look away from the landscape and meet his gaze. He can probably feel how tense you are but you can't tell him it has nothing to do with the height or any fear of him letting you fall.

“I know,” you assure. “What would you do without your favorite healer?” He lets out a small laugh in response and your body finally relaxes.

The flight doesn't take long, and, before you know it, he's landing right outside your clinic. He helps you get down and even holds onto you a little longer, giving you a once over to make sure you're steady on your feet.

An idea passes through your mind and you bite your lip, wondering if you'd truly lost it. You take a quick look around before you lose your nerve. It was still early enough that the streets were almost deserted, no one should see you.

Turning back to the shadowsinger, you hesitate again when you notice him watching you, probably wondering what you were up to. If you read the situation wrong this could make things very awkward for the two of you.

Deciding not to let your anxiety reign your life, you grab his shoulder gently so you can pull him a little closer to your height. Standing on your tiptoes to clear the rest of your height difference. You hold onto his cheek and place a soft kiss on the other side of his face, murmuring a “thank you”.

You step back again and look up at him, still slightly bent from where you pulled him to you and looking at your face with wide eyes. You're not sure if you've ever seen the feared spymaster so caught off guard before. There was a small smile playing at his lips though, so you assume you hadn't completely misread the situation. You can't help but form a grin of your own and turn around to go inside the clinic, leaving him behind just as he did to you last night. Your heart soaring higher than you had just been.

[nnight-dances]

CASUAL

PAIRING: karina x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, smut (explicit, but not too much?)

TROPES: fwb to lovers except you're roommates and best friends, unrequited love but not really.

LISTEN TO: casual by chappell roan

NOTE: i may be having a bit of a military wife moment rn but i'm still a sapphic at heart yearning for something more... my first gay fic i've posted on this account yay! cannot reveal if ive been in a similar situation but you could say this is based on real life! whose life, i will not say. hope u enjoy and stay safe everyone <3

knee-deep in the [twin bed] and you're eating me out

you want to say you're in control when it happens, but you'd be a big fat liar if you did. truth be told, karina had you wrapped around her finger since she moved in. (in more ways than one, if you catch my drift.) 

you met her late freshman year in college when you shared a gender studies course with her – which alone would've been enough of a clue to which ways she swings, if not for the black leather jacket and unnecessary amount of rings she wore to class. she'd sat next to you the first week in and approached you after class. "this class is a bore," she said as a matter-of-factly, "wanna get coffee with me?" 

you'd agreed because you were mesmerized (even though secretly, that was the favorite course you took that year) and followed her into a cafe, letting her sweet talk you into all kinds of things from there. she had a big friend group which welcomed you generously when they found out you were friends with karina and eventually, that became your everyday life. 

you worked on papers sincerely while karina watched you with an unreadable glint (maybe it was unreadable, maybe you didn't want to read too much into it), swirling her untouched coffee. eventually one day, she asked you, "wanna be roommates next year?" 

that was karina. easy-going and confident. she didn't hesitate to ask you to do things with her, even if they were often bending the boundaries of what friends could do. exhibit a: she'd asked you to make out with her at a party just so she could shake off a creep. in general, she was touchier than the normal person, finding a way to cup your stomach under your shirt when you weren't looking. you get the idea. 

that's how when she moves into the same room as you sophomore year, you lost all sense of self and reality. you have to thank your mom who convinced you to arrive on campus a day earlier than most, so you could settle in without the bothersome crowd. 

you're in the middle of fixing a poster of your favorite band, the strokes, in the wall when she lets herself in with a, "you're already here, jagiya!" you almost lose your footing on your chair in order to face her, heart already a fluttering mess thanks to her shameless flirting. 

"karina!" you call out, thrilled to see your friends, complications aside. you step down carefully before throwing yourself in her waiting arms. "you're here earlier than i thought."

she pulls away with a devilish grin, "missed you too much so i came early." she looks around the room, "i see you've already made this place home."

you smile, unsettled by the way she's still holding you in her arms, your bodies attached at the hip as she takes in her home for the next year. she smells like she always does: like grapefruit and spicy cedar. you feel relaxed in her embrace, taking in her appearance. she's wearing a cropped tank with a large flannel that slips off her shoulder thanks to the heavy tote she carries.

with a sigh, you take the tote off her. "your hair grew longer," you comment as you place the bag on her desk. karina does a little spin for you, giving a full view of the wavy locks that came all the way to her navel. it only made her that much more charming (you couldn't resist wanting to know what it would feel like to run your fingers through them). 

you watch as karina lugs all her stuff into the room, refusing your help with a strict look. "can't have you spraining something already, jagiya," she quips and that's all it takes for you to sit back obediently. she takes off her flannel, letting you take in her arms. was it just you or did her biceps get bigger? (it wasn't just you. karina spent her summer the gym rat way.)

"you barely have any stuff…" you murmur mindlessly when she's nearly done in half an hour. for reference, it took you three whole hours for two days to set your stuff in place.

"you just have a lot of stuff," karina laughs, closing her closet with a satisfied clap. "thoughts on ordering in for din'?"

you raise a brow, "shouldn't we at least go see if everyone's back?"

she shrugs, "we can just go after we eat." she approaches your bed, resting her forearms next to you. "come on, i don't feel like eating that prison food just yet."

despite karina's exaggeration (your dining hall makes perfectly edible food), you let karina order for you. who are you kidding? the thought of sharing a meal with your newly established roommate in your new room on your first day together… it was sweet, you had to admit. so you give in and tell karina exactly what toppings you want on your bowl. 

but where you had expected to bond in all kinds of cozy ways with karina, the night quickly an unexpected turn. you're not sure how it happens but you end up caged under karina's body on your bed. her hot breath is hitting your face, "you got even prettier over the summer, huh?"

her words make it harder to think. to think about how this your best friend slash roommate slash the person you would do anything for. fuck, it's too late and you're too helpless when it comes to her. karina's already sliding her hand down your stomach, eliciting a mewl of her name from your throat. 

she looks pleased, chesire grin lighting up her face when she reaches your panties. "mhm, karina–" you claw at her shoulder when a cold finger meets your slick folds. she kisses your cheek and then your mouth, so strong that you can't do anything but hold her closer to your chest till she's ripping a scream from you. 

"karina, what are we doing?" you cry out, still coming down from your orgasm. what the fuck, this not a situation to be with your roommate.

"what?" she whispers, lips attached to your neck without a care in the world, "i'm just doing what i've been wanting to all summer."

"okay, that's enough," you push her off until you're both sat. you're breathless so it doesn't help the gravity of the glare you hold karina captive under. she sits back on her palms, eyes hooded. 

"we're friends," you start and sensing the protest rising in her, you hold up a hand, "and roommates. you know what they say about that, don't you?"

"don't shit where you eat," she deadpans, "but i don't care. i'm not shitting anywhere. i like you, you like me. that's why we're friends. if we want to fuck around a little, what's the big deal?"

you contain a scoff at how unbothered she is. at the same time, her words stab you in the heart, the subtle friendzoning nature of them not going unnoticed (that's why we're friends? what if you wanted to be more?)

"listen, jagiya," karina shifts dangerously closer, a thumb wiping away the sweat on your lip. "it's chill. we don't have to if you don't want to. but i'll tell you right now; i want to do things with you."

"things?" you breathe even though you know you shouldn't fall into her trap.

"yeah," she caresses your cheek, licking her lips, "want to kiss you. make you come. that sort of thing."

you fall against her weakly, feeling the soft strands of her hair envelope you like a dream. with your eyes closed, all you can feel is warmth of her body and none of the cold of her words (kiss, fuck, chill. no love.) 

"only if you let me eat you out, too," you finally murmur against her skin. feel her shake with laughter.

"thought you'd never ask."

you wake up in karina's arms. she'd dozed off in your bed as if hers wasn't two hops away. the thoughts makes you flushed (despite everything) and you turn around to face her. she's still asleep, peaceful as ever. you trace the mole below her lips, envious of how little she was attached to you.

not to drown yourself in self-pity, you had always been too attached to karina for your own good. a week into being friends with her, you would jump at a text from her, dropping everything to meet at her the cafe she had wanted to try or to help her get ready for a party. 

but it wasn't without reason. she was sweet to you, genuinely. karina sensed your moods smoothly, knowing when your silence was more than comfortable and when your drunk crying meant you were actually upset over something. she listened to you, no matter how little you claimed the problem to be, her reliable shoulder always yours when you were in trouble.

so you couldn't blame the butterflies in your stomach at waking up with her. right?

"we never made it to meeting our friends," karina mumbles through a yawn later. you're both in the middle of getting ready for the day, thankfully still a grace day before classes start. 

"you clearly had other plans," you purse your lips in the mirror, working on fixing a bump in your hair. stupid karina and her arm under your head all night. 

she comes up behind you with a playful smile, taking the brush from your hands to rake it through your hair herself. "you say that like you didn't have fun," she says. she brings your hair into a bun, taking a hairtie off her wrist to secure it in place. patting your head with eyes on you in the mirror, "there. you look cute."

you heave a deep sigh at the motions that stir up at her actions, sliding away to pretend to busy yourself with your bag. "we should go meet them today," you say, "or they might declare us dead."

"definitely," karina laughs.

meeting your friends helps you a little. maybe it's because you're seeing them after so long or maybe it's just the fact that you have normal friend feelings for them. but it's nice, you can lose yourself in a nonsense conversation with seungkwan about your recently acquired obsessions with various mobile games.

he's in the middle of offering to show you his brand-new coffee machine when karina shouts, "guys! gather up! minjeongie is driving us to get ice-cream! on her!"

you spot the short blonde attacks on karina at the presumably false declaration. your rommate dodges well, bent in a fit of laughter at minjeong's tantrum. "okay, i lied! everyone buy your own ice-cream."

as it turns out, minjeong's car is definitely not big enough to fit all 8 of your friends. "looks like we're fighting it out the fairest way," seowon declares, readying her fist for rock paper scissors. 

"since only five of us can go," karina starts, somehow finding her way next to your side. you shiver when her hands clasps yours. "minjeong, y/n, and i are definitely going."

you watch in shock as everyone wreaks havoc at her words. "now why would we allow that–"

"see, it's technically just two seats taken," she explains calmly, "y/n's sitting on my lap anyway." you gape at her audacity as she holds up your intertwined hands, like a wedding announcement.

you try to weasel out of her grip, mumbling, "that's fine. i don't really want to go–"

"what? of course you do," karina's hand tightens and you curse her strength, "you love ice-cream, jagiya. come on. let's go."

your friends seem dubious of the interaction but with a few statements along the lines of they're in their honeymoon phase as roomies, they return to the rock-paper-scissors battle at hand, now the stakes reduced to four seats now. 

"calling shotgun by the way!" karina calls as she pulls you after. you don't know what to say honestly, overwhelmed by her hand in yours. you had expected her to pretend things were the same as always but clearly not: you had never gone as far to sit in her lap with your friends around (alone was a different story. but you swear you'd only ended up in her lap because she'd wanted to hug you through your breakup with your ex.) 

"karina, you're crazy," you tell her, finally shaking your hand free. you cross your arms and karina simply takes a chug of water from the brita in geum's minifridge. 

"why? because i volunteered my lap so we'd get to go?"

before you can really give her a piece of your mind, minjeong interrupts. "looks like they figured out the winners. we're leaving in the next five minutes or the offer's off the table."

– 

two weeks and your mom invites me to [lunch]

"y/n, it's so nice to see you again," karina's mom is saying, sliding a menu toward you. thanksgiving week was around which meant parents were abundant on campus these days. it also meant your own mom couldn't make it because she was swamped with work, no thanks to her job as an on-field reporter. 

"of course, you've lost so much weight since we last met, eommeoni," you smile.

this is fine for the most part of it. you genuinely enjoy karina's mom's company. she's kind and sincere, always bringing a gift for you along with karina and treating you like her own. but this time around it's different because it's the first time you've been sleeping with her daughter.

in fact, just that morning, karina had kept you in bed longer than usual, complaining because you had gone to bed earlier than usual. it had been part of your plan to keep your conscience clean for when you met her mother, to make sure you didn't lose her respect. but being the nefarious idiot she was, karina had crawled up your torso, eyes going sweet at you, "please, just once?"

so now you had a dirtier conscience than usual, having been panting in karina's lap just hours before this lunch. 

but even if you tried to maintain composure in front of her mom, karina made it impossible. she slid close to your shoulder, hand splayed across your bare thigh (curse you and your decision to wear your sundress out today). it's honestly harmless and even excusable as a friendly gesture, but ever so occassionally, her hand climbs up, reaching closer and closer to a position that was far from appropriate.

"so tell me, do you two have any classes together this semester?" karina's mom asks you between mouthfuls of rice. you take the chance to peel karina's hand off but it ends up at your knee like a magnet. 

"not really," karina answers easily as if unaware of the power struggle going under the table. probably because she was winning by a mile. 

"i told karina she should take an elective with me but she refused," you complain, deciding if this was the way you could hit back then so be it.

"i think you forgot to mention it was an economics elective," she corrects you, hand basically clawing at your inner thight by now. you shift uneasily and karina's mom laughs.

"you know jimin," she shakes her head, "she doesn't take the serious courses. only painting all day long."

"eomma," karina groans, "how many times do i have to tell you? it's not just painting. i'm an arts major. that's like the second hardest major at this school."

"really? what's the hardest major?" (the only right question for a mother to ask.)

the rest of the lunch goes by quickly, fortunately for you. you're the first out the door, eager to put some distance between you and karina. you pretend to fan yourself out of the hot mess she's made of you.

"i have to say," karina's mom says as she gets ready to leave, "you two seem to have gotten closer since you started rooming together."

"really?" karina wonders as if clueless to the arm around your shoulder, where it had been the whole walk back to campus from the restaurant. (insufferable, you whisper to her. cute, she accuses you.)

"thanks for sticking next to her, y/n. who knows where my little girl would be without you?"

you brush of karina's mom's words of flattery, not voicing the thoughts that arise. where would i be without your daughter? 

– 

i know what you tell [our] friends

imagining a life without karina becomes terribly real when it becomes clear to you that karina truly has no intentions of treating as anything more than a friend who she sleeps with and not just as roommates. 

it's a cold slap of reality that you finally feel one day when you're eating with minjeong and seungkwan. karina's next to you, like she so often is, hand on your elbow for no good reason.

"so everyone's been wondering…" minjeong starts to say and seungkwan shoots her a glare, realizing where this was going.

"...are you two a thing?" she points to the point of contact between you and karina.

"what?" you squeak, pulling away at the call-out. but your mind goes blank, all the excuses you had practiced in your head deserting you. you had expected someone to catch on sooner or later, but somehow right now all you can think of is how you already miss karina's touch. i'm in love with her, it occurs to you to say. (wait, you love her? you wonder distantly as if the answer hadn't been crystal clear the minute she crossed lines with you.)

karina shrugs, "we're fucking. but it's casual. no attachment or anything." she adds with an arm around you, "just girls being girls, right?"

you muster out a laugh to agree with her, ignoring the concerned look seungkwan pins you with. minjeong seems convinced though, "no way! you're sleeping together? i guess it must be convenient… you live together."

"yeah, you could say that," this time it's you responding, swallowing the tremble in your throat. you'd rather die than let karina get a whiff of your true feelings. you stand up.

 "it's easy." it's the hardest. "not a big deal." you thought about it every waking second. "i have class now though. see you guys later." 

you did not have class. you ran to the nearest bathroom stall to lock yourself in and let out the sobs that had been threatening your system for the past three weeks. you make sure nobody can hear you and then wipe your tears with the spare tissues you carry in your bag. 

you leave, hoping nobody notices your red eyes. 

that night, you go to your room later than usual, counting on karina to be asleep. you should know better though because she's up, in nothing but her night shorts, sitting on your bed. 

it almost frustrates you for a moment, the sight of her curled up so comfortably on your bed like you were lovers. but you weren't. you weren't even close. but she perks up like maybe you are, calling out your name sweetly, "you're so late today. is everything okay?"

"yeah," you say, not making eye-contact for too long as you rest your bag on your desk. you contemplate leaving the room just so you didn't have to feel this hot volcano erupt in your chest. but instead, you undress, aware of karina's unwavering gaze. you make sure to slip off your pants and put on a baggy shirt. no shorts, like karina liked.

"we're a fully dressed person put together," she liked to joke when she'd bring your bodies close. you laughed along but all you wanted was to actually be one person with her. maybe that would justify why you were so attracted to her. 

"come on,," she coos when you jump into bed. "i know something's wrong. your eyes are red. your shoulders heavy."

"can't lie for one second with you, can i?" you sigh into her skin when she hugs you. 

"sorry, jagiya. maybe if i was a man, you could get away with it."

maybe that would make it easier. if one of you was a man. at least then someone would bat an eye at the concept of a no strings attached situationship between best friends. you were practically begging for someone to object to its apparently platonic nature. (you were begging yourself.)

"i didn't even shower," you complain when she explores your bare stomach with her fingers.

"it's fine. we'll just take one in the morning."

she holds you to the promise, waking you up half an hour earlier than usual just so she could drag you into the shower. two girls showering together, a sight nobody would see because it was dead quiet until an hour from now. 

– 

i try to be the chill girl 

you knew it was too good to be true, your friends-with-benefit situation with karina. but now that your feelings are actually catching up to you, you can barely hold in the tears that overwhelm you when you look at her.

then, when you finally decide to suck it up and show up to dinner with your friends, it all goes south. thanks to some dumb group project karina's doing, a guy named taeyong was at your table. you knew him by name from college gossip. he was fit to be the protagonist of a rom-com, nice guy with the looks to go with it and he was friendly, fitting right in with the group of friends. 

bitterly, you reflect on how long it had taken you, in comparison, to warm up to everyone. a month, maybe? plus, he looked perfect next to karina, their unusually good looks matching each other's quality.

you're not the only thinking that because geum pipes up, "you two look good together! when's the wedding?"

seowon hits his arm though most of the people on the table join in laughter. (you don't.) "come on, you can't force it, geum," she says, "they're clearly still getting to know each other."

"so it'll be official in say, a week from now?" minjeong teases, earning herself a blush from taeyong. karina is unruffled but she does smile a little at the teasing comments, side-eyeing the boy next to her.

right. they did look good together. 

much to your discomfort, karina and taeyong only seem to become closer, with the latter frequenting your table at every meal. he assimilated easily with the group, already circulating inside jokes that you were conveniently not a part of.

speaking of which you were circulating a word tornado yourself: casual, no attachement, chill, convenient, easy… not a big deal. as taeyong became a regular with your friends, you became increasingly absent, coming up with excuses to take your meals at much earlier or later hours.

you're officially spiraling, doing your best to avoid karina. but avoiding karina meant avoiding your friends. it was a harsh truth but you came to realize you were only friends with them because of her and if you decided to break things off with her, you'd also end up a loner.

it was a cold, miserable place to be in, your mind. you left your room early and came back late to karina asleep. she'd tried to stay up for your sake a few times but you'd made your arrivals later and later, until she gave up and went to sleep. 

you know you can only avoid her for so long before she caught you and grilled you but for now, you just had to come up with a way to keep yourself occupied. that afternoon, you get a text from her, asking to talk to you after dinner. you leave her on read for hours before texting back a quick "sure," afraid to go too far. you may be mad at karina for treating you in ways that left you confused, but you didn't actualy want to hurt her. 

but come the time when finally face her and you realize it may be too late. 

"so… why exactly have you been avoiding me?" more than anything, karina's voice is weary. she appears worried when you first take a seat across from her but when you don't look like you're in actual physical pain, her expression morphs into one of frustration.

"i'm not," you sigh, "i'm just busy."

"busy during every single meal? busy enough to leave before i wake up?"

"i'm taking more classes than usual," you say and though it's the truth, it's far from being the reason why you were acting this way. karina seems to know this. 

"i'm taking an art class that has me staying back in the studio till 11," she tells you. only then, you notice the black charcoal marking her cheek. "but i still come home."

"sorry," you mumble, averting your gaze. "i'm not– you didn't do anything. i'm just… thinking through some things. i'll come back to the room earlier today."

"great, so now we're not close enough for you to share your thoughts with me?" this time karina actually sounds hurt. it was the indication of your friendship finally falling apart that has her sitting forward, eyes blinking in panic. "y/n, what the fuck?"

what the fuck, indeed. you try your best to reassure karina but it seems like she's done talking to you after that point so you see yourself out. a small part of you manages to wonder whose jacket was laid across the chair next to her. taeyong?

you find the answer the hard way when you come back to your room at a reasonable hour for the first time in a week. only to run into taeyong himself.

he seems like he's in a hurry when you step in, rushing to put his jacket on (yes, the jacket that you saw next to karina earlier today) and avoiding your gaze. you don't even pretend to seem pleased encounter him there.

you fix your glare on karina, kneeling on her bed. she lets out a sigh when she sees you. "you're finally back."

you watch as taeyong leaves without a goodbye and you scoff, "i feel like i interrupted something. maybe i shouldn't have come back." you feel the blood rush to your head, all your convictions to lay out your unreciprocated feelings out to karina because she deserved an explanation.

right now, you just feel empty. and mad. so as soon as you rest your bag, you get to changing. but not into your night clothes.

"are you going somewhere?"

"...maybe."

"and what happened to our talk earlier?"

with a huff of disbelief, you throw your sweaty shirt on your bedroom floor. "well, i decided it meant nothing when i saw that guy leaving our room."

"taeyong?" karina looks baffled and you want to shake some sense into her so bad.

"yeah, i don't know, karina, the thought of you already replacing me with some dude–" you cut yourself off when your voice breaks. "it's not a great feeling. so i'm just gonna leave."

"wait, what?" karina jumps out of her bed. "is this what you've been mad about all week?"

you pause your angry movements about your space when she comes close to you, touching your arm, first contact in days. you breathe unevenly, "karina, i just need some time–"

"are you crying, jagiya?"

you want to say it's stupid nickname that gets to your nerves finally breaking your walls down. but really, it's the warmth in her tone, the sound of her breath hitting your ear so close. you'd missed karina. that's why you end up sobbing, arms finding her neck to support you. 

"karina, i'm–" she rubs your back calmly through your sobs. "i'm sorry."

"what's wrong, baby? why are you crying? please, talk to me."

"i think… i'm in love with you."

your confession is quiet, just like your love for karina has always been. actually no, that's what you want to think but no, your love is loud: you look for her in every room you enter, hands already welcoming hers when she runs over to you. you're the first to laugh at her jokes, no matter how nonsensical or how many times she's told them to you. you may be a flustered mess when things got intimate, but you always made sure karina felt good, too – going far beyond your comfort zone to please her.

karina pulls away with a soft gasp. "that's not what i expected you to say."

"i know," you sniffle. "but it's been killing me. i know you wanted to keep things casual. and i know you and taeyong are–"

"okay, just so we're clear for once and for all– there is nothing between me and taeyong."

you freeze in shock, having been rock-solid in your assumption of their relationship. "what?"

"come on, i barely know the guy. but apparently, everyone's teasing got to his head," karina sighs, "he came here to confess to me earlier today. and i rejected him."

now his urgency to leave the room makes even more sense, you realize slowly. but you realize another thing: karina had looked cold when you'd entered, ending things with him clearly. yet, here you were, standing with her arms around your waist as if you hadn't declared your love for her.

"...and?" you prod her, biting your lip hopefully.

"and?" karina echoes you, eyes locking in yours to understand your hint. "oh, you wanna know how i feel?"

you nod coyly, a stray tear falling down your cheek as if on cue. 

"well, let's start with a recap of this week. you ignored me so i felt like shit for most of it. and then you ignored me some more and i had to go to sleep lonely and sad. then, you stopped showing for meals so i didn't even want to eat anymore. what happened next? oh right, this evening. i had to practically beg you to talk to me–"

"okay, i get the idea!" you stop her with a groan, "i'm sorry, but i clearly had good reason to act the way i did."

"did you?" karina is suddenly holding your face, smiling turning bittersweet. "you idiot."

"huh?"

"i wanted to keep things casual because i wasn't sure how you felt about me. i wanted you to keep your options open till someone who you actually liked came along–"

"but–"

"this was long before i knew you were into me like that. you're really hard to read, you know? but yeah, i kept things casual because i'm selfish. i wanted to sleep with the girl i love without losing her friendship. i was obviously an–"

"idiot!" you hit karina's arm repeatedly at her revelation, tears filling up your vision yet again. "you love me?! why would you do that to me, then? are you–"

karina catches your fists in her with a heave, "i know, i know. i'm sorry, jagiya. but–" she brings your first to her chest, exposed by the deep neck of the tank she wore to sleep. "i'm serious about you, okay? i didn't want to gamble someone i cherished over some fucking around."

your body feels weak now that the truth is out in the open. you lean into karina. "you're so mean," you say into her neck, "i thought… you were chill."

she laughs at your complaint, "sorry. i'm dumb. dumb in love?"

you let karina coax you into her bed that night, kissing your body free of the tension you'd carried all that week like she was nursing you back to health. you can't help the tears that escape at her sweet touch, not new for her by any means – but different for you nevertheless, now that you knew how she felt. later that night, when you're falling asleep in her arms, in her twin bed this time, you feel her snuggle closer. warm nose against your cold cheek, she kisses you goodnight. (and a soft love you that you can barely distinguish from a dream.)

[frudoo]

Slasher 141 again, sorry to bug, I'm chomping at the bit. She meets the others? I humbly ask for more pleaseeee

Can y'all tell I'm horny for slasher Johnny

Warnings: Smut throughout, so MDNI. Fingering, strange men, reader is just getting a taste of what she signed up for. Fem!Reader obvs.

     Simon doesn’t talk much. Maybe it’s because Johnny’s got his hand down your pants and he doesn’t want to interrupt, but even so, he just gives off that kind of vibe. Johnny’s trailing kisses down your neck and you’re whimpering, just trying to get the two of them to make small talk.

“S-Simon, are you… do you also- um… you know. Kill people?” You wince at your poor choice of words, but the kisses from your date don’t let up, so maybe you’re alright.

     Simon’s beady eyes meet yours through the rear-view mirror. Fuck, if he’s not a serial killer, he should be. Those dark brown eyes are deeply unsettling, making you nauseous. He nods in affirmation before turning his eyes back to the road.

"We all are."

Well, shit. Is there such a thing as a murderer-radar? Because if so, yours is in mint condition. 

     Johnny bites down on your neck harshly at the same time his middle finger slips inside of your pussy, and you squeal. Is this what they do? Seduce a vulnerable woman with deadly curiosity such as yourself, just to take her away and dice her up? God, you really should have paid more attention to the warnings in all those true crime documentaries. Now you’re going to end up in one. 

     “Are… are you going to kill me?” You sigh—rule number one: don’t question what the big serial killers are going to do to you while you’re in their truck.

     Johnny grins against your neck, his hot tongue soothing the bite he’d just left on you. He inserts another finger, and, well… maybe getting the best finger-fuck of your life before you die isn’t the worst way to go out. You mewl when he curls them right up against your g-spot and almost miss Simon’s low voice answering your question.

     “If we wanted y’dead, y’already would be,” he shrugs, pulling onto a long dirt road that leads to a large farmhouse, past herds of cattle and fat pigs who look like they’ve never missed a meal. 

     Simon’s answer does nothing to settle your nerves, although the orgasm that Johnny coaxes out of you works well to distract. There’s a black cat waiting by the front door when they guide you inside, and your head starts pounding. If that’s not an omen, you don’t know what is. Damn Johnny and his beautiful, charming self, and damn you for not being bothered enough by his career choice when you should have been. Now you’re not even sure what you’ve gotten yourself into.

     It’s warm inside. Inviting, despite everything, with cozy furniture littered across the den and taxidermied animals decorating the walls. Extravagant chandeliers hang from the ceiling, lighting up the area with a dim yellow aura that helps remind you to breathe. The walls are painted a dark green and the fireplace is going, and on the largest couch sits two more men—one with blue eyes nearly as piercing as Johnny’s, and another with the prettiest lips you’ve ever seen.

     Now that you can see him better, you realize that even Simon is ridiculously handsome, with short blonde hair and a scar across his lip that must have been the result of repairing a nasty split. More white marks are littered across his face, but the honey of his brown eyes don’t seem nearly as cold under this warm light. It almost makes you forget what they do for a living.

     “I’m guessin’ this is her, since she’s not hog-tied,” the one with blue eyes speaks gruffly, standing from his seated position and slowly stalking closer.

     He’s taller than Johnny, but not quite at Simon’s height, and his hand is rough against your skin as he cups your cheek in his palm. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, eyes taking in every inch of your person. The man hums thoughtfully before removing his hands from you, looking between the men who stand by your side.

     “Pretty thing, ain’t she? Nice and soft, too,” he concludes, calling the other man over to check you out as well.

     Your breath hitches in your throat as the new man smiles down at you, those luscious lips spread across a perfectly straight set of white teeth. He doesn’t touch you, just gives you a once-over before nodding.

     “She’s perfect,” he confirms to the previous man before looking to you again. “M’Kyle. Tha’s John, and m’sure y’know those two already.”

     You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. You still have no idea what the hell is going on, or what they mean by perfect. Perfect for what, exactly? More taxidermy? Pig food?

     “Glad ye approve, Cap’n, Gaz,” Johnny beams, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Knew ye’d love her.”

     Your eyes widen slightly when Simon leans down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, followed by Kyle, then John. You’re frozen in place, but Johnny just chuckles and scoops you up into his arms, strong legs striding down the hallway into one of the bedrooms.

     “Dinnae be afraid, hen. They like ye. Ah told ye, ye’ll ge’ along jus’ fine,” he presses his lips against your temple, then lays you on his bed. 

     “We’ll ge’ yer room set up in the mornin’, but ah need tae taste tha’ sweet cunt reit fookin’ now. Dinnae be quiet, lass, let ‘em hear yer bonnie moans."

[spacedace]

Something I've seen in fics a few times but not for comedic effect is the idea that Constantine selling his soul so many times makes him look/feel Wrong to ghosts.

Like I love various Danny ghost shenanigans giving Constantine a heart attack in stories but just imagine that Constantine is like deeply, deeply unsettling for Ghosts & Liminals to be around.

To the point of whenever he and Danny meet for the first time at the Watchtower after Danny's joined the League, Constantine just walks in and upon turning to look at who just walked in Danny just shrieks like a small child and throws a chair at him out of reflex, diving behind Captain Marvel to use him as a magical human meat shield while screeching "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT???! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" At the top of his lungs and doesn't stop until Batman makes Constantine leave.

Even after Zantanna explains Constantine's whole deal and Danny explains to the Justice League how totally fucked up that looks/feels like to him ("Dude, Ghosts are their core, for us you see that before you see the shape of whoever you're talking to. Like, imagine someone walks up to you with a face that looks like it's made out of a shattered plate and the pieces are bleeding"

Or like, imagine instead it's a thing were Jason and Jazz are dating and Jazz, Danny & Elle are invited over for a nice meet the family brunch - "Brunch is fun and casual!" Dick insisted, "Way less intimidating than if we had them over for dinner!") and Constantine pops in to talk to Bruce about a case.

And the second he walks into the room all three just shriek like they're from an episode of Scooby Doo.

Elle takes one look at Constantine and just nopes out of there so hard she doesn't even gk intangible as she throws herself out the window and starts flying for the hills. Danny screeches like a cat whose tail has been stepped on and jumps onto the ceiling and scrambles away. Jazz screams like a house wife from an old Looney Tunes cartoon and starts climbing Jason like a tree - which is a bit of a problem since she's half a foot taller than Jay and throwing his center of balance off a bit and now half of the plates are smashed on the floor.

Jason doesn't even notice though because he also is losing his shit over what the fuck that thing is and unlike Elle is far more interested in Fight rather than Flight and pulls out a gun - "Why'd you bring a gun to brunch?! Guns aren't fun or casual!" - and just starts unloading on Constantine (who is very lucky Jason has switched to non lethal rounds and that he's quick enough with his spells to largely keep most of the rubber bullets from hitting him) also while screaming at the top of his lungs.

And well, turns out Jason's new girlfriend is the older sister of that ghost hero the League's been looking to recruit and Bruce is gonna take advantage of that - Phantom has been hard to pin down, which is fair, bad history with government agencies trying to kill him and all - to talk to him about a place with JL, though first he's going to have to get him down from the ceiling and that'd be a lot easier if Constantine would just leave already, they are supposed to be having a family brunch this is his one day off!

(Elle screams her all the way to Metropolis and doesn't stop until she nearly knocks Superman out of the sky. He isn’t really sure what's going on, but he does manage to calm her down and takes her to go get some ice cream. When he pitches joining JL she tells him that she thinks he's kinda lame but that Superboy is cool so she's down. It's...honestly kinda devastating but Clark manages to get through it.

A note gets made when the two ghost heroes officially join the League that partnerships with Constantine should be kept at an absolute minimum.)

And lol yeah, just, Constantine being utterly terrifying to Danny and the Pham

[pearlzier]

⊹ 🩰 ࣪ ✶ ˖

✶ . ࣪ ׅ now playing / pink matter by frank ocean ࣪ ✶ ˖

๋࣭ ⭑ from the inbox . . . | reader thinking that matt doesn't really care about her and his priorities are always elsewhere, and he decided to worship her to make it up to her — @lovesickgrlsrh0t

๋࣭ ⭑ warnings . . . | kinda subby matt, also kinda subby reader, oral (f!receiving), barely angst but sure, riding schlong, unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap that willy LMFAOO), p in v

๋࣭ ⭑ author's note . . . | take me shopping i dont care you can take me anywhere see the wind fly through my hair make the people stop n stare 😇 i hope this is. good BYE

you know matt loves you more than anything. it was so obvious in everything he did, how he behaved around you. you love him more than anything, you're sure to make it obnoxiously clear too. he makes your heart flutter, your demeanour happier and just everything better.

so why was that quiet but insistent part of your mind trying to convince you otherwise?

it started when matt was getting consistently more busy with youtube and other influencer-y things that he and his brothers do. you were used to it, yeah, but lately it felt more intrusive and an inconvience to you more than anything. but you never mentioned it, because you never wanted to seem needy, or like that annoying girlfriend who always wants his attention on her. you do, of course, who wouldn't, but not like that.

"m'busy, baby, i can't," he'd tell you, glancing at you for a faint moment before he looked back at his computer or resumed talking with nick and chris. it shouldn't have made you as upset as it did, since it wasn't anywhere near rude or a rejection, but it did make you upset. even a—"maybe later, babe,"—was almost catastrophic, making you feel even worse.

it may seem irrational or an overreaction however you just felt.. ignored. or underappreciated, or whatever you'd call it. like, does he even care about you? insane, you know, but.. you couldn't help but feel like that. what was making you so highstrung?

and matt. oh, matt. as perceptive as ever, knew there was something wrong almost immediately. he stayed quiet about it, trying to test the waters to see whether he was wrong about it however when your reluctance to even be around him became evident, he knew something had happened. he just.. didn't know what. so, he asked chris, first. "i dunno, man, she's just—she's like, avoiding me," chris laughs, almost instantly.

"what the fuck did you do?" he's not really paying attention, considering he knows exactly why you're avoiding matt. you'd talked to him and nick about it. and he vividly remembers you saying you wanted matt to figure out why you were so upset himself; without help.

matt retorts immediately, "i don't know, if i did, i think i'd be fixing it, dumbass." he swallows thickly, feeling uncomfortable with the thought of you not wanting to be around him. he pushes up from the counter, sighing, "thanks for the help." his tone is sarcastic, snarky, as he runs a hand through his hair before heading to the living room where you were with nick.

yeah, you'd resorted to hanging out with nick, when matt was in the house—it wasn't unusual, just.. weird considering how worried he was. it was petty of you, you knew it, but..

"hey," the tension is unsettling, and he hates it. you hate it too. you both hate it. nick's in the middle of it, fiddling with the beads of the bracelet he'd been making with you with a sideways glance at matt as if to tell him that he fucked up, big time. matt knew that, of course he did. you glance up at him, a tiny bit guilty. "nick, you mind if i steal her away for a bit?" he jokes, glancing at you with soft, almost sad puppy dog eyes.

"go ahead," nick mumbles, not exactly wanting to be stuck between couple drama and kind of just wanting to make cute bracelets.

you reluctantly get up, handing the beads back to nick. a dramatic sigh slips past your lips, and you make your way over to matt, looking at him expectantly. he swallows hard, gently grasping at your arm and leading you to his room, closing the door behind him. looking back at you, he finds you standing there with your arms folded over your chest defensively. his heart melts. "baby," he starts.

you glance away, frowning. you weren't mad at him, could never be mad at him, but.. uncertain and worried and all those bad feelings that made your head hurt and stomach ache. "matt," not even a matty? now he's frowning, unsure of how to approach this without making an absolute fool of himself. you had him wrapped so tight around your pretty finger, it was unbelievable.

"you're upset with me," matt mumbles, sounding dejected and upset with himself that he'd done something to upset you. "c'mon, look at me," you won't even look at him, give him the time of day.

kind of like how he made you feel, right? he doesn't know where the thought came from, and maybe it's from how you refuse to look at him, but.. he starts to piece things together. especially when you accidentally look at him despite the whole ignoring thing you have going on. "oh, baby," he says softly, ashamed. he hadn't been looking after you the way he should, right? that's what he's thinking, and he knows he's right.

"mmph," you glance away, focusing your gaze on the ceiling. it's how a child, a particularly petulant one, would react to being neglected in the way matt had done to you. his frown only deepens, hands moving to clasp at your thighs. you flinch at the cold metal of his rings against your warm skin, however you relax moments after. "i'm sorry," he starts, knowing a simple apology won't get you to forgive him. he knows you well, after all. "c'mon, let me.." he says softly, pulling you gently towards the bed. he's careful, not too forceful in case you don't want him to touch you or anything. he's too on edge. you let out a quiet sound as the back of your knees hit the bed, and you plonk down, eyes flickering up to his.

it would seem pathetic to some, desperate to many, the way he drops to his knees infront of you. it even surprises you, and you finally look at him properly. a giggle bubbles from your throat, despite yourself, "what are you doing?" your tone is soft, upset but oozing curiosity. his baby blues meet your eyes, and he swallows hard. "makin' it up to you, ma." he runs his hands over your thighs, chest rising and falling in gentle breaths as he takes you in. all his, right? all his.

matt lets his hand gently slide over your thighs, the exhale he lets out shaky and almost whimpery in nature. "wasn't bein' nice to my girl, was i?" he shakes his head, watching the way you nod slowly, "you weren't," you say matter-of-factly, because he wasn't. matt agrees, a soft hum of acknowledgement slipping past his lips. he feels so bad for ignoring you like that, having his priorities else where even when he was busy with work.

his head dips down to suckle gently at your soft skin, tentatively kissing at it. his blue eyes lift to yours for a moment, as if asking for permission. you nod, swallowing hard. "let me make it up to you," he asks, before he continues, murmuring against your skin, "let me make it up to you. please, baby, wanna make it all better."

how could you say no to that? the sound of him begging?

"okay," you say gently, "if you'll let me rant," he moans softly against your thigh, and he nods gently, mumbling something in affirmation but you can't hear it, nor do you really care, since his touch is a little bit mind fogging. his hands grasp at your thighs, tugging you impossibly closer.

"go on," he says quietly, bringing your legs over his shoulders so he can take care of your soft skin the way he wants to, needs to. but also to hear you take your frustrations out on him, it's the least he can do, isn't it? he sounds so apologetic, it's heart melting. "i dunno, kinda feels like you don't really care about me," you say quietly, a little ashamed for even thinking it. matt lets out a whimpery sound, like it pains him to even hear that.

"no, no, no, baby," matt leaves soft marks on your skin, nibbling gently. he's only careful with you, nothing less than delicate with your body. the open mouthed kisses he leaves make a shiver run down your spine, and you continue, "it's dumb.. but, just.. i feel ignored," oh, not right now. you feel very much attended to. "and like.. i'm not really.. you don't think about me? more about your work?"

matt's hands grasp tightly at your thighs instinctively as he swallows hard, shaking his head, "ma.." it's like he doesn't even think twice as he reaches for your leggings, tugging them down quickly but gently. "lift up f'me," he mumbles quietly, pulling down the leggings with relative ease. they're discarded soon enough, and you flinch a little at the cold air on your legs. "i'm so sorry, god.." he tugs your clothed cunt closer to him with another tug to your legs, leaning in and nuzzling himself against you.

a sharp gasp slips past your lips at the friction and your fingers instantly thread through his dark hair, his groan vibrating against your core at the sensation of you tugging. "ah.." your lips part, a pretty sound escaping you. he relishes in those sounds, adores them, and he starts to coax more when he starts mouthing over your clit through the fabric. the sensation is new to you, but not at all unwarranted. his pretty groans make it even better.

"m'so sorry.." his fingers, as he wets the fabric of your underwear even more, skim over the waistband of the fabric between the two of you. he tugs, once or twice, as if asking for permission. "go on," you say softly, a giggle bubbling from you again when he pulls down your underwear with relative ease and definite eagerness. an awed groan slips past his lips at the sight of your pretty pussy, one of his favourite things in the world. "there she is.." he says softly under his breath. eyes lifting to yours.

"been neglectin' you," he addresses you directly, tone soft, then he looks to your cunt, head tilting gently, "and neglecting her, huh? how bad of me.." matt tuts, shaking his head once more. he brings you close once more, giving a gentle pat to your puffy pussy and watching as you squirm almost instantly. "should make it better for my girls, shouldn't i?" another pat, and he's diving in, letting out a groan against your folds as he kisses and slips his tongue across them.

"she tastes so good, huh? she missed me," matt's words make you cry out softly, taken off guard by how desperate he is to please you. you tighten your grip on his hair a little and even squeeze your thighs around his head a bit more, causing him to groan into your soft, wet skin. "matt, oh, shit," you whimper, and he swirls his tongue around you, shifting lower so his nose bumps against your clit with every movement of his head.

his tongue circles your entrance for a moment before he flicks his tongue into your wet hole, loving the way you practically grind down onto his face. "take what you want, that's it," his words are muffled by your heat, and how you're almost sat on his face, but you get them nonetheless, eyes fluttering down to his own meeting yours. matt's hands slide down to your ass, squeezing and kneading in his hands.

matt's not even focused on himself, no, not at all, his hips grinding into the bed slowly to gain some kind of friction at all. he might end up cumming in his pants, he doesn't care, as long as you feel good and wanted. he never wants you to feel ignored or neglected again. you're his girl, his. "holy fucking shit," he's good with his mouth, like, good. and he knows it, lord does he know it.

the moment your hips start to stutter from his mouth sucking and licking at your pretty pussy, he doesn't let up, only making his movements more intense and pleasurable for you.

"that's it, fuck," he grunts, your thighs squeezing around his head once more. he doesn't even mind it, not at all. in fact, it gets him going, nose bumping against your clit enough to have you whining and squirming against his face, that familiar tight knot of arousal squeezing in your abdomen. matt can feel it too, as he eats you out like his life depends on it, which to him, it really does. "yeah, baby, there we go, that's it, come all over my face, make a mess on me, shit.."

you in fact, do, without any shame in the world. why feel shame when your man was making you feel so fucking amazing? your thighs tremble around his head and he helps you ride out your orgasm, licking slowly to bring you back down to earth without overstimulating you. soon, he pulls back, not even minding the state of well, his face. "did so good for me," he mumbles breathlessly, and you swallow hard. "that.. felt.. oh my god, matthew." a chuckle escapes him at the use of matthew and not just matt, and he gently pushes up off his knees to lay down on the bed on his back. his hands find your hips, slowly bringing you over on top of him.

"matthew, huh?" matt smiles, a gentle, loving smile that tells you exactly how much he cares for and adores you. a little grunt slips past his lips as he tugs his boxers down enough to free his cock, pre cum leaking from it due to how he was basically humping the bed earlier. your eyes flutter over him as you look down at him, swallowing hard, and he murmurs, "so pretty, ma," he gives his cock a few quick strokes, before he lines himself up with your tight hole. "i got you.."

you let out a pitiful little whine when he pulls you down onto him, the stretch making your lips part with soft noises, and matt tilts his head, taking in your form as you squirm. "relax for me.. i've got you.." his eyes flutter over your body, adoringly. his heart swells with warmth, just.. he can't believe he's so lucky. "i'm gonna fuckin'.. explode," you mumble breathlessly.

"i'll pick up the pieces, baby," he leans back against the headboard, hands squeezing at your hips. matt swallows hard, just in awe for a moment. "gorgeous, gorgeous girl. how'd i get so damn lucky?" he lets you adjust to him for a moment, waiting for the greenlight. "you'd be even luckier if you started movin'," ever the graceful, you are, he thinks to himself, and a laugh escapes him again.

"right, right, sorry," a giggle escapes you too, but it soon melts into a moan when he lifts you up, only to drop you back down. his eyes flutter to yours, baby blues dark with sheer want, and he grunts under his breath at how tight you are. "wish i could stay buried in your pussy forever, honey," he guides your movements a few more times till you find a rhythm, however his hands remain on your thighs to hold you up if you get tired.

"mmh, shit, shit, shit," your love for profanity only fuels his adoration for you, his hands squeezing at your thighs as you bounced on his cock, the sounds of skin slapping against skin hitting your ears. he didn't think about how loud the two of you were being and the fact his door was open, no, he wanted to make you feel as loved and wanted as you should. "feels so good, matt, mmh!"

he's doing a very good job at it too.

"that's it, fuck, look so pretty ridin' my dick like that, you like that, mama? yeah.." his eyes follow the way your tits bounce beneath your top, and he pushes up the fabric so he can get a good view of them. no one's ever looked at you with such adoration like that, it's intoxicating. matt greedily gropes at you, squeezing and flicking your nipples just because. and because it makes you clench around him so good. "these pretty titties, fuck."

matt swallows hard, getting lost in you as you get lost in him too, holding onto his hoodie tight as you lift your hips up and down. "never wanna make you feel bad again, never wanna do that. m'so sorry baby, fuck, you forgive me? forgive me, please, ma?" he's practically begging, hands squeezing your body all over, showing how much he loves you. "always got time for my baby, for my girl. even if i don't, gonna make it, promise, fuckin'.. promise," he mumbles, words borderline incoherent.

it makes you smile, it makes you beam, and you're not mad at him. you'd stopped being upset with him since he made you come all over his face, to be totally honest. "it's okay, it's okay," you murmur softly, "i forgive you, okay? i forgive you." matt squeezes your hips once more, bucking his own into you to drive himself deeper inside of you. the way you squeeze around him is intoxicating.

"gonna come, ma, shit," matt whimpers, and you coo softly at his whiny tone, "yeah? go on, come for me," he whines shakily, gripping your thighs tighter and thrusting up into you harder. his chest rises and falls in quick breaths, dark hair falling over his eyes as he lets out soft sounds as pretty as yours. "where d'you want it?" he asks breathlessly, eyes searching yours.

"want it inside," just the sound of your voice saying shit like that has him groaning, hips stuttering as he feels himself reach that peak, ropes of cum painting your walls as he lets go. you find yourself gushing around him around the same time too, a shaky series of moans and whines slipping past your lips. matt takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you and press your body against his. his head soon nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "i love you so much," he breathes out.

"love you too," you murmur in response, relaxing into him. you're happy to stay there for a while.

or go again.

๋࣭ ⭑ taglist / @mattslolita , @st7rnioioss , @flairdean , @mattsluv , @bepositiveforachange , @poetatorturadaa , @onlynextdoor

๋࣭ ⭑ line dividers / @rookthornesartistry

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

hii! could you write a fic where you and kids are at the club with friends and some guy is bothering you and jude steps in being all protective🤭

maybe some of the other boys like trent can be there too helping the reader out!

a/n: there you go! I didn't know what you meant by kids and I think I wrote something different, but I hope you like it! (I don't know why, but I really enjoyed writing this story)

SAVIOR

jude bellingham x reader

warnings: a creepy man who makes unwanted touching and may contain some mistakes.

summary: A fun night out with friends takes an unsettling turn when a drunk man repeatedly tries to approach you. But don't worry—Jude and your friends step in to ensure you're safe and sound.

The neon lights of the club pulsed rhythmically, casting a wash of color over the buzzing crowd. You were tucked into a plush VIP booth with the England squad, or at least part of, celebrating after a week of intense matches. The night had been perfect so far—filled with laughter, dancing, and a few too many drinks passed around. The music was loud, but the familiar rhythm had everyone swaying, lost in the moment.

You glanced around the table, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched your friends enjoying themselves. Jude Bellingham was seated across from you, his signature playful grin never far from his face as he bantered with Trent Alexander-Arnold, who was lounging next to him with his drink in hand. Next to you, Bukayo Saka was trying to pull Tolami Benson, his girlfriend, onto the dance floor, but she was having none of it, shaking her head and laughing at his enthusiasm.

You had been friends with these guys for what felt like forever. You met them through Trent, whom you had known since you were little. They always made you feel like part of the crew—especially Jude. There had always been something a little different with him, though neither of you had ever talked about it. There was an unspoken closeness between you two, a connection that felt deeper than friendship, though it remained undefined. Tonight was no different; his gaze would occasionally flicker to you through the crowd, and whenever it did, your heart would skip just a bit faster.

“Come on, dance with me!” Bukayo was still pleading with Tolami, tugging at her arm while she shot you a look of mock desperation.

“Help me out here,” Tolami leaned into you, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “Can you tell him he needs to stop embarrassing himself?”

You chuckled, leaning back in the booth, your drink cool in your hand. “You might as well give in. Your man’s relentless.”

“No chance,” Tolami replied, shaking her head firmly, but her grin betrayed her affection for Saka. She finally relented and stood, leading him onto the dance floor as he grinned triumphantly and you laughed loudly over the music.

Everything was perfect, and the night was exactly what you needed—a break from life’s stresses, surrounded by people who made you feel at home.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the sleek table as you took another sip of your drink, enjoying the fizzy, sweet burn on your tongue. Trent was next to you, casually talking, but your focus kept slipping, drifting to Jude seated across from you. Every now and then, his knee would brush against yours under the table, just enough to make you wonder if it was on purpose. Each time, he’d flash you that familiar grin, the one that always seemed to say more than his words ever did.

That beautiful grin softened, and he raised his glass in your direction, a silent toast, though the meaning felt deeper. You smiled back, a little more knowingly this time, wondering if he felt the same unspoken bond that lingered between the two of you. Trent interrupted your thoughts, nudging Jude’s arm, clearly telling some joke that you couldn't hear over the music but that made Jude throw his head back in laughter.

However, the looks you gave the Real Madrid player, made Trent aware of the tension, because after a while, his eyes flicked between the two of you, amusement tugging at his lips. He smirked, raising his drink. “You know, I think I’ll hit the dance floor—gotta show these amateurs how it’s done.”

He winked, pushing himself off the booth, giving you a knowing look before heading toward the thrumming mass of bodies. You laughed, watching him go, but the air between you and Jude immediately shifted once Trent was gone.

Jude leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours, his voice a little lower than before. “Tolami is going to hate us when she sees herself in the middle of Trents and Bukayos dance moves. Maybe we should go…”

You smirked, rolling your eyes at him. “Maybe we should later. Can’t a girl have a peaceful night?”

Jude chuckled, his arm resting casually along the back of the booth, fingers brushing the side of your shoulder. The simple contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you couldn’t help but glance at him. His eyes locked onto yours, lingering for a second too long. There was that look again—the one that made your heart race, the one that always hinted at more than either of you ever said.

“Peaceful?” Jude leaned in, his voice smooth and low, the kind that sent shivers down your spine. “You? I don’t believe it.”

You laughed softly, raising a brow at him. “Perhaps you’re just not paying attention.”

“Oh, I’m paying attention,” he said with a smirk, his hand subtly grazing your arm, playful but enough to send a ripple of excitement through you.

But your good mood faltered when you felt it again. That strange sense of being watched, of someone’s gaze—not Jude’s—looking at you. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was—the same guy who had tried to approach you earlier in the night. He was standing by the bar now, staring at you. You had brushed him off twice already, but it seemed like he wasn’t getting the hint.

“Earth to Y/N…?” Jude brought you back to the conversation, his breath warm against your cheek.

You laughed, but the way the man stared made you feel unsettled. Without missing a beat, you forced a smile to hide your discomfort. “You were right, let’s dance,” you said suddenly, standing up and grabbing his hand.

Jude’s brows raised, surprised but pleased as he followed you onto the crowded dance floor, his grip tightening slightly as if sensing your shift in mood. You didn’t look back toward the bar, instead focusing on the music, the flashing lights, and Jude, who was now right in front of you, close enough to chase away any lingering unease.

The music pulsed through the dance floor, a heavy beat vibrating in your chest as you and Jude found a rhythm together. His hands rested on your waist, fingers lightly pressing into the fabric of your dress, guiding you closer with each step. You could feel his breath against your neck, his movements smooth, matching yours effortlessly. Every subtle touch, every brush of his hand sent warmth rippling through you, and you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you let yourself get lost in the moment.

Around you, Bukayo was spinning Tolami in a playful circle, both of them laughing as Trent danced nearby, his usual smooth moves showing off. It was a perfect, carefree moment shared with your friends, yet your earlier unease still nagged at the back of your mind.

As Jude leaned in to whisper something teasing, his lips dangerously close to your ear, your eyes caught movement near the bar.

The man’s presence unsettled you, and his persistent attention kept your nerves on high alert. You tried to brush it off, focusing on enjoying yourself and ignoring him. But each time you glanced away, there he was—eyes locked on you. His gaze followed your every move, every part of your body, a silent weight that sent chills racing down your spine, the kind that only faded after another sip of your overly sweet drink.

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your friends, trying to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. Maybe he’d finally give up and move on, you hoped. But even as you laughed along with the others, you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that he was still there, hovering just out of sight.

Trying not to draw attention, you leaned over to Tolami when she passed by you, her hand brushing yours as you quickly whispered, “That guy from earlier—he’s still watching me.”

Tolami’s smile faltered slightly as she shot a glance toward the bar, immediately spotting him. Her expression tightened, protective and concerned.

“Want me to deal with that git?”

You smiled at her fierce loyalty, even though part of you felt bad for involving her. “Nah, I think he’ll get bored eventually.”

Tolami didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly before returning to Bukayo. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling. Jude’s hand slid around your waist again, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, pulling your focus back to him. He didn’t seem to have noticed what was happening.

As the night carried on, you found it harder to stay focused on the music and laughter around you. Your gaze kept darting toward the bar, each time hoping the man had moved on, but he hadn’t. He was still there, staring, an unsettling smile playing on his lips that disappeared when he took another sip of his drink. Despite your efforts to shake off the discomfort, the weight of his deep eyes made it impossible to fully enjoy the moment.

Jude’s strong arm remained securely around your waist as you danced, his touch gentle, comforting. Yet, he seemed to sense something was off, his eyes flicking to your face, a crease forming between his brows. Without saying a word, he glanced toward Trent, tilting his head slightly in your direction. Trent caught the gesture, raising an eyebrow as if to say, what’s up?

Jude mouthed, “She’s off,” while giving a subtle nod toward you.

Trent’s eyes narrowed with concern as he looked between the two of you, clearly picking up on Jude’s silent observation. He didn’t say anything, but his lips pressed into a thin line, like he was filing away the information for later.

The persistent feeling of being watched gnawed at you, and despite the music thumping in your ears, that man’s smile kept cutting through the sound. It was unnerving, and even though Jude’s presence was reassuring, it wasn’t enough to push the discomfort away.

After a while, Trent, Jude, and Bukayo decided they had enough of the dance floor, pulling away to head back to the plush VIP booth. Jude shot you a glance as if silently asking if you were okay to stay, but you gave him a nod and a forced smile, not wanting to ruin the vibe for anyone else.

“Come on, Tolami, let’s stay a bit longer,” you said lightly, holding onto her hand. She smiled and agreed, both of you swaying to the beat as the boys returned to the reserved area. It was nice to have a moment with her, and for a second, you managed to relax.

But the moment was short-lived.

The man saw his chance. With the boys no longer close by, he pushed off from the bar and began walking toward you. His eyes never left yours, that unsettling smile still fixed on his face. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as he approached, weaving through the crowd with a clear, unwelcome intent.

The man moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate as he navigated the crowded dance floor. Your heart raced, your body instinctively tensing as he approached. Tolami was by your side, but you felt exposed without the group nearby. You exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with her, and her smile immediately faltered as she caught sight of the guy coming toward you.

Before you could react, he was standing right in front of you, much closer than he had any right to be. His presence was invasive, and the smell of alcohol clung to his breath as he leaned in, brushing against your shoulder. His hand grazed your arm, sending a wave of disgust through you.

“I told you earlier,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “I don’t want a drink. I don’t want anything from you.”

He ignored your words, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. “Come on, don’t be like that. Just one dance,” he slurred, his hand lingering on your arm as he moved closer, his body pressing against yours.

Tolami stepped in quickly, trying to push him away. “She said no, git. Get lost,” she demanded, her tone firm but her smaller frame struggling against his weight. The guy didn’t budge, his attention entirely focused on you, his hand gripping your waist now, tighter than you wanted.

“Get off me,” you said, panic rising in your voice as you tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. Tolami tried again, pushing harder against him, but he swatted her arm away with a dismissive laugh.

Fear surged in your chest as you looked around for help, the crowd oblivious to what was happening. It felt like everything slowed down in that moment—until you caught a glimpse of someone moving quickly through the mass of people.

Jude.

At first, he was calm, trying not to make a scene, his presence almost casual as he slid between you and the man, his signature grin in place, though there was a dangerous edge to his voice. He took the guy´s hand out of your waist before he said, “Mate, she’s not interested. No need to ruin a good night.”

The man glared at Jude, clearly not willing to give up, his smile turning into an annoyed grin. “Relax, dude. We’re just having a little fun. Why don’t you go find a girl for yourself? This one’s already taken.”

He grabbed your arm again, and squeezed possessively, making you whimper.

And that’s when Jude’s demeanor shifted entirely.

His polite tone dropped, replaced by something cold and unyielding. His eyes hardened, his jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Let go of her. Now.”

For a moment, the man hesitated, sensing the change in Jude’s energy. But when he still didn’t back down, Jude’s temper flared. “I’m not gonna say it again, you fucking idiot. Let. Her. Go.”

By then, Bukayo and Trent had noticed the situation, quickly making their way over. Bukayo’s face was tight with anger, and Trent didn’t bother hiding his irritation either. They flanked Jude, their presence a clear warning. Tolami moved beside you, standing protectively in front as Jude glared down the man who still hadn’t released you.

The guy’s eyes flicked between the group, realizing he was outnumbered and had no chance of winning this. His grip on your arm finally loosened, and he took a step back, muttering something under his breath. Jude didn’t take his eyes off him.

"Walk away," Trent said, his voice cold. "Now."

The man faltered, his cocky demeanor faded as he looked around, clearly second-guessing his decision to push his luck.

But Jude had already ran out of patience. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on the man, and when he spoke again, his voice was dangerous. “I’m not going to ask again. Get the fuck out of here, or we’ll make you.”

That did it.

The man’s bravado crumbled under the combined weight of their stares, and he finally took a step back, muttering something under his breath as he retreated into the crowd. You watched as he disappeared into the sea of people, the tension in your chest finally easing.

Jude turned to you immediately, his expression softening as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You alright?” he asked, his voice gentle now, the anger from moments ago completely gone.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “Yeah… thanks. I didn’t think he’d actually… you know.”

Jude’s hand slid down to your back, pulling you into a reassuring side hug and kissed your temple. “I’ve got you.”

Tolami gave you a tight smile, clearly relieved the situation hadn’t escalated further. “That guy was a total creep. You alright?”

“Yes, now I am, thank you guys,” you said, though the lingering unease hadn’t quite left. You glanced around the group, grateful for their support. Bukayo gave you a small nod, his arms crossed but his expression soft, and Trent offered a light pat on your back, his usual teasing grin reappearing as the tension faded.

“Guess that’s one way to end the night,” Trent joked, though his eyes still held concern.

Jude kept you close as the group slowly made their way back to the VIP booth, his arm still around you as if he wasn’t willing to let go just yet. The warmth of his presence, the security of having him there, chased away the last traces of fear.

As you settled back into the booth, Jude leaned in, his voice soft and only for you. “Next time, just say the word, and I’ll deal with it sooner.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “I know. Thanks, Jude. Really.”

[mattslolita]

dealer!chris who can’t help but ask Matt if he has any feelings for Bambi since Bambi known Matt the longest. (Chris swears he doesn’t have feelings for you)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

chris watches your interaction with brother intently, his eyes trained on the way your lips curl upwards when you bump your shoulder and laugh at something he says. his jaw ticks at the sight, rubbing a hand along his jaw as he's manspread on the couch at the house party you were currently attending.

chris wasn't necessarily one to get jealous but the thought of his brother being so close to you didn't sit right with him — but you guys aren't even dating or together; you were allowed to talk to other guys, and he was free to talk to other girls.

not that he ever would — and he knows you'd never be talking another guy.

chris knows that matt's known you for a longer time, so you were closer to him than himself, but he's beginning to question if matt has developed feelings for you in any way.

he stands up up and coolly makes his way to where both of you stand, his eyes scanning your figure as he's now standing next to you. your eyes light up and you grin up chris, and he swears he feels his heart skip a beat. "hi, baby!"

"hey sweetheart," chris nods, as you grab his arm gently to reach up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. you pull away and look at him expectantly, whilst matt looks at the both of you with a knowing grin. "why uh, don't ya go and get us more drinks, 'kay? gonna talk to matt for a bit."

"i'll be right back," you tell him, walking away. he watched the way your skirt bounced with the speed you were walking before turning to matt.

"what's up?" matt asks chris curiously, his eyes narrowing at his brother in confusion. matt knew his brother pretty well, and he was able to tell most of the time when there was something unsettling him or just bothering him.

"so," chris begins as casually as he could, swiping his thumb across his nose as he looks around lazily, "you an' y/n are really close, huh?"

"yeah i would say so," matt nods, trying not to crack a humorous smile, "met her at one of these parties, an' we've jus' kinda stuck together."

chris nods his head at this, his eyes finding you having started a up a conversation with a girl by the drinks — you could be prone to rambling a mile a minute, but the girl didn't seem to mind too much as she listened to you intently as she laughed occasionally. your hands moved around as you made motions, causing your bows in your hair to wriggle around excitedly. the sight made chris's heart swell up with some unknown feeling. ( he knew exactly what that was. )

"i don't like her like that, man," matt tells chris suddenly, causing chris to snap out of his trance.

he turns to matt with an almost offended expression, scoffing. "s'not like i asked that. why're you telling me that?"

this causes matt to shake his head and grin knowingly, patting chris's shoulder. "c'mon man. everybody sees the way you look at her."

[highvern]

Talk

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings:  oral sex/face sitting/69, prone bone, dom/sub dynamics (dom!reader/sub!hoshi),  protected sex, impact play (spanking), mentions of butt stuff but nothing explicit

Length: ~ 4.3k

Note: this ended up way longer than i originally planned... by like 2k but im weak for sub hoshi. realized i accidentally made them schmidt and cece from new girl.... oh well. as always thank u @gyuswhore for suffering my horrible punctuation and EVERYONE HAS TO READ HER UP COMING HOSHI FIC FOR PIRATE HOSHI I DEMAND IT

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Soonyoung talks. A lot. 

Sometimes it makes no sense. Like the occasions he calls you after a night out and slurs his words through the speaker as you hum agreement to who knows what until he passes out while still on the line, letting you hear every snore and smack of his lips until you hang up; or when he’s inside you and it's all a bit too much that he has to tell you how good it feels in excruciating detail; or when you both wake up in the morning, you late for work and him trying to talk you into keeping the sheets warm for just a few more minutes, and Soonyoung thinks he’s convinced you but fifteen more minutes really won’t hurt because his apartment is closer to your office anyway.

He talks so much that not hearing his voice the second he opens the door is like a slap in the face.

There's no invitation inside, or lukewarm greeting. The door hangs ajar, Soonyoung already back down the hall in the direction of his room with the expectation you’ll follow. 

You do, but with the same hesitancy you’d approach a wild animal: curious and on edge.

Despite the hour, his roommates aren’t anywhere to be seen. No bodies sprawled across the couch or light under their doors. Their presence never stopped you before but it’s unsettling that there's no buffer of anything to break the storm cloud choking the atmosphere. Just stark exposure to whatever is clearly bothering Soonyoung that he won’t tell you about because, technically, you two don’t do that. Or, he does and you vehemently refuse all of it with less and less authenticity each time.

Soonyoung doesn’t prattle on about his day or ask about yours as you trail behind him. He throws off his shirt without a word, collapses on the edge of the mattress, and roughly pulls you into his lap. It’s cold and unfeeling and exactly the kind of sex you’d enthusiastically participate in a year ago. But nothing like the Soonyoung you’ve grown familiar with over the past few months.

He doesn’t comment on the low cut of your top, falling into the motions without the usual banter. 

You wiggle free from his grasp, trying to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t look at you before taking back up where he left off.

“Stop.” You push him back, trying to get a look at his face but he stays in the crook of your neck. “Stop.”

The silence that follows is loud. He collapses back into the bed, arms curling up to hide away from whatever is chasing him.

“I said I’m fine,” he mumbles.

“Could've fooled me,” you huff.

“Doesn’t matter. Not what you come here for anyway, right?”

A half truth that stings more than you’d like. It sinks in your gut in the quiet dark of his room.

“You know what? Forget I asked, I’m leaving.”

“Wait,” he says, arms attempting to snake around your waist but you’re already up.

“No. You don’t need to be an asshole when I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Because you’re sunshine and rainbows all the time?”

“Did I fucking say I was? If you’ve got a problem with it you’ve had long enough to lose my number.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he sighs heavily. “Bad day.”

You soften at the break in his voice. Stepping back over, you stand between his legs. He looks small, hunched over with his head in his hands and the weight of the world on his shoulders. The light you’ve come to associate with having him within reach is gone and all that's left is a man you don’t really recognize. He buries his face in the warmth of your stomach, and goes limp as you run a hand across his shoulders.

“Do—” you clear your throat. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Because if Soonyoung is talking there's less chances for you to open your mouth and screw it all up. You don’t know how to be doughy and tender with the same level of ease he possesses. You’ll probably fail trying but it's the least you can do.

It’s uncharted territory; for you, for this, whatever this is because it doesn’t really resemble anything you’ve done before even though the foundation is the same. Because you care about Soonyoung, and he obviously cares about you. But you’re not sure how to let him and even less sure how to return it.

“No.” 

“Okay,” you say, at a loss for what comes next.

Inactivity breeds restlessness. Without any idea how to do this on your own, you default to the steps he took when you were half cooked on your bathroom floor.

Soonyoung eyes you with questions but doesn’t speak as you drag him into the en suite. Bites his tongue as you work off your clothes under the sterile overhead light and then move to work on his; raising his arms when you poke him and managing his pants on his own. He even smiles, or his mouth twitches in a vague allusion to a grin, when you flick water at him after guaranteeing the temperature won’t give you both pneumonia.

Finally tucked behind the shower curtain, he stands dumbly. Not another move to help, content to watch you wash his hair, nails raking over his scalp until he shivers. 

You ignore the prod at your thigh. Focused on letting the warmth of the water do the heavy lifting, you soak a washcloth in soap and lather his skin until it tinges pink. A shampoo mohawk earns a kiss dusted along your shoulders and you might even blush a bit if you weren’t so focused on perfecting the spikes so he looks like one of those 90s alternative poster boys.

Out of the shower, his vow of silence continues. Everything he isn’t saying is clear in his eyes, especially when you slather his face in one of those mud masks, painting him bright green. He’s less intimidating with chunks of clay in his eyebrows.

He isn’t accommodating but he also doesn’t outright refuse which seems to be the best you’re going to get. 

“You look like Shrek,” you snort, satisfied and turning towards the mirror to cover your own face in a matching shade.  

“Well then you're Fiona.” His head comes over your shoulder, chin digging into bare skin to watch you in the mirror. His chest is sticky against your back from steam but you don’t mind if it means he’ll talk to you.

“Actually,” you think, wiggling to face him. “I think you’re more like Donkey.” 

“The dragon fits you better anyway.”

“Are you calling me scary?” you gasp.

“Yes.”

“Good. Remember that next time you want me to suck on your balls.”

He winces. “I can feel them retreating into my body already.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it’ll mess up the mask.”

Without a care for the still drying mess of his face, he takes refuge back in his favorite place. Tucked under your chin, he sighs.

“I’m sorry I was a dick earlier. Work sucked today. I didn’t get a contract I wanted, they picked some other kid at the studio for it. I’ve taught him for years and they picked him over me.”

“I’m sorry.” You placate him with a gentle hand up his back, nails tracing loose patterns as the fan hums over head.

“Not your fault.”

“No, but it still sucks.”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles closer, arms heavy around your waist like you’d even think to move away. “It’ll be fine though. He’s a good kid and I couldn’t be mad at him. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Fifteen minutes later, you both wash away the flakes of clay, cracked around the corners of your eyes and mouths, and retreat back under the covers in one set of pajamas split between: you in one of his shirts with nothing underneath, and him in sweatpants with nothing on top. 

Soonyoung insists that Pirates of the Caribbean is his comfort movie, something about Kiera Knightly with a gun being his sexual awakening (which explains a lot), and you let him put it on the tiny screen of his laptop with plans to fall asleep in the first five minutes.

His lips are at your temple, a dull pressure that makes your blood hum. “I always wanted to be a pirate growing up.”

“Really?” you ask, edging towards unconsciousness from the lazy drag of his fingers on your hip.

“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes glued to the screen. “Have my own ship, no rules, a bunch of sexy wenches.”

“Half naked women with scurvy were a part of your career plan?”

“Okay, maybe I added those just now but my point stands.”

The picture of Soonyoung with a scar on his chest and one of those ruffled linen shirts straight off the cover of a dime novel some grandma would read on the train with no shame isn’t that bad. Actually, it’s pretty sexy. But you won’t feed his delusions.

“What point?”

He rolls on top of you, face open with grave seriousness. “We should role play. Me as the hot pirate captain, you as the beautiful princess. Forbidden love, enemies type stuff. You run away from being royal and end up joining my crew. Oh no, Captain Hoshi, I had no idea this was your room! What an impressive sword!” he squeals in a breathy mock of you.

“And then,” you gasp. “you come in five minutes and I convince everyone to throw you overboard?”

“Hurtful. But I’m willing to forgive you if you call me captain. Just once.”

He’s close enough to kiss, lips pouted as he waits for you to give into his demand. A gentle peck bordering on domestic makes him sigh, the taste of toothpaste lingering on his breath. Just as you think you’ve distracted him away from such an ridiculous idea, he leans back with a gleam in his eye that says he’ll wait all night if you make him.

“How about we roleplay falling asleep?” you sigh, eyes closed against his expectant gaze.

“Nope, too late. I’m thinking about you wearing nothing but a pirate hat and now I’m hard.”

He curls right into the meat of your thigh, hot and ready to go if you give the word. Sleep is tempting but the thought of a quick tumble wakes you up enough to entertain him. 

“Alright, but you’re doing all the work,” you sigh. “Take off my clothes, captain.”

Pausing to let the idea settle, he shakes his head. “That’s actually not as hot as I thought it would be.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you fuff. “I’m watching the movie.”

You try to shove him away with zero intent to actually let him go anywhere and end up pinned, fingers in a tight grip around your wrists that you pretend to fight against. Soonyoung knows you like to be reminded of his strength on occasion; whether thats fucking your mouth until your throat burns or bending you over. This potentially being one since he’s had a hard day and you’re hungover from making him feel better about it. 

He tongues across your pulse until you go pliant against the pillows, legs spread to cradle his hips. A shuffle of clothes and a lift of your hips and he’d be inside you. There's more steps; a condom, a little fingering because his dick was made to stretch your limits. Your legs shake already, desperate for quick fuck so you can passout while Soonyoung cleans you up. 

But his new mood means he’s making up for lost time. Presently, that's bunching your shirt up to your chin and tracing each inch of newly uncovered skin with his tongue.

“Hellooooo ladies,” he sighs, nose buried between your breasts.

“God, you’re lame.”

“Be nice to me, I had a hard day,” he pouts, releasing your hands in favor of plucking at your chest until you sigh in delight.

“I’m literally letting you—hmmm— see my boobs after you said that corny shit. How much nicer can I be?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to coax a low groan out of your chest with passes of his mouth until you're kicking the sheets. The good kind of sting that ruts your hips against his thigh and makes you dizzy. There will be a permanent wet patch if he doesn’t give you relief soon.

“I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?” You twitch at the thoughts running rampant. Short of donning that pirate hat mentioned earlier, anything he suggests is guaranteed to make you feel better too. 

“Can show you better than I can tell you,” he bites into your nipple, sucking it to a stiff peak for his fingers to pinch before shifting focus to the other. 

“If you try and put your dick in my ass I’ll rip it off.” The words are breathy off your lips. No real threat because he might be able to talk you into the idea if you let him. If he keeps pulling your strings the way he’s learned how. 

But Soonyoung has different ideas, pulling off your nipple with a rough suck, curling your shoulders in. “That was one time and it was an accident!”

“Let me slip a finger in next time I blow you and tell me how you like it.”

“You have and I do. Keep talking about it and I’m gonna need another shower.”

“God, you’re a freak.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He takes the initiative to roll you on top, palms massaging your ass while enjoying the view of you naked in his lap. 

A sudden moment of vulnerability roots in your chest, warmed by the set of brown eyes peering up at you. “You know I don’t just come here for this, right?” 

Soonyoung’s eyebrows twist for a moment and then soften. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not ready for anything deeper. The air is already thicker with the weight of that confession, suffocating. In an effort not to drown in it, you drop your chest flat to his, latching onto the jut of his collarbone. “Is this your big idea? Me on top? Not very original.”

A hand at your ass drags you along his covered cock, already begging for attention. It’s not original but you’ll dry hump him into the mattress until your bones are jelly if he wants. 

“Sit on my face.”

It’s your turn to pull back. “What?”

“Sit. On. My. Face.” His hand is already firm against your thighs, forcing you halfway up his chest before you can argue.

“I heard you the first time, just confused how that's supposed to make you feel better.”

“You underestimate the power of your pussy. Now get up here.” 

The shuffle up is less than sexy. Soonyoung is eager from your permission, rushing you up to his mouth until you nearly knee him in the head.

“Wait,” you say. 

Soonyoung locks his arms as you move off him, reflexive because he lets go a second later. Turning, you eye the tent in his pants as you kneel back down. Perfect position to touch him while he touches you.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fingers tracing through your wetness despite the horrible angle.

You don’t get a chance to orient yourself. He’s already quick to work with teasing passes of his tongue that turn bolder every second. 

“Jesus Christ, give me a second to get your dick out.”

But he doesn’t; too consumed with tasting all you have to offer, wringing you out to dry the second he gets a chance. The flat of his tongue laps up your arousal like it’s more vital than oxygen. There's a wet mess smeared between your thighs from the vigor. 

It takes all your focus to force down his pants, mouth watering at the shiny head of his cock straining from some heavy petting. You keep steady with one hand, jerking him off into your mouth with the other. Soonyoung malfunctions between your thighs as you swallow his cock, a moan right to your clit makes you fumble that last inch into your mouth.

He chokes you with a buck up but you take it in stride. Sucking harder, lashing against the slit until he whimpers. Normally, you’d exaggerate the wet noises at the back of your throat but with the crude dig of his tongue in your entrance there's no need. 

“God,” you warble into his crotch. You arch back into his face, Soonyoung’s fingers digging into the meat of your ass, spreading you out like a full course meal.

In theory it’s hot. Your cunt on his face and his cock in your throat, rutting against each other until you're numb and twitching and covered in each other's mess. In practicality, there is nothing Soonyoung is more relentlessly dedicated to than eating you out until your vision turns white and you have to force him away or risk passing out. It only takes a few minutes before you’re forced to tap out, panting into his thigh and weakly fisting his length with no regard for the mess sticking between your knuckles, as he fucks you along his tongue.

“Gonna come, oh–fuck,” you choke. You want him to come too, in your mouth, on your face if that's what he wants. But by some glitch in the universe, Soonyoung is able to hold back and you’re the one racing to the finish first. “Oh my god, Soonyoung, fuck.”

You jerk him off, grip tight despite the slick mess of spit and pre-cum. It doesn’t help that ever squeeze at the swollen head sends a moan straight into your clit, forcing you hips to rut desperately. 

“Don’t stop. Just, shit – need a little more—”

You pull one his hands away to take over your short strokes, spitting into his palm and squeezing until he figures out what you want; to watch him touch himself while eating you out. The contrast of his fingers tangled between your own, both glistening because Soonyoung is just as close as you are, gets you there.

“Close.” Thighs locked, you suffocate him but Soonyoung doesn’t complain. A palm at the base of your spine forces you down when you shy away from the edge. “Oh, oh, oh!”

A sting of your nails into his thigh is all the warning either of you get. Back arched tight, eyes clenched, you shudder through it. Soonyoung doesn’t stop, sucking away the fresh wave of arousal, tongue verging on punishing against your clit as you sink.

“Okay, that's enough—god,” your voice breaks. “Enough.”

You fall to the side, face first into the covers without effort to soften the blow. The lower half of your body is numb but you can feel his hand skating up the back of your calf.

“Good?” he asks, all too aware of the issue; the smirk is clear in his tone, happy to see you strung out from a few minutes on his mouth.

“Shut up,” you warn but the bite isn’t in it. The urge to kick him in the head is there but none of the energy. 

“Are you tapping out on me or…?” 

The sound of the drawer pauses in case you say no but the idea of not feeling him inside you sounds like the worst thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re not that good,” you mumble into the blanket. “Fuck me like this, you promised you’d do all the work. Remember?”

“Like this?” he hums, rubbing the head of his cock back through the mess with admiration. 

He obeys with a wet kiss to your shoulder, parting your legs and sliding between without a word. You soak in the stretch, ass arched into his hips to take it all. The cold bites down your back when Soonyoung leans back to watch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he whines. “Shit.” 

He drives into you with a bruising pace, betrayed by his own need to come after having you on his mouth without a tease of relief. You arch into it, the head of his cock dragging deep inside pushing disgusting noises from your lips you pray his roommates aren’t around to hear.

“Spank me.”

He loses it for a second. A rough thrust pushing you down the bed and he scrambles to follow. “Seriously?” 

“Do it,” you bark. 

The first strike is weak. More of a firm caress than the sting you crave; hesitant to push for too much too fast lest you take away any privilege he has.

“Harder.”

The next impact comes hard enough to burn an outline of his hand. And another one that makes your tongue feel too big for your own mouth.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” you whine. “More.”

Arms pinned beneath your torso, all you can do is lay there and take it. Nerves gone, he spanks you like it’s second nature. Like he’s thought about it before.

“Good?” he asks. Sounds more like a beg for validation. That he’s the one driving you crazy, molding your insides to his cock until it’s all you can think about.

“So good, f–fuck me so good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes against your neck, a hand wedging beneath your hips to drag against your clit in messy strokes. “You’re so hot, fuck.”

There will be a bruise to hide come morning but you can’t care. The slap of his hips against your ass, the flame of his hand still lingering on your ass, his cock drilling your insides; there's no room for anything but Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung.

You arch your back to feel him deeper only to have him pull out completely on the next stroke.

“No!” you protest, racing to keep him inside. 

It’s no use, Soonyoung flips you on your back before you can convince him otherwise. He hooks your knees over his elbows, spreading you wide and driving home in one smooth push with his teeth at your neck.

“Gonna come,” he begs, voice weak. You know his game, what makes him tick and come so hard he goes blind.

“Not yet,” you warn. A rough twist in his hair only works against his thinning resolve and that's exactly why you pull harder until his hips kick into a jilted rhythm.

“I can’t – please – I can’t—”

“Not yet,” you gasp. He’s deep, right in the back of your throat making you foggy. “Be a g–good boy and wait until I tell you.”

Hips frantic, voice cracking, he tries to hold off; knows it's better when you tell him exactly what to do. Makes him choke into your chest.“Fuck, fuck!” 

“Tell me how bad you want it. How much you love this pussy.”

“Love it, love your pussy.” He folds in half on top of you, desperate. Every drive of his cock into your center forcing your own desperate noises out. “Please let me come for you.”

“Look at me,” you demand. The command in your voice is paper thin but you're both too lost. His eyes are glassy, frantic to do whatever you ask if it means he can come. “Beg for it.”

“P–please,” he whimpers through gritted teeth. “Please let me come. Need it, wanna come. Please. Please!”

He’s too good to edge. Perfectly pliant to any demand and it makes you want to give him whatever he wants. “Give it to me. Fuck me through it. Let me feel you come for me.”

He latches onto your breast, sucking your nipple as his hips turn sloppy. The squeak of mattress springs are a sound track to his end. You won’t come again but you don’t need to. Satiated with the choked whimpers of your name as he swells against your walls, forcing himself as deep as possible like he’s fucking you raw and full of his cum.

Maybe someday you’ll let him.

Your hips are sore from being forced in half so long but you won’t move away until Soonyoung comes back down. Less from your own will power, more because you’re running on fumes and might fall asleep with him still inside you. He gives a few more pathetic twitches and then goes slack.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Welcome to the club,” 

With the grand finale complete, your aching muscles give out completely. You can’t even laugh when one of his hands moves to check your pulse.

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung gasps. “I killed you with my dick.”

“You didn’t kill me.” You slap away his hand weakly. Without distraction, the stickiness of your skin from sweat in the worst places settles in but it’s a problem for later.

“A man can dream,” he says wistfully.

“Of homicide by cock?”

“Of dick game strong enough to murder someone.”

He rubs his nose along yours, breathes mingling in a lazy kiss as exhaustion creeps over your both. 

“Your face smells like pussy.” You slouch into the mattress, deadweight while taking all of his like the perfect blanket.

He kisses you again, tongue teasing at your lips until you give the very real threat of teeth against it and he backs away. “Your mouth tastes like cock so I guess we’re even. C'mon we need to shower again.”

“Nooooooo,” you grumble, clinging to him in an effort to delay the chill waiting to invade between you.

“At least let me get a rag.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, locked at the ankle for dramatic effect. “If you pull out I’ll cry.”

“Words every man wants to hear,” he hums into your cheek with a kiss. “But my dick is sore and we both need to sleep.”

“Fine.”

When he pulls away you feel empty; devastatingly so. But you don’t ask him to comeback. Just pout at the loss and revel in placating pampering you receive in return.

He goes through the steps with familiarity. Wiping away the mess between your legs, tossing your shirt back up from the floor but you forgo it, choosing to sleep naked much to Soonyoung’s delight.

You use his chest as a pillow, curled into his side and tucked under his chin. The steady beat of his heart lulls you off. The last thing you register, on the hazy perimeter at the edge of sleep, is his fingers at your cheek and the ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

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[flickering-chandelier]

Second Chance

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: Reader and Cassian have been friends for centuries, but nobody knows that she’s in love with him. Eventually she meets her mate in the market, but when he breaks her heart, Cassian is there to pick up the pieces, and offer her a second chance at love.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

Cassian snickered as he landed on top of you, effectively pinning you beneath him. 

You grunted, “Okay, you win. Get off.”

He cocked his head, grinning. “I don’t know, this is pretty comfy.”

“You’ve proven your point,” you groaned, your head throbbing from hitting it on the ground of the training ring on top of the House. You tried to wiggle out from under him, but it was no use. He was massive, and your body was rendered utterly immobile. 

After another torturous moment, Cassian stood up, offering you his hand. He hoisted you up to your feet and you groaned again. 

“What were you saying about being able to beat me one-on-one?” he smirked. 

You just scowled at him and his smile spread further. He clapped you on the back. You winced at the impact. “Go get some water.”

Normally you would say something snarky about following orders, but your head was still spinning a bit, so you did as you were told without argument. 

You must have looked pretty awful because after a few minutes, Cassian knelt in front of where you sat on the bench, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?”

Nodding as you gulped down more water, you mumbled, “Mmhmm.”

His brow furrowed as he gently felt the back of your head, feeling the growing bump there. “Shit,” he said. “I didn't mean to pin you down that hard. Sorry.”

You shrugged, smiling faintly at your friend. “I knew I couldn’t beat you. It’s my own fault.”

He lightly brushed the hair that had come out of your braid off your face. You pushed down the swell in your chest, as you always did. “I think it’s time for the cool down,” he said, his eyes raking your sweaty, tired body. 

Your eyes widened. “You, the legendary commander of the Illyrian armies, are going to cut training short because you knocked me on my ass?” 

“Only for you,” he winked, offering you his hand again. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You took it, and followed Cassian as he guided you through the stretches. 

This had been your routine for a while. You had been in Rhysand’s inner circle for the last few centuries, and had found your home and family with them. Pretty quickly, you knew you wanted to be useful for more than just your mind, so you had asked Cassian to train you. You had started out at the Illyrian camps, but the way the males there treated you was…unsettling, to say the least. And it made Cassian angrier than you had ever seen him. So now you trained on the top of the House, sometimes accompanied by others, but often it was just the two of you. 

Training with him nearly every day for centuries had brought the two of you very close together. He was definitely the best friend you had ever had. He was your favorite person in the world. The two of you talked about everything.

Well, almost everything.

Even after all this time, butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you watched him, how his muscles stretched and bulged, his brow furrowed in concentration, his tanned skin gleaming with sweat in the morning sun. 

You had been in love with him for a very, very long time.

Frankly, it sucked being in love with your best friend. Your best friend, who flirted shamelessly with nearly everybody, who had a body even the gods were surely jealous of. Who was so kind and good and brave that nobody could ever compare. 

Especially not you.

That was the main problem, really. Why you had never said anything. You knew you could never deserve him, no matter how long you lived. He was legendary. Literally. He was strong, fearless, and so, so kind. And not to harp on this too much but, that body. Compared to him, you were entirely insignificant and you always would be.

So, you suffered in silence. Loved him from afar. And waited for the Mother or the Cauldron or whoever it was that was in charge of your fate and your mate to get their act together.

“What’s running through that pretty head of yours?” Cassian said, glancing over at you.

You reigned in your scowl. Centuries of friendship made it extremely easy for him to read you like a book. “I’m debating whether I hate you for pinning me to the ground like it was nothing, or if I love you for cutting training short,” you said, breathless as you continued to follow him through the stretches. 

He smirked. “Oh, please. You know you love me.”

Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly you grumbled, “Yeah, I know.”

If only he knew. 

---

Inner circle meetings these days were about twenty percent important business, and eighty percent goofing off. 

You loved it.

Seated between Azriel and Amren, with Cassian across from you, you grinned as the warrior picked a fight with Amren.

Azriel and you exchanged amused glances, both knowing that Cassian had never won against Amren, and he certainly wouldn’t start today. 

After they had been squabbling for quite some time about something that you honestly weren’t paying super close attention to, Amren turned to you, snarling, “Can you please tell him he’s a fool?”

Cassian sat back in his chair, clutching his chest, making a great show of being offended.

“Why me?” you asked. 

“He actually listens to you,” Amren said, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

You snorted. “He does not.”

Azriel cut in, smiling faintly. “He does. More than the rest of us, anyway.”

You glanced at Cassian, who just smirked back at you. “What can I say? She’s obviously the smartest one here.”

This, of course, started a whole new round of insults from Amren that left Cassian chuckling to himself, his eyes sparkling as he gazed at you through the entire barrage of Amren’s insults.

Later, you and Cassian were lounging in the sitting room at the House of Wind, after everyone else had wandered off home or gone to bed. 

You were laying down on the couch, reading a book. Cassian was sitting at the far end of said couch, your feet in his lap while he read up on war strategies. 

It was only a matter of time before the romance novel that you were reading got… steamy. 

Cassian immediately noticed the shift in your scent and threw his head back laughing. “Why do you read smut in front of people?”

You kicked his chest lightly, which only made him laugh more. “It’s not like I know when the smutty scenes are going to happen!”

“This one really got to you, huh?” he said, noticing the blush that had risen to your cheeks.

Before you could stop him, he lunged for you, grabbing your book and wrenching it from your hands.

“Noo!” you shrieked, and covered your face in embarrassment as he read aloud.

“His weight on top of me was nearly enough for me to come undone,” he said in a deep, sultry voice. “I couldn’t focus on anything but the power and command in his movements as he grasped both my wrists in one hand and pinned them to the bed above my head.”

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You grabbed for the book, but he was faster and caught you as you moved toward him. His arm wrapped around your waist and he spun you, pinning you to the couch, his weight holding you down for the second time that day.

But, this time was… different. Your bodies were completely flush together, every inch of you touching him. His hair tickled your neck as he looked down at you, your faces a fraction away from each other. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard. You could smell it on him too now, the lust. In this moment, he wanted you. You knew he did. Heat went through you in a wave.

And he knew it. 

“This is what you’re into, huh?” he said huskily.

You glared at him, but you knew the lust was still shining in your eyes. 

He smirked. “Is that why you baited me during training today? You wanted to feel me on top of you?”

Yes. “No!” You scowled, pushing his shoulders, but he didn’t move. “I baited you because I wanted to see how long I would last.”

Cassian’s smirk turned positively wolfish, his eyes gleaming in a way you’d never seen before.

You groaned, realizing what you just said. “Not like that.” You pushed against him again. “Get off of me, Cassian!”

He dipped his head lower, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Are you sure you want me to?” he said, his voice low, sultry. You could hardly breathe.

No, of course I don’t want you to. I want to stay here forever and ever.

“Yes,” you ground out. 

His lips darted to your lips for the briefest moment before he pushed off of you, sitting on his knees. After a moment, he handed the book to you. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled.

He smirked. “No, you don’t.”

You couldn’t stop your small smile. “No, I don’t.”

---

For days, you felt rattled by what happened that night. Cassian, of course, seemed relaxed as ever, but you felt yourself blush every time you were around him.

You were in the market, your thoughts lost in Cassian as usual, when someone across the street caught your eye.

He was beautiful. The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. You felt drawn to him in a way you had never felt before, not even with Cassian.

You stopped in your tracks, unable to take your eyes off him.

After a few moments, he looked up and your eyes met.

And you felt it.

The mating bond that snapped into place. That tethered you permanently to this stranger.

And judging from the look in his eyes, he felt it too.

The stranger made his way over to you, his eyes not wavering from yours.

“Hi,” he said when he was in front of you, like he was in a daze.

“Hi,” you said. “You… felt that too, right?”

He nodded. “I never knew what they meant… what it was supposed to feel like…” he trailed off, just staring at you. “I'm Adonis.”

You introduced yourself and didn't know what to do next. For centuries, you had dreamed of the day that you'd meet your mate. But secretly, you had been waiting for the bond to snap into place with Cassian. You hadn't thought about what you would do if it turned out to be a random stranger.

“Do you… want to go for a walk?” Adonis said, clearly equally unsure of what one was supposed to do upon meeting their mate.

You agreed. And just like that, you were getting to know your mate.

---

You found Rhys, Feyre, and Cassian all in Rhysand's study at the river house. They looked at you questioningly as you walked in.

“Are you okay?” Cassian asked, his voice soft, the way it always was when he was worried about you. “You look… weird.”

“I met my mate today,” you said quietly.

Feyre and Rhysand looked ecstatic. Cassian, though, went perfectly still, his skin turning slightly pale.

“What happened? Who is he?” Feyre asked, her eyes wide in excitement.

You shrugged, briefly explaining how you and Adonis met.

“What's he like?” Rhys asked. “Do you like him?”

“I think so?” You said, noticing how Cassian was still as a statue. “I don't know, it's weird. I feel this tug towards him but I don't know anything about him! I mean, he seems… nice.”

Cassian finally unfroze, to look incredulously at you. “Nice?” He repeated. “That's it? Your mate is nice?”

“We went on a walk and yes, he seems nice,” you blanched, feeling like you should defend your mate but not sure how.

Your friends just stared at you, clearly underwhelmed by your declaration.

“What do I do now?” You asked nobody in particular.

“You keep getting to know him,” Rhys said, lovingly wrapping an arm around Feyre. 

You glanced at Cassian, who suddenly seemed very interested in the carpet.

“Okay,” you said. 

Really, what else could you do?

---

Your relationship with Cassian had felt off ever since you and Adonis had started to get to know each other better.

He still trained you every day, but where he used to be bantering and joking around with you, he was now all business, keeping his physical distance from you. 

It was confusing, having to grapple with your ancient feelings for him and these new blooming ones for your mate. 

After a few weeks of weirdness, you finally snapped. “Did I do something to upset you?” You asked as both of you stretched after a particularly grueling workout.

“No,” he grunted. “Why?”

“You've been acting weird for weeks.”

He glanced at you, his eyes guarded. “No, I haven't.”

“Yes you have, Cass. You've barely talked to me,” you tried to hide the pain in your voice. You didn't want him to know how deeply this ran.

Cassian sighed, pausing his stretching to face you, look you in the eye. “You’re right, I'm sorry. I just… I'm sad, I guess. I've been your number one for centuries and now…” he pushed his hair out of his face. “Things are different now.”

You took a step toward him, your heart cracking. “Is that what you think? Cassian, no matter who my mate is, you'll always be my best friend. And… I could really use my best friend right now.”

Guilt clouded his expression. “I'm sorry. I've been a shitty friend,” he said quietly, moving forward and wrapping you in a tight bear hug. “Are you okay?”

Sighing with relief, leaning into his touch, you said, “I don't know. I'm really excited, obviously, that I finally found him. And I do like him. But I'm also… scared.”

He pulled back to look you in the eye. “Scared? Why?”

“What if he doesn't like me?” You asked quietly. You hadn't been able to voice your fears to anybody else. 

Cassian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you even think that? Who wouldn't like you?”

I can think of at least one person, you thought, but shoved it down.

You shrugged, not sure what to say.

He murmured your name, moving to gently hold your face in his hands. “He'd be insane to not like you. I mean it.”

Warmth spread through you at his touch, the softness in his voice. “Thanks, Cassian,” you murmured.

Cassian kissed your forehead, then pulled you back into a crushing hug. “Anytime.”

---

Your gut was a bundle of nerves as you met with Adonis again. The two of you had been getting to know each other for the last few weeks, and while you didn't yet feel an electric shock, you were thrilled to have found your mate.

When Adonis showed up though, your nerves only got worse. The look on his face could only mean that he was about to deliver bad news.

The two of you made your way through awkward small talk until he braced his forearms on the table in front of him, and you knew he was about to get down to business.

“So, look. I know we're mates, and I do feel that bond between us, but I can't help but think that maybe the Cauldron was wrong,” he said casually, as if he were telling you it was going to rain later.

Your heart completely plummeted. You tried to maintain your breathing, keep your voice even. “Why do you think that?”

“The attraction’s just not there,” he said matter of factly.

Mind spinning, you repeated, “the… attraction?”

He nodded, like it was obvious.

“You're saying, you think the Cauldron was wrong… because you're not attracted to me.”

“Yes! I'm so glad you get it,” he smiled.

You just looked at him incredulously. “You're serious?”

“Yes?” He raised his eyebrow in question.

“So, you're… you're rejecting the bond?”

“I think that would be best. Don't you?”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep your rising fury locked down. “With the way you're acting right now? Actually, yes, I do think it would be best. You're a terrible person,” you stated, determined to keep your tears from falling until you could make it home.

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you.

And right then, you felt it. Despite your anger, it was still painful to have the bond rejected. It felt like you were being torn apart from the inside out, ripping your very being to shreds.

You gripped the table, centuries of training your body and your mind was the only thing that kept you from crying out as the bond broke.

Adonis felt it too, you knew, because he had gone pale as a ghost, his body trembling slightly. 

When the pain had subsided enough, you pushed away from the table, walking home without a backwards glance.

---

You were supposed to meet Cassian for dinner at the House, but you couldn't bear it. You went to your own apartment instead, laying in your bed in the fetal position for what was probably hours, tears streaming down your cheeks until your head was pounding and your eyes were burning.

It was awful, this feeling. How could he be your mate? How could someone like that be who the Mother wanted you with?

Would you never be good enough for anyone? 

And now your hopes of finding a mate were gone forever. Everyone knew that you only got one chance, one mate.

Why did yours have to be so awful?

A knock on your door roused you from your spiraling thoughts.

You just groaned, knowing that Cassian could hear it.

The door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps as he found you in your bed.

He grimaced as soon as he saw the state of you, his eyes flooding with concern. Instantly he was by your side, kneeling in front of you, holding your hand. “What is it?” He asked, his voice soft despite the tautness of his body.

Your voice came out as barely more than a croak. “He rejected the bond.”

Cassian's rage was palpable, filling the room. “What?”

Ashamed, you hid your face in your pillows. You couldn't tell him why. Didn't have the words in you, and you didn't want him to know how much it hurt.

He swore under his breath, then crawled into bed with you, gingerly wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. You buried your face in his chest, breathed in the scent of him. It almost broke your heart even more, knowing he would never feel for you what you felt for him.

His fingers drew small, soothing circles on your back for a long moment until he broke the silence again. “What happened?” He said quietly.

It was a long time before you could answer. But you knew that if you could tell anyone in the world, it would be him. “He's not attracted to me,” you whispered.

Cassian's entire body tensed, his grip on you tightening. “He said that?” He said with lethal calm.

“He did,” you croaked as another tear slid down your cheek.

“I'm going to slaughter him,” he growled, his body trembling as he sat up, taking you with him. “I'm going to rip his skin off his bones--”

He had moved you so you were straddling him, your hands on his shoulders. “No, you won't,” you said gently.

“Why shouldn't I?” He spat, his eyes dark, his hands gripping your waist so hard, it would surely leave a bruise.

“It wouldn't solve anything,” you said sadly. 

Cassian buried his hand in the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to hold his gaze. “You listen to me. He is wrong. He is awful. You are so beautiful. You are so strong and kind and incredible. Do not let him get to you, okay? This is his loss, not yours,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, alight with so much emotion, your eyes welled with tears again.

He pursed his lips, his eyes softening as he pulled you into him again. You cried into his chest. “Why would the Mother do this to me? Why would she choose him?”

“I don't know,” he said sadly, running his hands through your hair gently. “I don't know. Maybe she made a mistake.”

You sniffed. “I don’t know what to do.” 

He kissed your head softly. “You lean on the people who love you. And then you try to move on.”

You cried even harder, and he held you and held you until your sobs diminished and you drifted off to sleep.

---

Cassian barely left your side in the following weeks, his hands always on you, comforting you. Even when he had to go to the Illyrian mountains, he brought you with him. 

It always did something to you, seeing him in command of all those soldiers. His face stern, his body rigid, barking orders at everyone. Despite all the awful things that had happened recently, it still made your toes curl in your boots. 

But even you could only brave the cold for so long to watch Cassian be in command, so you eventually wandered into Rhysand’s mother’s house, a roaring fire already ablaze when you arrived. 

You sat in front of it, warming your hands, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. 

Weeks after the disastrous meeting with your mate, you were finally starting to feel like yourself again, like other things in life mattered more than the jerk who hurt you.

It was mostly Cassian’s steady, comforting presence that had helped you return to yourself, his relentless insistence that you keep up with your training, that you don’t break your routine no matter how much your heart hurt. 

Cassian had been what was keeping you together for a long time, you realized. 

It was this thought that he interrupted, swinging the door open loudly, the snow billowing in behind him. After he had closed the door behind him, you heard his heavy footfalls stop dead in their tracks behind you.

You turned to look at him in confusion, and then you felt it. 

A bond snapped into place. 

A bond that somehow, after all this time, linked you to Cassian.

Your heart began pounding in your chest, your head spinning. “What--”

Before you could finish the thought, he was on top of you, pinning you to the ground, his lips on yours. You always forgot how quickly he could move, how he could be across the room in the blink of an eye with ease.

A moan sounded from you involuntarily as he cupped your cheek gently with his rough hand, his other on the floor next to your head, keeping some of his body weight off you so you wouldn’t be crushed. This seemed to spur him on even more, his tongue delving into your mouth immediately after you had opened your mouth to him. 

“I knew it,” he groaned, kissing your cheeks, your neck, “I knew it should’ve been me.” 

“Cassian,” you gasped, unable to process what was happening, what he just said--

He growled, kissing you again deeply, rocking his hips against yours.

You hated yourself for doing it, especially since you had been dreaming of this very moment for centuries, but you also needed a moment to think, to process. 

“Cassian, wait,” you said breathlessly, putting your hand on his chest. 

He halted immediately, pulling back to hover over you. “I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, smiling to reassure him. He was breathing hard, his eyes locked on yours, trying to decipher if he had done something wrong, you knew. “I mean -- we should definitely continue that later, I just… I don’t understand.”

Cassian rose from on top of you, sitting up. You followed, sitting up to face him. “We’re mates,” he said with a soft smile, his eyes shining. “You and me,” he shook his head in disbelief. 

“I thought you could only have one mate? I thought that was it…” you trailed off, unable to form the words.

He shrugged, grinning. “I guess the Mother decided to give you another chance.”

All you could do was stare at him in disbelief. 

Cassian was actually your mate. Cassian.

His brow furrowed, his expression flooding with fear. “Are you upset?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You gazed at him, at your beautiful, incredible mate. “Cassian, I’ve been in love with you for centuries. I’ve never been happier in my life.”

He made a choking sound. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You bit your lip, pondering how much to tell him. He took your hand in his, scooching closer, hanging on your answer. Finally you leveled your gaze with his. “I don’t deserve you.”

His face contorted in anger then, a look that had never been directed at you before. “Why would you ever think that?”

Incredulously, you gestured to him. “Are you kidding? Look at you! You’re the commander of the Illyrian armies, they’ve literally written about your war tactics in the history books, you’re one of six people in centuries to actually reach Ramiel, you’re so kind and good and--”

Cassian’s lips were on yours before you could continue. “I love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I love you so much.” 

Your heart melted at his words and at his touch. After a few moments, he pulled back to look at you again. “Never say that you’re not good enough ever again. You’ve been in Rhysand's inner circle for centuries for a reason. How do you not see how incredible you are?” 

All you could get out was, “You love me?”

He laughed, the deep sound practically bouncing off the walls, before his expression softened, gazing at you lovingly. “Of course I love you. I was acting so weird after you met Adonis because I had never been so fucking jealous in my life,” he said quietly, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve wished that you were mine for a long, long time.” 

You launched yourself at him and he was ready for you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you kissed him. He laughed against your mouth, holding your body against his. 

Soon, you were completely tangled together, losing yourselves in each other.

Hours later, you were laying on the floor in front of the fire, your legs entwined together, your head on Cassian's chest, his arms around you. 

“After all this time,” you murmured, lost in the memories of all your lonely nights, now knowing that Cassian had felt the same way you did.

He kissed the top of your head. “I'm just glad the Mother finally helped us get together,” he chuckled.

“Me too,” you agreed. “We owe her a lot.”

“We owe her everything,” he said quietly, leaning in to kiss you again. 

You snuggled closer into him, relishing the thought that you would never again be alone.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar

[conundrumoftime]

One of the fun things about shipping Haladriel and about Galadriel's story in Rings of Power, for me, is that we know exactly where this is going to end up. And I wanted to babble for a bit about where that place is because I have seen so many people view it as "she is retired to some woods to be a passive wife-and-mother who can do magic but in a mystical New Age-y way", and: no! No.

So a quick overview of where she will end up by LOTR:

Very much not removed from the war against Sauron.

She is constantly mind-battling against Sauron: One of the lines that inspired McKay and Payne's whole show was her talking about this: "I say to you, Frodo, that even as I speak to you, I perceive the Dark Lord and know his mind, or all of his mind that concerns the Elves. And he gropes ever to see me and my thought." In one of the versions of the Annatar story in Unfinished Tales, Sauron immediately realises she will be his 'chief adversary', and has apparently not changed that assessment 3500 years later.

She co-ordinates joint efforts against Sauron: The White Council that Elrond talks about in LOTR, the combined force of Ring-bearers, wizards and elf-lords that first drives Sauron out of Dol Guldur - she's not just on that, she founded it.

She gets Gandalf back after Moria and the Balrog: Galadriel learns what's happened to Gandalf from the Fellowship when they arrive in Lothlórien. The the Fellowship are sad; the elves of Lothlórien mourn; Celeborn loses it a bit and says Gandalf 'fell into folly'; but Galadriel sends Gwaihir the eagle to get him, returns him to health, updates him on the situation with Boromir, gives him some messages to take to the others, and sends him back on his way.

She is possibly in Lothlórien because of its position of strategic importance: from Unfinished Tales here, she 'saw that Lórien would be a stronghold and point of power to prevent the Shadow from crossing the Anduin in the war that must inevitably come' and that's why she and Celeborn go there. (There are other versions as with almost everything else in Tolkien, but this is one of them.) She's not there to hide away from Events.

2. Calmer than in TROP, but not all-wise and all-sweet and still pretty scary.

She is still tempted by power and world domination: "I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask what you offer [...] In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night!"

And, she doesn't just turn down the One Ring because it's abstractly eeeevil. She turns it down because she knows what she, specifically, would do with it. Sam sees a vision of the Shire, and tells her "I wish you'd take his Ring. You'd put things to rights. You'd stop them digging up the Gaffer and turning him adrift. You'd make some folk pay for their dirty work," to which she says that yes, she would: "That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas! We will not speak more of it."

And saying she wants to rule the world here is not me joking about! This is Tolkien describing that moment in LOTR:

It was not until two long ages more had passed, when at last all that she had desired in her youth came to her hand, the Ring of Power and the dominion of Middle-earth of which she had dreamed, that her wisdom was full-grown and she rejected it

People are scared of her: The only scary moment we directly see is the Ring temptation, but she does other unsettling things. When she meets the Fellowship she tests them by reading their minds and offering something they really want to see if it would make them "turn aside from the road and leave the Quest and the war against Sauron to others." (She offers Sam a garden; the One Ring later on tempts him with the same thing.) Even the hobbits are a bit disturbed by this and Boromir, who's already said he doesn't want to go into Lothlórien because people who do that never leave again, absolutely does not trust her.

Éomer, a few chapters later:

'Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!' he said. 'Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you are also net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe.'

She's scary! She's ancient and powerful and people are scared of her.

3. Married, but not in the character-limiting way the nerdbros want it to be and would have you believe it is.

I am not telling anyone they should ship Galadriel/Celeborn or even find it interesting just because I do, but, the angry nerdbros fancasting Celeborn as Henry Cavill and talking about how he'll come back to tame her and tidy her neatly out of the narrative are writing their own little AU headcanons because that is not what's in the text.

She's the more powerful one. Partly because she's one of the 'High Elves' - she's Noldor and has lived in Valinor seen the light of the Trees - which for various reasons about the way Tolkien's elves work just makes her more powerful, partly because she has a Ring of Power and Celeborn doesn't. It's her Mirror; she's the one reading people's minds; she's the one locked in endless mental battles with Sauron; she's the one the Rohirrim (whose lands border Lothlorien's) tell each other scary stories about. Celeborn at no point ever seems to have an issue with this, and calls her his 'treasure'.

They work together. Even in a big-action-sequences sense: after Sauron's defeat, Celeborn 'led the host of Lorien over Anduin in many boats' to Dol Guldur, where Galadriel 'threw down its walls and laid bare its pits'. But the rest of the time, too: she says of him that 'together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat'.

You really get the sense that they have been married for a loooooong time. An actual sequence of events in LOTR, somewhat condensed:

The Fellowship reveal there's a Balrog in Moria;

Celeborn goes "!!!!", complains about dwarves waking it up and says he'd never have let Gimli into Lothlorien if he'd known that;

Galadriel smacks Celeborn down for being rude to their guest;

Celeborn apologises to Gimli;

Galadriel tells the Fellowship that Celeborn is accounted the wisest of elves;

Boromir says something about "old wives' tales";

Celeborn, whose wife is one of the oldest beings in Middle-earth, tells Boromir not to be so dismissive because "old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know";

Galadriel hands Celeborn a drink.

Whatever is going on here is clearly something that works for them, is what I'm saying! And you don't have to find their marriage interesting just because I do, of course; but what it's not is some trad fantasy of domestic subservient-wife anything.

So where her TROP story ends up is ultimately with LOTR Galadriel: powerful, important, tempted to rule the world, a bit calmer than in TROP, a bit happier than in TROP, co-ordinating big strategic efforts in the war, married to someone who's got her back and adores her and they fall out a bit sometimes but generally work pretty well together, and still having Sauron constantly trying to get into her head. I am fine with this! I am more than fine with this.

[missmimii]

Detention | M - Sturniolo

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which two students find themselves landing in detention for their lack of good behaviour, they find themselves uncovering the tension and undeniable attraction of one another.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, switch!matt, fem!reader, smut, language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, pet names, fluff, (no actual intercourse)

MDNI!

୨ৎ － Wc - 8.5k

• 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ － finally got this shit written, woo!

The girl couldn’t help the way her eyes slowly drew themselves onto the boy who leans over his desk, pencil in hand, that occasionally makes a small tap, as he flicks the rubber end against the hard surface of the desktop. The few papers scattered across the desk occupied by the timidly quiet man, have slightly messy writing aligned across the sheets, his signature written atop.

MATT

Her lips tip up at the corners as she caught sight of the odd way he’d spelt his name, but pays no more mind than necessary, as well as averting the gaze of her eyes to the front of the practically empty room. With the boredom of sitting in silence, and nothing merely interesting to focus the girls attention on, she found herself flicking the irritant gaze of her eyes to the old clock that hung above the empty desk, along with the occasional bounce of the knee.

Why did I choose today of all days to be such a bitch? I could just leave, she pondered before clearing the foolish thought with a shake of the head.

If the girl was being blatantly honest, the only thing that had kept her in the depressive room, was the awkward boy that sat exactly four seats away.

Of course the girl would never consider herself as a nosy individual, considering it was those kinds of people who had gotten her landed in detention. Though, the curiosity she found herself feeling had her pleat-skirted bottom glued to her small plastic seat. Her mind raced with thoughts, the one in lead being, what the fuck was Matthew Sturniolo, doing in detention ?

Having gone to the same since middle school, it wasn’t a shock to be familiar or know most of the people in her grade. The girl had known the same peers for an obnoxiously, and seemingly endless amount of time, which at first, didn’t seem so bad.

When in reality, it was just a vicious cycle of a bunch of nosy teenagers, who think they know anything and everything about you.

Except for the three boys, that was.

It was a regular public school, resulting in nobody really striking as different.

Even if there was cliches and some random wanna-be gangster boys, who thought they had some higher superiority, in the end we were just all humans who were trying to get through senior year.

And even though the set of boys were the only triplets who attended the school, or twins for that matter, the bunch of boys weren’t the oddest thing that came from the pair. It was him.

Between Chris, Nick, and Matt, the middle child stuck out like a sore thumb. She’d noticed the youngest was most definitely the social butterfly of the bunch.

It didn’t take much to gather, seeing as every in any class that the girl had with the boy, he’d be leaning his head over random people’s shoulders, a toothy grin on his lips as he pathetically attempted to befriend almost everyone in his surroundings.

Two weeks prior

“Hey.”

My eyebrows knit together, head slowly raising from my textbook at the sound of a soft whisper coming from .. behind me?

I quickly glance behind me, catching sight of one of the familiar faces I’d seen almost every day since I was thirteen. “.. Hi?” The greeting comes out as more of a question, though I assume he doesn’t pay mind to it, as he immediately adds his over-enthusiastic response.

“I know you.”

I open and close my mouth, silently scrambling for a reply to the unsettling sentence. “Congratulations?” His smile dips at the corners a bit, and I hold in the urge to laugh.

The glare of the small diamonds pierced through both of the boys ears, become showcased as he turns his head, eyes warily swiping along the room. “So..” He slowly looks back my way, voice drifting off into a whisper.

“Doyouknowhowtospellthis?”

Both of my eyebrows raise. “Sorry? I literally- didn’t hear one thing you just said.” I let out a small snort at the end of my sentence, withholding the extremely strong urge to ask the triplet how he’s even real fucking person.

He breathes out a sigh while rolling his eyes. “Do you know how to spell this!” I jump and look around at his sudden outburst, seeing almost every peer around mine and the males desks, eyes on us both.

Before I could respond, I was beat to it by a boy that looked awfully familiar to the one behind me. “What the fuck Chris?!” The eldest triplet hissed, glaring down at the younger one with pink cheeks, obviously embarrassed by his brother’s lack of social skills.

Chris rolled his eyes as his triplet stood over his desk, crossing his arms like a scolded child while tipping his chin to the side with a silent scoff. “I believe your seat is nearing the front left corner of the room, Nick.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Nicks eyebrows drew together as he peered down at his brother. “The front right, you dummy.” He scoffed, and I covered my mouth to hide the smile that appeared on my lips as I sighted the pink flush that tainted the younger brother’s cheeks with embarrassment. “Which you’d know, after us being in the same class since kindergarten, if you knew your fuckin’ left and rights!” Nick whisper hissed.

I watched as Chris’s face fell with anger as he went retort, with a harsh reply I’m certain, before the sound of my English teachers voice piped in. “Christopher Sturniolo.” Both boys faces paled, simultaneously turning to face the angered woman. “We’re in the middle of a grammatical spelling exam.” She deadpanned.

Chris’s shoulders fell, before his eyes slowly glided beside him to his slightly taller twin. Nick shot daggers at the boy, making him huff out a small grunt, turning his head back to Miss Callahan as he plastered a sheepish grin in his lips.

“.. If I raise my hand can he help me?”

Current day

The memories of the day could make the girl cry, laughing all over again, remembering how the staff member nodded toward the eldest triplet who sat nearing the front of the class, to go help the younger one.

“That’s not how you spell ‘Rehearsal’ you dumb fuck.”

Though she was then already acquainted with two other brothers, she still found herself drawn, or rather curious about the middle child.

Matt stuck to himself, but because he was pretty much always accompanied by the presence of the other two men, it was decently odd to see how closed off and isolated he was when by himself.

When in the halls alone, he would have headphones atop his head, or resting around his neck as he fiddled with the horse chain woven around his neck. Or in class, he’d simply silently do his work, a hand never being raised or words being spoken from his lips as the hours passed.

It was almost refreshing to see a decent mannered man, in a school filled to the brim of attitude ridden, douchebags.

The odd thing about this wasn’t how he was perceived, because if the girl was being realistic, all of the traits that were being performed by him, weren’t necessarily weird or unusual.

The only difference was the contrast between himself and his brothers. Both of the others seemingly outgoing, and extroverted, where Matt just merely wasn’t.

Leading to the ultimate question she has in these very moments.

What in gods name did quiet, innocent, Matthew Sturniolo do to end up in detention?

“Shit.”

The startled girl jumps a bit as her desk rattles, two ring clad hands flying out to steady the wobbling table. She pushes her chair out a bit, jaw slack as she blinks up at the dark haired boy who stands directly in front of her sitting frame, from the opposite end of her desk. “Fuck, I’m really sorry.” Matt chuckles nervously.

The ability for words to emit from her parted lips fades away as she peered up at him in disbelief, weirdly shocked at the sinful strings of curses that had come from his lips. “Uh- no, you’re good.” She shook her head a bit, sending him a small smile.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head while peering down at the girl, seeking her reassurance. At her nod, he softly sighs while threading a hand through the dark tendrils of hair that messily topple just below his eyebrows. “I was just-” He points his outstretched thumb toward behind him. “-going to grab a pen.” He explains.

Her lips form an ‘o’ with understanding, holding in the urge to smile at the explanation he offered, as it was utterly unnecessary. “Here,” Matt’s eyebrows draw together with confusion as he leers down at nymph, her hands shuffling through the chaotic mess of the faded pink backpack.

She made a small sound of content, tugging out an assortment of pens, pencils, and highlighters. “Take your pick.” She grinned up at him while holding out her palm.

He eyes the pile of pens for a moment, before his calculated gaze drags back to hers. “It’s fine, really. Callahan has a whole fuckin’ drawer filled- I can just steal one from her.” The girl shakes her head.

“No really- don’t bother.” A few hairs that escape her braided pigtails stick her lips as she spoke, the words getting caught in her throat as she senses his gaze flicking to them as she simply blew the strays away. “These are just a bunch that I’ve borrowed from people in my math class and never gave back. Plus it’s the least I could do after you practically trampled over my desk-” The girl rambles, before she feels her cheeks warm.

Do you ever shut up? She thought to herself.

Her attention is brought back to the boy at the sound of a chuckle, head raising. “How considerate of you.” She forces a smile to her lips, seeing the male observe the action whilst his tongue dips from between his lips and runs along his bottom lip.

Matt’s slim fingers reach out and carefully take one of the school pencils from the girls palm, the rough pad of his index fingers grazing along the lining of her palm. “Thanks, doll.” She offers a small nod, finding herself at a loss for words at her entrancement, caused by his heated stare as he flicks the pencil between his middle and index finger.

His back is to the awkward girl within seconds of the interaction, the stained white airforces stalking across the floors as he goes back toward his desk. Sucking in a breath, she looked down at her thighs, fiddling with the hem of the pleated skirt her curvier hips had adorned.

Minutes after minutes go by, though it seems like hours, her eyes every now and then drifting back to the man that holds the pen she’d lent him dragging across the page in front of him.

The girl made notice of how he’d now flipped the pencil around, and erased markings of one particular line of the page, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. “Fuck me.” Matt curses under his breath, the girls eyes widening at the sinful words words.

Should I? The girl thought to herself. He looks like he’s struggling, to say the upmost least- and if he was anything similar to his youngest brother within the skills of grammar, I’d take it as so.

No- what was I thinking? I’m sure the grown man could figure out to spell whatever the hell he was attempting at.

Her gaze flicks upwards, spotting the hand now free of a pencil, and now kneading the back of his head in frustration. The girl felt her stomach swoop with a twinge of guilt, almost feeling sorry of the triplets irritated state.

She began to think, since she’d already done something wrong to end up in detention, maybe it could be her way of .. making up for her mistakes?

She inwardly scoffs at the thoughts of stupidity. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t wanting to help the boy out of selflessness, I was practically feigning to know what he’d done to end up in this hell-hole.

Fuck it, she said to herself, slipping from her seat. The girls slightly trembling hands tug down the back of the pleated skirt that had ridden up her backside from sitting, softly walking closer to the male, until she was standing behind him, filled with hesitation.

As the girls hand reaches out to tap his shoulder, it was immediately tugged back, the nagging thoughts building in the back of her skull. What if he took offence to my offer of help? She thought to herself. “Whatever.” She breathed out in a whisper to herself, before finally building the courage to tap his broad shoulder.

Matt’s head immediately turned in the direction from where she stood, resulting her stumbling a startled step back. “Sorry!” She held her two hands up in defence, lamely. “I was just,” She waves toward the page in front of him, his face turned with a confused expression. “Do you need help with..” The girl trailed off.

The brown haired male stares a her for a solid five seconds, open and closing his mouth, before they purse. “Yeah..” he chuckles awkwardly, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “Fuck, that’s so embarrassing.” She gently shook her head at his words.

“Not at all.” She waved her hand around. He stared down at her smaller hand as she extended it, the confusion gracing his features quickly morphing into realization as he gently plops the pencil in her open palm. “I still forget how to spell Wednesday correctly, till this day.” She huffed out. “Which is completely stupid considering English has been the only subject I’ve done halfway decent in.” At the lame rambled confession, the girl felt her hand still against the paper, whilst her eyes squeeze shut with embarrassment.

Why’d I have to say that?

The attempt at trying to help his lack of confidence regain apparently worked it seems, as he chuckles at her prior reply. Even though the boy knew he was consider odd, weird -even, he couldn’t help but find himself amused by the odd girls behaviour. “Really? That one’s easy for me. I just think wed-nes-day.” He cut the word into three sections.

She threw him a small glare. “Way’ to make a girl feel bad.” She playfully nudged his shoulder with her own, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the movement. “Uh- okay, so what were you trying to spell?” Her eyes run over the page, stopping on the blotch of faded inked writing, that had very clearly been erased and re-written more than once.

Matt’s cheeks visibly flush as he leans his body closer to hers, the small hairs on the girls arms sticking up as goosebumps began to trickle along the surface, a small grunt leaving his lips that were perked into a small frown as he looked down at his page. “Right there,” Her eyes follow his index finger as he slowly drags the pad over the area.

“I was trying- or rather failing, to spell ambidextrous.” She felt a the corners of her lips tip up, brushing the few stray hairs from my lashes to meet his eyes tilting my head a bit to lift a brow at the confession.

She repeated his words. “Ambidextrous?” At his nod she was unable to help the small laugh that left her mouth. “Sorry-” She softly shook her head, running her hand across her jaw to stop the laughter from rolling off her tongue. “isn’t that when you’re like- left handed and right handed?” Matt slowly nods, the pink tint on his cheeks deepening.

She just shook her head incredulously before bringing the tip of the pen down to the page. “It’s for science exam- it’s a long story.” He mumbles, and she sent him a quick glance, before going back to dragging the tip across the page.

Y/n hummed softly. “I have all day.” Matt watched as her hand stilled against the paper. “Well- until that clock strikes ten o’clock.” She waved toward the wall she assumed the dusty clock was on, before going back to writing down the overly complex word.

The triplet leaned back in his seat as he glanced at the wall, seeing it completely void of any decor, and shook his head with amusement.

What an odd girl.

Unbeknownst to the male, Y/n had the exact same thoughts running about in her own mind. She watched as his knee would bounce up and down in her peripheral vision, along with the occasional hand that would run across his jaw. Was I making him uncomfortable? Or did I come off as rude by asking if he needed help with something as simple as correcting a grammatical error?

The pit in her stomach made her feel a bit nauseous, though the girl decided to let it go as she cleared her throat. “So uh- what did you do to end up in here?” Her eyes quickly flicked to the male. “You don’t like- have to tell me. I’m sorry, that was so rude of me.” Damn it, Y/n.

Matt found himself in a trance almost, leering up at her with a stargazed expression as her lips moved with each word. He found the girls strange rambling amusing, not that he’d ever openly admit it. “What did you do?” The triplet drawled out teasingly, looking smug as he cocked his head in her direction.

The girl’s hand stop writing for a moment, pondering at what her response would be. “I.. may have called my English teacher a misogynistic douchebag?” Her confession came out sounding as more of a question. Matt’s head tipped back with a chuckle, not shocked by the statement, but also a little proud.

She rolled her eyes at the sound of his laugh, feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Allegedly.” She grumbled, going back to writing his cheat sheet. The girl had began to write more than just the complex word, sentence after sentence after sentence forming along the lines.

“Allegedly?” He drawled out, chest still shaking with laughter.

She finally couldn’t keep in her own laughter, a few small laughs coming from her own lips as she attempted to keep her writing beneath the lines. “Yes, allegedly.” She huffed, shaking her head. For the first time, Y/n felt genuinely free within the walls of the school. Which was saying a lot, considering how she was in detention.

Her jaw began to ache as she smiled bigger than ever, refusing to let his entertainment lapse from her ridiculous actions. Matt’s smirk remained on his lips, though he opted to run a hand across his jaw while holding in anymore laughter. “Well?” She hummed, raising a brow in his direction, making the males eyes squint with amusement. “Did he at least deserve it?”

She blew out a breath, shaking her head incredulously. “More than ever. You know the scarlet letter?” Y/n was met with silence, making her playfully roll her eyes as she turned her head toward him. “The book?” As if it was even possible, Matt’s perplexed expression had multiplied by ten.

“Demi Moore?”

His lips formed an ‘O’ in understanding, softly nodding. “She’s hot.” Her hand halted against the paper, eyes momentarily closing. Men. “Anyway,” She cut him off, from whatever disgusting rant he was about to go on. “We had to write an essay about the book- not the movie, and I made a point of writing how I thought it was complete bullshit that Roger Chillingworth, didn’t have to embroider an ‘A’ for adulterous actions, and the woman did.”

Matt watched as every word spoken by the girl, the more visibly irritated she became. “Jameson?” He lifted a brow, and at her curt nod, he scoffed. “He’s a dick. I had him in junior year, and he practically failed me because of a few typos.” He nipped at his index finger, hating the past thoughts of the terrible year.

She hummed. “Yep.” Her eyes slid to Matt for a second. “But I believe you still owe me an answer.” She cheesed, nudging his shoulder with her own softly.

Matt’s eyes drifted down to his page that now had perfect cursive writing aligned on numerous columns of the sheet, huffing out a small breath of amusement. The triplet had of course caught onto the girls motive long ago, but found himself unable to take the pen back from her, as if he needed her presence, or rather yearned for it.

Feeling her gaze on his jaw, he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Punched’ some dick who takes out his anger of being a shitty goalie on his girlfriend.” Y/n stopped writing for a moment, stealing a glance at the boy. Matthew’s lips tipped up.

“Allegedly.” He added.

Y/n couldn’t help the small chuckle that she let out, her grasp on the pencil faltering as she uses her two hands to stay upright. “Uh’ huh.” She blew out a breath, a smile still lingering on her lips as she glanced down at his worksheet.

She had practically written the remaining work, weirdly, considering she was not scientifically qualified whatsoever. She hummed and drug the smooth pad of her thumb across the smudge of ink that she’d mistakenly placed across the white page. “Well.. you’re all set.” The girl tipped her head in his direction, grinning foolishly as she looked down at the brunette boy.

Matt found himself drawn into a trance, feeling his heart pulpit repeatedly in his chest a he leered up at her with a stargazed stare. She was so beautiful. He thought to himself, the soft intimidating heat of his gaze tracing each and every freckle and beauty mark imprinted upon her cheeks and lips.

As the two both drowned in their own curiosity and abyss of thoughts, it seemed as if the silence between them was a reflection of the many words that went unspoken.

He must find me obnoxiously annoying- or stuck up.

She thinks I’m a joke, absolutely stupid. Not knowing how to spell something.

It wasn’t that the silence between the two was necessarily awkward, not at all even. It was more so ..tense. Far too tense for both parties that we’re already feeling trapped and unheard, cooped up in a humid classroom. Y/n cleared her throat, again. “I did horrible in science.” She blurted out, feeling warmth flood her cheeks immediately.

Matt’s lips tipped up as she rushed her next words out. “-barely passed actually. So honestly, I probably won’t understand, or pick up on one single thing that’ll come from your mouth about any of it.” The triplet nodded along slowly as she rambled, finding it extremely amusing, and quite frankly, adorable. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing about this exam- thingy.” The girls hands waved around, exaggerating her words.

As she noticed the suddenly outburst she had had, she felt her shoulders drop. What the actual hell, is wrong with you? “Only if you wanted too though.” Matt watched as she meekly murmured her next words, feeling his head tilt to the side as he observed her now shy body languishing.

The girl was beyond exhausted with her own lack of social skills, and with that she felt her emotions taking a toll for the worst as she began to wring with the hem of her skirt with shaky fingers. She was never the most comfortable in overly talkative situations, or rather chit-chat.

That was her absolute worst performance when it came to social interactions.

Despite this, she never thought of herself to be introverted either. She found herself enthralled and excited by speaking and meeting new people. The thing that the girl found herself drained from, was her terrible skills at being even relatively normal.

Matt, being well- himself, found himself almost immediately understanding the way she proposed and functioned. The male had saw the way Y/n carried herself the minute she stepped foot into detention, seeing as she most definitely did not act as the normal person would.

If anything, Matt found himself relating to her behaviour. Alike the two, they were both oddly similar, in different ways. And if the girl were aware of his acceptance of her unintentionally foolish personality, she wouldn’t have been nearly as embarrassed as she was in this exact moment.

But just like her, they both were too afraid to communicate the thoughts they had.

“I can explain along the way.” Y/n’s eyes widened as he broke the silence, Matt looking up at her with a heated stare that constantly flicked between her lustrous eyes, and the plumpness of her lips. But indefinitely he found his gaze become glued onto the pink-tinted skin of her flawless lips, his throat bobbing as he watched her pull her bottom lip between her perfect teeth. “Yeah?” He swallowed, forcing his now darkened stare up to her eyes.

Her lips parted at the unknown .. viciousness presented in the triplets gaze, having clearly noticed the way he’d looked at her lips. Remembering that the male did in fact ask a question, she opted for a silent nod, feeling almost unable to form a coherent response.

Y/n sucked in a breath as she attempted to regain control of her current feelings, accidentally allowing the pen to fall from her chipped pink nails, hearing it roll down the rigged surface of the desktop. “Shit.” The girl cursed to herself, reaching out to grab it.

Before she had the opportunity of grasping the darn thing, a larger, slimmer hand had already snapped out and landed atop the writing utensil. Matthew’s rings glittered from the sun that came in through the window aside his desk, gleaming with silver as he easily flicked the pencil between his index and middle finger, rolling it into his palm effortlessly.

The girl felt her stomach churn, though not in the way she would usual feel. This time it flipped, a fluttering sensation swarming her stomach as if there were millions of butterflies’ wings grazing the longing of her abdomen. “How familiar are you with the five different types of chemistry?” The usual softness of Matt’s tone was long gone, replaced with a husky octave that sounded as if he was containing the urge to speak something sinful.

“.. There’s different kinds?”

Matt found his tongue twinging the inside of his cheek at the girls soft tone, making her roll her eyes and gently push his shoulder as she caught the action. “Shut up. I told you I wasn’t science smart.” He chuckled and raised his hands in defence, the girl looking down at his desktop in embarrassment as she ran a hand down one of her messy braided pigtails.

Deciding not to tease the girl further, the triplet began to flip through the many pages piled up in front of him, before he stopped on a specific one as it was placed atop the pile. “It’s alright. You just helped me spell. The last thing you should be embarrassed about is knowing shit about science, sweetheart.” With a breathy chuckle, he ran his ring clad ring index finger under a messily written sentence of the page.

Sweetheart.

The pet name that the nervy girl would’ve never imagined lulling from his tongue, comes out sounding like a tantalizing melody, flowing from his perfect lips without a beat missed. She watched as his left hand that holds the pencil circles a few words nearing the edge of the page, with a slightly tremble. “See, here?” He underlines the words for extra measure, making her chest warm, the girl sending a quick nod.

“Good. That’s the first one. Organic chemistry.” He explains slowly, drawling out the word ‘Organic’ slower than the others. “The best way I can explain it is the study of the structure and properties, and preparation of carbon-containing compounds.” His eyes flick up to mine. “You got that?”

At his inquiry she found herself nodding, even though she really didn’t. “Mhm..” She forced a sweet smile on her pink lips. Matthew’s eyebrow lifts in suspicion, knowing that the unbeknownst mention of his explanation most definitely didn’t register with the girl, before looking back down to his page.

The inquiry had the girl nodding, feeling as if she was unable to form coherent sentence.

The girls one hand rests on the corner of his desk as she leaned over the surface, eyes dragging from the paper to his blue gaze. “Hm?” Matthew’s eyes flash with a foreign gleam as he she watched his hot stare drift between her lips and her dilated pupils, that showed the pure interest of their current lesson.

Many thoughts swarmed the girls mind, did he think I was stupid? Or that I was just not paying attention? Did he want to feel the impact of my lips against his as much I did his, or was I simply delusional?

The boy shook his head, clearing his throat while forcing his eyes back down onto the paper. “Physical chemistry is the branch of chemistry concerned with interactions and transformations of materials.” His voice came out with an underlining huskiness, the smokey octave sending chills up the girls arms. “You got that?” This time around, the girl found herself genuinely lost at the explanation, which resulted in the next encounter.

“Not exactly?” She nervously mumbled. “I’m still kinda’ confused.” The girl breathed out, hand gripping the edge of the males desk with anxiety. He must think I’m vapid.

She felt the air in her lungs being sucked out as she breathlessly gasped, Matt’s larger hand reaching out to mold atop of her smaller one. “That’s alright, yeah?” He muttered, feeling his own heart pick up in pace as he studied the anxiety ridden girl who stood aside him. “I’ll just have to do a better job explaining, hm?” She watched as he cocked his head, eyes flicking across her features as he awaited her gesture of agreement.

Instead, the girl felt herself in a lustrous state of mind, unable to stop the way her eyes trail their way to the hand that gripped her one hand. Her heart palpitated at the mere sight of the protruding veins that trailed across his large, slim hand.

The rings glittered in her eyes as the sun came through the window opposite to the two, glimmering against his perfectly fair skin.

Matt, immediately noticing the girls trance, doesn’t rush to remind her of her lack of response, instead watching silently as she used her thumb to trace one of the more prominent veins in the back of his hand. “Physical chemistry.” Matt’s lips parted as he watched the girls eyes flick from his hand to his eyes, pupils having doubled in size. “What’s the best way to explain that?” She murmured, tilting her head with a hint of innocence.

Within the girls peripheral vision she spots Matt’s opposite hand flinch from its balled place on the desk, almost as if he was stopping himself from reaching out. “I think it’d be easier if I were to just..” Both of the girls eyebrows of draw together with confusion, simultaneously being startled as Matt Sturniolo’s ring clad hand reaches out, and entraps the left side of her waist with a gentle, yet affirming grip “-show you.” He breathes out the second half of his sentence, his long fingers resting against Y/n’s back, his thumb gently pressing against her navel from the outside the blush-pink camisole.

She feels her jaw go slack while looking down at him, feeling her chest tighten with nerves as the warmth of his gaze roams along the girls facial features and expression.

Not that Matt would ever openly admit it, but he was most definitely gouging how the girl would react to the assorted touches he could offer her. “Matt..” The man feels his lips curve at the corners hearing her wary tone.

He decides to offer a gentle hum, his bottom lip feeding into his mouth with a small grunt. “What’re doing?” She whispered in that voice. The tone that had Matt going borderline crazy. Feeling Matthew’s hand mold around the dip of her waist, the girl spotted a darkness in the abyss of blue in his eyes as she emitted a small gasp.

His free hand slowly ran over his jaw, before chuckling. The girl feels her heart pick up at the husky chuckle coming from triplets mouth, her hand gripping the edge of his desk with more force. “Nothing, doll.” He mutters, whilst shaking his head dismissively.

The hand against her waist didn’t budge, as if Matt was in a trance by the sight of his hand, gripping her waist. Y/n feels her body immediately tense as his eyes lifted hers, and even if the male had caught the slight action that came from the girl, he didn’t pay mind to it. “Growing up, did teachers consider you audible learner? Or a more of a visual learner?”

As Matt’s soft voice drifted off into a undertone, the girl was abruptly startled with a loud yelp, as he waits no time for her response, instead use the hand that pressed into her side to nudge her onto the hard surface of Matt’s thigh. “Hm?” He hummed against her ear.

The feeling of his breath grazing her neck had the girls short and soft breaths, hitching in her throat. Goosebumps trickled over the flesh of her arms, the small hairs on the back of her neck flying up with anticipation. “Matt.” She whispered softly, the small whimper that came her lips gracing the boys ears, as she felt his smirk against her neck.

The bridge of his nose grazed along the span between her ear and neck, and as he came to the realization of their current condition, he feels his heart drop to his stomach. “Shit.” He whispered to himself, feeling the girl tense in his hold.

What was he doing? He thought to himself. Matt wasn’t like this- he was furthest thing from it. “I have no fuckin’ clue what’s wrong with me.” Matt quickly rushed out, and the girls back who brushes his front, feels the now pattering of his heart. “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/n.” He rambled.

Realizing the inner panic the male was currently experiencing, she felt a sense of guilt run through her blood. Did she do something wrong? Maybe I was too heavy to sit on his lap. The worrisome feeling she felt for Matt took over her mind, shifting in his lap she attempted to face him.

Matt audibly drew in a hitched breath as the girl shuffled around on his lap, his eyes dropping and seeing both of he girls perfect thighs on either side of his lap. The hem of her skirt flowed beneath his spread thighs, and just at the mere sight, he forces his eyes to the ceiling. Lord, give me the strength to not fuck this girl over my desk.

“Hey- you’re good. Honestly.” Matt shakes his head a murmuring something unknown under his breath, his heart skipping a beat as she tips his chin in my her direction. “Calm down, nothings wrong.” She assured him, nodding.

The boy mimics her movements, slowly nodding along. As the girl realizes her current stance, on top of Matthew Sturniolo’s lap, she finds herself become overtaken with embarrassment.

“I’m just gonna..” Matt trailed his words off into a whisper, before Y/n felt her wobbly frame being steadied by a large hand gently gripping her waist. Matthew feels the small flyaways of hair from her braided pigtails, that rested against her back, lightly tickle his cheeks as she looked down at him.

The twos eyes were aligned with a starstruck contact, and though they both attempted to cover their nervousness with a plain expression, they both felt the same desire for each other. The girl hears a small hiss come from the boys lips, her cheeks immediately flushing as she realizes it was because she had just barely moved from her place in his lap.

Simultaneously, she felt her self esteem plummeting as the first thought she had was that she must’ve been heavy on his lap. The mere thought had a frown upon the girls nipped at lips.

Matt, immediately noticing the upside down smile, felt his eyebrows draw together with both wary and curiousity at the sudden switch of the girls mood. “I’ll get up.” She musters weakly, desperately trying to keep her line of sight on the horse chain that was woven around his neck, simply unable to meet his blazing ones.

Seeing as Matt wanted to find out what was happening, or what had gone wrong, he opened his lips to ask the burning question, is everything fine? Is what he would’ve asked, that was until the girl decided to take then of all times, to shift her hips forward as a failed attempt to loosen herself from his grasp.

“Fuck.”

Y/n found her jaw dropping, as the obscene sound came from Matt’s lips. Did I hurt him? She wondered, heart beating painfully in her chest. The girls eyes, still, previously glossy from the prior interaction, blink down at the dark haired man’s current state. Matt’s head was now tipped back against the of his seat, chest moving up and down while is eyes fluttered shut. “Sorry- did I hurt you?” Her nose wrinkling with embarrassment.

At the sound of the nymph’s tantalizing voice, Matt’s eyes lulled open. He felt his adams apple bob at the sight of the girl straddling his lap, looking down at him with widened eyes that would’ve looked absolutely pornographic to any other man.

Though the triplet knew she was genuinely perplexed. As well as him, she couldn’t force her eyes from the boy beneath her. With every inhale he took Y/n spotted the muscles in his shoulders bulge through the black T-shirt, Ransom, embroidered onto the chest. His blue eyes had sunken down with an inner darkness, though still glancing up at her through his eyelashes.

Matt’s eyes open with a shaky breath, offering the girl a small shake of the head. “No.” Be breathes out, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he looked up at Y/n. “Just maybe- don’t do that again?” He says as more of a recommendation then a statement, voice deep in an undertone.

The girl takes beat before the realization came over her. “Oh.” She whispered, her cheeks splashing with warmth.

Matt sees this, feeling his lips curve into a smirk, whilst simultaneously using every bone in his body to ignore the girls pulsing heat resting directly on the now very obvious tent of the carpenter jeans he wore.

“Oh.” He repeated in mockery, chuckling lightly.

Even with the heatwave of tension that was currently taking over the boy, he still battled through the almost nauseating warmth coursing through his body, to observe the girl’s reactions and movements. The way her hips would shift atop the growing hardness beneath her needy, clothed cunt, or the small lewd sounds that would occasionally emit from her parted lips.

Or the way he audibly heard the girls breath hitch at his next action, Matthew’s arm swinging around the head of his hair, leaning the weight of his body onto the surface to find a comfortable position for his aching lower half. She immediately gasps, two hands flying out to grip each side of the head of the chair.

It was as if the ball of need inside her abdomen had built by ten, the fluttering sensation she felt between her legs never coming to an end as she felt her thighs attempt to clench. This, of course, failed. “You alright doll?” Matt watched the girls face morph into a pained expression at the realization that she was unable to alleviate the desperation building within her core.

Both knees sit on either side of the triplets thighs, acting as a barrier between hers, as she tightened her legs to close them together. As if she was unable to form a coherent sentence, Y/n offered a curt nod while forcing her hazy gaze anywhere but his face. “I didn’t quite catch that, speak up..” The hand on her waist was suddenly gripping my jaw and tipping my chin up. “I can’t hear you from down there.” He taunts, eyes twinkling with an unknown objective.

Y/n found her completely struck with whiplash at the sudden switch up of his body language. Once soft toned, with a timid persona that came across as shyness, now completely morphed into a dominant character.

Feeling her eyelashes feather against the no doubt, pink tinted skin of her cheeks, she blinked down at the triplet as her eyes went round. “I-I didn’t-” She whimpered and cut herself off as Matt’s eyes bored into hers with a blazing darkness beneath the soft facade.

Matt lifted his one brow, waiting for the trembling girl to go in with her sentence. As silence fills the room, Matt sighed softly. “That’s no good, huh?” He tutted in a condescending manner, head tipping to the side in a cock as he leered up at her.

As if the air in her lungs tore away from her, Y/n’s silent streak was very short lived, much to her dismay. “Fuck.” She cried, the hands that rested on the head of his chair slipping down to grip his shoulders. Matt yet again, lifted his hips against hers, though this time it made it abundantly evident that it was purposeful.

Matt felt as if his body wasn’t in his own control, the will of being able to contain the desperate urge of tainting the girls innocence, long gone. He whispered small curses and whimpers to himself as his head tipped back, his body on the closest thing to autopilot, feeling his hips roll up into the girls core.

The barrier of clothing between the two bodies did close to nothing at stopping the friction between the girls beating heat, and the triplets painfully, aching erection.“Matt,” Y/n swallowed the lump she felt in her throat, taking a momentary break to emit the small whine from the feeling of the ridge of Matt’s hard cock pushing against her clit. “-slow- slow down.” Matt feels his body begin to warm with a fuzzy sensation against his heart, as the worked up girls head fell onto his shoulder, cooing to himself softly at the sound of her soft pants.

The feeling of his stronger hand that had gripped her waist faltered away, before she felt the cold silver of his rings pressing into her cheek as he gently tipped her jaw up. “Hm? What was that?” He taunted for what seemed like the fifth time, his index and middle finger patting the girls cheek.

At that, Y/n felt herself grounding her hips onto him, making her feel like a complete and utter mess. It wasn’t necessary a slap, but she would’ve definitely considered it more than a gentle tap.

The irregular pattern of Matthew’s hips rolling into her core left her breathless, frustrated as he would abruptly slow down, leaving her desperate for more, before suddenly rutting his hard on into her needy heat. “Please.” She pleaded against his neck, the few tears of desperation finally falling.

Matt, feeling the salty wetness running down the span of his jaw and neck, felt a sense of pride. He wouldn’t consider himself a sadist, or anything along the lines of finding himself turned on by inflicting pain onto others. But there was something so profound and satisfying, seeing how the girl was falling apart to pieces, in his arms, because of him.

Feeling Y/n’s body move at a faster pace than normal as she inhaled and exhaled, Matt tipped his head down and allowed the tip of his nose to graze along the junction between her jaw and neck, leaving a soft peck against the dewy skin. “Cmon’ now.” He placed both hands on either side of her hips, effortlessly lifting her bottom half, groaning as he helped her move her hips along his cock.

This action immediately had her exhausted body, that had fell against his chest awakening like fireworks blooming across a dark sky. “Matt.” He grunted against her neck, though the recognition of hearing the girl saying the triplets name went unanswered, seeing as she just needed to know that he was there.

Cause of course he was there physically, very much so. It was more that she yearned to have him cherish the moment she fell apart in his arms.

To run his slim fingers through her now tangled hair as she bit down onto his shoulder, feeling a whole new wave of arousal come over her as she hears his whimper at the action. Y/n felt his two warm hands comfortingly squeeze the backs of her thighs, as a silent gesture that he had understood the girls feelings. “Sorry baby.” He whispered against her neck, heavily breathing as she felt his erection pulse between her legs.

She felt Matt’s right hand begin to glide up her waist, stopping anywhere and every where on the journey up to mold his grip against, reminding himself that the current event was actually happening. The hand slipped around one of her braids, two of the other fingers pressing against the back of her neck as he tugged her head up to look into his dark gaze.

“Have I been ignoring you? My greedy girl needs a little more attention, hm?” His tone was condensing and mean, making her breathe out a small moan. “Oh?” He mused, seeing the bob of her head. “That’s my fault, huh? My apologies sweetheart. It’s hard to decipher what you really want when you’re grinding on my dick, like a bitch in heat.” He murmured softly.

The contrast of his tone and words were striking. The words spoken were filthy, sounding like a sin flowing from his tongue. But the tone, the tone was soft and gentle, melodic with a gentle touch of sweet innocence lulling from his perfectly bitten at lips.

The piercing ends of the girls pink nails dug into Matthew’s shoulders, resulting a small whimper emitting from his lips, intermittently tearing down the wall of dominance he’d had up. The lack of relief she so desperately wanted, or rather now needed, wasn’t being fulfilled, making her eyes glisten with tears of frustration. Even science wasn’t this hard.

Pun intended.

Y/n let out a pathetic moan against his neck, too far into the rabbit whole of pleasure that was Matthew Sturniolo, continuing to roll her hips into his. “You.” She breathed against his neck. Matt hummed in response, squeezing her hips.

“Hm?”

Blinking away the haziness in her eyes to look up at his clearly. “I want you.” At that, Matt thrusted his hips up into her dripping core with a guttural moan.

You. Him. Matt.

She wanted him, and even though he’d already known this from the time her needy cunt had landed on his clothed dick, hearing it come from her lips, in that angelic fucking voice, had brought him closer to his release ten times faster. “I know, doll. I know.” He breathed out, Y/n watching his head as it fell back against his seat whilst his blue eyes fluttered shut.

Matt uses his one hand that rested on her backside, to gently guide her lower half forward into his painfully hard erection, emitting small whimpers while doing so. The way he felt her pulsing heat through both of their clothed bottom halves told him that she was getting closer to her relief, bringing him to his faster. “Close?” He murmured against her neck.

She could only offer a moan as a reply, shivering as his breath fluttered against her pulse as a warm breeze during dusk. Matt’s fingers toyed with the hem of her pleated skirt as she grounded down onto the prominent tent in his jeans, trying to distract himself from coming before the girl.

After all, he always was a gentleman.

“Fuck.” Y/n whispered against the shell of his ear in a small cry, and Matt felt his stomach tighten at the feeling of her thighs trembling on either side of his. As the male was partially to deep into his own pleasure, all he was able to do was run his one hand down the small of her back, as he soothed her through the overwhelming pressure of her release.

Y/n heard the small cures and whimpers that emitted from Matt’s lips, and even as the overwhelming sensation of her past release was still overcoming her body, she did her best to comfort the triplet as well as she mustered. “So good.” She murmured against the shell of his ear, panting softly. “You’re doing so good, Matt.”

Fuck, his eyes rolled back as well has the ball in his abdomen had suddenly tensed. “Shit.” He whimpered, squeezing the backs of her thighs. “Gonna’ come.” He breathed out, making Y/n hum softly against the nape of his neck.

I’m here. We’re both here. Together.

Y/n glided her nails against his scalp as he rode out the aftermath of his release, whispering sweet nothings in his ears at the feeling of his hard thighs trembling against hers. “Holy fuck.” He breathed out, tipping his head back with a soft grunt. “I’m so happy I decided to be a dick on this exact day.” Y/n’s head lifted a bit, lifting an eyebrow.

Was he serious?

The two both jumped at the sound of a blaring bell, as well as coming to reality of what they’d both just done. Their eyes tuned into each others, lips parted with shock at their own actions. Y/n cleared her throat, sitting up a bit as her cheeks flushed. “Good luck with the test.” She muttered, tilting her head.

Matt drew his lips into a line, ignoring the urge to smile at the girls words. “Best wishes with that whole- Demi Moore ordeal.” Her shoulders fell.

Men.

୨ৎ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 ~ @graysturns @imwetforyourmom