#they were an odd mix in every place lets just say that

[of-the-eventide]

"You know... Even before you joined the Scions, you caught our eye quite quick." "Was it my good looks and pleasant personality?" "...I see what you're doing there... But no, most definitely not."

[trashytracktales]

Ma'am, I just found your profile and I'm in love with your writing. I would really like to make a request that you made (After McLaren's victory today I was inspired haha)

Could you please write a short one for Lando where he and his girlfriend enjoy the WCC celebration party so much that they don't even have time for themselves (not that it's a big deal for them), but in the next morning the reader wakes up feeling Lando half hard on her back, while they're spooning, so she decides to wake him up with a handjob. So one thing leads to another and they end up having a slow, intense and delicious morning sex.

(if you don't feel comfortable writing, please just ignore. I will totally understand)

Orange glow | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for your support! Enjoy this one 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── After McLaren wins the 2024 Constructors' Championship and Lando dominates the Abu Dhabi GP, the night is full of partying. But the real celebration happens in the morning, hidden between the sheets, and far away from the outside world.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, descriptive language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, post-race tension, spooning, slow morning sex, shower sex, hyping each other up, reader tries to be funny towards the end, quick Lily Zneimer cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 9, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I literally have a list of requests piling up, but I had to jump on this one immediately after last night, oop. I'm a Ferrari girlie through and through, and I'm not going to get into the details of how many times I cried this season, however, I'm so proud of the McLaren boys, and everything they've accomplished. A season to remember for sure. Now let the horrors (winter break) begin 🥲👍🏻

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE WEEKEND STARTED with a lot of pressure, even though the odds were in their favor. And it continued that way on Sunday, after Oscar's Turn 1 incident. Luckily, Lando's teammate had managed to claw his way back into the points by the end of the race. Lando, on the other hand, had been untouchable ever since the lights went out, his car gliding through each lap with precision and speed as if he was running on hopes and old dreams.

His girlfriend watched it all unfold from the garage, her heart constantly in her throat as every sector time flashed on the screens. When the checkered flag finally dropped, she could finally breathe, knowing how much Lando has been stressing about it, especially after the weekend in Qatar.

By the time the podium ceremony begins, the entire paddock is buzzing; she's absolutely sure that no place on Earth is ever as loud as the paddock when someone wins.

Tonight, it's her boy.

In the sea of radiant faces, Lando manages to spot her without any issues and, for a brief moment, their eyes meet. He raises the bottle in her direction, grinning mischievously, before pop it on the podium step and shaking it up, drenching his team principal and the two Ferraris from head to toe.

She laughs, her chest warm with so much pride and love.

After that, it takes Lando a couple of hours before he finally makes it back to her. Post-race duties pull him in a hundred different directions — sometimes simultaneously — media interviews, debriefs, and lots of photo sessions. But when he sees her waiting outside the McLaren hospitality suite, he breaks away from the crowd without hesitation.

“What's a pretty girl like you doing here, hm? You should've waited inside,” says Lando, his voice low, but full of warmth as he wraps his arms around his girlfriend.

He smells faintly of champagne and sweat that mixed with his perfume and natural scent, a heady blend that reminds her of everything he’s just achieved for both himself and his team. The adrenaline it's still floating in the air, and she can feel the buzz of it in the way he's touching her.

“I did,” she replies, looking up at him. “But it took forever, and I got bored.”

It doesn't take long for camera flashes to capture the moment, and Lando takes off his cap to cover their faces, as he leans in to steal a gentle kiss from her before heading back inside.

THE MUSIC IS pretty much deafening, and the lights are a kaleidoscope of neon orange. The celebrations continue into the night, while Lando is — oh, so shockingly — the life of the party, moving from one group to the next with a constant drink in hand, his laughter ringing melodious above the bass.

She stays close but lets him have the spotlight. This is his night, after all, and she wants him to enjoy every single moment. Still, Lando always finds ways to include her by dragging her onto the dance floor for a song, or pulling her into photos with the team, and brushing kisses against her temple as they weave through the crowd.

It gets tiring at times, so she chooses to disappear for a couple of minutes back at their table; a good opportunity to regain control over her breathing, and maybe down another shot. This time, she finds herself watching Lando moving anything but gracefully on the dance floor. He looks like he's yelling, while aggressively gesturing in Oscar's direction, the two of them laughing over something she can’t hear. The sight makes her chest tighten with affection, though. They both seem so carefree right now, so unburdened, and she realizes how rare that is. The season has been the longest ever, and it was filled with so much pressure and expectations. But tonight, all of that has melted away.

“Having fun?” she hears a soft voice from behind her, then her senses are invaded by a faint floral scent.

She turns in her seat to see Lily, her cheeks flushed from the heat, with her smile as contagious as ever.

“More than I expected,” she finally replies, returning the smile and raising her glass to take another sip. “It’s hard not to when I see them like that,” she adds, pointing at their boyfriends.

Lily laughs, nodding slowly. “On the way here, I overheard that they want to get a tattoo in Zak's honor.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

The two girls exchange a look, their eyes locking in a silent agreement. It's their cue to step in, take control, and save their boyfriends from their drunken selves.

It’s past three in the morning when the party starts to wind down. Lando finds her near the bar, his hair a tousled, curly mess and his shirt unbuttoned. He looks exhausted but genuinely happy and satisfied, his eyes bright with the lingering adrenaline of the night.

“Ready to head back, mon amour?” he asks in a broken French accent, slipping an arm around her waist.

She nods, leaning into him. “Thought they'd never wear you out.”

“Pff. FYI, I've got plenty of energy left,” he says determined, smirking down at his girlfriend and watching as her thin fingers button up his shirt.

She giggles, knowing it's not even close to the truth, “Of course you do.”

The ride back to their hotel is quiet, proving her that she was right to not believe him earlier. Lando rests his head against her shoulder, his hand holding hers, fingers intertwined on top of her lap. She can feel the tiredness creeping in, but her heart is still skipping a beat every time Lando brushes his thumb over her knuckles.

When they finally step into their room, he lets out a long sigh, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed.

“Fuuucking hell. I can't feel my toes, is that fucking normal?” he mumbles into the pillow.

She chuckles, sitting down beside him to take her heels off. “You just turned a two-syllable word into four, so you tell me. I could barely keep up with you, baby. I'm not surprised you're absolutely wrecked,” she admits, lowering herself over his back to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

He sighs, flipping his body the other way, looking up at her with a tired but content smile. “Totally worth it, though.”

She places another kiss, to his jaw this time, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. “I'm so proud of you, pretty boy. I hope you know that.”

Lando's eyes soften, and he reaches up to take her hand in his, letting it rest over his chest. “Couldn't have done a lot of things without you... You kept me sane this season.”

She shakes her head, but he squeezes her hand, his expression earnest. “I didn’t—”

“Baby, I mean it,” he interrupts her vehemently, “Thank you.”

They don’t talk much after that, the exhaustion of the night catching up to them both. Finally, when they change and slip properly under the blanket, they fall asleep together, the hum of the city below fading into the background.

THE EARLY SUN spills into the room, casting long shadows over the tangle of sheets. She stirs first, her senses awakening to the quiet hum of Lando's soft snoring. Usually, she would push him on the other side so she won't hear him anymore, but she knows how tired he was just a few hours ago.

His arm is slung loosely around her waist, holding her close to him as if she might disappear. She shifts slightly, and that’s when she feels him — it — a familiar pressure nestled against her ass, half-hard and stirring with his own slow wakefulness.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she stays still for a moment.

The rest of Lando's body is relaxed against hers, but even in his sleep, he responds to her presence, which makes her heart race. Carefully, she reaches back, her hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers. The moment her fingers curl around his cock, Lando lets out a soft, muffled groan, instinctively pressing closer. At that, he wakes slowly, the low sound rumbling in his chest as he tightens his grip around her waist.

“Mm... ‘morning, baby,” he greets her with a thick, rough voice, filled with sleep. However, there’s a teasing edge to it as he pushes his hips more intently into her hand.

“Good morning, champ,” she murmurs in a playful tone, her hand continuing its lazy strokes, rubbing the sensitive head of his cock in circles with her thumb.

He hisses, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You waking me up like this just because I won?” mumbles Lando, his lips curling into a soft smirk against her skin.

She lets out a quiet chuckle, but doesn’t reply, focusing instead on the way he hardens fully in her small fist, the weight of him in her hand so familiar and thrilling.

“Fuck, I lose it when you touch me like that,” says Lando, fully woken up by now. “Feels so good, baby.”

Hearing that, she perfects her strokes, feeling the pre-cum coating the palm of her hand, smiling mischievously when she manages to pull another moan out of his mouth.

“Do you have to be somewhere today?” she finally asks.

Lando sighs in pleasure, his hips eager to move in the same rhythm as her hand, “Not until after lunch. Why?”

He knows where she's hinting with her innocent question, but he enjoys hearing her talk.

She laughs lightly, feeling his cock begin to throb slightly in her grip. “I just wanted to celebrate some more.”

Lando's hand slides down her body, instinctively, warm and purposeful, as he grips her thigh and drapes her leg over his hip.

“Alright then,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with a lazy, husky need.

Before she can speak again, he shifts behind her, freeing his throbbing cock and lining himself up, pressing into her in one slow, languid motion, thankful he has such easy access to her so early in the morning. Her breath catches in her throat, her hand clutching at the sheets as he fills her completely, the heat of him spreading through her like fire.

“Lando,” she breathes in sharply, her voice tinged with need, her ass pushing back against him.

Lando's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her even closer as he starts to move. His pace is slow, deliberate, each thrust a deep, measured push that sends shivers down her spine. The angle is perfect, his hips pressing against her as he drives into her from behind, her leg draped over his to open her up to him completely.

“Oh, god,” she moans, bringing her free hand to the back of Lando's head, lightly tugging at his hair.

“You always feel so good in the morning, baby—fuck,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her shoulder as he moves. His free hand slides up her body, cupping her breast under the fabric of his shirt she's wearing, and teasing her nipple between his fingers. “So warm and ready for me, I could slip inside even in my sleep, hm?”

As a response, her head falls back against his chest, her hand continuing to thread through his hair as Lando buries his face in her neck. Each thrust is so agonizingly slow, almost testing her patience, but every single one is filled with a quiet intensity that steals the breath from her lungs. His hands are suddenly everywhere — cupping her breasts, brushing over her stomach, gripping her hips as he pulls her back against him with undeniable strength.

“Shit,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and reverent, “You make me so fucking hard,” Lando adds breathlessly. “So perfect around my cock every. Single. Time,” he accentuates the words with each thrust.

His sleepy voice sends a fresh wave of heat through her, her body trembling as she grips the sheets tighter, trying to hold on to the feeling of him fucking her like that. Too soon, their movements grow less coordinated as they both near the edge, their breaths coming faster, blending together in the quiet room.

“Lan…” she gasps, her voice breaking as his hand slides lower, his fingers finding her clit.

“Come on my cock, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough with need as his fingers work in time with his slow, deep thrusts. “Let go for me.”

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out, her thighs wanting to press together in pleasure, but Lando's other hand holds her open for him, the slick sound of him pushing in and out of her pussy, an exquisite melody for his ears.

Soon enough, her body tenses, her moans turning into soft whimpers as she comes, her release washing over her in waves that leave her legs shaking. Lando follows moments later, his thrusts growing erratic before he stills inside her, his body shuddering as he presses himself as deep as he can.

They take a long moment to breathe, their bodies joined together. His hand brushes soothing circles over her stomach, his lips pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder and neck, before pulling the shirt over her head so he can feel her in his arms without any obstacles.

“You’re dangerous as hell when you wake me up like this,” he finally speaks, his voice raw.

She laughs, her body still humming with the aftershocks. “Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little,” he admits, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her neck, inhaling her scent.

They stay just like that for a while, making her wonder if Lando fell back asleep, but then he presses one more kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering there as he shifts, pulling gently out of her. The instant emptiness draws a soft gasp from her, and they both feel the warmth of their shared release slipping between them, dampening the sheets beneath.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand trailing down her thigh before slipping back between her legs. Slowly, his fingers press into her fucked out pussy, gathering as much cum as he can so he can push it back inside.

“God, you're so dirty, baby,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice a mix of affection and playful reprimand. “You should probably take a shower, I'm just saying.”

Her heart starts racing again at the sweet sensation of his fingers, but she doesn’t let him have the last word. She finally turns around in his arms, wanting to see his pretty face bathed in the orange glow of the morning. Her lips find his in a superficial kiss, as one of her hands wraps around his body, pressing firmly against the small of his back and pulling him closer. As their bodies press together, his cock rests between their stomachs, still half-hard and slick with the remnants of their orgasms.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk up at him, her voice teasing as she murmurs, “Yeah? Look who’s talking.”

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow as he laughs softly. “Touché,” he whispers, his hands gripping her waist.

Before she can say anything else, he flips them over, pulling her on top of him with an effortless motion. She straddles his hips, her thighs pressing into his, her pussy pressing down on his length. They both exhale at the wet feeling between their bodies, but none of them dares to make another sudden move.

“I wanted to take you in the middle of the dance floor last night,” admits Lando, his hands sliding up to cup her hips, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

“Why didn't you?” she counters, her voice playful as she leans down to kiss him again.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you? Fuck you where everyone can see how pretty you look with my cock inside you?”

She presses one more kiss to his lips, mostly to shut him up, “I'd let you fuck me anywhere you want, my love.”

Lando's fingers tighten around her waist, making her whimper against his jaw, “So fucking easy for me, baby. You're gonna end me one of these days.”

“Not today, though,” she exhales abruptly, fucking her hips onto Lando's length, with no intention other than teasing him.

“Behave,” he says softly, cupping the back of her head in his palm so he can pull her back into a sinful kiss.

They linger there for a while, the morning hues catching in the strands of his messy hair and the faint sheen of sweat on their skin. It’s warm, so intimate, and entirely theirs — a connection that no one can take away nor break.

Eventually, Lando lets out a mock-serious sigh, his hands sliding up her back, stopping roughly at her thighs to squeeze her. “Alright, gorgeous. Shower time. Before we ruin these sheets completely.”

She laughs, climbing off him and wincing slightly at the sticky mess between her thighs. He catches the movement and smirks, playfully slapping her ass as he sits up.

“Come on,” says Lando, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bathroom.

The shower is already steaming up when they step inside, the hot water cascading over their bodies. Lando's fingers are lazily tracing patterns on her back, hers tangling in his wet hair as they share languid kisses under the spray.

“Do you even know what you mean to me?” he whispers, his voice low and filled with adoration. His hands trail up her back, fingers tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of her, all over again. “What you do for me? God, I don't need anything else.”

Her cheeks warm, though whether from his words or the water, she isn’t sure. She tilts her head up, her smile soft and full of affection for him. “Lando, I’m just here for you. You’re the one out there doing the impossible every single day. My champion.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he presses his forehead against hers. “You're so sweet, love. But you know I'm not a champion yet, my team is.”

Her hands slide up his chest, fingers resting over his heart as she gazes at him, her voice steady and determined. “You are McLaren, Lan. You and Oscar, hold everything together. It's a great responsibility, and I've seen what it did to you this year. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

For a moment, Lando goes silent, his eyes softening as he takes her in. The quiet between them is filled with the sound of the water, and everything he wants to say to her but can't. It'd be too soon, and he has a habit of letting his mouth loose when his emotions get the best of him.

She notices that, and she knows he's working on it, that's why she won't let the moment grow too serious, “Though, to be fair, Oscar has done you and McLaren a lot of favors this season, no?”

Lando’s startled laugh echoes off the tiled walls, and he pulls back to look at her, his grin wide and mischievous. “Oh, yeah? Is that what we’re doing now?”

Before she can respond, he presses her back against the cool tiles, his hands gripping her thighs as he lifts her slightly, her back arching under the contrast of the chilled surface and the hot water.

“Lando!” she gasps in surprise.

“You take that back,” he growls playfully, his lips capturing hers in a possessive kiss that knocks all the air out of her lungs.

Her laughter dissolves into a moan as he pushes into her again, slow and deep, filling her completely. Her legs wrap around his waist, anchoring herself against him as he pulls out all the way, only to slam back inside, setting a rhythm that’s somehow both lazy and desperate.

The shower fills with the sound of water splashing and the soft, breathless moans that escape her lips, her head falling back against the tiles as he buries his face in her neck. His hands grip her thighs harder, holding her steady as he thrusts deeper, each motion pulling gasps and cries from both of them.

“You saying Oscar’s better than me?” he teases, his voice strained but filled with humor.

“Maybe,” she jokes, breathing out sharply, her nails raking down his back as she arches into him. “But you’re doing a stellar job convincing me otherwise.”

Lando's laugh is low and breathless, turning into a groan as he quickens his pace.

For a lot of people, winning means lifting a trophy above their heads, but for him, it's the rhythm of their bodies moving together — a louder kind of triumph that manifests into delicious moans and whimpers.

It's the kind of podium he will never get tired of stepping on.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, dubcon, hybrid au, size difference

fem reader

Thinking up so many tasty tidbits about hybrid au… 

Being a normal human girl mating a beast and constantly needing to plant your hands at your hips and give him a firm “no” as though speaking down to an actual dog – and how fucking odd it is to him that you express free will as though you shouldn’t naturally submit to him like a normal female would when approached by a male – bearing your wet pussy for him and just begging him to breed you full...

It’s only natural for your beast boyfriend to mount you without asking – like you’re only two animals mating out in the wild. So you can imagine the dumbfounded look slapped on his face when you refuse – saying you’re busy with your hand placed on his chest, giving him a push that doesn't make him budge but manages to make his tail droop until it’s sweeping the floor. 

It’s so unnatural to him. You’re a female, and he’s a bull. You should be bending over the second you see him, not ignore him – and definitely not reject him.

Like... he expects you to roll over and let him make you his bitch, but instead, you’re walking circles around him while laying down something you call “ground rules.” Telling him he has to stop biting your neck unless he wants to wear a muscle – that he has to shower at least once every other day or else you won’t touch him – and that he has to stop scenting you with that heady musk that smells of sweaty ballsack and dickcheese oryou’re not letting him touch you at all.

It all makes him pout with a gruff – almost growling at you, thinking a weakling like you should have no say over an alpha like him. And yet he’s on his knees for a taste of your pussy at the end of every day despite it – acting as though he cannot rest without it, as though he would starve to death.

In the end, he does everything you ask – just like a tamed pet. It’s cute.

He was so, so very skeptical when you’d convinced him to allow you to be on top for once. He was so rigid, lying there, belly-up – watching your every move with a predator’s glare as though he planned to pounce on you at any given moment – looking a mix of confused and aroused when you rolled your hips and rode him – hissing and grumbling beneath his breath as though he didn’t exactly know what to do with himself except lie there and take it. 

But although you’re able to convince him of most things, there are still those instincts you’ll never win against…

The way he just huffs and ignores you when you tell him to pull out instead of flooding your womb with cum – kneading his cock into your deepest parts while pinning you flat in a mating press that has your feet going behind your head. 

Not to mention that time you tried making him wear a condom – to which he only snorted as if it were some bad joke he didn’t find funny – rearing your cunt with his raw cock leaking pre, telling you to stop fooling around and start begging to be bred full of his pups like a good bitch.

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Hawks

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji,

DS – Sanemi, Akaza, Inosuke, Genya

[mythicalmaven]

Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (TWO)

Time for another chapter😊 Chapter three will be out soon too! & i promise you, some major interesting things will happen😏

masterlist | promptlist | previous chapter ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 3,5K ↳warnings: tension, angst, friends to enemies to lovers, jealous!charles ↳side info: reader is Pierre's younger sister & Arthur Leclerc's childhood best friend ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your best friend's (arthur) & your brother's (pierre) friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

You could carefully say that you'd managed to handle the first three days with Charles on the same floor as you. Survived was probably the best way to put it. You’d thought that your somewhat civil exchange on the balcony might pave the way for more neutral ground between you, but that illusion had quickly shattered. In fact, the tension seemed even worse now, and, if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely blameless for it.

Every interaction had become a test of wills, a clash between your determination not to fall into the Charming Prince Charles trap again and his maddening ability to push your buttons. You told yourself it was for the best—that if you didn’t keep your guard up, you might let old feelings resurface, feelings you were certain you’d buried long ago.

At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

This morning, you were trying to distract yourself from all of it, rifling through your suitcase for something to wear to the beach. You pulled out a black bikini bottom and a pair of shorts, slipping them on quickly. You paired it with a matching top, but as you tied the straps around your neck, you realized you couldn’t reach the ones at the back properly.

You sighed, glancing around the room for a solution before deciding to use the mirror in the shared bathroom. It was supposed to take all of ten seconds, and you didn’t bother locking the doors—your side or Charles’. After all, what were the odds of him walking in at just the wrong moment?

The mirror wasn’t much help. The angle was awkward, and no matter how you contorted your arms, you couldn’t get the strings to tie properly. Frustration bubbled up, and you huffed loudly, letting the straps fall to your sides. The fabric of the bikini top hung loosely, barely covering your chest as you pressed your elbows in to keep it in place.

You leaned against the counter, grabbing your phone from your shorts pocket to text Kika for help. Just as you hit send, you felt it—a shift in the air, a presence behind you.

The scent hit you first. That maddening mix of his cologne and something undeniably him. Your body tensed as you froze, and your phone slipped from your grasp, clattering onto the floor. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“What are you doing here?” you snapped, whipping your head over your shoulder. Your suspicion was confirmed: Charles stood leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smirk firmly in place.

“You left the door open,” he said, his voice infuriatingly calm. “And it sounded like you needed help.”

Your breath hitched as his eyes darted down, openly taking in the view of your exposed back. His gaze lingered on the curve of your shoulders, the bare expanse of your spine, before traveling lower. Heat rushed to your face as you straightened instinctively, clutching the fabric tighter against your chest.

“Charles, leave,” you said, your voice wavering despite your best efforts. “I don’t need your help.”

“Right,” he said, stepping into the bathroom anyway, his smirk deepening. “Because you were doing sooo well on your own..”

Your pulse quickened as he closed the distance between you, his movements slow, deliberate. You could see him in the mirror now, his expression equal parts amusement and something else—something that made your stomach flip.

“Charles, I mean it,” you tried again, but your voice came out softer than intended.

“Relax,” he murmured, his eyes meeting yours briefly in the reflection. “I’m just tying a knot. Unless you’d prefer to flash everyone at the beach?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out. His hands brushed your hair aside, the gentle touch sending a shiver down your spine. He draped it over one shoulder, exposing more of your back to his view.

Charles hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering near your skin as if giving you a chance to protest. When you didn’t, he reached for the loose strings, his fingers grazing your sides lightly as he pulled them together.

Your breath caught at the contact, and you watched his every move in the mirror, unable to tear your eyes away. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he tied the straps securely.

“There,” he said softly, his voice low and steady. “All done.”

But he didn’t move away. His hands lingered, smoothing the straps into place, his fingertips brushing against your skin in a way that felt far more intimate than it should have.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from flicking up to his in the mirror. For a moment, the air between you felt charged, thick with something unspoken. His gaze was heavy, his usual confidence tempered by something quieter, more vulnerable.

“You’re staring,” you muttered, your voice barely audible.

“So are you,” he countered, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Before either of you could say another word, a loud cough broke the tension.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You turned sharply to find Kika standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a knowing grin on her face "N-No, Charles was just leaving" you stuttered.

Charles carefully smiled, the smirk every so small, but yet still noticeable, clearly enjoyed by your flustered reaction.

Kika held up her phone in your direction, obviously referring to your text "Got your text, but looks like someone beat me to it,” she teased, glancing pointedly at Charles’ hands still hovering near your waist. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Kika, wait!” you called, but she was already walking away, her laughter echoing down the hall.

You started to follow her, but Charles caught your wrist, his touch firm but not forceful. You glanced up at him, confused, only to follow his gaze to the floor where your phone still lay forgotten.

“You forgot your phone,” he said, releasing you.

You bent to grab it, muttering a quick “Thanks” before rushing out of the bathroom, your heart pounding as if you’d just run a marathon.

The moment you caught up to Kika, you opened your mouth to speak, but the Portuguese girl was quicker, holding up a hand to stop you as a smirk spread across her lips.

“Y/n, don’t even try to convince me that was nothing,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Shut up.”

Kika laughed lightly, tilting her head as if studying you. “Hmmm…” she hummed, her grin growing.

Her teasing was relentless, and as you tried to suppress the heat creeping into your cheeks, you gave her a playful shove. “Oh, stop it, will you?”

Kika stumbled slightly, laughing even harder. “I’m just saying, it’s interesting timing. Very interesting…”

You opened your mouth to respond but were interrupted by Arthur, who had just stepped out of his room. He raised an eyebrow as he took in the two of you, his curiosity clearly piqued.

“You seem awfully cheery,” he remarked, his gaze flicking between you and Kika.

Kika’s smirk deepened as she turned to Arthur, her voice laced with mischief. “Did you know that your brother just had his hands—”

“Oh my god, no,” you interjected quickly, cutting her off mid-sentence. You reached out, clapping a hand over her mouth to stop the words from spilling out. “Don’t even go there.”

Kika mumbled something against your hand, laughing, and you gave her a mock glare before letting go. She grinned wickedly, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

Arthur, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, his interest now fully piqued. “His hands were?”

You groaned, exasperated, throwing your hands in the air. “She’s acting as if I voluntarily let that happen. Ew. Absolutely not.”

Arthur’s confusion turned to amusement as he folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, so what did happen?”

You sighed dramatically. “Nothing major. I couldn’t tie my bikini top, and Charles just—”

“Had his hands on your back,” Kika interjected, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Tied my top!” you corrected quickly, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “That’s it. That’s all he did. Don’t get your hopes up, okay? I still hate him.”

Arthur chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Sure you do. Sounds like a riveting story, though. Keep going.”

“Arthur,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face "You two are acting like this is something massive.."

Kika wasn’t letting up, either. “You two being in the same room and not trying to kill each other? That is massive.”

“Oh, please.” You gave her another playful shove, but her laughter only grew.

Arthur tilted his head, his grin widening. “To be fair, it does sound like progress.”

“It’s not progress!” you snapped, though the laughter bubbling in your chest betrayed your indignation. “It’s called tolerating someone for a split second.”

Kika leaned closer to Arthur, mock-whispering, “She’s in denial.”

You groaned again, throwing your hands up as they both burst into laughter. “You two are impossible.”

Arthur straightened, a teasing smirk still plastered on his face. “Hey, at least now we know Charles can be useful for something.”

Kika snorted, leaning against the wall for support as she laughed. “You mean tying knots and causing chaos?”

You shook your head, exasperated but unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, we’re done here. Both of you—out of my business.”

Arthur raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But for the record, I still think this is hilarious.”

Kika grinned, looping her arm through yours as you both started down the stairs. “I’m just saying, if you guys don’t kill each other by the end of this trip, I’m calling it a win.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Thur” you muttered, though the laughter in your voice betrayed you "Still got a month to go"

As the three of you made your way downstairs, the teasing faded into lighter banter, but the lingering heat in your cheeks and the memory of Charles’ hands on your back stayed with you. You hated how your mind kept returning to that moment, to the way his touch had felt far more intimate than it should have been.

But for now, you shook it off, determined not to let them—or Charles—get to you. Not again.

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The sun hung high over the sparkling blue ocean, casting a golden glow over the beach. Waves crashed rhythmically, blending with the sound of laughter from your friends. The sand felt warm under your feet as you adjusted your stance, eyes locked on the volleyball soaring through the air.

With a leap, you smacked the ball cleanly over the net, landing the perfect shot. Arthur groaned dramatically, while Inès burst into giggles as they missed the return. Arthur wiped sweat from his brow and looked at Inès with mock defeat. "Honestly, I didn’t expect us to be this horrible at this game," he admitted with a chuckle.

You laughed, adjusting your ponytail. "You’re good at other things, Thur. Let me win at least one thing!" you teased.

Before you could serve again, Dennis appeared by your side, grinning wide. His sun-bleached hair was damp from the ocean, and his smile carried an air of mischief. "You’re better at this than I expected," he admitted, his voice teasing. "But… I think you could use a little pro-level trick."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. "Is this your not-so-subtle way of telling me I suck at beach volleyball?"

Dennis laughed, his shoulders shaking. "No, no! You’re honestly good at it," he promised, placing a hand lightly on your arm. His touch was casual but lingering just enough to seem… something else. "I just know a trick that’ll make it even funnier when we destroy those two."

"Hey!" Inès protested from across the net, pointing at you both. "That’s not fair! This feels like cheating!” she accused, her hands on her hips, a laugh leaving her lips.

Dennis raised a brow, unfazed. “How is teaching cheating?”

“You’re practically glued to her!” Inès shot back with mock indignation, though she was clearly fighting back laughter.

Arthur crossed his arms, smirking. "Getting cozy there, Hauger?" he called out, emphasizing Dennis’s last name with playful sarcasm.

Dennis turned his head slowly, fixing Arthur with a mock-threatening glare. “Jealous, Arthur? Want me to teach you too?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, laughing. “We’re playing beach volleyball, not filming a rom-com!”

Your laugh burst out, light and easy. You nudged Dennis with your elbow. “Alright, coach, show me this magical trick before Arthur starts drafting a movie script.”

Dennis smirked but quickly turned serious. "Okay, watch carefully.” he positioned himself behind you, gently placing his hands on your waist. "It’s all about balance and angle," he explained, sliding his hands down to adjust your stance, his fingers brushing your hips. "You’ve got great posture... perfect for this."

You smirked, shooting him a knowing look. "Smooth way of complimenting me, Dennis."

He grinned unapologetically. "What can I say? I'm observant, can’t blame me for stating facts. Also... you smell like coconut sunscreen—kind of unfair when I’m trying to concentrate."

Before you could respond, a flicker of movement caught your eye. Charles was stood off to the side, making his way over to one of the loungers, casually watching, though his jaw seemed a bit tighter than usual.

“Hold your arms like this when you jump," he instructed, adjusting the angle of your hands. “When you hit the ball, let your wrist snap like this…” His hand covered yours briefly, guiding the motion.

His voice dropped slightly, almost teasing. “And try not to get distracted by how good I smell while I’m being incredibly helpful.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin. “I thought I was the one who smelled like coconut sunscreen.”

Dennis leaned just a little closer. "Fair point—you do smell pretty good," he admitted with a smirk.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Charles, now sprawled out on a sunbed, his gaze fixed on the two of you, obvious even through his sunglasses. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw still seemed noticeably tense.

Dennis chuckled softly, lowering his voice. “Pretty sure Charles is sending me daggers right now.”

You snorted. “Trust me, he’s probably thinking of killing me, not you.”

"You're oblivious, girl" he joked back at you.

You rolled your eyes at Dennis and sighed "Oh shut it, before I use my perfect posture to slam the ball into you" you huffed out with a laugh, playfully pushing his shoulder.

Dennis grinned but stepped back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Focusing, you adjusted your stance, trying to copy exactly what Dennis teached you. As the ball came sailing over the net, you bent your knees, jumped, and snapped your wrist just like he’d shown you.

The ball hit the far corner with precision, landing just inside the line.

Cheers erupted from your side of the net. Dennis whooped, grabbing your hands and spinning you around. “Yes! You nailed it!”

Arthur groaned, falling backward into the sand with theatrical defeat. “We’re doomed. This just got so much worse.”

While you were having fun, playing beach volleyball with the others, Charles had spend the entire time mocking, unable to enjoy the sun. He had been sprawled out on one of the loungers, had his sunglasses perched low on his nose. The sun beating down on him as if mocking his sour mood. The waves crashed gently on the shore nearby, a rhythmic backdrop to the laughter and chatter coming from the makeshift beach volleyball game a few feet away. He tried his best to appear disinterested, but his eyes betrayed him, constantly flicking back to the game where you were laughing and joking with Dennis, Inès, and Arthur.

The sound of your giggles carried over the beach, clear and light, grating against his nerves in a way he didn’t fully understand. He used to be the one who made you laugh like that. The one who knew exactly how to tease you until your face lit up with that same carefree joy. Now, the distance between you felt insurmountable, and it frustrated him to no end.

“When are you gonna stop acting like a complete douchebag with her?” Joris asked lazily from the lounger beside him, breaking through Charles’ brooding thoughts. He sipped his drink, his tone teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.

Charles rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the lounger. “She just gets on my nerves. Every time I see her, it’s like she’s trying to piss me off.”

Joris chuckled, swirling the ice in his glass. “Right. And you’re just an innocent victim here. Come on, Charles, she doesn’t get on your nerves—you let her get to you. There’s a difference.”

"It's not as if all those arguments are fake, she's honestly really making me angry loads of times" Charles huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s not exactly being nice to me either, you know.”

Joris raised an eyebrow. “I’m not saying she is. But this whole fake arrogance thing you’re doing? It’s not fooling anyone, except for her maybe”

“What the hell are you insinuating?” Charles muttered, his voice clipped.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Joris drawled, setting his drink down and turning to face Charles fully. “Maybe that even a blind man could see you’re in love with her?”

Charles froze for a second, then scoffed, the sound bitter. “I am not in love with her,” he said, though the lie tasted sour in his mouth. “She just knows exactly how to push my buttons, that’s all.”

“Right.” Joris snorted, leaning back on his lounger with a knowing grin. “And that’s why you’re glaring holes into Hauger right now.”

Charles’ jaw tightened instinctively, and his gaze snapped back to you. Dennis was behind you again, his arms loosely wrapped around yours as he helped you practice yet another volleyball technique. The proximity between the two of you was maddening—Dennis’ hands guiding yours, his voice close to your ear, and your laughter spilling out freely as if you didn’t have a care in the world.

Charles’ fingers clenched into the fabric of his lounger. “I don’t care who she cozies up to,” he said, his tone sharp and unconvincing.

Joris let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re a terrible liar, mate. That’s eating you alive, and we both know it.”

Charles didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the game as his thoughts churned. He watched the way you smiled at Dennis, the way you tossed your hair back in the sun, completely at ease. He hated how his chest tightened at the sight, jealousy twisting inside him like a knot.

“And even if I was…” Charles muttered finally, his voice softer, tinged with frustration. “What difference would it make? It’s not like I can do anything about it. She doesn’t feel that way about me anymore.” He hesitated before adding in a near whisper, “Not anymore.”

Joris’ teasing demeanor softened at his friend’s admission. “I’m not saying you should do anything about those feelings. But treating her the way you are now? That’s not working either. If anything, you’re just pushing her further away.”

Charles sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s easier this way,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “If she hates me, maybe I can get over her. I tried being friends with her before, and it didn’t work. I couldn’t stop feeling like this.”

Joris leaned forward, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “You can’t control how you feel, Charles. But throwing away your friendship because of it? That’s not the answer. You two had something great. Don’t let it go to waste just because you can’t sort out your feelings.”

Charles didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting back to you. You were now doubled over with laughter as Dennis tried—and failed—to demonstrate a trick shot, tripping over the volleyball in the process. The sight should’ve been funny, but it only made Charles’ chest ache.

“I know,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I just… I could’ve had my chance, and I wasted it.”

Joris sighed, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re not wrong. But sitting here wallowing about it isn’t helping anyone. And honestly? It’s stupid to waste everything you had—everything you could still have—over a crush. Treating her like this? It’s not just unfair to her—it’s unfair to you. You’re better than this, Charles.”

Charles closed his eyes, frustration and regret warring within him. “The problem is that it's not just a crush, Joris,” he muttered after a long pause. “It’s not something I can just turn off. I’m so in love with her… it hurts.”

Joris leaned back, giving him a moment of silence to collect himself. The sound of your laughter reached them again, and Charles opened his eyes, watching you as a sad smile played on his lips.

“Just don’t let your feelings destroy what you still have, my friend” Joris said softly. “Because if you keep going like this, you’ll lose her completely.”

Charles didn’t answer, but the weight of his friend’s words settled heavily on his shoulders. The truth was painful, but it was impossible to ignore.

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taglist: @vroomvro0mferrari @fishyfishersticks @prttylight @tempo-rary-fix @suns3treading @a-beaverhausen @formula1fordisaster @janeh22 @leclercdream @sageskiesf1 @ch16les @emryb @vyctorya @asmoothoperator

[jj-one]

HATE YOU

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: enemies to lovers ? (sorta one-sided tho), college au, fuckboy!jungkook x f!reader genre/tags: smut, angst, alcohol usage, dirty talk, lowkey perverted!jk, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (oof), drunk sex, public sex (reader & jk do it at a house party), riding, video recording **pls don’t do none of this irl LMAO words: 2.7k

**old repost from my deleted blog

Hate is a strong word— at least that’s what people try and say. You meant it though, it was a word you didn’t use lightly. Especially when it came to your opinion on 99% of the male population at your school. You couldn’t stand most of them, they all just wanted one thing. Getting into your pants.

You despised hook-up culture with a passion and it didn’t help that most guys who tried talking to you were all the same. You had a special hatred for a particular individual the most though— Jeon Jungkook from your physics class. He was the most arrogant, conceited, egotistical person you’ve ever met your whole life.

Every class he would have a different girl with him wrapped around his arm, walking him to the door like he’s some kind of royalty. The way almost every girl would swoon over him just because he’s good looking was baffling to you. Yeah he may have a pretty face but does that cancel everything else out? Of course not. You’ll never understand why these women would choose to go after someone like him, you felt embarrassed for them honestly.

“Jungkook, meet me after class I’ll be waiting for you!” Some girl shouted through the door to get his attention.

He was sitting two seats from you, looking at his phone while paying no mind to the obvious screaming being directed to him. He was so full of himself it was ridiculous.

“Hey y/n, what’re you doing tonight?”

That voice startled the hell out of you. Who gave Jungkook the right to even be speaking to you right now? Looking over in his direction, you give him an empty stare.

“Why do you care?” You said harshly.

It makes no sense why he would even try talking to you, you’ve never given him any indication you liked him.

“Sheesh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he chuckles, “you should pull up to my party tonight!” You wanted to almost physically gag at the wink he just gave you.

“I’m good.” You shut him down quickly and try moving on but he doesn’t let you off that easy.

“You sure? The whole schools practically gonna be there, you don’t wanna miss out on all the fun do ya?” That annoying smirk on his face was really starting to irritate you.

“I said I’m good, I’d never show up to one of your dumb ass parties.”

“I think you got me mixed up with someone else, my parties are always lit. If you have a change of heart though, I’ll make sure to show you a real good time.”

You scoff, utterly disgusted by his last comment, just about everything he said had sexual undertones to them. His humor was weird and extremely perverted which heavily pissed you off. You couldn’t wait for this class to be over.

“We’re almost here!” Yuna exclaims in the passenger seat.

You were in the back with two of your other friends as you were headed to a party. You weren’t totally up for partying tonight but ultimately your friends were able to convince you to go. You don’t even know where the party is but maybe it’s good to get your mind off things.

“Oh, by the way who’s party is this?” You ask suddenly as Lisa pulls into a driveway.

The car got silent for a second, no one answered your question. It was a bit odd to you the way they all froze up.

“Actually… it’s Jungkook’s party…” Lisa finally spoke, her eyes kept trailing away from you.

“What the fuck? Of all places you choose to go you pick him?!” You felt so betrayed.

They really drove you all the way here just to trick you into coming and now you have no escape plan. They all begged and pleaded for you to suck it up and let loose for just one night. You finally agreed but only under the condition that you want to be far away from him as possible.

“Why do you even dislike him so much? You would think he had murdered someone or something!” Your friend asks.

“I just think he’s a pretentious asshole that doesn’t deserve all the hype he gets.”

They just shrug your opinion off and get out the car. You huff as you open the door and head to the party with the rest of them.

You instantly felt claustrophobic once you go inside. There were crowds of people everywhere. Jungkook was right, everyone at the school was practically here. Loud rap music was blaring through the speakers, red solo cups scattered the floor, people getting sloppy drunk or stoned; the perfect stereotypical house party.

You haven’t seen him yet so that was a good sign and you go up to the kitchen to get drinks with Lisa. 20 minutes pass by now and Lisa was left out of your sight. You have no idea where she could’ve run off to and now you have to search the place to find your friends.

Heading outside into the backyard, your balance was becoming unstable from the alcohol in your system. You were taking shots of Hennessy back to back and it caught up to you faster than you could blink. You sat down on one of the lawn chairs since your head was starting to feel really heavy. You felt a sudden tap behind your shoulder and hear a voice that even when you’re drunk, you can sense with disdain.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t little miss ‘i’d never show up to one of your dumb ass parties!’” Jungkook teases while coming from behind you.

“Get the hell away from me!” You lean away from him to leave you alone but he only came closer.

“This is my house so I don’t need to go anywhere, if anything I think I should kick you out for being so mean to me.” His face inched towards yours further, putting you in an uncomfortable position.

You don’t know why your body felt paralyzed though, it was probably just from all the alcohol inebriating your mind.

“You know, I never understood why you actually hate me. I never hurt you did I?” He says, slightly cocking his head to the side.

His tattooed hand landed on your knee, just planting it there while keeping strong eye contact. You couldn’t speak for some reason, it was as if an enormous lump has formed and got caught inside your throat. He looks down at the skirt you’re wearing and bites his lip, playing with his lip ring.

“Why aren’t you talking? You usually have a lot to say to me, why so quiet now sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?” He continues speaking in that condescending tone of his and you’ve had enough now.

“I fucking hate your guts Jungkook, I absolutely despise you. You’re a cocky, perverted fuckboy that needs to be humbled and finally put in your place!” You snap back at him while pushing his hand away.

“Woah girl chill out, that was a bit harsh don’t ya think? Also, I’d love for you to put me in my place any day.” Yet again, he never fails to make a sexually charged comment.

“You’re disgusting, seriously get help!” You attempt to get up from the lawn chair but he pushes you back down.

“You know, I’ve always liked my girls a little feisty. I find it hot when girls yell at me.”

Either this man has a humiliation kink or is just plain stupid— either way you don’t want to be anywhere near him but he wouldn’t let you leave.

“Please just go away Jungkook, I don’t want you in my sight anymore.”

“Really? Because if that were true then you would’ve been left already,” his hand went to stroke the side of your hair “seems like you really don’t want me to leave.”

His other hand went back to your knee again but slowly trails up to your thigh and goes under your skirt this time. You were surprised within yourself that you were even letting this happen. He leans in to your face, being just a few inches away from his lips. You became almost in a trance by those pink, pillowy lips. You don’t know what came over you but you grab his face and messily kiss him. The movement of your lips colliding and syncing together as he deepened the kiss. He sensually touches your thigh while you moan into the kiss and he squeezes your thigh tightly in response. Looking around to see all the people still here when you pull away from him; you can’t fathom you just made out with Jungkook in front of all these goddamn people. You just lost all respect for yourself.

“You know I’ve always secretly had a crush on you y/n?” Jungkook admits, “I kinda like it when girls are mean to me. Or maybe I just like it when you’re mean, I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Let me show you how mean I can get then.” You reply, staring up at him with hungry eyes.

That cheesy grin never leaving his face as he hears you speak. The tension only grew thicker and he wasn’t about to waste another second.

“Sit on my lap.” He uses his hands to maneuver you and leans back in the chair.

You drunkenly stumble on top of him, feeling him against you. Your body heat raised through the roof but this time you were sure it wasn’t because of the liquor. You straddle his lap as you go back to hastily making out. His wandering hands kept slipping down to your ass to squeeze it and you were starting to feel dizzy from the way he was kissing you. You feel his touch under your skirt to play with you some more, not caring if anyone’s looking at this point.

“I don’t think we should be doing this.. not here at least. Too many people.” You say when pulling away from his lips.

“I really don’t give a fuck, it’s my party let them watch. Let’s put on a good show for everyone, yeah?”

You know this goes beyond against every moral you’ve had before. You’re about to do the one thing you told yourself that you’d never do.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Agreeing to go along with his narrative.

He lets you in charge now, letting you have full control over the way you get to ride him. You push your panties to the side and he undoes his pants to free his fully hard member. You didn’t realize how much of a nice cock he has, it was well groomed and had the perfect size/width.

“You have a really pretty dick, must I say.” You still can’t believe these words are being said to Jungkook.

“Thanks baby, I can’t wait for it to be in that pretty little pussy of yours.”

He drags two of his fingers down to your core and swipes in a circular motion, smearing the wet slick as he watches your mouth open wide with pleasure. His digits sink into your cunt harshly, pushing them deeper and deeper.

“Fuck! Your fingers feel too good…” you hid your face in his shoulder as he splits you open.

Your eyes hung low and your mind was hazy. Unable to think straight, you just wanted to feel Jungkook inside of you already.

“Need to fuck you nowww!” You yell, almost sounding a bit whiny.

“So do it then cutie. Come fuck yourself on my cock.”

He withdraws his digits out of you and licks the juices off them one by one. His grin would only get wider as you lowered yourself on his cock. You were so soaking wet you sunk down on him easily while resting your hands around his shoulders to brace yourself a bit before moving. Once you regain focus you slide up and down on his shaft nice and slow; making him bite his lip, moan, and curse under his breath.

“Your pussy feels so good… so tight… fuck..” his mind was going blank as you pick up a steady pace.

You were so out of it by now that you were bouncing on his cock in a frenzy. He roughly thrusted his hips back into you while you sloppily rode him. The way he filled you up felt like you were in heaven. You open your eyes for a second, forgetting that you were at a party. Almost everyone was looking at you, some people even took out their phones to record the scene in front of them. It was probably all the alcohol you drank but you didn’t even care anymore, you continued savagely riding him. You’re moaning louder as you slam down into him harder, pulling his body closer to yours. He loudly grunts from your walls aching around him, his cock was throbbing so intensely he felt himself wanting to burst already.

People were beyond shocked to see this happening, it was a wild party but they weren’t expecting all this. You try not to pay attention to everyone and focus on Jungkook so you can make yourself cum. Then out of nowhere, he spontaneously lifts you up while you’re still on his cock. Engulfing those large hands on your ass cheeks to keep you balanced and thrusts into you deep while he’s standing up. You had your arms wrapped tightly around him, you weren’t too scared of falling since he had a strong grip on you. You were taking his cock with each harsh stroke he gave, screaming out his name over and over so the whole party could hear it.

“Fuck yes Jungkook! Keep fucking me just like that, you’re so good!!” You could feel yourself coming close and so does Jungkook. Wet strands of sticky hair cling to his face from all the work he’s putting in, his eyebrows furrowed to concentrate solely on making you cum.

“Gonna cum on this cock for me baby? I feel you getter tighter ‘round me.”

“Yess, wanna cum on your cock so bad please!”

He was hitting all the spots in you just right, the slight curve of his shaft fit so perfectly in your core. Your mouth was back to being jaw locked again, feeling the heat wave of your orgasm coming through. It hit even harder when you were drunk, you felt like you were going to fall out of his arms but he noticed you slipping and pulls you up into a firmer grasp. While shutting your eyes you feel your release take over, cursing and moaning his name repeatedly like a broken record.

“I’m ‘bout to cum ….” He pulls out of you and sets you back on the lawn chair, “look up and open wide for me.”

You open your mouth eagerly for him, he gives his cock a few pumps before releasing his white creamy load into your mouth. You swallow every drop of his cum and stick your tongue out for him to show your empty mouth. He smiles at the pretty sight of you and goes in to kiss you once again.

“This is fucking insane!” One of the random people at the party says.

You recognize the person since they’ve been watching you from the start. To say that you and Jungkook left everyone at that party speechless was an understatement.

“You know people were taking videos of us right?” Jungkook says cautiously.

“Yeah… it’s probably going to end up all over social media now, if it hasn’t already. Oh well, like I care!” You shrug nonchalantly.

Oh you’ll definitely care when you sober up.

“Let’s get outta here?” Jungkook zips his pants back up and takes his hand out for you to grab.

You hold onto him and balance your wobbly legs to stand up. You were both severely drunk but he held his liquor way better than you did. For the rest of the night, the party continued and you ended up finding your friends. They soon found out about you were doing and how you fucked Jungkook in front of everyone there, they were all completely taken aback. You went from hating his guts to him destroying yours— guess that’s one way you can end a burning hatred for someone.

[jinxthequeergirl]

The ol Switcharoo (pt1.)

Stan x reader/ Ford x reader

Summary: you liked to assume you knew Stanford Pines better then most, but when you return to him after am extended trip you aren't sure you really do

Warning: NONE, she's looking as all hell and I apologize, it's mess I know but it's a start ok

Chat feel free to tell me is this is a dumb idea

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

You where a weird kid growing up.

A fact you wouldn't deny. Even as a child you knew you where diffrent and what intrested you was odd. You embraced it. You loved all things creepy and crawly. While most kids your age had posters of there favorite superheros or cartoon characters while your room was plastered with that of monsters and ghouls.

Things from Dracula all the way to the Mysterious Mothman decorated your room, they were the movies you had on repeat books you stuffed your nose in. You loved it all. As you got older, you loved them more, thrusting yourself into science to prove they could existed in the natural world that they DID!

The supernatural world was out there and you where going to explore it. Even as a kid you would be caught monster hunting always running headfirst into adventure no fears.

Your mother was supportive of your every decision regardless of if she believed it lead anywhere or not. She was more happy you where just passionate about something at all and was eager to send you to college.

That's what led you straight to Stanford Pines. The man you would proudly proclaim as your best friend. You'd met during one of your shared classes in college, quickly finding out you had almost similar interests and ideals, everything he had to say fascinated you. And he was more then happy to have someone so eager to find the supernatural with him.

Soon enough you where inseparable. (Y/n) and Standford there was no stopping the pair of you two through all of college whatever you two went through you went through together ups and downs everything was shared. Adding fiddleford to the mix and your trio was complete.

You where of course the first person he had asked to move into his house in gravity falls to further your research together.

"This place is incredible Fordsie I mean think of how much is actually out there!" You exclaimed gesturing to the untamed woods of Oregon from the roof of the house. Ford chuckled adding the finishing touches to a page in his second edition journal before offering it too you for your stamp of approval.

You gladly accepted the book. "And just think about everything else there is to come once we get the machine up and running!" You took a pen of your own and scribbled something in, nodding in agreement to his statment before sitting down beside him.

You took in a breath of fresh air and exhaled a sigh of relief. Ford copying your action. "To think I almost would have never made it this far." He said staring up at the darkening sky.

"Well let's not think like that fordsie, everything that almost stopped you from coming here got you here didn't it?" You said as if you where asking the stars that began to speckle the sky.

He looked over at you. "Everything happens for a reason sixer. Plus you got me out of it didn't you?" You joked nudging him with your elbow.

"That It did." He mused while watching you stare up at the sky with content. He gave a soft smile. Of all the great mysteries in the world, you became his favorite. It didn't matter how well he though he knew you you still surprised him every day.

That was in the spring.

Everything about your life with Ford felt new, exciting, and perfect. You felt like your bond was stronger then ever, over the summer and fall. The perfect balance of cool and calculates and a fearless risktaker. You filled in for eachother where the other lacked completing eachother perfectly. Making your adventures flow smoothly.

Ford found himself thinking like this about you more often, stealing long looks at you when he thought you weren't looking. Standing closer to you, the trash in his room became filled with crumpled ink work of your likeness.

You had enjoyed the sudden burst of closeness you two had shared over the months you'd been in Oregon together it certainly didn't go as unnoticed as he had hopped it did.

He was a smart man, that was the one fundamental truth about himself no one could deny. But he was utterly clueless when it came to his own feelings

"Oooohwe you got it baaAAD don't you Stanford?" His face flushed at fiddlefords sudden outburst of excitement. "What are you talking about!?" He asked in a sharp hushed tone quickly averting his gaze from you only a few feet away.

"Standford I have known you almost ad long as you and y/n have been friends and I'm no expert but I do think I recognize how you look at them has changed."

"I pfft.. I wouldn't...that's my bestfriend-" He fumbled for his words face flushed a deeper red then before as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Mcgucket! Fordsie! I'm head up to bed for the night! Don't stay up too late." You chimmed in with a yawn.

"Hahah! Yes very good y/n! Very good get good rest for not let the gnomes bite! Ahaha" Ford blurted. You laughed as you continued up the steps.

Fiddleford laughed once where had va ished from sight. "I'm just making an observation...I'm not saying you lay awake at night thinking about her. But your secretis safe with me." Ford let out a sigh of relief at fiddlefors reasuring words they wherent up much longer before both retiring to their rooms. Stanford proceeded to lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling.

"Oh no."

When the winter rolled around things began to change. All the good memories you had together seemed to suddenly get lost and where instead replaced with something bad.

You remember sitting next to fiddleford staring at your bestfriend fall asleep in the middle of the floor waiting for something to happen. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

You where the first tobask the question both of you had been thinking. "If this thing can offer Ford everything we need to know about starting up this portal...then I say the risk is worth it...right?"

You chewed on your inner cheek staring intently at the man on the floor.

Since the winter rolled around and Ford had met this mysterious "muse" You felt a sense of unease fall over the house, Ford had suddenly become distant always away with the being. "Are you jealous?" Fiddleford pipped up turning away from Ford.

"Jelous?" You chucked. "Of what? There's nothing to be jealous of! Or even a reason to be jealous! If Ford wants to abandon his friends for some interdemensinal being that he wont share much about or even introduce us then fine by me!" You huff out the words folding your arms over your chest.

Everything went downhill pretty fast or at least that's what your memory served, by the time you where ready for the first test of the portal all the way to fiddlefords accident with the machine your new exciting life unraveled before your eyes.

He wasn't functioning the way he used

"Fordsie...I think we need to take a break."

He was pacing infront of you rappedly tapping a pen against his temple. "We can't stop now! We are to close."

You frowned, he was different now no doubt this wasn't the same Ford you had be friened only a few years ago, this wasn't the same Ford you had grown to love. He was far more distant now, all the little things he thought went unnoticed by you completely stopped. He kept his distance now. He was losing sleep because of this now, if it wherent for you he wouldn't even be eating.

"Ford I'm serious! Fiddleford got hurt...I don't think it's a good idea to continue we need time to stop and clear our heads!"

"My head is clear y/n! With bill by my side I know we can-"

"STANFORD PINES."

Stan stopped in his tracks. It had been a while since you had referred to him like that. He turned to you watching you pinch the bridge of your nose. Since when did you look so tired? And where you...angry with him?

"Stanford our friend was hurt because of this , it's time to take a step back and to reevaluate before someone else gets hurt...we need to get out of this house...maybe out of gravity falls for a while."

Ford stared at you for a while and you stared back for some reason in only a few months it felt like the both of you where looking at strangers. You watched as the gears turned in Fords head before he spoke up.

"Your right."

You perked up at his words taken aback by them.

"I think it would be in our best intrest if we both went to see our families for some time."

Again you where surprised by the words that left his mouth. He'd never spoken to you about his family you had always assumed they wherent close. At the same time part of you hoped he'd want to vacation with you somewhere warm away from the snow. So place that would bring back the real Ford.

"OK, we can do that." You said offering a warm smile.

That night Ford helped you pack so you could catch the first bus out of gravity falls that morning, he promised he'd be leaving the next day.

It was quiet while he helped. He wasn't joking with you or excitedly retelling one of your adventures from the summer.

Your mind still kept wondering back to how this could be the same person. Maybe this was who Ford was all along and you where blinded by the thrill of adventure.

"Promise to write?" You asked

"I promise."

"I'll see you in a few weeks."

Still you knew things would be better when you both returned from a long over do break. You watched a bundled up Ford wave you goodbye from the snow as your bus pulled away and you sighed.

Ford frowned as he watched your bus drive into the distance. This was for the better right? He could see the worry and pain he had seemed to be causing you which was never his intention. He didn't want to lie to you just to get you away to take care of yourself but if that's what it took to do just that.

You eneded up returning when the snow had melted in gravity falls. You hadn't meant to be gone that long, your family had begged you to stay and your mother needed the help around the house, you had wrote Ford like you promised but it seemed like the mail was eating up your letters. Either way you had been well rested and eager to return to your friend and to work. You took a hopeful deep breath once your feet hit the gravity falls soil.

"StanFord!? Are you home yet!?" You shouted, pushing open the door to the house. You were met with silence.

"Fordsie!?" You stepped further in carefully. You noticed all of the science equipment and creatures you had collected over the past year or so had been moved and almost put on display. You heard a floorboard creek, and you stayed silent, pressing up again the wall by the door, ready to either surprise your friend or scare an enime.

The door swung open and a familiar face appeared yelling welding a baseball bat.

You screamed, falling back onto yours, butt. "FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME ITS Y/N!!!" You shouted, holding your hands up to shield yourself. He stopped yelling and lowered the bat. "Y/n?...."

"Yes, it's me. Please put the bat down!"

"What are you doing here?" He asked, placing the bat down and staring at you. "I live here with you, remember?"

The man seemed to stare at you like he was trying to figure out why he knew you. "Y/n! That's right!" He helped you up.

"I wasn't away for that long, was I fordsie?" You chuckled.

"Oh uh no no it's not that...uh come inside. we have some uh catching up to do.." You raised your eyebrow at him now, getting a better look at him. Something was off.

But you followed him to the kitchen, hoping your doubt and worry would wear off soon.

"Hey by the way...would you mind calling me stan from now on?"

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Changing Tides

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 6790

Summary: You and Bucky get paired together for undercover missions a lot because it works beautifully, despite the fact that you don't really even interact at home.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, limited use of Y/N, LOTS of pet names (pretty girl, baby, i think baby girl, my girl etc), praise kink, oral f. receiving, slight angst, reader is in denial for a good bit of this, angst if you squint, reader is a part of the team, this piece takes place in an AU where everyone lives together and everything is happy

A/N: Oh. My. God. I did NOT intend for this to be this long, at one point I thought I was going to have to make this a two-parter but I got it all in here. I really enjoyed writing this, please let me know what y'all think!! :)))

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Hues of velvety violet and radiant amber mixed, painting the evening sky like a scene out of a museum. The scent of warm sea salt was still palpable in the air, the crystal like water of the wide-expanding ocean reflected the light of the setting sun. Dancing specs of light could be seen in the darker shades of the sky, stars bright and clear against the inky color.

The cold metal of the hotel balcony pressed against your exposed skin, shirt having risen up as you leaned over it slightly. The view was beyond breathtaking, something you would argue belonged on a movie screen. It was serene, offering a moment of reprieve from the typical chaos you endured in a day, and a distraction from the man currently sitting in the hotel room behind you.

Hate didn’t describe the emotions you felt for the brunet. On a daily basis, there was an underlying disinterest but every now and then a seething annoyance would bubble at the mere thought of the former soldier. You couldn’t pin-point why. Bucky himself had never done anything to wrong you after his rehabilitation and reintroduction into society, and you could easily say nothing the Winter Soldier had done counted towards your feelings.

The odd part of it all is the Bucky and you worked well together, great even. More often than not, you found yourself partnered with Bucky on just about every mission the two of you had; from quick in and out missions to undercover operations like the one you were on now. The communication was great, the two of you easily fell into a rhythm and could read each other’s body language like you’ve known each other your whole life. It was easy to slip into a faux-domesticity with him, which was a stark contrast to the daily life you lived.

The day to day with Bucky involved a lack of any form of contact. You’d avoid the gym if he was in it, would eat in silence if the two of you happened to be in the kitchen at the same time, eye-contact was consistently avoided - Really, the only time the two of you were seen together at home was during group training sessions and team-building nights. You were sure to never make it awkward for the rest of the team, never bad mouth or be outwardly annoyed at Bucky’s presence, you just really couldn’t care less if he was there or not. 

“Sweetheart,” his voice carried from the room, light and sweet, almost intoxicating with a feeling instantly having your gut turn and catch your skin aflame, “Did you want to go out for dinner tonight or just order room service?” His voice got nearer as he moved to join you on the balcony.The cool metal prosthetic wrapped around your waist as he stood next to you.

A soft hum left your lips, gaze moving from the horizon to the prosthetic then to Bucky’s face. He adorned a slight scruff, long hair pulled back into a low bun; His eyes nearly twinkled as they reflected the setting sky in the distance, he wore soft maroon button down and black chinos that truly made him look like a normal, well-off guy. Tony and Peter had finally managed to perfect the color needed to make Bucky prosthetic look like a normal arm which easily sealed the deal on assuring that there was nothing major that could be easily spotted to dox the two of you as agents. 

The flight to Morocco was long and the next 10 days were easily going to be even longer, the last thing you wanted to do was be anywhere but a soft bed. “Room service,” you replied, matching the tone he had asked the question with. You leaned your head against his shoulder, moving your gaze back to the ocean, “Did you do a room check and get our things set up?”

He nodded, “Everything inside is clear and put away,” he squeezed your side softly when he said inside, a subtle emphasis to communicate where it was safe to not be in character. “I’ll go order the room service, you can go shower and get comfortable. I know how much you hate the airport.” He chuckled softly at the end, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline before making his way back inside. 

You let out a soft sigh, making it inside as well and closing the balcony door behind you as you did. This really was going to be a long 10 days. 

**

The bitter taste of the wine nearly made your mouth water, sitting somewhere between too intense and the perfect thing to take the edge off. The first full day had been smooth, an easy itinerary of walking and exploring the city. From the outside, the two of you easily looked like a love sick couple; matching clothes, a large diamond in your hand, Bucky always opening the door for you and your soft smile that just couldn't seem to leave you face; but in reality you had been mapping the city, learning the back alley ways and locating any ports that may be needed for a quick exit. 

The small patio of the restaurant adorned a handful of tables, lanterns lighting the area in a soft romantic glow, lucious plants filling in any space, the open space allowed for ease of blending into the crowd while watching any passerby on the street. Bucky had taken up a game of footsie with you, chattering along about some of the shops you had passed along the way.

“Is there any shop you’d want to make your way back to?” Bucky took a sip of the wine in front of him, eyes fixed on you intently.

A soft hum left your lips, swaying your head back and forth softly as you thought. “Well, I wanna hit up the history and art museum, so maybe we could see if there’s any other cute shops there? If not, I’d definitely like to look at the jewelry store and bookstore we passed on the way here.”

“Mmm, I do think it’s time to get my pretty girl a new necklace,” the words fell off Bucky’s tongue like he sweet talked you on the daily. 

There was that feeling again, the uneasiness that laid in the pit of your stomach and your skin heated up. Maybe this was why you couldn’t stand Bucky outside of missions, maybe you just didn’t want to deal with this feeling constantly. “You spoil me enough, ya know,” you offered a soft giggle, “I can assure you I don’t need any more jewelry, my love.”

Bucky smirked softly, cocking his eyebrows up at you with a knowing look on his face, “You may not need it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it anyways.”

You shook your head, about to offer a rebuttal as the waiter set your food down in front of you, all thoughts being lost to the amazing sights and smells. “This is easily my favorite part of our trips,” you stated, the distraction of food keeping you from noticing the way Bucky’s gaze stayed on you and a soft smile lingered.

**

Six days of being enveloped in Bucky’s presence, and thankfully it was getting easier by the moment. It had been a smooth operation so far, the information being easy to locate and gather without raising suspicions. As a result, Tony had said to take a day to relax, lay low and assure no one was able to realize there was something more to you two.

Bucky had made a home on the balcony of your hotel, a book in hand and a coffee sat on the little table next to him.He been there since the early morning and it was easily almost noon, not that that you were bothering to check the clock. A day off meant a day of sleep and eating, nothing much more than that. 

However, sleeping wasn't something your body wanted to do so you found yourself with a forgotten movie playing on the television, your gaze consistently going back to him. You weren't sure why, but you couldn't keep your eyes off him. You'd been sitting for the past God knows how long trying to figure out why you couldn't pull your eyes away from him. His hair was down, something he didn't do quite often, almost always finding it easier to have it pulled away from his face. From the angle he was sitting, you could see his light gray button down was still completely unbuttoned, his jean shorts a little too snug around his thighs. He occasionally sipped the coffee that was most likely cold at this point, turning the page of the thick novel occasionally. His lips would purse, eyebrows scrunch occasionally, or a small chuckle, or even a shake of his head as he reacted to the words on the page. 

The wind picked up some, indicating a small rain storm that was destined to his later in the evening was starting to make it's way in. Bucky pulled a hair tie from his pocket, tying his hair into his typical low bun before picking his book back up. And it finally hit you; Fuck he's pretty.

The thought immediately made your body heat up and the instant feeling of something in between shame and excitement sat low in your belly. It was like a well known secret your subconscious kept for years finally made it over the wall of denial in your brain, immediately making your thoughts run wild; Fuck he's so pretty, more than pretty actually. What if this is why we've been weird for some many years? Wait. Why would that make it weird? Wait. Why is it weird? Why do we get along so well on missions and then act so differently at home? Oh My God… Has the team been trying to set us up? 

Shaking your head, you jumped up, apparently too suddenly because Bucky broke his concentration on his book to glance over at you. You could feel he was watching you move around, the only thought in your head now was to get out for some fresh air as you deciphered the flood of thoughts. You grabbed some fresh clothes, slipping into the bathroom with a heavy sigh once the door was closed. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, attempting to ground yourself. Okay, what the hell is going on? The question kept repeating itself over and over in your head as you slipped into a summer dress, a sage flowy piece that Natasha and you bought for this trip specifically. It was cute, and Nat was right when she said it complimented your skin; definitely different than your normal attire but still comfortable. 

Walking out of the bathroom, you were relieved to find Bucky still where he was when you entered. After slipping on some sandals, you moved towards him, immediately aware of every detail of your very being. "Hey," you kept your voice soft, waiting for him to pull him eyes from the book and look up at you. There was something about how brightly his eyes shone with the golden sun beating down on him, there was a sense of both innocence and mystique, and the instant feeling of safety just from holding his gaze. "I'm heading out to get some coffee, do you want a fresh one? You've been sipping at the same cup for hours now."

Bucky glanced down at the cup, then to his watch, eyes going wide for a moment before a soft chuckle left his lips. "I've been out here for 4 hours already, shit. Yeah, I'd love a fresh one, doll. Thank you." He offered you a soft smile, "Just get me a-"

"A latte with three honeys on the side," you said matter-of-factly, "I could order for you at just about anywhere at this point." It was a teasing joke, one Bucky laughed at, but you instantly cursed yourself for even saying it. 

"We do spend quite a bit of time together," he hummed out, "Did you want to go out for dinner or get room service tonight?" He asked, picking his book back up as he prepared for your departure. 

"Let me see how I feel after I get back. But if we go out, it's your turn to pick. I picked last night." You stated before leaning down to kiss his hairline, still needing to keep up the act just in case someone was managing to spy; or at least that's what you were telling yourself. "I'll see you inna bit."

**

After returning with the coffee, still finding Bucky to be where he was when he left him, it was an instant decision to find a way to give yourself more time a way from the man that had your mind absolutely scrambled. Grabbing a book of your own, you let him know you'd be down by the pool if he needed you, using a quick excuse about wanting some change in scenery before the rain came as you left. 

You weren't entirely sure how long you'd been out there, it couldn't have been too long, but you we're aware you were reading the same page over and over again. The words seemed to mix together, jumbling about and not registering even in the slightest, your brain still attempting to make sense of what you were feeling. 

You never denied that Bucky was attractive, that's admittedly part of what made undercover missions easy. You never denied that you two got along well on missions, but you couldn't explain or pinpoint why you didn't get along at home. Sure, you were never hostile or rude, but it was exactly friendly or outgoing either. No matter how much you thought and walked through your early memories of Bucky, you couldn't make sense of anything. 

At this point, you knew pride was part of the issue. You knew the team would be able to walk you through, at the very least Nat or Pepper or maybe even Steve, but you could never admit to them what you were currently feeling or going through. The only thing you wanted to do, needed to do was to act normal until you got home. Then you could just hide away and go back to not having to interact with the man that was causing you turmoil. 

"There's my pretty girl," Bucky's drawl quickly pulled you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump at the sudden push back to reality. Seeing you jump caused Bucky to chuckle, especially as you turned to glare at him and his bright smile, "It's getting late, baby. We should go get some food." 

He moved to the lounge chair you had made home in, kneeling down next to you so he was eye-level. There was that feeling again, low in the pit of your stomach that had your skin warming. "There's apparently food trucks at a park about not too far. Why don't we head there and get some food to bring back and watch a movie?" 

Instinctively, you reach to tuck a strand of loose hair behind his ear, offering a soft nod and a smile, "That sounds perfect." 

You wanted nothing more than to kiss him, the thought immediately making your already warm skin heat up more, feeling flustered and like a school girl. It's not like you haven't kissed, it was just agreed upon that it was reserved for dire need situations. All other physical touchs; hand holding, forehead kissing, even smacking each others ass was okay to sell the facade that you were a happy couple.  

Bucky picked up on the change, a look of slight worry on his face, "You okay, doll?"

The laugh that left you was slightly anxious, holding the book in your hand up as a quick white lie, "Yeah, you just came down at a particularly… intense scene."

He immediately laughed, kissing your forehead as he stood up. "You're so cute. Let's get going though."

**

The bustling crowds offered a great distraction - Bucky stood proudly by your side, fingers interlocked together and swinging your joined hands softly like a love sick couple. The both of you scanned the crowd, trying to figure out where to go and what to get. 

The lines weren't too long, there were nearly a dozen trucks, and live music playing. The sun was finally setting, more clouds rolling in and bringing in a cooler breeze that allowed for a reprieve from the beach heat. There were benches with umbrellas set up, lantern lights adorning some posts and wires around the lot. It was cute, and if it wasn't for the mission you were still technically on, it would feel so wrong to be here with Bucky. 

After a moment of thought, you looked at Bucky, lips slightly pursed in thought, "I have an idea." You stated matter-of-factly.

He cooked an eyebrows at you, intrigued and slightly amused with your tone, "Let's hear it then."

"Let's get a platter or some random menu item from every truck then go back to the room and eat there." 

Bucky looked around and nodded, "Ya know what, doll, that sounds fantastic. Do you wanna divide and conquer or go one by one?"

It was then that you realized the clouds were darkening, and the rain was definitely going to happen sooner than later. "Let's divide and conquer before the rain comes." 

With a nod of agreement the two of you split, heading to either end of the trucks and working your way to each other. With the lines being shorter, it didn't take too long to get through them all, the both of you holding multiple bags stacked full of food and tied tightly. Quick words were exchanged before you started heading back towards the hotel, hoping to make it back before the rain.

The effort was fruitless though, with just maybe a few hundred feet left before the hotel you were staying at, the cold rain begins to pour down, the dark sky opening up and letting go every ounce of water it was holding on to. With loud gasps from the both of you, and small playful shriek even, you two took off running into the lobby, screeching yourselves to a stop as you entered and stood on the mats in front of the door. You were breathing heavily, attempting to catch your breath; a quick glance to Bucky showed you he was doing the same.

After a few moments, the two of you made eye contact, bursting into immediate laughter. You were both soaked head to toe, the only thing saved was the food. His shoes make a sloshing sound and your feet slid around in your sandals, you clothes clinging to every inch of your bodies. You were easily a sight for sore eyes, but it couldn't have been funnier. 

"Why didn't either of us think about the rain?" You managed to get out through your laughter. 

"Who knows, but let's get upstairs so we can get dry." He managed to respond.

The elevator ride up felt like an eternity, the cold of the AC feeling more intense from your wet skin. Bucky opened the door for you, letting you in first. He set the foot down, immediately kicking off his shoes. "Go shower, get warm. I'll pull out a change of clothes for you and we can swap when you're done." 

Something about the direction made you freeze momentarily, causing him to look up at you, "(Y/N), you're freezing. Go shower. I'm fine to wait." His voice was soft and caring and there was a part of you that wanted to tell him to shower with you. 

In the dim light of the room and the soaking wet clothes made him look even more divine, like he was sculpted from the gods themselves. You nodded, handing him the bags before making your way towards the bathroom. You closed the door, then quickly opening it to call out but he cut you off, "You want an oversized shirt and a loose pair of shorts, gets your ass in the shower." His tone was demanding but still playful. You caught the look in his eyes, mischievous, playful, and a hint of something you didn't want to recognize. 

You kept your shower quick, ready to be in comfortable clothes and a bed with good food. After quickly drying yourself as much as possible, you wrapped yourself in a towel, and stepped out into the bedroom. Bucky stood in only his boxers, his own clothes in one hand while he scrolled through the television with the other. It wasn't the first time you've seen him with this little clothing, but something about it now made your mouth dry and your skin heat up. 

"All yours," you said, grabbing his attention as you moved to the bed where he laid your clothes out for you. 

"Thanks, doll. I'll be quick. You can pick the movie," he tossed the remote onto the bed before disappearing into the bathroom himself. 

You stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm yourself before slipping into the clean clothes. Bucky had already made work of getting creative. He pulled the ironing board from the closet and set the food up next to the bed, had fluffed the pillows up into a sitting position, and already gotten drinks for the two of you. By the time you had decided on a movie, Bucky was coming out of the bathroom. 

Immediarely, you mind started short circuiting again. He looked soft. He had on a light blue shirt and a pair of light gray shorts, his hair was towel dried and brushed against his shoulders, a slight wave to the brown locks. He slid in bed next to you, getting himself situated and comfortable before handing over the massive spread of food for you to start digging into. 

After about 20 minutes of eating and watching the movie in a comfortable silence, Bucky turned the volume down some, "Can I ask you a question?" The tone of his voice alone already told you how he was feeling. There was a sense of worry, anxiety almost to him. 

"Of course, what's wrong?" You asked, sitting your food to the side so you could turn to look at him. 

Bucky followed your lead, moving the food he had off the bed as well before taking a drink, trying to have a moment to articulate how he was going to ask what he wanted. Even though Bucky was sure the room wasn't bugged, he knew that there's was never a 100% chance of assuring that. The fact alone could make talking about things outside of the mission difficult, and this one one of those moments.

"How's the trip been for you? I know we haven't been on one in a while and I just want to make sure everything's okay, that we're okay." He had turned fully to look at you now, the worry in his voice making it to his eyes. 

"Oh…" the response was immediate, and you regretted it instantly the second you so that worry on his face grow, "The trips been wonderful, and uh…" You sighed, toying with the blanket around you, "We're fine, yeah. I'm just… not here?" You said, sort of motioning to your head to get the point across.

Bucky cocked his head some, the worry turning to confusion. "Are we going to be okay when we go home?"

That was something you couldn't answer. What was okay. Was okay how you normally act? Was okay something different? Something better? Something worse?

"Uh… maybe?" You offered, immediately wincing at your own words. You sighed deeply, "I don't really know how to explain what I'm feeling."

"Okay," Bucky took a moment, letting you both sit in the uncomfortable silence that was the lull in the conversation. He was doing his best not to become frustrated, he knew there was most likely no easy way for you to communicate what you wanted to say or even what you were feeling, but he's been able to tell for the past couple of days that things, specifically that you, have been off. "What do you know?"

Your gaze met his again, taking a deep breath in to try to gather the courage to say what you needed. "Things feel… different?"

"Different?"

"Different." 

Bucky stared at you for a moment, mind calculating and analyzing has he tried to decipher what you meant. In an instant it all clicked, and you didn't miss the way his lips curled into a quick smirk before his features soften. "Do things feel different when I call you my pretty girl?"

He watched as you immediately became flustered, averting your gaze and watching your chest rise and fall quicker. He thought he had sensed your heart rate quickening throughout the past couple of days, but he had honestly assumed it was anxiety from the mission. He had no reason to think it could be something else; Well, until now. 

"(Y/N)," your name came as firm and demanding, causing you to look at him. The smirk on his face was more evident now, "We can continue this conversation now, or when we get home. But just remember, you're my favorite book to read."

You were instantly lost for words, mouth opening and closing as you processed what he just said to you. Waiting until you were home was going to be far too long, but talking about whatever this was now? Right now when you were flustered beyond belief, that flippant warm feeling filling every valley and curve of your body? 

"Just say the word, doll, and I'll act like everything is normal. I'll go back to watching the movie and eating and ignoring the obivous."

A soft shake of your head was all you could muster as you search desperately for a will to stop the inevitable, or the courage to beg for it. 

"Words, (Y/N). Use your words." 

"I don't want normal." You swallowed, taking a shaky breath you continued, "I don't want this to go back to normal." 

Buckys lips turned to a smile. "You don't want this to stop when we go home?"

You shook you head more feverishly, "No, I - Fuck, what have you done to me?" You groaned out.

"The same thing you've been doing to me for years, I suppose." His tone was matter-of-fact, cool and calm almost. 

"What?" Your eyes had gone wide, mouth dry, and that God forsaken feeling low in your stomach was growing. 

"You heard me. Obviously, we'll have some talking to do when we get home." He chuckled

Bucky moved as if he was going to grab the food, stopping once he heard, "No," come out of your mouth, "No. I want to talk about it now."

He looked back at you, eyebrows raising as to silently ask how.

"I want to…" You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief at yourself before leaning forward, cupping the back of his neck with your hand and pressing your lips to his. 

This kiss was different; It was electricity filled, igniting every nerve in your body. You could feel the heat from your ears to your toes. It was intoxiting and addicting. 

Bucky waisted no time in kissing you back, even letting out a small groan at your sudden assertiveness. His prosthetic hand held onto you waist, the other cupping your face as the two of you broke years worth of tension in one swift motion. Bucky pulled away first, taking in the plumpness of your kiss swollen lips, the sluttering of your lashes as your opened your eyes to look at him, and the darkness of your gaze that was stricken with last. 

He looked just as enthralled, blue eyes dark as the night sky and hooded with desire, cheeks flushed slightly beneath his scruff. It finally clicked what the feeling you've been having all week was. Lust; pure, unadulterated lust for the man who was currently pretending to be your husband.

"Well damn, doll," he offered you a toothy grin, squeezing your waist, "Wasn't expecting that." 

"Sorry-"

"Don't be." He bit his lip, studying your face for a moment, "Whatcha thinking, pretty girl?"

You couldn't help but get flustered, "That I want more. A lot fucking more." You hand moved up from his neck to card through his hair, his breath hitching some as you did. "Please, James, I need more." Your voice had a slight whine to it, something you hoped he wouldn't be able to resist. 

"If I knew you sounded so pretty begging this would've happened years ago," he grumbled before kissing you again. This time though, he re-situated himself, helping you move to straddling him and doing his best to let you still have some semblance of control for now. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you from being able to move away from him.

One of your hands cupped his face, the other running down his clothed chest. You lips move in sink, a squeeze on your hips eliciting a small moan from you that he took advantage of, using your open mouth to slip his tongue in. You could feel the tent in his shorts growing, sitting hard against your core. 

An experimental grind of your hips pulled a moan form the man beneath you; The sound was music to your ears, and enough encouragement to do it again. 

Buckys hands moved, bracing you as he flipped you over to give himself more leverage and take control. Just as he begin to grind himself against you, he moved his lips from your to your neck. He kissed his way down to your pulse point, drinking in the sweet sounds you made. He sucked softly at the skin, moaned himself when you pulled at his hair. 

Any rationale thought was gone at this point, any fears or anxieties you had pushed to the back of your mind as pure pleasure and desire took over the forefront of your thoughts. Once Bucky was sure he would be satisfied with the mark he left on you, he pulled back some to look you in the eye. 

"Are you sure you want this?" He breathed out, offering you an out. 

You nodded so quickly he couldn't help but laugh softly, "God, you look so fucking desperate, doll. You want me to fuck you?" He had a slight tease to his voice. 

Another nod is all you could muster, but that wasn't good enough for him. "Uh uh, come on. Use your words. Need to hear you say it if you want me to do it."

You whined at his demand, pouting at him slightly, "Please."

"Please what?" His tone was more stern now, "If you want to continue, I need to know you actually want this." 

His insistence to make sure you were consenting pulled at your heart strings. You nodded, "Yes, Bucky," you kept your voice soft before adding a slight whine and plea to it, "Please fuck me."

He smiled, kissing you much softer than had had before, "I'd do anything you asked me to." His words sounded like a promise that had you own emotions bubbling up. 

Bucky leaned up for a moment, pulling off his shirt. He motioned for you to sit up and pulled yours off as well, groaning softly when he sat you skin. "Such a beautiful, pretty girl. Look at you," his hands ran up and down your sides and he took in your body before making eye contact with you again, "Most perfect thing I've ever seen, ya know that?" 

He could feel your skin heat up at his comments, watching you squirm. "Take your shorts off, doll." Bucky moved off the bed, kneeling on the floor at the edge, "C'mere." He demanded. 

You aren't going to deny him at this point, feeling yourself so tightly wrapped around his finger that you'd follow him into hell if it meant he kept talking to you like this. Once you were close enough, Bucky grabbed your thighs and pulled you to be perched on the edge on the bed, legs on his shoulders with his eyes level with your core. 

"Look at this sweet little pussy," he squeezed your thighs tight, "You're fucking glistening, doll." He started pressing kisses to your thighs, avoiding the very apace you needed him at. "Smell fucking divine, I just know you're gonna taste even better."

Bucky watched as you already started fishing the sheets, squirming and biting you lip to hold back any noise. He already decided it was his job to make it impossible for you to hold back. Bucky moved his right hand to interlock with yours, taking his left arm and using it to put pressure on your waist, the cold feel of the prosthetic a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. Just as he squeezed your hand, Bucky licked a thick stripe from your core to your clit, genuinely moaning at the taste. 

He wasted no time in drowning himself in your essence. Bucky licked and sucked, offering the occasional nibble, until you were grinding yourself in his face. Once soft gasps and moans were falling freely from you lips, he moved his left hand to your core, the cool digits of his forefinger and ringer figuring prodding your sopping hole. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly as he pushed two fingers in, relishing in the fact that your moans got loud. 

Bucky pulled him mouth away, moving to you thighs and sucking hickies into the soft skin while his fingers worked magic. He already knew your body so well, years of working together on intimate missions allowed him to learn how to tell what you liked versus what you loved. 

After leaving a few marks, he leaned his head against your thighs, looking up at you through his lashes and watching had your chest rose and fell and you head was thrown back in pure pleasure. "I was fucking right. Taste like honey, could drink you up all fucking day." 

He licked a quick stripe again, from where his fingers were to the hilt inside you all the way to your clit. "So, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to continue eating your sweet little pussy until you cum all of face then I'm going to fuck you nice and deep so you feel my cock for days."

He chuckled when he felt your walls flutter around his fingers, "You like the sound of that, pretty girl?" He curled his fingers, hitting the spongy spot that had you gasping for air and eyes rolling into the back of your head. "Look, you're already so close to the edge. You better soak me, baby."

Bucky didn't fall short on his word, getting back to work on your clit with his mouth. His scruff added a nice sensation that bordered on pleasurable pain, fingers moving st the perfect pace and curving expertly, mouth switching between sucking and kitten licks. His right had squeezed your own hand, encouraging you to let go for him. 

The pleasure was building quickly, it was intoxicating and inhibition destroying. You leaned up, using your free hand to grab hold of his hair and pull, giving you leverage to grind on his face. Bucky moaned against you, and truly giving you everything he was worth in his determination. 

It didn't take much longer for you to fall over the edge, moaning loudly and body convulsing. Your legs squeezed his head as he continued to work you through your orgasm until you fell back, panting for breath. 

Bucky pulled away, chuckling softly with a proud look in his face. From his nose down, he was absolutely glistening with your slick, "God you're fucking hot, using my face like that." 

Bucky stood, pulling his shorts off, using them to wipe his face some, then tossing them to the side. "Can't wait to see your pretty face when I fill you up. Your gonna take me so good, aren't you?" 

You nodded, already getting worked back up. You sat yourself up before he had the chance to grab you, leaning up and carding your hand through his hair again and guiding his lips to yours. You moaned at the taste of your own cum on his lips, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock, jerking him slowly. 

He pulled away from your lips, breathing in sharp. "Uh uh, doll, you can do that another time," he kissed your forehead, a sweet gesture that was a drastic difference to what was currently happening, "Right now, I wanna be buried inside you, making you cum all over me again. Cmon, lay back down for me."

You stole one more kiss before resuming your prior position. Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, pulling you back to the edge and holding your legs spread wide. "You can tell me to stop at any point," he said softly, "but unless you do that, I'm not stopping until you're thoroughly filled with me."

You nodded, offering a desperate, "Please, Bucky. Want all of you," and moving to hold your own legs up as the extra step to prove how much you wanted this. 

"So fucking perfect," he groaned out. Bucky grabbed his length, teasing your slit a few times to get his thick tip left before finally pushing in. He was slow, listening to your gasp as he stretched you out so nicely. 

Inch by inch, he pushed in until he was bent over you and all the way to the hilt, your lower bodies completely flushed. "You feel fucking amazing around me," he moaned out, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Just as you were starting to whine, he pulled all the way out before slamming back in, causing you to moan out loudly when you felt him in the deepest parts of you. 

Bucky set a brutal but rhythmic pace, changing it ever so slightly until he heard your moans and whines change to be deeper and louder. He moved one of your legs to his shoulder, which somehow allowed him to go even deeper, alternating between full thrusts and grinding against you. 

He reached down between the two of you, rubbing circles in your clit with his thumb and watching as your whole body begin to shake with intense pleasure. "Look at you," he moaned out, "Better than my wildest dreams. You gonna cum again for me, already doll?" 

He didn't need an answer at this point, he could tell from how your walls were squeezing him that you were close, and as much as he hated to admit it he wasn't far behind you. Bucky kept his movements consistent until he felt you fall over the edge again with a high pitch moan, his hips finally flattering as you squeezed him like a vice, quickly chasing his own high. A few erratic thrusts and he spilled into you with a moan of your name. 

Bucky let your legs down, taking a few deep breaths before pulling out of you. He laughed lightly as you whined at the loss of him. He disappeared to the bathroom, cleaning himself up before bringing back a warm, damp wash cloth to wipe you down with. Bucky pressed softly kisses to yoh skin and he wiped you off, kissing your lips before tossing the cloth to the side and climbing into bed with you. 

He helped you move back to laying normally in the bed, laughing once he noticed the credits of thie movie were rolling. He wrapped and arm around you, pulling you into his side and letting you get comfortable on him."How you feeling, doll?"

"Good, a little weird, but good." You said, voice drenched in exhaustion.

"Weird how?" He asked, rubbing his fingers up and down your back.

"Good weird. Happy things are gonna be different when we get home."

With how you were laying, you missed the way Bucky smiled down at you, "You don't understand how happy it makes me that I'll get to treat you like this all the time."

"Really?" You asked, already finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

"Doll, I've been yours since the moment I met you, someone was just too stubborn to notice her own feelings." He squeezed your side before going back to rubbing your back, "Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning."

[pretzel-box]

I need Sebastian's reaction to some divers flashing little octo boy🙏🏼🙏🏼

SQUIDDLE ME THAT

words: 2,1k

tags: octopus hybrid reader, platonic relationship with sebastian, sebastian gets protective

authors note: I wrote the part before the flashing scene yesterday and had to add your request at the end, hope you don't mind some extra content!

Having a little octopus hybrid running loose was a challenge on its own. God forbid that Sebastian take his three eyes off you for even a second—you'd either wilt from loneliness or start creating a mess in a bid to reclaim his attention.

One such instance involved you folding his newly sorted files into funny little paper boats, which you then gently rocked over a random puddle that had started to develop in the corner of his shop. The first time you did this, Sebastian was initially impressed that you'd found something to do on your own. He even joined in, taking a sheet of printed paper and folding it into a rather shoddy boat, chuckling until he realized—these were his important assets!

Sebastian learned quickly from that incident. He made it his mission to keep you occupied, providing you with paper and pencils to draw pictures instead. Soon, his shop was filled with your artwork, pinned up on every wall. He couldn’t help but find your efforts endearing—most of your drawings were of the two of you, and they filled his heart with a warmth he wasn't accustomed to feeling.

“You know, I think you're starting to develop an eye for ar—” Sebastian began to say, but as he turned around, you were gone. You had simply vanished from sight. However, the trail of suction-cup marks on the floor was a clear indicator that you'd slipped through the vent and were now somewhere outside the shop.

Panic surged through him as he quickly made his way out, calling your name and checking every room. You were small and had a short attention span—surely, you couldn’t have gotten far.

And then he saw it. You were standing face-to-face with a Squiddle. The scene was bizarre: the Squid Monster hovered slightly above the ground, its ‘eyes’ locked onto you with what could only be described as confusion. You, on the other hand, were trying to mimic the creature, leaping up and attempting to hover in the air, only to be defeated by gravity each time.

Sebastian froze for a moment, his panic shifting to a mix of concern and disbelief. The Squiddle seemed more perplexed than hostile, perhaps unsure of what to make of this smaller, more enthusiastic "squid" that was now mimicking its every move. You, in your innocent curiosity, were completely absorbed in your game of imitation, oblivious to the potential danger.

Sebastian approached cautiously, not wanting to startle either of you. “Hey, buddy,” he called softly, trying to get your attention without alarming the Squiddle. “What are you doing over there?”

You turned to him, eyes wide and full of excitement, as if proud of your new friend. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat seeing how happy you were, but he knew he had to get you away from the creature before anything went wrong.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding out his hand. “Let’s leave the big guy alone, okay? We’ve got plenty of drawing to do back at the shop.”

Reluctantly, you took his hand, casting one last curious glance at the Squiddle before allowing Sebastian to lead you away. The creature watched you go, still floating in place, before it finally drifted off, no longer interested in the odd encounter.

Back at the shop, Sebastian let out a deep sigh of relief. He knelt down to your level, ruffling the top of your head gently. “You’ve really got a knack for finding trouble, you know that?”

You gave him a sheepish grin, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, how about we stick to drawing for a while, huh? Maybe we can work on some more pictures of us. Just... let’s keep the paper boats on hold for now, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, and Sebastian led you back inside, silently vowing to keep an even closer eye on you from now on.

Sebastian! You there?” a male voice called out as a customer clambered through the vent. Sebastian, already familiar with the type of people who usually wandered into his shop—rude pricks deserving their prison sentences—acted quickly. Without a second thought, he wrapped you in a blanket and gently but hurriedly stuffed you into a spacious locker, hiding you from the potentially mean human.

“Ah, welcome~” he greeted the customer with an air of nonchalance, shifting into his usual role as a shopkeeper. He led the man through a small conversation, maintaining his outward calm even though his thoughts were with you.

Meanwhile, inside the locker, you pressed your arms and tentacles against the metal walls, trying to push your way back to Sebastian. The dark, cramped space fueled a growing sense of anxiety. You didn’t understand why he’d suddenly hidden you away like this. Did you do something wrong? Did he stop liking you?

Fear and confusion spiraled in your little head until they became too much to bear. The only logical response, as far as you were concerned, was to scream. Tears streamed down your face as you wailed loudly, feeling abandoned and terrified. The darkness was cold, and being alone felt like the worst punishment imaginable.

Sebastian, who was busy trying to offload some junk onto the prisoner, froze when your piercing scream cut through the conversation. The customer blinked in surprise, glancing toward the sound. “What the hell was that?”

Sebastian’s mind raced as he tried to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh, faulty alarm system,” he lied, forcing a smile. “This place is falling apart, you know? I’ll get it fixed. Now, about that flashlight you were interested in…”

But the scream came again, louder this time, filled with pure distress. Sebastian’s heart clenched with guilt. The customer raised an eyebrow but seemed more annoyed than concerned. “You might want to take care of that. Sounds like something’s dying in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” Sebastian muttered, barely containing his irritation as he hurried the man toward the exit. “Thanks for stopping by, and don’t forget to tell your non-existing friends about the shop!”

As soon as the customer was out of sight, Sebastian practically “sprinted” back to the locker. Your cries were breaking his heart—he hadn’t meant to scare you, but in his haste to protect you, he’d overlooked how you’d feel being stuffed in there.

He flung the locker door open and immediately pulled you out, wrapping you in his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, holding you close as you continued to sob. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clung to him desperately, burying your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. Sebastian felt like the worst person in the world for making you feel this way. “I was just trying to keep you safe,” he explained softly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I didn’t want that guy to see you. But I shouldn’t have locked you up like that. I’m sorry.”

Gradually, your sobs began to quiet, though you still held onto him tightly, afraid he might push you away again. Sebastian continued to whisper apologies and reassurances, promising that he would never do something like that again.

Finally, you lifted your head, looking at him with tear-streaked eyes. “You’re okay,” he said gently, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

Your grip on him tightened, and Sebastian could feel the tremble in your small body slowly subside. He stood there for a long moment, holding you close, letting you know through his actions that you were safe and loved.

After a while, he carried you over to a cushioned seat, sitting down with you still wrapped in his arms. “You’re my little partner, okay?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I’m always going to take care of you. Just… no more screaming like that, alright? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You nodded weakly, sniffling but feeling a bit better now that you were back in his comforting embrace. Sebastian gave a small, relieved smile, brushing your hair away from your face. “That’s better,” he said, rocking you gently. “Let’s just stay here for a while. No more hiding, I promise.”

——

It was an unusually busy day in the shop, with a steady stream of prisoners coming through the vents, all of them more obnoxious than the last. Sebastian had been on edge, keeping a close eye on you as you busied yourself with drawing on a scrap of paper behind some boxes to hide you out of the sight from the visitors. He didn’t want a repeat of the locker incident, so he made sure you were always within arm’s reach.

But even Sebastian couldn’t anticipate everything.

As a particularly rough-looking prisoner stomped into the shop, his eyes darting around suspiciously, you instinctively curled a little closer to Sebastian. The man was big, with a scarred face and a sneer that made your skin crawl. Sebastian noticed your discomfort and subtly shifted his body to block the prisoner’s view of you.

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked, his tone curt and to the point.

The prisoner didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking over the various items on the shelves. “Just browsing,” he muttered, though there was a malicious glint in his eyes that set off alarm bells in Sebastian’s head.

Sebastian’s grip tightened on the counter. “We don’t have all day. Either buy something or get out.”

The prisoner’s sneer widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was causing. As if on a whim, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device—a flashbeacon. Before Sebastian could react, the prisoner activated it, directing the blinding flash of light straight at you.

You let out a terrified yelp, your sensitive eyes overwhelmed by the sudden burst of light. Instinctively, you tried to shield yourself, curling up and covering your eyes with your tentacles as best as you could. But the damage was done—the intense flash had disoriented you, leaving you scared and vulnerable.

Sebastian’s protective instincts kicked in instantly. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, shoving the prisoner hard against the nearest wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he snarled, his voice dripping with fury.

The prisoner barely had time to register what was happening before Sebastian’s hand was around his throat, pinning him to the wall with a strength that belied his usually calm demeanor. “You think you can just walk in here and pull something like that?” Sebastian growled, his three eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’ve got some nerve.”

The prisoner, now realizing he’d severely miscalculated, struggled to speak, his face turning red as he choked out, “It… it was just a joke!”

Sebastian’s grip tightened, making it clear he wasn’t amused. “That ‘joke’ could have seriously hurt them,” he spat, nodding toward you. “You don’t mess with my shop, and you sure as hell don’t mess with them.”

With a final shove, Sebastian released the prisoner, who staggered back, clutching his throat and gasping for air. “Get out,” Sebastian ordered, his voice low and menacing. “And if I ever see you here again, you’ll regret it.”

The prisoner didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled for the vent, shooting one last fearful glance at Sebastian before disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Sebastian took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger still coursing through his veins. Then he turned to you, his expression softening as he saw you huddled on the floor, still reeling from the flash.

He rushed over to you, kneeling down and gently pulling your tentacles away from your eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, but you could see the concern etched on his face. Slowly, you uncurled from your protective ball, reaching out for him. Sebastian didn’t hesitate—he scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I should’ve protected you better. But I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, your small body still trembling slightly, but his warmth and the steady beat of his heart began to calm you down. You knew Sebastian was strong, and as long as you were with him, you felt safe.

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

I'M (NOT) FINE!

a/n: requests are open!

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: fluff fluff fluff

summary: You absolutely loathe being sick—the sniffles, the coughs, the shivering... And Jude? He hates seeing you in that state even more. So, what's the solution? Simple: pretend you're fine. You put on your best “everything's okay” face, a face that could fool everyone... except Jude. Yikes. With his signature mix of teasing and tenderness, he refuses to let you suffer alone. He'll keep pushing, pestering, and caring for you until you finally admit you're not as fine as you want to be. And in the end, it’s his care and persistence that makes you feel a little less miserable.

You should’ve known better than to let Jude stay up so late watching Netflix with you the night before. Or maybe it was you who needed to rethink staying up until 2 a.m., curled under a blanket with a bowl of popcorn between you two as he whispered silly commentary into your ear.

Today was different, though. As the morning crept in through your bedroom window, an unusual weight seemed to settle behind your eyes. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and a tickling cough bubbled up every time you tried to swallow. But you refused to acknowledge it.

Outside, the wind rattled the windows, hinting at the kind of day that makes you want to burrow into blankets and disappear. Jude sat at the kitchen counter, scrolling absently on his phone, his focus darting to the ticking clock as he waited for you.

He hadnt miss that you’d been odd this morning—quiet and sluggish, the kind of quiet he noticed instantly. You weren’t the type to miss a chance to tease him over breakfast or steal sips of his coffee, so when you shuffled past him earlier, mumbling something about needing first a long shower, it planted a seed of worry.

He didn’t like when things felt off. Especially not with you.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and face freshly washed, you looked almost fine. Almost. Your usually bright eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, your cheeks were a bit pale and you were wrapped up in a hoodie far too big for you. One of his, of course.

Jude’s cheerful voice rang through the apartment as you shuffled into the kitchen, pulling your sleeves over your hands. “Babe, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Just toast,” you mumbled quickly. Your voice cracked on the last word, and you froze. Oh no. Jude turned to look at you, brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“Feeling all right, love?” he asked, his brow creased as he leaned back in his chair, studying you.

You smiled—quick, small, practiced. “Yeah. Fine.”

You walked straight for the kettle to pour yourself some tea, deliberately avoiding him. You could feel his gaze on you, like a silent interrogation. Your boyfriend lingered near the counter as you plopped two slices of bread into the toaster, biting the inside of his cheek like he always did when he didn’t believe you. He didn’t say anything, though—not yet.

Jude Bellingham was many things, you thought to yourself, but oblivious wasn’t one of them.

Unfortunately for you, that made this whole charade harder.

“Didn’t look like you slept well,” he said, pushing the conversation gently.

“I slept fine,” you replied too quickly, taking a sip of hot tea and keeping your eyes on the mug.

“Well, you look... I don’t know a bit tired.”

“I am tired. You made us stay up late.” You shot him a pointed look, hoping the deflection would work. It almost did. Almost. “But really, I slept fine.”

Liar. Liar.

He frowned, but before he could press further, you turned, flashing him a look that you hoped was convincing. “I promise, Jude. Don’t start getting all dramatic.”

“What? Dramatic?” He placed a hand to his chest, feigning offense, but his eyes never lost that sharp edge. “I’ll let it slide this time. But you’re not fooling me, you know. You’ve got that thing going on.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you’re trying to act normal, but you’re just a little bit too normal.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You sound insane.”

He sounded just right.

“I sound attentive,” he countered, grinning, though his voice was still soft.

You turned back to your tea, gripping the handle a little harder than necessary. In truth, you could feel the early signs of sickness creeping in—your throat tickled, your head felt heavy, and warmth pulsed at your temples like a faint drumbeat. It wasn’t bad yet, but you knew it would be soon.

And that was exactly why you couldn’t let Jude in on it.

He was attentive—almost painfully so—and you knew he’d go straight into overprotective mode the moment he suspected something was wrong. He’d fuss. He’d worry. He’d probably cancel his plans and hover over you for hours like a mother hen.

You didn’t want him to cancel his plans. And you really didn’t want to be the reason he stressed.

So, when he looked away to grab his phone, you took the opportunity to stifle the cough that clawed at your throat, turning your head quickly and clearing it in a way you hoped sounded natural. A master plan.

But when you turned back, Jude was staring. Staring into you, frowning a little and questioning you with his eyes.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That sound. Did you just cough?”

You blinked, feigning innocence. “No? I don’t think so.”

His brow furrowed, lips parting slightly as if to call you out, but you were already ahead of him, changing the subject. “Are you still meeting the guys later?”

He eyed you skeptically for a beat longer, before reluctantly sighing. “Yeah. We are supposed to meet at nine.”

“Good.” You smiled sweetly, though it was mostly a distraction. “Don’t let me keep you from it.”

The shift in his expression was subtle, but you caught it anyway—something in the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes lingered a second too long on you. Jude had spent enough time with you to know your tells, and he wasn’t stupid.

He let it slide, again. For now.

The hours went on, and your act grew harder to keep up.

Jude had been in and out of the living room while you lounged on the couch, buried under a blanket and claiming you just wanted to “relax.” You were also clutching a steaming cup of tea that Jude had made for you. You hadn’t even asked for it, which was a sign he was already onto you. You scrolled your phone lazily, trying to appear normal, but you could feel him watching you.

He plopped onto the couch beside you, spreading his long and fit legs across the coffee table. “You’re acting weird.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“You’re imagining things.”

He shot you a look. “You’re wearing two hoodies, a blanket, and you’re sipping tea in 26-degree weather. It’s summer.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then came the moment you’d been dreading. You were mid-scroll when an itch seized your throat. You tried to suppress it—tried to swallow it down and breathe through your nose—but it was no use. The cough escaped, sharp and sudden, your body shaking slightly with the force of it.

Jude whipped his head toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

“Got you.”

You froze. Slowly, you looked up to see Jude next to you, arms crossed and an annoyingly smug look on his face.

“I knew it,” he said, shaking his head.

You sighed, sinking lower into the couch. “It’s just a tickle. Don’t start.”

“Don’t start? No no no. Babe, you’ve been hiding that all day, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t been hiding anything,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Alright, that’s it,” he said, scooting closer. “Let me feel your forehead.”

“No!” you blurted, immediately shrinking back into the cushions. “Don’t touch me. I—uh, I haven’t washed my face. Gross, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Like I care.”

“Jude, I swear—”

“Stop being stubborn and come here.”

You hugged the blanket tighter, as if it could protect you. “I’m not coming, Jude.”

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he shot back, though his voice was tinged with affection. “Let me feel your forehead.”

You recoiled slightly, eyes narrowing. “I don’t have a fever.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me feel your forehead,” he moved closer to you.

You squirmed away from him, practically sliding down the couch as he reached for you. He only managed to grab your ankle, pinning you in place.

“This isn’t fair! You’re bigger than me!” you yelped, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the two of you must look—him holding onto your leg while you squirmed like a fish out of water.

“I don’t care. You’re not getting away from me.”

You gasped for air as you finally gave up and collapsed back onto the sofa. Jude grinned in victory, his palm landing gently on your forehead before you could protest further. His grin faded as quickly as it appeared.

For a second, you both stared each other down, and in that moment, you realized how ridiculous this little standoff had become. He looked at you like he couldn’t decide whether to be exasperated or amused, his head tilting slightly.

“Y/N, you’re burning up.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Think again then cause you are.”

“Maybe I’m just hot,” you tried to joke weakly, but he wasn’t having it. His lips set into a thin line.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” he demanded softly. His tone wasn’t angry—just disappointed. Somehow, that was worse.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your resolve wavering. “Because I don’t want you to worry.”

His expression softened instantly, and your heart sank.

“Babe,” he said, crouching down in front of you so he could look you in the eyes. “You know that’s not possible, right? I’m always going to worry about you. You’re not invincible, no matter how much you try to act like it.”

You swallowed hard, guilt and affection swirling in your chest. You didn’t want to admit it, but part of you was relieved that he’d seen through you.

“I just didn’t want you to cancel your plans,” you muttered.

Jude rolled his eyes fondly. “You think I care about plans more than you?”

You didn’t answer, because the look in his eyes told you he already knew what you were thinking.

“Come on,” he said finally, standing up and offering you his hand. “We’re taking your temperature.”

You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically. “Jude—”

“You’re done arguing.”

“Jude, I don’t need the thermometer,” you grumbled, but he was already standing up, mumbling something about how he would decide that. You slumped back against the couch with a sigh, pulling the blanket higher around your face.

“Up.”

You shot him a glare, but took his hand anyway, letting him pull you off the couch. You knew you’d lost this round, but as you followed him into the kitchen, you caught the small smile tugging at his lips.

And you couldn’t help but smile, too.

Ten minutes after, you both stared at the thermometer, you chewing the inside of your left cheek nervously, while Jude crossed his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing deeper by the second.

“38.9,” he read aloud, his tone flat but edged with concern.

“It’s not that bad,” you muttered, trying to wave it off, but the tightness in your chest and the dizziness that followed the cough made the words feel hollow.

His eyes snapped to yours, sharp and unyielding. “Not that bad? That’s literally a high fever.”

“Barely,” you quipped, attempting a half-hearted shrug, though the effort made your head feel heavier, and your limbs suddenly felt like lead. You had no choice but to lean against the counter for support.

“Y/N…”

“Jude, I’m fine,” you argued, turning to put the thermometer back on the counter like it didn’t just confirm his worst suspicions. “I don’t need a doctor, and I definitely don’t need you hovering over me.”

His lips parted, words on the tip of his tongue clearly sharp, but he held them back. Instead, he took a deep breath, his frustration melting into something softer, his gaze still filled with concern. Jude wasn’t having it. He stood up suddenly, towering over the couch where you moved and where now curled up. “That’s it. You’re going to bed.”

Your head whipped around, eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to bed.”

“Yes, you are,” he said firmly, already reaching for your hand to pull you up. “You need to lie down properly, not camp out here on the couch like you’re hiding from something.”

“Jude, no.” You tugged your hand away, shaking your head. “I’m fine here. I like the couch. It’s cozy.”

He raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “The bed is cozier.”

“I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you said stubbornly, sinking deeper into the cushions as though you could become one with the furniture.

“You’ll feel better if you rest properly,” he argued, his tone soft but insistent. “And the sooner you rest, the sooner you’ll get better. That’s logic. You can’t fight logic.”

“I’m not fighting logic. I just don’t want to go,” you insisted, pouting slightly for effect. “The bed is boring. I’ll just lay there staring at the ceiling, and then you’ll make me drink disgusting medicine. No thanks.”

Jude exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead in that way he always did when he was losing patience. You knew exactly how far you could push him, but it didn’t feel good to see that frustrated look in his eyes. You hated making him worry, but part of you didn’t want to be stuck in bed just yet, even if you could feel the exhaustion weighing you down.

“Jude, please,” you said, your tone softening, almost pleading. “I don’t want to be stuck in bed. I’ll rest here, I promise. Let’s just watch something, yeah?”

You offered him an innocent smile, though it quickly wavered when you felt another cough building. You turned away, covering your mouth as you hacked into the blanket. Jude’s hands twitched at his sides, but he didn’t press the issue—at least, not yet.

When you finally caught your breath, you glanced up at him warily, half-expecting him to scoop you up and carry you to bed despite your protests. He looked like he wanted to, but instead, he sighed again and sat back down on the edge of the couch.

He sighed deeply, clearly torn. His jaw worked as he considered your plea, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. Finally, he relented with a short nod, though his eyes still carried a hint of warning. “Fine. But only because I know you’ll sulk if I make you move.”

You flashed him a weak smile, already pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“But the second you look worse, you’re going to bed,” he added firmly.

You opened your mouth to say something, probably to complain, but another coughing fit cut you off—deep and rattling, like your body was staging a mutiny. Jude was on his feet in seconds, disappearing into the kitchen as you tried to catch your breath.

When he returned, he was holding a fresh glass of water and a bottle of cold medicine. “Here,” he said firmly, handing you the water first.

“Thanks,” you muttered, your voice hoarse. But when he held out the medicine, you grimaced. “Do I have to? I mean, maybe in a couple hours this will wear off...”

“Do you want to get better, or do you want to keep hacking like a 90-year-old chain smoker?”

“You’re so mean,” you groaned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“And you have high fever. Take the damn medicine.” He was loosing his patience, but it returned every time you smiled at him.

Reluctantly, you unscrewed the cap and took the tiniest possible sip, immediately pulling a face. “This is disgusting.”

Jude snorted. “Medicine’s not supposed to taste like candy.”

“It should,” you muttered with a dramatic pout, glaring at the medicine bottle like it had personally wronged you.

Jude rolled his eyes, fighting back a grin as he took the glass from your hands. “Well, when you invent miracle medicine that tastes like chocolate, let me know. Until then, take it properly.”

You groaned but relented, though your face twisted in disgust. “I swear this stuff is just punishment in a bottle.”

“You are such a dramatic,” he countered, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms with a smug expression.

“I’ll get you back for this,” you threatened weakly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Jude’s grin widened. “I’m counting on it.” He settled back down beside you, his hand finding its way to your back, rubbing slow circles that felt unexpectedly soothing. With a sigh, he grabbed the remote and flicked through channels, trying to find something to watch since you were clearly avoiding the idea of going to bed—much to his dismay.

The movie started playing, but you weren’t really watching it. You were fighting the drowsiness creeping in, but your body seemed to have other ideas. The fever had started to set in fully, and it made every movement feel sluggish and lethargic. You burrowed deeper into the blanket, your skin hot and clammy, and instinctively you leaned into Jude’s side, seeking the cool comfort of his presence to counter the warmth suffocating you.

He didn’t miss it. His arm immediately instinctively curled around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, as if he could offer some comfort against the fever that seemed to consume you. You shifted, nestling your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. His hand gently brushed against your arm, the coolness of his skin providing a brief relief from the heat radiating off yours. You closed your eyes, too tired to keep up the act, but you could still hear the sound of the movie playing softly in the background.

He could feel your body trembling, your warmth pressing against him in a way that only made his concern grow. “Baby, you're shivering,” he murmured softly, his voice low and filled with worry. His hand moved to your forehead once again, his fingers cool against your skin as he traced the lines of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You didn’t have the energy to argue, too tired to offer your usual deflections. Instead, you let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes as the weight of your body seemed to pull you deeper into the couch. Your breath was slow but labored, each inhale a bit more shallow than the last.

Jude didn’t miss the way your body seemed to sink into him, the way you let yourself fall into his arms without resistance. The quiet, unspoken admission that you needed him, even when you refused to admit it aloud.

“And you are burning up,” he said, his voice low and gentle.

“I know, it’s okay,” you mumbled, though your teeth had begun to chatter slightly, betraying your words. You buried your face against his shirt, feeling the slight chill of his body against yours.

He shook his head, tightening his arm around your shoulders. “It’s not really okay, love,” he whispered, voice full of concern. The touch of his hand against the back of your neck, cool and soothing, sent a wave of comfort through you, but it didn’t stop the shivering.

You tried to smile up at him, but it was weak. “I’m fine here, Jude. Honestly.”

He wasn’t convinced. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and the way you were leaning into him for that extra bit of coolness only confirmed what he already knew.

He stared down at you, a mixture of tenderness and frustration swirling in his gaze. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” he whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His hand lingered, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw with a softness that contrasted with the firm set of his jaw.

You tried to smile, but the effort was half-hearted, your lips barely lifting.

“Right. That’s enough,” he said suddenly, untangling himself from the blanket and standing up.

“Juuude,” you protested weakly, trying to clutch at the soft fabric as if it could somehow shield you from the inevitable.

“Don’t even start,” he interrupted, shaking his head with a small but stern smile. “I let you win with the couch thing before, but now? Non-negotiable.”

You glared at him half-heartedly, the fever clouding your ability to stay upset. “You’re so smug.”

“And you’re so stubborn,” he countered with a grin, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His hands rested gently on your knees, his gaze steady as he met your eyes. “Come on, love,” he said, his voice quiet but insistent. “Let me take you to bed. You’ll sleep better, and I’ll stay with you. Okay?”

You hesitated, staring up at him through fever-fogged eyes. There was something so comforting in his touch, in the way his thumb brushed over the inside of your knee as if he could ease the discomfort from your body with just a gesture.

“Can’t we just stay here a little longer?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, vulnerable and tired. You were falling asleep in the couch.

Jude’s heart ached at the sound of it, but his resolve didn’t falter. He reached down, gently cupping the back of your head and pulling you up to your feet. “No more fighting, baby.”

Before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, one arm supporting your back, the other under your legs. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning against him as if your body could draw strength from his.

“Jude!” you gasped in surprise.

“Shh,” he soothed, walking you toward the bedroom with gentle steps. “You’re not getting out of this. I’m taking care of you.”

You pressed your cheek against his shoulder as he carefully laid you down on the bed, tucking you under the covers with the same tender care he always showed. As he reached for the blanket, smoothing it over your shivering form, you closed your eyes, feeling a sense of safety that you didn’t want to admit you’d needed.

“Promise me you'll rest,” he said after a long moment, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might disturb the fragile quiet between you.

He brushed his hand across your forehead, feeling how much warmer you were now that you were lying down. His fingers lingered, caressing your skin in slow, soothing motions. He let out a quiet sigh, looking down at you with a softness in his eyes.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let out a quiet breath, feeling the warmth of his hand caressing you. It felt so comforting that you couldn't resist, your body finally surrendering to the heaviness of your fatigue.

“Promise me,” he repeated softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your back.

“I promise,” you mumbled, your voice thick with the weight of exhaustion.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he replied, his voice low and tender. He leaned down and kissed your forehead lightly, the feeling of his lips against your skin almost a promise.

You felt your eyelids grow heavier, and the warmth of his presence slowly lulled you into a deep, feverish sleep. Jude stayed beside you, his hand resting protectively on your back as he settled beside you, never once breaking contact.

And as you drifted off, you felt a quiet sense of gratitude wash over you. You were sick, yes, but you were also cared for in a way that made everything feel a little more bearable. With him so close, it was hard to stay awake, and soon, your breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep.

[yesihaveaobsession]

A Box of...... Affection?

Alastor x female! reader

Summary: Alastor shows up at the readers (yours) doorstep to confess his feelings for you in his, own twisted little ways.

A/N- Sir knows how to get the woman even though he's twisted.. haha

The night was usually quiet—the kind of quiet where every creak in the house sounded like thunder. You were curled up on your couch with your nose in a book when a sudden, sharp knock at the door made you jump practically off the couch. The knock was deliberate, precise, and carried an air of mischief you instantly recognized.

Alastor.

A mix of nervousness and excitement filled you as you took a deep breath, set your book aside, and made your way to the door. When you opened it, you were greeted by the tall, imposing figure of the Radio Demon himself. Alastor stood there, his ever-present grin in place, crimson eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite figure out. His arms were behind his back as usual, but the thing was he came bearing gifts.

“Ah, my dear! Good evening!” he greeted with a bow, his voice tinged with that familiar vintage radio static. “I trust I’m not interrupting?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the fact that he was here at all—especially since you usually met him at the hotel. This was… odd.

“Not at all,” you said, tilting your head. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, delivering a gift, of course!” Alastor replied, his grin widening as he held out a small, ornately wrapped box and a single, perfect red rose. Still bending down by his hips and twirled his microphone under he was leaning on it.

A rose? You hesitated, confused. None of this was adding up. Still, you reached out and took the items, your fingers brushing against his. The rose was stunning, but the box felt unnervingly heavy.

“Uh… thank you?” you said cautiously, trying to read him. Sure, he was always charming, but this was new.

You undid the crimson bow and opened the box. Inside was a heart—a real, beating heart. Its deep red flesh glistened under the dim porch light, nestled on a plush silk lining. He watched your reaction, taking it in.

You gasped, slamming the box shut as your mind scrambled to process what you’d just seen. “Alastor! What is this?!”

His grin never faltered. “A token of my affection, my dear! It’s quite fresh, I assure you. And the rose adds a touch of romance!”

“Affection?” Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “Are you saying—”

“Yes, indeed!” he interrupted, unnaturally cheerful. “I am quite taken with you, my dear—your charm, your wit, your delightful company. I thought it time to express my feelings in a way befitting a gentleman such as myself.”

You stared at him, your heart racing. Alastor—the Radio Demon—liked you? As in, liked you? The man who terrified all of Hell, who thrived on chaos and darkness, was standing on your porch confessing his feelings in his own twisted, unnerving way.

“I…” You struggled to find words. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say you’re delighted! Say you’re intrigued!” he said, leaning closer. “Or at least, say you’ll keep the heart as a memento!”

As unsettling as his confession was, it felt… genuine. He wasn’t just the Radio Demon right now—he was Alastor, someone who had gone out of his way to express his feelings in the only way he knew how. Looking into his eyes, you felt a hesitant smile tug at your lips.

“It’s… a lot to take in. But I think… I think I’m flattered,” you said, glancing at the blood-red rose and avoiding the box entirely. You didn’t want to know where he got the heart.

His grin widened, and the static in his voice softened. “Ah, splendid! I hoped you’d see the sentiment behind my gesture.”

“It’s… unique,” you admitted, letting out a small laugh. “But I’ll admit, I’m intrigued, Alastor. You have a very twisted sense of humor." You let out a breathless laugh.

He chuckled, straightening his posture and adjusting his bowtie. “Intrigue is an excellent start, my dear. Perhaps I could take you to dinner sometime? Something more traditional, if you’d prefer.”

You laughed softly, feeling a strange mix of amusement and fondness. “I think I’d like that.”

As he bid you goodnight and disappeared into the night, you stood there, lost in thought. You had no idea what chaos was coming, but for the first time, you were excited to see where it would lead.

[kelppsstuff]

Time of year

Summary: Alastor trying to impress you with mating season just starting

ALASTOR X F!READER

Masterlist

Warnings: nswf, biting, wax play, tied up, begging

Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @leathesimp @michelleszn @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @sirenetheblogger @jawline-of-steel

Alastor is a gentleman. Always had been, always will be. His mother had raised him to be one.

Every year Alastor would feel a change in the air — mating season — and every year he never indulged himself. Alastor had no interest in being with someone, why would he give them false hope?

This year things were different. This year he was living in a hotel for sinners to be rehabilitated. This year he’s back in hell after seven years of being gone. This year he met you.

Despite these differences he expected one thing to stay the same, mating season. He expected everything to remain normal this time of year, and at first he didn’t notice the slight changes.

It first started when he’d grow annoyed at people getting way to close to you.

—

Alastor walked out into the main room of this hotel. A normal thing for him.

He looked over and saw you at the bar, laughing with Husk. Alastor’s ear twitched with annoyance along with his eye. This wasn’t Tom and Jerry, Husker was not that funny of a cat.

Husker looked over your shoulder and noticed his soul owner giving him a threatening glare. Odd.

Alastor made his way over to the bar and placed a hand on your shoulder — which startled you since he hated another persons touch — he spoke with a grin that husk knew was him being pissy.

“Pardon the intrusion however I was going to ask if you would care to join me on a stroll.”

A simple ask that you agreed too, and you had thought the walk went swimmingly. However Alastor’s mood had just worsened.

He spent the whole walk just fending off creepy looks others would give you. He even sent his shadow away go torture a few.

—

You were walking down the stairs to angel — who stood by the door — putting on the back of your right dangling earring when Alastor saw you.

He spat out his coffee and began to choke on his own spit, you were absolutely gorgeous. You wore a small dark Maroon dress, that made him feel feral. That was his color.

He hurried to you before you and the spider could leave. “Darling! Where are you off too looking so charming?”

His words drew heat to your cheeks and you blessed him with a smile that made him feel like he was going to die in the best way possible. “Angel and I are heading out to that new club called consent.” Alastor’s mind went through simple math.

A club, that had people. People liked good-looking people. You looked divine. People would try and get with you. When hell freezes over.

“Perhaps I should accompany the two of you.”

“No need, I know it’s not your scene.”

You waved him goodbye and walked out. Alastor silently returned to his room. Where he very reasonably smashed every piece of furniture. All reasonable of course.

Alastor had just told himself he couldn’t let his guests of the hotel go out and fuck up there hard work. Let’s be honest though, he didn’t give to shits what angel was up too. He was staring at you.

He noticed a guy, about to walk up to you so he was quick. Grabbed your arm and twirled you into his chest.

You looked up in confusion and when you saw Alastor you voice was mixed with concern. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned down and whispered, “isn’t it obvious? I’m here to dance. I will say we could use better music.” He nipped at your ear with his sharp teeth — drawing blood that would no doubt leave a scratch later — and jazzy music started to play.

You giggled as you twirled you again. Your feet started to move faster in pace with his own.

Alastor picked you up and twirled you in the air. You felt almost alive again at the feeling. Alastor caught you and when you looked at him like he was the only person in the world, Alastor knew this was right. You were right.

—

The two of you continued to dance all night, and surprisingly everyone had got down with the fast pace jazz playing, not an ounce of complaining. 

Another thing that happened that night was people took photos of you and Alastor. Most had him glitched out but there was one, once that wasn’t.

It had been when he dipped you and you clanged to him in fear of falling. Alastor had a teasing grin and that photo had spread everywhere online.

Typically Alastor hated people being in his business, but he wouldn’t lie he loved the claim it gave you.

At first Alastor felt annoyed at the photo, but when he was walking around cannibal town he overheard two chaps talking about “the radios demon girl.”

He liked that name, he didn’t acknowledge the thought that popped in his mind after that.

‘I’d prefer Radio Demon wife.’

—

Nope this year mating season was normal. Right? Sure he felt a tad bit more possessive but it was normal. Wasn’t it?

—

When mating season came around Alastor never once indulged in the desire for a release. Hated the thought of even doing it.

Though when it became so unbearable that it caused him so much pain he decided once couldn’t be bad.

However it was the image of you in his mind that made him cum all over his hand.

That’s when he knew, this year was different.

—

He was scared at first but soon the need for you overcame that fear. He was the radio demon, he could do anything. So what if he experienced a little change? I mean have you seen you?

That’s when Alastor decided to pull the old charmer he once was when he was kicking in in the living world.

Alastor’s wouldn’t lie, he knew how to charm a lady, he’s had experience. Sure he hasn’t done any of that since he stepped into hell but he sure it couldn’t be that hard.

—

Alastor took a seat next to you at the vacant bar. He tapped his fingers as decided to open his mouth. And pure stupid slipped past it.

“So did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Alastor swears he saw a legit loading screen over your head. For the first time since ever Alastor was nervous.

“I think you have me confused with Lucifer.”

Rage bubbled into his skin at the sound of you saying someone else’s name. But nervousness washed that down.

Alastor made a terrible excuse and teleported away. “There’s always next time!” Sureeee.

—

Alastor was looking for you — something he had been doing often — only to find you in the kitchen with Nifty.

You smiled down and here and took a sip of the soup she gave you. “Absolutely lovely. You should go and give a bowl to Husk.” Nifty nodded excitedly and hurried off past Alastor.

You laughed a little and spoke to Alastor when you were sure Nifty was gone. “That was so salty oh my gosh.”

Alastor spoke before he could register you words even. “You wanna see if I’m salty?”

“What?”

“What?”

You two just stood there staring at one another for a good 10 seconds. Just processing. By the time your brain caught onto what he was saying he was already giving a stupid excuse to leave and rush to his room.

—

Now you had noticed Alastor trying to flirt. You noticed his little acts of service, and you noticed his jealous tendencies.

It was honestly funny on how Alastor would try to impress you. Alastor felt as if you weren’t interested in him. Let’s say that put quite the downer on his mood.

Alastor sat at the bar, drinking some whiskey when you walked past him. “Hey handsome.” He immediately perked up.

He became so needy for your attention and now that you were giving it to him? That made him want you more.

—

This was your first time in hell. Your first “mating season.” Most animalistic demons was around this time. So when you found Alastor knocking on your door in the middle of the night, good in hands, something in you went feral.

You invited him in to eat, he placed the food gently on your table. However Alastor felt like he needed to leave, or else he couldn’t control himself.

The smell of you all around? Not to mention he could practically taste your hormones on smell alone.

Alastor took a deep breath and started to excuse himself. “I should be off to bed now.”

He started to take steps to the door but you got in his way. Hand on his chest, eyes slightly begging yet demanding.

The two of you were quiet but the air was thick. It took you glancing one time at his lips for them to suddenly be on yours.

The kiss wasn’t soft, it was hard and rough. Like you was dehydrated and this was y’all’s first sip of water.

You pushed your hands into his hair while he tapped your legs. Understanding the silent command you jumped onto him, letting him pin you against the nearest wall.

You nipped his lower lip, drawing blood. The metallic taste mixed inside your mouth. It made Alastor even more painfully hard.

He let you stand and started to lead you two to the bed. Stripping you along the way as you did him.

By the time he pushed you into the mattress you only had your undergarments on while Alastor only had his pants.

The bed rocked slightly and hit the nightstand. “Careful Alastor the candle.”

Alastor’s gaze flickered over to the lit candle. He pushed you further up the bed and summoned some ropes. Effortlessly wrapping your hands to the headboard.

Alastor reached over to the candle and you whined out in anticipation. At first you were worried at the hot wax, but when Alastor tipped it slightly and the red mold dripped onto you skin you moan out in pleasure.

You hadn’t expected that to feel good but all you wanted was more. You had no doubt Alastor was a masochist but maybe you were one too.

“That’s a good girl.” His voice had a rasp that made you beg him for more.

“Please! Please Al.”

Alastor set aside the candle and started to kiss where the hot wax was starting to harden. He slightly snipped at your thighs causing you to beg him more.

“Please Alastor!”

“Please what?”

“Bite me.”

Bite you he did. Blood drew at the sharp bite he scattered across your thighs. Marking you his. He liked every drop of blood that would flow out the wound until it became to much. He couldn’t wait another second.

He discarded his pants and rubbed his top against your fold. Slightly grinding against your pussy.

“Please Alastor I need it.”

Fuck he needed it too but if he did this there would be no turning back. His afterlife would truly change forever.

But it already was changed, from the second he met you. So fuck it.

He thrusted up into you hard. While he would usually be a gentle dotting partner this time he just couldn’t wait.

He started the push himself all the way inside, not giving you a second to adjust. Blood dripped from your heat and Alastor grew to love the sight under him. You spread out blood, wax, his markings all over you.

He started to move quicker and quicker not giving you a second to adjust to his size. He fast a rough pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even knew existed. Like you were some porn star.

Alastor sure as hell was fucking you like one.

You clanged to the radio demon, feeling your end about to wash through you.

“Alastor! Oh god I’m going to cum.” He gripped you chin and kissed you roughly. “You cum with only my name in your mouth.”

He pinch your clit and you came hard. Alastor’s name was the only thing you knew as you cried out to him in pleasure.

Alastor didn’t stop, he was selfishly chasing his own release, even if you were overstimulated.

You felt tears form in your eyes and you clenched around him, while he spilled himself inside of you.

When you both came down your high — panting — he slipped himself out and gave you a tender kiss.

He placed tender loving kisses on your thigh and face, slightly massaging your legs, while also making sure his cum stayed deep inside you.

—

The next morning was filled with the same Lust as the night before, however it was more gentle.

He explained he was like this because of mating season and why you were like this as well. The two of you came to an agreement that this sexual relationship would end when mating season did, even if both of you felt like dying while agreeing to it.

However when the air returned to normal you two relationship did not. You two continued your sinful acts. Like the two of you could never get enough of one another.

It wasn’t long till you confessed your feelings for Alastor, and him returning them.

Ahhhh! I’m trying new things out with my banner so if it’s a bit different in my upcoming post then that’s why.

[mywhisperingwords]

spaces between us | george f. weasley

summary: after you break up with george you try to be friends word count: 8k masterlist

The air between you and George was heavy with the unsaid.

You both sat on the worn couch in the flat George shared with Fred, the familiar clutter of the Weasley household swirling around you mixed with the things that belonged to you—yet it felt distant, like a memory you were watching through a foggy window.

George had been quiet for the last few minutes, and you had let him be. There wasn’t anything left to say, not really. You both knew what was coming.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he finally said, his voice low, strained in a way you hadn’t heard before. The words stung, but you had known they were coming. You had been waiting for them, for what felt like ages.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak immediately. The lump in your throat felt like it could choke you if you let it. You couldn’t cry—not now, not when you had already made the decision yourself, even if the reality of it hurt more than you had anticipated.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he added, looking at you with something that was almost regret, but not quite. There was a certain heaviness in his eyes, like he had known this was coming long before you had admitted it to yourself.

“I know,” you whispered, the words tasting like betrayal. You could see how much it cost him to say them, and yet you could feel how much it cost you, too. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

There was a long pause, the silence stretching between you like a rope pulled tight, and neither of you knew if it would snap or hold steady.

“I just… I don’t see how we fit anymore,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands. “Not the way we used to. We’re not heading in the same direction, and I think we both know it.”

You couldn’t help but agree. In the beginning, it had been so easy, so natural. But now, every conversation, every plan for the future, felt like a tug of war. You wanted different things—needed different things—and it wasn’t fair to either of you to pretend otherwise.

“You’re right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Your chest ached with the truth of it, but the clarity brought no comfort. “We want different futures. And we’ve tried, haven’t we? We’ve tried so hard to make this work, but it’s not enough anymore.”

He looked at you then, searching your face, looking for something he couldn’t quite place. You had loved each other so fiercely, so completely, that it felt impossible to think it was over. And yet, here you were.

“I still love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, it felt like the ground beneath you might crumble. “I love you too, George,” you whispered, the ache in your chest deepening. “But love isn’t enough. Not when we’re this far apart.”

He nodded, though his jaw was tight, as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. His fingers twitched at his sides, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you wished things were different. You wished the two of you had been the exception, the ones who defied the odds. But life didn’t work that way. Not this time.

“I think… I think we need to let each other go,” you said, your voice shaking just slightly. But the decision was clear, like a bruise that had been forming under the skin for months and was now finally ready to break.

George didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stared at you, and you could see the fight inside him—he wanted to argue, to convince you there was another way, but he knew. You both knew.

Finally, he exhaled, the breath sounding like it had been stuck in his chest for far too long. “Yeah. You’re right.”

The words were final, and it felt like the world had shifted, like a chapter of your life had ended without any ceremony. And yet, it was still so painfully, heartbreakingly quiet.

You stood slowly, trying to keep your composure, but it was hard. Every part of you wanted to stay, to tell him that you could fix this, that you could still make it work. But the truth was clear now. You weren’t meant to be forever, and maybe that was the hardest part of all.

“I’ll go,” you said, your voice barely audible. “I’ll… I’ll leave you to it.”

“Goodbye, then,” George said, his voice low and hoarse, like it had taken everything he had just to say that.

And that was it. There were no grand declarations, no final words to ease the hurt. Just the silence, stretching between you as you turned and walked away, the door clicking shut behind you as the weight of everything settled in.

It had to happen, but that didn’t mean it didn’t break you both.

&.

The dim glow of the pub was familiar, the smell of butterbeer and roasted nuts mixing with the hum of quiet chatter. It was the place where all the memories seemed to hang in the air like ghosts—old friends, old arguments, old jokes. It had been a few weeks since you and George had split, and though the sting was still fresh, the weight had lessened. In some ways, the idea of seeing him again didn’t feel so much like reopening a wound but more like standing at the edge of an uncharted sea, ready to take the first tentative step into a new chapter.

You were already at the table, a drink in hand, waiting. Fred had promised to meet you both here, along with a few others. Everyone had been understanding, but the unspoken tension was still there. George had always been a part of the group, and you had too. It felt strange, like you were both trying to piece together something broken but determined to make it work.

The door opened, and George walked in. His hair was a bit longer now, his gait the same easy stride that had once made you feel like nothing could get in his way. He spotted you immediately, and for a moment, his eyes flickered with that old, familiar warmth—the kind that used to make your heart skip.

You both froze for a heartbeat, but it was over almost as soon as it started. He gave a tight smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. You returned it, though it felt more like a polite mask than anything genuine. The air between you both was thinner now, but it was still there, that invisible thread tying you together.

“Guess we’re both early,” you said, trying to ease the tension, even as your stomach twisted.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a seat across from you, his posture stiff. “Wanted to beat Fred here for once.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at that. “Good luck with that.”

He smirked, just for a moment, before leaning back in his chair. There was a long silence, but it wasn’t awkward—not really. Just two people trying to navigate a new dynamic, one they weren’t used to.

Fred, as expected, was the next to arrive, followed by the rest of the gang—Angelina, Lee, and Alicia. They greeted each other with the usual enthusiasm, but there was a softness in the way they looked between you and George, as if trying to gauge how things stood.

After the initial pleasantries, Fred’s gaze darted between you and George, and you could almost hear the unsaid words hanging in the air. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he shot you both a pointed look.

“So,” Fred said, his voice deliberately casual but with that teasing edge that only he could pull off. “You two doing okay?”

You met his eyes, the corner of your mouth lifting. “We’re good. We’ve been talking.”

George nodded in agreement, but there was something quiet in his expression. It wasn’t sadness anymore, more like acceptance—a kind of reluctant understanding.

Alicia, always the one to be direct, looked between you both and then at Fred, as if weighing the words she was about to say. “So, are we… allowed to still hang out together? I mean, not just for the sake of being polite, but because we genuinely still want to be around each other?”

You met George’s gaze, the question hanging in the air. You didn’t want to make anyone choose between you, not Fred, not Lee, not even yourself. It wasn’t fair. They were your friends, too.

“I think,” you began, your voice steady, “it would be silly for us to pretend we’re just going to disappear from each other’s lives. We’ve been friends too long for that.”

George nodded, looking down at his drink for a moment. When he spoke, it was quieter than usual, his voice rough but clear. “Yeah. I don’t want things to be awkward between us, not with the group. We all still care about each other, and I don’t want that to change.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, his smirk softer this time. “So you two are saying you’re still friends? Not just for the sake of the group?”

You glanced at George, and there was something almost relieved in the way his eyes softened. “Yeah,” you said with a sigh. “Not just for the group. We still care about each other. Just… in a different way.”

Fred nodded, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, then. Glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want to have to choose who’s getting a pint tonight.”

There was a laugh from Lee, and it cut through the last of the tension. The moment felt like a fragile thing—one that could shatter if any of you stepped too hard, but there was something unspoken in the way you all settled into your seats again, like maybe it would be okay after all.

“Good,” Fred said, raising his glass. “So, it’s settled. You two can still hate each other’s guts on the Quidditch pitch, but the rest of the time—friends.”

There was a collective nod around the table, and you felt a weight lift, but only slightly. It was a start. You didn’t expect everything to be smooth sailing from here on out, but you didn’t have to pretend, either. You didn’t have to pretend that you didn’t love George, but also that love didn’t always mean being together.

And maybe that was enough for now.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you were finally starting to breathe again. You could see George laughing with Fred across the table, and there was something normal about it, something familiar. It was as if you were both finding your way back to a place that wasn’t defined by the past, but by the people who had always been there for you, no matter what.

&

Fred’s flat was buzzing with laughter and chatter as the group gathered for one of their regular nights in. The coffee table groaned under the weight of mismatched glasses, half-eaten snacks, and a deck of cards long abandoned for more interesting conversation.

Alicia leaned back against the armrest of the couch, her drink held precariously in one hand as she playfully swatted at Fred with the other. Angelina was in the armchair opposite, one leg draped casually over the side, laughing at a joke Lee had just finished telling. The warmth of their camaraderie filled the room, but for you, it felt strangely distant.

You perched on the edge of the loveseat, acutely aware of George seated on the floor beside you. His shoulder brushed against your knee every time he shifted, a casual closeness that felt anything but casual.

Lee clapped his hands together, breaking the flow of conversation with the air of someone about to drop a bombshell. “Right, so here’s the thing,” he said, pointing a finger at George. “I have this friend you need to meet. She’s brilliant—smart, gorgeous, funny. Honestly, mate, you’d hit it off instantly.”

The room stilled for just a beat, the words hanging in the air like an unresolved chord.

“Lee,” Angelina said with a skeptical grin, “are you matchmaking again? Remember last time? That poor girl was mortified when you called her ‘a real fixer-upper.’”

Everyone erupted into laughter, and you forced a chuckle, feeling the warmth in your face betray you.

George joined in the laughter, though it sounded more reserved than usual. He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to you for the briefest of moments. “I don’t know, mate,” he said lightly. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“It’s not,” Lee insisted, leaning forward with dramatic earnestness. “This girl’s low-maintenance, chill. Nothing serious, unless you want it to be. Just dinner, that’s all I’m saying.”

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you play matchmaker, Jordan? What’s in it for you?”

“The joy of knowing I’ve improved George’s love life,” Lee shot back with mock indignation.

Fred, lounging on the floor by Angelina, snorted. “Low bar, that.”

George threw a balled-up napkin at him, but his lips twitched with amusement. He glanced your way again, this time more deliberately.

“Should I?” he asked, his tone half-joking, half-uncertain.

Everyone seemed to take it as rhetorical, laughter rippling through the room. But you could tell, from the way his voice softened at the end, that the question was meant for you.

Your chest tightened, the air suddenly too thin. This was your moment to say something, to offer even the smallest thread of hesitation, to admit—if only indirectly—that the idea of him with someone else made you feel like the floor was falling out from under you.

Instead, you plastered on a smile that felt like it might crack under the weight of your own lie. “Why not?” you said, your voice somehow light and steady despite the chaos inside. “It sounds like fun.”

George’s expression flickered, surprise crossing his features before he nodded slowly. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands. “Maybe it would be.”

Fred’s eyes darted to you, catching the strained smile you aimed at no one in particular. He didn’t say anything, but the furrow of his brow told you he’d noticed.

“Alright then!” Lee crowed, oblivious to the undercurrents shifting in the room. “I’ll set it up. George, trust me—this is going to change your life.”

George chuckled, though it sounded hollow to you. He glanced at you one last time, searching for something in your expression that you refused to show.

Angelina raised her glass. “To Lee’s matchmaking ventures,” she declared, her tone lighthearted.

“To disaster,” Alicia quipped, clinking her glass against Angelina’s.

“To George’s ‘maybe,’” Fred added, smirking as he lifted his drink.

The laughter carried on around you, filling the room with warmth that felt entirely at odds with the ache building in your chest.

George didn’t notice when you stood and excused yourself to the kitchen, your voice carefully cheerful. But Fred did.

He followed a moment later, leaning against the doorway as you filled a glass of water you didn’t actually want. “Careful, love,” he said softly, his usual humor muted. “You’re starting to crack that perfect facade of yours.”

You didn’t look at him, afraid that one glance at his knowing expression would undo you completely. “I’m fine,” you said.

“Yeah,” Fred said dryly, “and I’m a bloody prefect.”

You set the glass down harder than necessary, finally meeting his gaze. “What do you want me to say, Fred? That I’m jealous? That I want to scream at him not to go? That it feels like I’m losing him all over again?”

Fred’s smirk was gone, replaced by something quieter. “Maybe not to me,” he said gently. “But someone needs to hear it.”

You shook your head, your throat tightening painfully. “It’s too late for that.”

Fred didn’t argue, though his expression told you he disagreed.

In the next room, the laughter continued, but it felt worlds away.

&

The pub was already bustling when you arrived, the faint hum of laughter and clinking glasses spilling out onto the cobbled street. You stepped inside, scanning the crowd until you spotted the familiar faces of your friends at your usual booth near the back. Fred waved you over, a wide grin plastered on his face, and you managed to muster a smile in return.

The group had claimed the largest table in the corner, pint glasses and plates of chips scattered haphazardly across its surface. George was seated across from you, his arm draped casually over the back of the bench. Beside him sat a girl you didn’t recognize—his date.

Her name was Emily. You’d heard about her through the grapevine in the weeks since Lee had first suggested the match. She was everything Lee had promised: pretty, sweet, easygoing. Too easygoing, you thought bitterly, though you knew it was unfair.

You slipped into the seat beside Fred, grateful for his familiar presence. He nudged your shoulder lightly in greeting, his expression flickering with a quiet kind of concern that he didn’t voice.

The mood at the table was light, laughter flowing easily as everyone shared stories and teased each other. Emily was holding her own well, chiming in with anecdotes that had even Angelina chuckling. You tried to focus on the conversation, on the warmth of your friends, but your gaze kept drifting to George.

He looked happy—at ease in a way that felt both foreign and painfully familiar. His hand rested on the table, just inches from Emily’s, and you caught yourself staring at the space between them, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d reach out and close it.

Fred’s knee knocked against yours under the table, jolting you from your thoughts. When you glanced at him, he didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow as if to say You okay?

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak.

“So, Emily,” Alicia said, leaning forward with a sly grin. “What dirt has George spilled about us so far? Be honest—who did he warn you about first?”

“Oh, definitely Lee,” Emily said with a laugh. “He called you the instigator.”

Lee clutched his chest dramatically. “I’m wounded, truly. And here I thought George was my greatest defender.”

“Defender?” Angelina snorted. “You mean enabler.”

The group dissolved into laughter again, but you couldn’t join in. Your hand curled tightly around your glass, the condensation slick against your palm.

Fred shifted beside you, his hand brushing briefly against yours. It wasn’t much—just a fleeting, grounding touch—but it was enough to steady you for the moment.

“Alright,” Alicia said, still grinning. “But who’s the biggest troublemaker?”

George smiled, glancing at Emily. “That’d be Fred. Hands down.”

Fred gasped in mock outrage. “You wound me, dear brother! I’m a paragon of virtue.”

“Virtue my arse,” Angelina shot back. “Remember that time you charmed all the chairs in the common room to sing Christmas carols in July?”

“That was a masterpiece,” Fred retorted.

You laughed softly at that, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. Fred caught the glimmer of amusement in your eyes and grinned, but the moment was fleeting.

“George,” Emily said, leaning toward him slightly, “you didn’t tell me your brother was so—what’s the word?—chaotic.”

“Oh, he’s chaotic, alright,” George said with a chuckle. “But he keeps things interesting.”

You swallowed hard, the warmth of the group’s laughter suddenly feeling stifling. You pushed your glass away and excused yourself, heading toward the bar.

The pub was crowded, and you had to weave through clusters of people to find a quiet corner. You leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath as you tried to push down the ache clawing at your chest.

You weren’t alone for long. Fred appeared beside you, leaning his elbows on the counter like he’d just wandered over by chance. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said lightly.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start.”

He didn’t respond right away, just studied you with that infuriatingly perceptive look of his. “You’re holding up well,” he said finally.

“Am I?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Fred didn’t push, didn’t press for details you weren’t ready to give. Instead, he ordered two glasses of water from the bartender and slid one in front of you. “Stay hydrated, love. You’ll need your strength for all the passive-aggressive smiling you’re doing.”

Despite yourself, you smiled—a real one this time. “Thanks, Fred.”

“Anytime,” he said, tipping his glass toward you in a silent toast.

Back at the table, you noticed Alicia watching you when you returned. Her gaze lingered just a second too long, a flicker of understanding in her eyes as you resumed your seat.

And then the conversation shifted, the moment passed, and the night carried on. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that Alicia had seen more than you’d meant to show.

&

The shop smelled faintly of sawdust and peppermint, the mingling scents of George and Fred’s latest inventions.

You walked in, the sound of laughter drawing you toward the counter where your friends had gathered. Angelina was seated on the edge, legs swinging as she grinned at Alicia, while Fred leaned casually against a display shelf, munching on a chocolate bar that was undoubtedly not for sale.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Fred teased when he spotted you.

“Traffic,” you lied, shrugging off your coat. In truth, you’d spent an extra ten minutes pacing your flat, convincing yourself this evening would be fine.

“Well, now we can properly celebrate,” Alicia said, raising the glass of Butterbeer she’d somehow acquired. “To Angie and her ridiculously impressive promotion!”

“Ridiculous is right,” Angelina said, though her tone was proud. “I’ve been putting up with that boss for years. About time I was running things instead.”

“You’re a force to be reckoned with, Angie,” Fred said, lifting his own imaginary toast. “Soon you’ll own the place.”

“She’ll own the world,” Alicia added.

The conversation carried on easily, the group’s familiar banter filling the shop with warmth. You felt yourself relaxing slightly, content to linger on the edges of the chatter. But then George walked in, his arrival announced by the jingle of the bell above the door.

And Emily was with him.

Your stomach tightened, but you forced a smile, nodding in her direction as the group greeted her warmly.

“Emily!” Lee called out from behind the counter. “Thought you were gonna miss the party.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her voice bright as she slipped off her coat.

You tried not to notice the way George hovered close to her, his hand brushing against her back as he guided her toward the others. But Fred noticed. Of course he did. He caught your eye from across the room, his brow furrowing slightly before he looked away.

It wasn’t long before George found you lingering near one of the shelves. “Can we talk for a second?” he asked, his voice low.

You hesitated but nodded, letting him lead you toward the stockroom. The door swung shut behind you, muffling the laughter from the shop floor.

“Are you okay?” he asked, turning to face you.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the directness of the question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His jaw tightened, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “I mean… with everything. With her being here. I just—I don’t want this to be weird for you.”

“It’s not weird,” you lied, forcing a shrug. “She’s nice. And… it’s good for you, George. You deserve someone like her.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, searching your face as if trying to find the cracks in your carefully constructed armor. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Positive,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “This is what we both wanted, right? To move on?”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah. Right.”

You hated the way your chest ached at his quiet agreement, but you didn’t let it show.

By the time you both rejoined the group, Angelina was already rallying everyone to head out for dinner. She caught your arm as you grabbed your coat, her voice low. “Hey. Just so you know… I didn’t mean to make things harder for you by inviting her. If I’d known, I—”

“It’s fine,” you cut in quickly, offering her a tight smile.

Angelina hesitated, her gaze softening. “If you ever need to talk—or scream into a pillow or hex someone—I’m here. And so are Alicia and Fred.”

“I know,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Thanks, Angie.”

The restaurant was warm and bustling, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread wafting through the air. The group was seated at a long table near the back, laughter and chatter filling the space as plates were passed around.

Emily was seated beside George, and though they weren’t overtly affectionate, every small interaction between them felt like a dagger. You caught glimpses: the way he leaned in to hear something she said, the soft laugh that followed.

Fred, seated across from you, kept a watchful eye, his foot nudging yours gently under the table whenever he noticed your gaze lingering too long. Alicia, beside him, was more subtle, her hand brushing your arm in quiet reassurance when she passed you the butter.

You tried to focus on the celebration, on Angelina’s stories and Fred’s relentless teasing. But your mind kept circling back to the way George seemed so… settled.

It wasn’t until dessert that you realized he wasn’t.

You glanced up to find his gaze on you, his expression unreadable as he caught you watching him. He didn’t look away immediately, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had faded into the background.

But then Emily said something, drawing his attention back to her, and the moment was gone.

Later that night, you returned to your flat, the quiet pressing in on you like a weight. The space felt colder, lonelier, despite the familiar comfort of your favorite blanket and the faint scent of the candles you’d lit earlier.

You sat on the edge of the sofa, staring at the photo on the coffee table—a candid shot of the whole group at the Burrow last Christmas. George’s arm was draped over your shoulder, his smile wide and easy, his love for you written in every line of his face.

The tears came before you could stop them, hot and bitter as they streaked down your cheeks.

“What have I done?” you whispered to the empty room, your voice breaking.

You curled into yourself, clutching the blanket as the memories crashed over you—the sound of his laugh, the warmth of his touch, the way he used to look at you like you were his whole world.

And now he was trying to build a new one, and you’d all but handed him the bricks.

&

The days turned into weeks, and everywhere you went, it seemed George and Emily were there too.

At the shop, they shared quiet laughter over a joke you couldn’t hear while you restocked shelves. You kept your focus on your work, determined not to let your gaze linger too long. But when Fred saw you sneaking a glance, he tossed a Pygmy Puff your way, grinning. “Eyes on the merchandise, mate.”

At group hangouts, George held the door open for Emily, his hand brushing the small of her back. Fred, always attuned to your silences, leaned over to tell you a completely nonsensical story about a gnome invasion at the Burrow until you were laughing despite yourself.

At the pub, Emily whispered something into George’s ear that made him smile. You excused yourself to the restroom, pretending not to care. When you returned, Fred had taken your seat, shielding your view with a well-timed joke. “You missed it,” he said cheerfully. “Lee just volunteered to dye his eyebrows purple for charity.”

Still, no amount of distraction could stop the nights from ending the same way: alone in your flat, convincing yourself this arrangement was fine.

&

The pub was packed, as usual, the booth filled with your friends’ laughter and clinking glasses. You’d purposely chosen a seat at the far end, keeping your distance from George and Emily, who sat close together.

Fred slid in beside you, nudging a Butterbeer toward your hand. “Looked like you needed this,” he said, his voice low enough to keep the conversation between you.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a small sip.

Angelina and Alicia were caught up in animated wedding talk—a friend of theirs, Lee was attempting to outwit Fred with puns, and the mood was light and cheerful. But as always, your attention wandered to George.

And that’s when you saw him.

At the bar, a familiar face from Hogwarts stood, chatting easily with the bartender. His sandy hair was messier than you remembered, but the confident smile was unmistakable.

“Is that Sam Turner?” Alicia asked, her eyes narrowing as she followed your gaze.

“Yeah,” you said after a pause. “I’ll be back.”

You crossed the pub, tapping Sam on the shoulder. When he turned and recognized you, his face lit up. “Well, look who it is!”

“Long time, no see,” you said, laughing as he pulled you into a friendly hug.

The two of you fell into easy conversation, catching up on the years since Hogwarts. Sam’s eyes darted toward your friends’ booth, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is that George Weasley?”

“Yeah.”

“And—hold on. Is he with someone? I thought you two were…”

“We’re not,” you said quickly, forcing a small laugh. “Not anymore.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “I thought you two were, like, forever. Everyone thought so.”

You forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow. “Well, everyone was wrong.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“This friends-with-your-ex thing? It’s the stupidest idea ever. Especially with someone like George. Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but anyone with eyes could see how much he loved you. And how much you loved him.”

Your stomach twisted, his words hitting far too close to home.

“You don’t just move on from something like that,” Sam continued. “And pretending you can? It’s only going to hurt you more.”

Before you could respond, you felt eyes on you. George was watching from the booth, his expression unreadable. When you met his gaze, he quickly turned away, joining the conversation around him.

George sat stiffly, his drink untouched as the laughter around him grew louder. Fred leaned closer, his voice barely audible over the noise. “Something bothering you?”

George shook his head. “Just tired.”

Fred’s eyes followed George’s gaze toward the bar, where you were still talking to Sam, laughing at something he’d said.

“Old school friend,” Fred said casually, leaning back in his seat.

George frowned. “I know who he is.”

Fred didn’t miss the subtle tension in George’s shoulders, the way his jaw tightened slightly. “You okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” George asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Fred smirked faintly but didn’t press. “No reason at all.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice again. “But, just saying, you’re sitting next to someone who might think differently.”

George glanced at Emily, who was engrossed in a conversation with Angelina and Lee. His fingers drummed against his glass before he stilled them, forcing a faint smile. “It’s fine.”

“Sure,” Fred said lightly, taking a long sip of his drink.

You walked home that night, Sam’s words echoing in your mind. You don’t just move on from something like that. The thought twisted in your chest, mingling with everything you’d tried so hard to suppress.

Back at the flat, George sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees, his hands rubbing at his temples. Across the hall, Fred knocked softly on the doorframe.

“Mind if I be totally honest with you?” Fred asked, stepping inside without waiting for an answer.

George looked up, his face drawn.

“You’re not as fine with this as you think you are,” Fred said bluntly.

George’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m trying to move on.”

Fred tilted his head, studying his brother for a long moment. “Are you? Or are you just pretending it’s the right thing to do?”

George didn’t respond, but the answer was written all over his face.

&

Angelina and Alicia’s flat was warm and welcoming, filled with the familiar hum of chatter and laughter. The group had fallen into their usual rhythm—Fred monopolizing the snacks, Lee annoying Angelina with some awful jokes, and George quietly leaning against the armrest of the sofa.

You’d settled into a corner, nursing your drink and trying not to focus on the way Emily sat beside George, her hand brushing his every so often. The sting was duller now, but it hadn’t faded. It lurked beneath the surface, masked by forced smiles and careful avoidance.

“And once things settle down at work,” Emily was saying, her voice carrying over the conversation, “George and I were talking about maybe taking a trip. Italy, wasn’t it?”

You froze. Your grip tightened on the glass, your heart dropping as you felt the weight of her words.

George shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, we, uh… talked about it.”

Your eyes flickered to him. He looked as though he wanted to melt into the couch, his forced smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Emily didn’t notice. “I mean, it’s just an idea for now,” she continued, her tone light. “But it would be nice to plan something—maybe even a little further down the line. You know, something long-term.”

Fred coughed loudly, earning a warning glare from Alicia. Lee, sensing the tension, cracked a joke about George needing sunscreen in Italy, which earned a few chuckles.

You barely heard it. Your chest felt tight, a familiar ache blooming there.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Angelina said, though her glance at you was fleeting and full of understanding.

You forced a smile and nodded along, not trusting your voice to stay steady.

It didn’t take long for the walls to close in. The laughter and conversation seemed to grow louder, each sound pulling you further away from the carefully constructed calm you’d maintained all evening.

You excused yourself quietly, slipping out into the hallway. The cool air outside hit you as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. You hadn’t made it far when you heard the door creak open behind you.

“Wait.”

You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

George stepped out, his footsteps hesitant. “Are you all right?”

You swallowed, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

A bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “What gave it away?”

He sighed, stepping closer. “Look, if this is about Emily—”

“It’s not about Emily,” you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended. You turned to face him, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “This is about us, George. Or whatever it is we’ve been pretending to be these past few weeks.”

His brow furrowed. “We’re trying to be friends.”

“That’s the problem,” you said, your voice trembling. “We can’t be friends. We could never be just friends.”

George blinked, taken aback. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending, George,” you said, your voice breaking. “I can’t sit there and watch you fall for someone else—someone who isn’t me—and act like it doesn’t kill me inside.”

His expression softened, his shoulders dropping. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” you cut him off. “You’re trying to move on, and you should. You deserve to be happy. But I can’t… I can’t be here for it. I can’t be your friend and watch it happen.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you.

“I thought I could do this,” you admitted, tears burning in your eyes. “I thought I could put everything aside because it was worth keeping you in my life. But I was wrong. I can’t. Not like this.”

George ran a hand through his hair, his own voice strained. “You think this is easy for me?”

“You’re doing a better job of pretending than I am,” you said quietly, wiping at your eyes.

His gaze dropped, his jaw tightening. “You think Emily’s what I want?”

“I don’t know, George,” you said, your voice breaking again. “But she’s what you have now. And I can’t be around for that. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. I just…” You took a deep breath, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t.”

George looked at you, the conflict in his eyes so raw it made your chest ache. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but no words came.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. And before he could respond, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the dim light of the hallway.

&

The pub was alive with its usual hum of chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the familiar aroma of butterbeer mingling with something stronger. Fred leaned back in his chair, lazily twirling a coaster between his fingers while Lee enthusiastically retold a particularly embarrassing story from their Hogwarts days.

Angelina rolled her eyes. “Lee, you’ve told that story a thousand times. Nobody cares about the time you ‘accidentally’ turned your hair pink in Potions.”

“It wasn’t accidental,” Alicia muttered, smirking as she sipped her drink.

Even George chuckled weakly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He’d been quiet all night, a shadow of the vibrant, quick-witted man they all knew.

“Oi, George,” Fred said, tossing the coaster onto the table. “You’re quieter than usual. What’s eating you?”

George glanced up, startled, as though he hadn’t realized they were watching him. “Nothing.”

Fred gave him a look. “Mate, come on. You’ve been sulking for weeks.”

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Does this have something to do with Emily? Where is she, by the way?”

George hesitated, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. Finally, he exhaled heavily. “We broke up.”

There was a collective pause around the table, the sudden confession sinking in.

“What?” Angelina asked, leaning forward. “When?”

“About a week ago,” George admitted, his voice low.

Fred frowned. “And you’re just now telling us?”

George shrugged, looking down at his drink. “It’s not exactly something I wanted to talk about.”

Angelina exchanged a glance with Alicia, who folded her arms. “Did something happen? I mean, you two seemed fine.”

“That’s the thing,” George said, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “I thought we were fine too. But Emily said… She said I wasn’t really there. That I was… distracted.”

“Distracted how?” Lee asked, genuinely curious.

George hesitated, his jaw tightening. “She said it always felt like I was waiting for someone else. That I wasn’t really trying to move on—I was just… pretending.”

Fred stilled, the teasing glint in his eyes fading as he studied his brother. “And was she right?”

George didn’t answer right away. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe she was. I mean, I cared about her—I really did. But it was never… It wasn’t the same.”

The words hung in the air, and everyone knew who he meant without him having to say it.

Alicia’s lips parted in quiet realization. “Oh, George…”

“She told me to,” George said suddenly, his voice cracking. He looked up, his eyes shining with a mixture of regret and confusion. “She told me to move on. To give Emily a chance. She said it was fine—that she was fine.”

Fred leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “And you believed that?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” George snapped, his frustration spilling over. “She told me to! She sat there with that forced smile of hers and practically pushed me into it. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she said it was okay, so I tried to believe her.”

Fred’s eyes darkened, but it was Alicia who spoke next. “George, you know her better than anyone. Did she seem fine?”

George opened his mouth, then closed it again, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. I thought she was… I mean, she said she was.”

Angelina shook her head, her tone gentle but firm. “George, she wasn’t fine. She never was.”

“What do you mean?”

“You really think she was okay with all of this?” Alicia asked, her voice soft but pointed. “George, she loves you. She’s always loved you. She’s been breaking herself into pieces just to make sure you were happy.”

Fred finally spoke, his voice quiet but resolute. “She didn’t push you toward Emily because she was fine. She did it because she thought it was what you wanted. And she couldn’t stand in the way of that.”

George stared at him, his throat working as he tried to process the words. “But I…” He paused, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want Emily. I just wanted her to tell me not to.”

“She wasn’t going to do that,” Angelina said softly. “Because she thought she was doing the right thing. She thought it was what you needed.”

The silence that followed was heavy, each of them lost in their thoughts.

Finally, Lee let out a low whistle, breaking the tension. “Blimey. This is like something out of one of those tragic novels Alicia keeps making us read.”

Alicia threw a crumpled napkin at him, though her smile was faint. “Not the time, Lee.”

Fred leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight. “Well, you’ve cocked this up, haven’t you?”

“Fred!” Angelina hissed, though even she didn’t sound particularly mad.

“No, he’s right,” George muttered, his hands tightening into fists. “I’ve made a bloody mess of everything. And now she’s shut herself away, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

Fred’s expression softened slightly. “You know how to fix it. You’ve just got to stop being a coward about it.”

George met his brother’s gaze, and for the first time that evening, a flicker of determination appeared in his eyes.

Angelina leaned forward, her tone gentler now. “George, she loves you. But if you don’t tell her how you feel, she’ll think you’ve moved on for good. You need to be honest with her—for both your sakes.”

George nodded slowly, his resolve hardening. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I need to talk to her.”

Fred smirked, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now go on, before she barricades her flat entirely.”

The group watched as George stood, grabbing his coat and heading toward the door.

“Do you think he’ll actually do it?” Lee asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fred leaned back, a smug grin on his face. “If he doesn’t, I’ll drag him there myself.”

&

The knock at your door sends a jolt through your chest, breaking the silence you’ve wrapped yourself in for days. You freeze, staring at the handle like it might burn you if you got too close. You could ignore it—you should ignore it. But then you hear his voice, muffled yet unmistakable.

“Can we talk?”

It’s soft, tentative, and it holds a weight that settles in your stomach. You grip the edge of the counter as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright. You’ve spent days fortifying yourself, layering walls of logic and pain around your heart to keep him out. To keep yourself safe.

But his voice slips through the cracks.

Your feet move before your mind can stop them, carrying you to the door. When you open it, George is standing there, looking like he’s been standing in the rain even though the sky is clear. His hands are stuffed in his jacket pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched, like he’s bracing for something.

For you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi.” The word feels too small, too fragile, for the storm brewing in your chest.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his brown eyes searching yours.

You hesitate, the weight of the last few weeks pressing against your ribs. But then you step aside, letting him in, because you’ve never been able to turn him away.

He walks into your flat, and for a moment, he just stands there, like he doesn’t know where to start. His presence fills the space, making it feel both too small and too big all at once.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You swallow hard, your voice tight when you ask, “For what?”

“For everything. For making this harder than it already was. For… not seeing what it was doing to you.”

You look away, your eyes tracing the edge of the table. “It’s not just you, George. I went along with it. I thought I could handle it.”

“But you couldn’t,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “And I hate that I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Your chest tightens as his words settle over you. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re here, and it’s still broken.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “It doesn’t have to stay broken.”

You laugh softly, but it’s bitter, hollow. “We tried, George. We tried, and we couldn’t make it work. What’s different now?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Because I was an idiot. Because I thought… I thought if I tried to move on, it would hurt less. But it didn’t. It just made me realize that no one else could ever be you.”

Your breath hitches, his words hitting you square in the chest. You try to look away, but he steps into your line of sight, his voice soft yet steady.

“I broke up with Emily.”

Your heart skips, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t love her,” he says simply, his gaze unwavering. “Because I was only with her because I thought it was what you wanted. Because the only person I want… is you.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and raw. You feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath you crumbling away.

“But what about everything else?” you ask, your voice trembling. “What about the reasons we broke up in the first place? We still want different things, George. Love isn’t enough to fix that.”

He nods, his jaw tightening. “I know. And I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I don’t have all the answers, but… I know I don’t want a future that doesn’t have you in it. We can figure the rest out together. If you’ll let me.”

You stare at him, your heart torn between hope and fear. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve been without you,” he says, his voice breaking. “And it was the worst thing I’ve ever felt. I don’t care if it’s messy or hard—I just want you, however I can have you.”

His words chip away at the walls you’ve built, and before you know it, you’re stepping forward, your arms wrapping around him. He pulls you close, his breath warm against your hair.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” you whisper, your voice muffled against his chest.

“You won’t,” he promises, his grip tightening. “Not if I can help it.”

It’s not perfect—it’s far from it—but for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe again. You know there’s still so much to work through, but as you stand there in his arms, you feel something you haven’t in a long time.

Hope.

[noobsoconfusing]

‘twin fantasy’_hamzahthefantastic

summary: just when hamzah thought he finally had a solid situation with you, the overwhelming feelings of being loved for the first time catch you, drown you.

angst, internet situationship au, hamzah being himself, kinda codependency, awkward, avoidant attachment issues.

>_<

if hamzah could describe the feeling of loneliness mixed with whatever the fuck being in love meant in only one word, it would reduce simply to: you.

it was the way your eyes glitched when you blinked in front of your low quality web cam, or maybe how you typed when you were in a hurry, always reminding yourself to maybe, just maybe, type something nicer so he didn’t feel like he was the problem.

so, as he stares directly at his phone screen, his eyes itchy and irritated from waiting to see you online, he decides to quickly type something to catch your attention.

hamzahthefantastic: the other night i cried while thinking of having sex with you

and so he waits. and waits, and waits.

the green dot next to your contact name appears and he cringes at himself for letting out an audible shriek of excitement.

y/n: hamzah!!!!

y/n: fr?

he smiles, shaking his head because yeah, it was for real, but also because he had gotten what he wanted. your attention.

hamzahthefantastic: lol. maybe. yeah. i dunno

hamzahthefantastic: wanna facetime?

y/n: hold on i’ll call you :)

>_<

silence. comforting moments between hazy stares and timid laughter. hamzah enjoyed this.

“your room is messy again, y/n” he mentions, peeking as much as he can from the position your webcam is in.

“yeah, i haven’t really got time to clean up… but yours is messy too!” you point, the camera glitches at your sudden loud voice.

“living alone kinda sucks, you know? at least i had my room clean when i lived with my parents, a warm plate of food too, and even allowance money!” he rolled his eyes, and you nodded.

hamzah and you had been friends ever since he lived with his parents, so you got to see the whole process of him moving to a different city, and you were there for him when he got his first place, and then his first job, and his first pets, and so on..

your heart wrenched when you realised you had lived a whole damn life by his side, however, behind a screen.

“wish i could live with you, hamzah..” you quietly say, hoping he doesn’t catch on, but he does, used to your quiet demeanour.

“me too, y/n.” a glitchy smile appears from his side of the screen, and you copy it.

and god, you love his smile. it’s so weird, so odd how the smile and physical happiness of someone that lives yet so far away from you can infect you with such joy. disgusting feelings arise from your stomach.

stupid fucking love and stupid fucking damned distance!

“for real? like, for ‘for real?” your voice shakes.

he nods with seriousness invading his face. “hell yeah, for real. i’d love to live with you, in fact, i do feel like i live with you even now, you know? we talk ever day, i see your face every- well, not every day, but enough to keep me going for the week!” he smiled, referring to those times you didn’t feel good enough to facetime, so he settled for texting, which made him equally happy.

“oh man…” you mutter. feelings enough, so damn enough. you don’t know what to do with your mind, and you don’t know why it’s racing so fast, imagining billions of scenarios.

he notices your manners. hamzah suddenly becomes self aware. scared he has said something wrong.

“are you-?”

“i love you.” you quickly cut him off, its not your intention though, just the lag delaying your confession.

confession that has already been confessed plenty of times.

“hey! i love you too!” as his soul finds its way back into his body, hamzah admits. joy suddenly running through his body like gasoline and fire consuming a wreck.

silence. you look up to stare at his pixelated frame. and he’s so beautiful. and you think this is all a damn dream.

“but do you like me?” the undertone of your sore voice makes its way throughout your sentence, betraying you.

he tilts his head like a confused puppy. you bite back a tiny smile.

“what do you mean? why are you asking that? do you not think i like you?” hey asks, confused and aching for a quick response.

you think a bit, not even knowing what you meant by that stupid question.

“nevermind, hah! it’s nonsense, really…” you try to sound convincing.

for your misfortune, hamzah knows you way better than you think.

“not nonsense, something is bugging you and i can tell.” he adjusts his headphones as he says that, trying to get a better listen at your reply.

“you.”

hamzah furrows his eyebrows at your quick answer.

“huh?”

“it bugs me that i am always thinking of you, that’s my issue, yeah?” you say, a bit more loose, “i always think about how amazing and how wonderful it wouldve been being your neighbour or your friend from school, but no, i am stuck here a thousand and a million more miles away from you and i can’t do anything to cut the distance short.” you sigh.

hamzah bites his lower lip, and he thinks, oh, how a thought you must have been saving for a long time also affects him in severe ways. he thinks the same.

“you know, y/n? i don’t think it was, you know, the amazing casualties of life that made us end up talking to each other until four in the fucking morning. you know what i think? that you were actually made for me.” he shrugs his shoulders and tries to put on a smile for you, even though he wishes he could just cry…or something.

“right.” you sigh. “hamzah, i just… i feel like my whole life revolves around you, is that weird? like, i wake up and see if you texted me while i was asleep. then i go about my day and still think about you, and then when you text me i just.. drop everything else to spend time with you.” you try to avoid the camera, or his gaze. “do you think that’s weird? am i weird?”

your face drops as he bursts out laughing.

“no! not weird at all, y/n! you see, i- okay, i do the same… you’re so pretty, inside and outside and you’re so thoughtful and so kind and beautiful and just… yourself, that i find myself thinking about you and your antics for hours, if not the whole day!” he lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction, shaking his head with a smile because letting all of his emotions out felt so fucking great.

“you’re so weird, so dumb…” you smile, even if you feel like your eyes are about to shed waterfalls of tears.

“we can be weird.” he adds. “it’s only cool if we’re both weird.” his voice is soft and low just like always. so genuine.

“right, yeah.” you smile too.

hamzah can’t help but secretly take a picture of your face, the dim lighting of your room accentuates your features perfectly and he finds himself more and more invested in you.

“yeah, right..”

>_<

hamzah’s voice fills your ears in a soothing manner.

while you carefully listen, you can’t help but dissociate from reality. your mind occupied in something you can’t really comprehend.

“…a video, like in a youtube channel, do you think that’s a good idea?” his voice slowly becomes more present, and you snap your head to his direction. “are you there…?”

“yeah, sorry, just mind fog, hah!” you reply forcing a smile.

“alright, are you okay? have you eaten today? do you wanna end the call so you can sleep?” hamzah asks and you feel a little bit dizzy from all the questions that come out of his mouth.

“yeah- no! i am fine, what were you saying about a video on youtube?” you quickly try to bring the focus to him again.

hamzah frowns so quickly that you think it’s a glitch. but he smiles right away.

“i was saying, i was thinking about posting something on youtube.” he repeats. “you think that’s a good idea?” you come to realise how hamzah always asks for your opinion, always seeking your approval.

you nod. “yeah, i think it’d be really cool, maybe you’ll get famous one day!”

his laugh fills your heart, and makes you flash a smile too.

“nah, i don’t think so, it’ll be just for fun, just to kill time, i kinda need a distraction from thinking ‘bout you all day, right?” he says.

and what he said, keeps playing in your mind for a while.

distraction. from you.

“yeah, cool!”

and you try your best to keep track of the conversation, but you’ve been so tired.

so tired.

not sleepy, somehow. just so, so fucking tired.

>_<

your surprised face comes up to the screen as this time he is wearing a grey hoodie, different from the black one he always uses.

“cute. you look like… well, something cute!” he says making the screen bigger so he can see you better.

“why?” you laugh, “something?”

“yeah, something. you know, you’re so unique i can’t even describe you or compare you to anything. i love you a lot, y/n…”

stop. please. stop.

you think. the feeling of need inside your chest hurts and burns after every word he says. after every sentence. everything reminds you that he’s so far away, that you are probably never going to touch him. never feel him.

and the screen is so cold and so hard and so lifeless, and you wonder, how can something inanimate hold your biggest desire inside? how can hamzah live inside your device? how can it hold so much meaning inside its metallic shell?

“i love you.” you bluntly say. “i love you so much it hurts and i wish you could make it stop hurting so fucking bad.” a desperate laugh erupts from your throat, one that screams for help.

“oh, baby, i wish i could hold you so close. never gonna let you go once i have you here with me, alright? im gonna glue your body to mine and we will just have to live like that…” an exaggerated version of his deep fantasy came out, but still, he was very much serious.

“sounds good.” you reply.

“fuck yeah it does” he sighs, but not defeated, just full of hope. one of you had to be hopeful, right?

“fuck yeah…” you repeated, mind fog attacking you once again.

>_<

his grey hoodie on again, and you start to think he hasn’t washed it in the full week that has passed.

it’s alright though, you love him that way.

“i keep having these… dreams about you” he says. “odd dreams, not nightmares though, just weird dreams”

“me too.” you say. the guilt of the neediness inside your tummy makes its way to your brain. eating you up.

“what about?” hamzah asks, more invested now that he knows you dream about him too.

“you first.” you deadpan.

“fantasies. really fucking good fantasies, though.”

“about?” you ask again.

“sex and… whatnot.” oh. he’s so serious and so direct and so honest.

you can’t hide your surprise, nor the blush that creeps up to your cheeks.

“oh, i guess… me too.” and your voice shakes because it’s so odd to say this out loud.

“i don’t know. im so used to you, i just imagine whats like to… well, be with you. and touch you and just feel your body against mine.”

“sometimes i feel like i crave a touch i’ve never felt before. how can i yearn for something i have never tasted?” you ask, and he opens his eyes, already wide.

“yeah, i feel the same.”

“need you, though. very badly.” a deep feeling of emptiness swallows you up. how can your bed be so empty yet you’re laying on it? how can hamzah be your twin fantasy yet he’s so far away?

“i wanna be inside you, just feel you and melt over your body and maybe then, i’ll feel complete.” hamzah has a hard time expressing his emotions with coherent thoughts, but this time you understand him completely.

>_<

it’s been minutes. and you are about to freaking win the contest. again. like the last four times.

hamzah’s eyes are red even over the bad quality camera he’s using. “y/n! please just let me win this time!” he begs, his eyes squinting. he struggles to keep them open.

and you’re perfectly fine, nonchalant even. but as you see his struggle, you give in.

“fine!”

you blink. tears fall down your cheeks from how dry your poor eyes were. you laugh.

“finally!” he celebrates. “oh god, thought i was going blind…”

“well, we’ve been on call for like five hours, the screen is gonna make us blind sooner than later” you laugh, and he does too.

“i just like talking to you.” he admits and you swear you can see a slight red tint adorning his face. he’s so adorable.

stupidly adorable. your heart aches.

“i like it too.”

you loved it, actually.

did you?

>_<

that damned grey hoodie again. and you think, it’s the third consecutive time that week.

you, however, just despised the way he looked absolutely fucking stunning in it. as if he knew it did things to you.

“what are we?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence that surrounded you both.

you tended to do assignments together on call, sometimes he knew things you didn’t and he helped you, and viceversa.

“i am hamzah, you’re y/n and you’re my everything.” he replied, still focusing on his excel sheet.

“but what are we?” a situationship. that was it. hamzah would constantly call you pet names and tell you how much he loves you, and then drop the most horny messages about you.

“we are everything, i just said”

“that’s not an answer, hamzah, what are we? like, are we best friends, friends, lovers, or just people who talk to each other about their deepest secrets and feelings?” you closed your powerpoint and stared at the webcam.

“you’re everything to me, right? all of the above, every option, you are.” he said, still focusing on his work but at the same time on you.

silence again.

you nodded. a smile forming on your face.

“everything, then.”

>_<

your cheeks flushed at his words, you were a second away from turning your camera off from how embarrassed you were.

“you want- hamzah! you wanna what!?” you put a hand over your mouth in a surprised expression.

he laughs.

“i said i wanna fuck you, i just said!” he repeated himself, a smirk plastered on his face.

“why would you say that?” you laughed.

“because you were sad and i wanted to cheer you up!” he held his hands up in defence, his screen lagged at the sudden movement. “i’d rather have you happy than sad!”

“now im sad and flustered…” your hands went up to your cheeks, just to feel the warmth that spread across.

“hey, that’s better than sad alone.”

“you’re so dumb!”

>_<

handling your emotions was something you never knew about. and hamzah seemed to be so down to earth about what he wanted, about what he felt, that you couldn’t help but feel left behind in the emotional management area.

“gonna call it a night, im really tired, hamzah.” you said, a yawn escaping your mouth.

“oww, but- but it’s only been three hours..” his big puppy eyes stare at you, and you beat yourself up when you look at his sad face.

stop. stop!

“sorry…” you apologise. “we’ve been talking all week and i’ve been staying up till late the whole week too, we can chat during the day, though.”

he frowns but nods at the same time.

“fair, love you, have a good night!” he waves, waiting for you to say you love him back.

“good night, hamzah!” you smile, ready to end the call, but before you do so, he quickly yells;

“i said i love you…” his hopeful eyes dance across the screen, darting from your own to the smaller square with his face in it.

you pause for a moment. swallow and blink.

“oh, yeah, me too!” and there it was. your stupid feelings ruining everything.

his face drops, but somehow manages to keep a small smile. “alright, love you more, see you tomorrow?”

“yeah.”

and as if it was a race, you rush to press the ‘end call’ button.

your head spinning had you dizzy, so you throw the phone away and lay on your bed. hamzah is all you can think about.

it was like a self defence thing that was, at the same time, self destructive. you had to run away from him, you had to stop your heart from being broken. though, you didn’t think hamzah could hurt you. it was all so confusing! so dumb!

>_<

early hours of the morning, and you are not even fully awake when your phone starts buzzing from the other side of the room.

you rub your sore eyes and groan. every time you woke up it felt like an accomplishment. it was such a struggle, you just wanted your bed to swallow you.

hamzahthefantastic: good morning :D

hamzahthefantastic: kinda went to sleep with a tiny little concern last night…..

hamzahthefantastic: are you mad at me?

the last thing you wanted was to make him upset, however, there was a certain part of his whole attention and sort of devotion –to you– that made you upset.

y/n: gm!

y/n: im not mad at you

hamzahthefantastic: for real?

hamzahthefantastic: you seemed upset last night, kinda zoned out idk

y/n: just tired ngl

hamzahthefantastic: alr it’s fine dw

hamzahthefantastic: i love you a lot y/n

hamzahthefantastic: have a good day today yeah? get some rest, make sure to eat PROPER food, and also don’t forget that i love you :)

you stared at his texts for a little too long, then locked your phone. then unlocked it again. stared some more and then bit your lip, thinking of a reply.

hamzah. yeah. you loved him! how could you not? you had been fixated on him since you two met. why, then, the feelings of overwhelming love now creeped into your brain like flesh eating amoeba?

y/n: ily too!

you frowned. the text was so dry.

y/n: <3

better.

and the reason?, simple. hamzah’s love felt like it was tearing you apart. suffocating you. nobody had ever loved you, or showed remote interest in you like hamzah did.

was he too much? no. you shook your head, thinking then, maybe, you were not enough.

your phone buzzed, and you knew it was him. but you couldn’t get to check.

>_<

per usual, at the end of the day, your routine of facetiming had to be completed. hamzah took his phone and typed a message for you.

hamzahthefantastic: hey! wanna facetime?

hamzahthefantastic: could use to hear your voice :) been thinking ‘bout u all day

11 minutes passed. no response from you.

hamzahthefantastic: helloooooooo

hamzahthefantastic: :( are you there?

hamzahthefantastic: is it ok if i call you?

hamzahthefantastic: miss you y/n

hamzahthefantastic: did i do anything wrong? please call when u see this alr?

hamzah waited. and waited. and waited some more. almost how he waited for you to reply after sending a weird message. this time though, something inside his gut felt different.

it felt like he had fucked something up. ruined whatever the fuck he had going on with you. a something that meant so much, only so much to him.

he was confused.

>_<

waiting felt like skinning himself alive.

like trying to dissect his own heart while it was still beating. beating hard. beating for you.

he opened his chat with you, the only chat he had pinned. hamzah scrolled through all the unread messages he had sent to you, and they seemed uncountable.

no reply. it’s been days.

he sighed. twin fantasy feeling like a fantasy he was only living by himself all along. were you even real?

hamzah couldn’t get himself to doubt you.

>_<

hamzah’s heart clenched. he stared at his messy room, at how the plates piled up on his night table, at how he had your chat open on his laptop to see if you got online any time soon.

he felt like a loser.

>_<

days became weeks. and weeks became a month. and a month was something so long in hamzah-time.

and he still held on.

however, he decided to type out something for you again. just as he did daily.

hamzahthefantastic: hey y/n, hi. how’s everything going? you know, i miss you a lot. more than i can take. and i miss your voice and your face. and most importantly i miss your company. it’s okay, though. i am hoping one day we can reunite, i secretly know this is one of your plans to make me want you even more -_- …but baby, please just come back, yeah? i feel so weird and out of place if you’re not here. i wonder if you’re lonely and i wish i could touch you so i just touch my screen. does that make me a loser? i love you so much, i hope you know that. hurts when you don’t reply, and hurts more realising you probably never will again. please be okay. i love you a lot. and i am sort of tearing up right now, does that make me a loser too? ily

ps. thank you for being my best friend and my best everything (you’re literally my life though) i’ll wait as long as you need!

ps2. i’ll try tomorrow, maybe you’ll be online by then

ps3. i still fantasise about you!

silly, he thought. a loser, a hopeless romantic living so far away from his muse. just a twin flame dancing on his own, by now.

a twin fantasy lived through the eyes of one, only.

>_<

sorry i took so long and sorry this is proper shit. i wanted an excuse to write something other than fluff or smut. i hope you ppl like dis one! (my shitty take at angst) raise ur hand if this ever happened to u totally not based on a true story

[heywardsdoll]

meeting pope at the festival after telling him to be your fake boyfriend was one of the most awkward things you'd done in your very short life.

really, it was the knowing that he would be there and that he'd know why you were there—and that you would probably have to hold his hand, an he would need to hold yours. it was all of that. those little troubles in the stories, and the places you knew you would mess up.

it all started when you noticed how nice pope was. how nice he looked with a button up, and that smile that he did when he beamed. well, okay, so it started a bit earlier before that. your boyfriend, who you had declared as your ex was following you through the party. you'd screamed for him to get away only to bump into pope.

you'd been so intoxicated, that the minute you felt his hand on yours you melted completely, but there was an urgency in your blood that you couldn't shake off. with wide eyes, you whispered something with pursed lips, "act along with it! just act—aww, has anyone told you how hot you look like this? heyward? is it heyward-" then you tried to tread a little closer to him, touching that little part of his tie before you completely stubbled into his arms. you felt so stupid as you let out a small giggle.

pope looked so confused, hand reaching out to steady you. still, his eyes had that comfort in them that you so desperately needed, "oh, hi, sorry, uh," then he winched, "what's the issue?" he whispered out, before you flinched when your ex came in.  quickly pope seemed to zone in on the angry ex, and completely changed personas.

all of a sudden he had to closer to your chest, you could smell his cologne and everything seemed to go fuzzy as he hid your face in his shirt. you took a shaky breath, trying to wish it all away. it felt nice to be in someone's arms like this, to feel so safe. that was when it hit you, how nice pope was.

finally you felt pope's chest heave when he exhaled, and seemed to let you go. your arms however were wrapped around his waist.

"is he gone?"

"yes," pope replied softly. you could feel the muscles on his arms and if you weren't in this sorry state you wouldn't be swooning so hard.

reluctantly, you awkwardly detached your arms from his waist and then looked at him again. His smile was lopsided, a mix of amusement and confusion, which only made you laugh harder.

"what's so funny?" he asked.

"you're-you're so boyfriend material!" you blurted out, stammering through the haze of alcohol. "so cute. look at this button-down. and i love the hat. you don't even know me, and you held me to your chest to hide me from my pycho ex. i would date you, i would marry you," you hiccuped, then suddenly lit up with an idea. "you know what we should do? we should fake date so i can get my ex off my back."

pope stared at you, wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open as if he was about to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

"fake date?" he echoed, almost like he was testing the idea out loud for the first time. his brows furrowed, and you could see the gears turning in his mind, "i'm sorry, i don't even know who you are—"

"well, well, i mean, think about it, you can get to know me!" you rambled, now completely committed to your idea. "my ex will back off, and you—well, you get to pretend to be the hero." you grinned up at him, wobbling slightly on your feet. "it's like a win-win, right?"

pope rubbed the back of his neck, giving you an odd look as he held you up. "i'm not sure that's how this works," he said, trying to hide his growing smile. "i mean, you're drunk. really drunk."

"drunk, yes. but also really pretty," you insisted, poking his chest lightly, which only made you giggle more. "you know, i don't usually get these genius ideas sober."

pope, then like every nice boy you'd met smiled at you gently. you could already hear the consoling words out of his mouth and couldn't help but feel like sulking already.

but then pope sighed, his gaze softening. "look, i didn't mind helping you out tonight," he said, glancing around the room cautiously, "but fake dating? that’s a whole other level of commitment."

you nodded enthusiastically, almost stumbling again. "yes, absolutely. you already saved me once. might as well go all in, right?" you flashed him a cheeky smile, but beneath the humour, there was a flicker of vulnerability. you didn’t want to face your ex alone, not again.

pope still looked uncertain, but you knew you had to stick it to him, and so you thought of a "foolproof,' plan.

"well, at least take my number. we can talk when i'm sober, and we-"

the rest of history. so here you were again, fighting against all odds after messaging pope several times after that night. he was quite forgiving about your stunt, and even offered to meet with you. you'd taken the opportunity to talk to him and apologise in person. god, you'd been so reckless to ask him that type of question. the festive where both kooks and pogues could meet was the best place that you thought there was. it was a chrismas festival, little kids running around under the big tree.

finally you noticed him. he was staring near a small stand with two cups of what seemed like hot chocolate. he had a cardigan on, as well as a cheery smile. the only thing you had been right about that night was how perfect he was for the role. but that's not why you were here. you were here to apologise.

"hi." you murmured out shyly. pope smiled at you, handing you a cup of chocolate.

"for the lady."

you took the cup and let the warmth seep into your hands under the lights. he looked just like you remembered, kind brown eyes and a little frigity. but now he was watching you, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"you know," he hesitated before continuing, "i didn't expect you to message, and i wasn't sure if you, uh, remembered everything from last night."

you let out a pained laugh before looking away from his gaze, "oh yeah i remember. a bit too well."

pope scratched the back of his head, clearly still unsure how to navigate this conversation. "look, i didn’t mind helping out. that guy was a jerk, and could tell you were in a rough spot." he looked at you earnestly, his typical calm demeanour shining through. "but, you know, you don’t have to apologize."

you felt a bit surprised at how quickly he forgave you, "no, no i owe it because i launched that idea at you, and i completely forgot boundaries—" you let out an uneasy laugh before pope stopped you mid-sentence.

"i've been through worse, especially from my friend jj. and," he shook his head, "i'm not the one to leave people handing."

this was it. this was what attracted you to him. always looking out for others, always doing the right thing even if it made things worse for him. the one thing that you didn't want to think about too much was how hot he looked doing it too.

but you still felt embarrassed, "you're too nice. and way too smart to get involved in my ridiculous ideas."

he laughed a little, a smile lighting up his face. "i'm not sure i’d call it smart," he teased. "maybe just—stupid enough to go along with you."

you giggled, feeling a little more at ease now that the conversation was flowing. the lights felt even prettier, and the warm of the hot chocolate made you feel more comfortable.

"so," pope began, glancing around the bustling festival before meeting your eyes again. "we’re good, right? no more awkward ex-boyfriend encounters?"

you smiled, nodding. "yeah, no ex-boyfriends to worry about. i promise."

pope’s face softened, and there was a flicker of something more in his eyes—like he was relieved, but maybe a little hesitant, too. he shifted his weight, clearly thinking about what to say next. but he seemed to falter and just nodded.

so you stayed there in that little moment, and he watched the tree—you watched him.

taglist; @cerya @rainbowpiss34, @vi4goswrld, @th3eternalersi, @gothiccvnt6996, @sluggmuffin

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 3: Your newfound fear of dragons causes you to run away from Dragonstone, but you're naive to think a certain prince with an odd fondness of you would let you go so easily.

Vermithor's claiming left you with endless nightmares. The monster's fury and the screams of the unfortunate dragonseeds haunted your nights and filled your days with dread. The castle, once a place of routine and stability, now felt a platter above hungry predators.

Desperation led you to the head of staff, where you made up a story about distant family in the Reach. "They've asked me to come live with them," you lied, your voice trembling but determined. "Please, I need to leave Dragonstone."

The head of staff was a stern woman with a soft spot for you. She eyed you suspiciously but eventually nodded. "Very well then. I'll arrange for your transfer to a local inn. You may leave as soon as you are ready."

The next day, you gathered all of your belongings and set out on the path leading away from Dragonstone. Each step was heavy with the weight of leaving behind the life you knew and stepping into the unknown.

Suddenly, the sky darkened as a massive shadow passed overhead. You looked up, heart-pounding, to see a dragon descending right onto you. Vermax landed with a powerful thud, sending dust and pebbles flying. You froze, your newfound phobia of dragons paralysing you.

Prince Jace dismounted, his armor gleaming in the sun, a picture of authority and grace.

He approached you with a measured stride, his expression unreadable. "It is high treason for a servant to lie about their supposed family in the Reach."

Fear seized you, and you took a step back. "My prince—"

He cut you off, his eyes blazing with anger. "Do you have any idea how foolish you are? A pretty girl, travelling alone, unarmed and unprotected? Do you have any inkling of what could happen to you on the road? The dangers you could face? What if some slaver found you? What then?"

His words struck you like a blow, and you felt your knees weaken. "I just..."

“You think you can just walk away?” Jacaerys said, his tone low and challenging. “After everything you’ve seen, everything you know? You think that freedom is yours to take?”

“I want none of it! I just want to be safe,” you replied, your voice trembling.

“You’re a Targaryen, y/n. There’s no running from that.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you. “I’m not! Im not... like you, not like the queen,” you whispered. “I’m just a servant. I have no wish to claim a dragon, not anymore—”

You felt your lower lip trembled, your fears cutting off your speech.

Jacaerys softened slightly, though his tone remained stern and dismissive. "You're lucky. It's not every commoner who gets offered an escort from a prince."

You looked up at him in surprise. The closeness of his presence made your breath catch in your throat. His eyes were intense, studying you with a mix of frustration and something else, something darker.

You hesitated, fear and doubt swirling within you. Jacaerys stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. “Do as I say,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “You will learn how to command a dragon. Claim your birthright at least once.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you could see no way out. He was your prince, your sovereign, and you had to obey him. You nodded reluctantly.

He took you by the hand, leading you to Vermax. The dragon's eyes followed your every move, and you could feel its rumble shaking the ground beneath you.

Jacaerys stepped closer, his presence both intimidating and oddly reassuring. "Say 'Lykiri to command Vermax to obey."

"Lykiri," you repeated nervously, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Louder," Jacaerys insisted. "Dragons respond to strength."

You took a deep breath and tried again, louder, “Lykiri!"

Vermax's eyes flicked to you, and with a low rumble, the dragon shifted, acknowledging your command. Your eyes widened. The realization that the dragon had listened to you sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

Jacaerys stepped up on the dragons offered wing with practiced grace, then pulled you by the hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Vermax won't harm you," he assured, seating himself behind you on the saddle, his voice closer now, almost tender. "Feel the dragon's strength."

As you settle on the dragon's back, Jace's presence was solid behind you and reassuring. He guided your hands to grip the saddle, his own hands briefly covering yours.

“Say ‘soves’ to command him to fly.” He spoke in your ear. “Confidently. Command him.”

“Soves!” You spoke loudly.

“And hold on tight.” He instructed, placing his hands on the saddle In front of You.

Syrax took off, the ground falling away beneath you. The sensation of flight, the rush of wind, and the power of the dragon beneath you were overwhelming. Despite your fear, there was an exhilaration, a feeling of freedom you had never known. The world below became a blur, the wind whipping through your hair, your heart pounding with a mix of terror and joy.

The force of the takeoff pressed you back against him. Wind whipped past you. The world below became a blur, and the vast sky opened up around you.

You gasped for breath, the wind making it difficult to breathe. Sensing your struggle, Jace tightened his grip around your waist, his hand moving to your chest, guiding you. “Breathe with me,” he said, his voice steady and close. “In… and out. Slowly.”

You tried to follow his lead, inhaling deeply as he did, his presence grounding you. Gradually, your breath steadied, and you began to adjust to the sensation of flight, the terror giving way to awe.

Jace leaned closer, his voice just above the wind’s roar. “You’re doing well,” he said, his tone softer now, almost… proud.

The adrenaline coursing through you was intoxicating, and as Vermax soared through the skies, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

Tears sprang to your eyes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming beauty of it all—the vast expanse of the sky, the powerful dragon beneath you, and the realization that you were flying. Truly flying.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, Jacaerys noticed and pulled you closer. “Are you crying?” he asked, his tone somewhere between teasing and concern.

“I… I’ve never felt anything like this,” you admitted, your voice catching with emotion. “It’s… it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

You looked out over the landscape, your fear gradually giving way to amazement. The world seemed vast and beautiful from this height, and for a moment, all your worries and fears seemed small and distant.

When Vermax finally landed, your heart was still racing, but it was no longer from fear. Jace helped you dismount, his hands lingering on yours. His gloved hand wiped away your tears, your eyes shining with a newfound light.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Remember your place, y/n" he said, repeating the same words he once spoke to you. "Not everyone is a dragon. Don't let them think they can push you."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. As he mounted Vermax once more, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment had changed something between you, something you couldn’t quite name.

Jacaerys gave you one last look, his expression bittersweet, before Vermax took to the skies again, leaving you standing there, breathless and overwhelmed by the experience.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In the small town where you’d settled, life had taken on a simple turn. The days were long, filled with the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation as you served folk in the tavern. Despite the work being tiring, there was a certain peace in the predictability of it all. The days were repetitive, but you were away from the politics and dangers of Dragonstone, away from the volatile nature of the court.

Yet, despite this newfound contentment, your thoughts often strayed back to the prince. In quiet moments, when your duties were done and you were alone in your small room above the tavern, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. It started innocently enough, a simple memory on his sharp gaze, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you. But then, your thoughts became something more—something that made your breath hitch and your heart race.

You remembered the way he had stood so close to you, his tall frame towering over you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin. The memory of his voice, low and commanding, echoed in your ears, stirring something deep within you. There was a part of you that couldn’t forget the intensity of his touch, the way his hands guided you, strong and possessive, as if you were something that belonged to him.

Your thoughts became bolder, imagining what it would feel like if he had pulled you closer, if his lips had brushed against your skin. The idea of his power over you sent a thrill through your body, a tantalizing mixture of fear and desire. You found yourself longing for that feeling again—the rush of adrenaline, the helplessness of being under his control, the undeniable pull between you.

But with that heat came a deep sense of shame. You were low born. Nothing more than a commoner, a servant, and he was a prince of the realm. How could you, a mere tavern girl now, dare to feel this way about someone so far above your station? The very idea of it felt wrong, inappropriate, yet you couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in, couldn’t stop your body from reacting to the memories of him. The shame gnawed at you, making you feel small and unworthy, but it also made the desire burn hotter, a forbidden fire you didn’t know how to extinguish.

In your free time, you’d found solace in the company of a local pastor, a kind man who offered to teach you to read. You took to the lessons eagerly, and in time, he began to trust you with his collection of books. Most were on the Targaryens and their dragons.

The stories of the dragons captivated you. You learned their names, their temperaments, and the legends about them. And with each passage, your connection to the past, to the blood in your veins, grew stronger, even if you tried to suppress it.

But even more, these stories fed your thoughts of Jace. The more you read about the Targaryens, the more you understood the weight of the name he carried, the expectations, and the burden of his lineage. You wondered if he ever felt trapped by it, as you felt by your own place in society. And as you delved deeper into these histories, your fantasies of him grew more vivid, more intense, until you could almost feel him with you, his presence a ghostly weight that pressed against you in the night.

You couldn’t stop wanting him, couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like if the world were different, if you were different. You kept these feelings to yourself, unsure of what they meant or what you would even do if you were to ever see him again. For now, the tavern was your world, and Jace was a distant memory—one that haunted your nights and invaded your dreams with yearning.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jacaerys Velaryon had little time for distractions. His days were filled with duties—securing alliances for his mother, studying the intricate web of Targaryen bloodlines, and practicing his skills in combat. Every moment was a reminder of the precarious position his family held in the realm, the constant threat of war looming on the horizon. There was no room for error, no room for weakness.

And yet, despite his best efforts, his thoughts would often stray to you.

It was infuriating how easily you crept into his mind. A mere servant, a girl of no consequence, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It started innocently enough, a fleeting memory of your purple wide-eyed expression when he had pulled you from the throne room, saving you from Vermithor. But those memories became something more.

He remembered the way you had trembled under his touch, the way your breath hitched when he had drawn close. It should have pleased him, the power he held over you, but instead, it had sparked something else—a desire that he found both confusing and inappropriate. You were beneath him, a commoner with no claim to anything, yet the memory of your body pressed against his, your soft curves against his hardened armor, lingered in his mind, refusing to be banished.

As he pored over maps and documents, his thoughts would drift to the feel of your skin under his hands, the warmth of your body against his. He wondered what it would be like to explore that warmth further, to strip away the layers of clothing that separated you and discover your body for himself. The thought alone made his blood run hot, and he cursed himself for allowing such distractions.

His days were a blur of meetings and training, his nights spent in restless sleep, plagued by dreams in which you featured prominently. He dreamed of claiming you, of possessing you in a way that no one else could, of making you his despite the vast chasm that separated your stations in life.

It was maddening. You were nothing, a nobody, and yet the thought of you with another man, of someone else touching touching whats his, filled him with a rage. How dare you make him feel this way, weak and conflicted?

The internal struggle only intensified as he learned more about the Targaryen bloodlines. It was that realization that troubled him the most. You were of Targaryen blood, however diluted, and that meant something.

His rational mind insisted that you were still nothing more than a servant, your bloodline a mere footnote in the grand history of his house. But another part of him, a darker, more primal one, demanded he claim you, possess you, and ensure that no one else could.

Even as he trained with the sword, his muscles burning from the exertion, his mind would wander to the way you had looked at him, the mixture of fear and something else in your eyes. It was intoxicating, the way you had both feared and desired him, and it made him want to see that look again, to push you further and see just how far he could go before you broke.

And then there was the shame. The shame of wanting someone so far beneath him, the shame of knowing that he was betraying everything he had been taught by even entertaining these thoughts. You were a bastard, a servant, a commoner, and he was a prince of the realm. It was absurd, scandalous even, to think that there could be anything between you. Yet, despite the shame, despite the knowledge that he was crossing a line, he couldn’t stop himself.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

@rav9n-16

@dracaryxzs

@jacaeryvardaddy

@ericasabe

@alessiaparigim

[periwinkla]

How Takumi writes romance - and narumitsu thoughts

I feel the way he writes it is.... dare I say realistic? If dramatic. Which is also very realistic honestly. To be fair all AA characters are kinda.. dramatic themselves so any couple that comes from that HAS to be dramatic. Anyway the point I want to make is that I honestly LOVE the way he writes romance, like come on LOOK at the canon ones: -the Delites (crazy in love and also in general <- perfect AA couple example) -Maggey and Gumshoe (not a canonical couple per-se but canonically down bad for each other and also both kinda wild, one in a way the other in another.... it's left to interpretation whether they get together after AA3, but it is fairly hinted) -Mia and Diego (very realistic? love can be tragic, also love leads you to make bad choices sometimes) -that one wild tgaa couple (don't wanna spoil) -actually multiple tgaa couples This is unironically peak romance to me. We never see the actual development of these couples here. Takumi shows they love each other, he doesn't simply tell you by making characters confess or have cute moments together. You see them do foolish things for each other, you see them care. You see them being illogical and that leads to them doing bad, messed up things sometimes. When I think about that one discussion going around Suekane telling Takumi he wasn't writing the narumitsu scene right so he better scrap the scene (which is honestly a bit of an ambiguous info to be taken with a pinch of salt imo, but let's analyze this anyway) I think the main problem is that that's just not how he writes. It's just not! He didn't write AA that way and it shouldn't be forced like that. It would feel out of place. Like, look at this (obviously just trilogy stuff because that's what Takumi wrote): -Miles' very odd conversation with Iris -generally every poetics Miles spews in the trilogy... -his agreeing to doing something so incredibly foolish at the drop of a hat such as donning a defense attorney badge? (after an harrowing hurried flight over in the middle of the night) He even suspends his disbelief and still resorts to using an artifact that reminds him of the ugliest event of his life? -Phoenix's depression after Miles disappears...? He already wasn't accepting any clients after 1-4 (Ema had to force him) which I think was a mix of things (Mia's death, Maya's departure, the fact that he had accomplished his goal with Miles but apparently they didn't keep in touch?) but then after Miles' note it just went even worse - if Maya wasn't there to basically drag him around, what would have happened? How was he paying rent? Groceries? He wasn't working. How was he planning to continue living exactly? -Phoenix's I-am-the-only-one-who-can-save-him obsession is similar to Godot's I-blame-myself-for-not-saving-her, who has it over someone he canonically loves... and they're both very pretentious about it as well. While these are definitely character flaws, they show as I said that love doesn't always lead to logical and healthy thoughts or choices and sometimes it leads to you doing very messed up things… This is all way more telling to me. And of course I don't believe in a million years the games will ever make it a canonical couple, but in my heart they care so much for the other that all I can discern from this is that at least they canonically love each other. Was it meant to come across that way? Who knows. But sometimes your own creation gets away from you (also it's not like Takumi made AA123 all by himself, other people were involved).