#tune in next time for: a really heated conversation!

[arduousflame]

Crow's skills

“So, Lucanis, I heard Crows can slow down their breathing until they become invisible.”

Taash had spun their chair around, leaning on the backrest as they stared at the Crow expectantly. The question caught Lucanis off guard, derailing his train of thought. He blinked at the page in front of him, pen hovering mid-sentence. “Why would slowing down your breathing make you turn invisible?” “That's what I was gonna ask!” They shot back, head cocked to the side.” So. Can you?”

“No.” He replied flatly, before returning his attention to the letters in front of him.

“Oh. Okay.” The silence in the dining hall was short-lived.

“And what about that special move Crows can do that can stop their enemies heart?”

This time Lucanis was prepared.

“Yes, Taash, it’s called stabbing,” he deadpanned, his pen tapping once against the paper.

From across the room, Harding had tried but failed to suppress her chuckle. He shot her a sharp look, which only made her grin widen before she continued her conversation with Davrin.

Most of the team had their own rooms, though Rook stubbornly refused to consider her aquarium a ‘room’. Yet they all seemed to gravitate toward the dining hall in the evenings. It had become a shared space for working, reading, or simply talking. Tonight was no different.

Dinner had been cleared away, and the group had splintered into smaller activities. While Neve and Emmrich had excused themselves for the evening, quoting cases and rituals, respectively, as the reasons, Davrin and Harding were by the fireplace, planning a trek through the Hinterlands. Bellara sat at the head of the table, her notebook open as she scribbled furiously, occasionally tossing out questions to Rook or muttering sentences under her breath. Rook, meanwhile, had claimed a spot next to her, nearer the fire, with Assan perched quietly behind her. She had taken an interest in the theoretical side of her magic lately, working her way through a stack of treatises that Emmrich had eagerly provided. Lucanis had to admit, her grasp of magical theory had grown impressive -far beyond anything a Crow would be taught. And it was obvious she really enjoyed the academics, her face lighting up when talking magic with Neve and Emmrich. Or even dissecting those contraptions with Bellara. Being a Crow had been a prison for her. The two women were now quietly discussing amongst themselves.

“No,” Taash interjected, refusing to let the conversation drop. “I mean, like, with a finger, poking someone to disrupt the rhythm of their blood flow.”

Lucanis exhaled, setting his letters aside. “That sounds far more complicated than using a dagger.”

“True, but sometimes you need to take someone out quietly, right? Incapacitate them without leaving a trace. Or make it look natural.”

“That’s what poisons are for. But,” he immediately regretted entertaining the topic, “there are hand-to-hand combat styles that use pressure points to take down an enemy.” Folding his arms, he leaned back in his chair, resigning himself to the inevitable spiral this conversation was about to take.

“Oh! Now we are talking!” The Qunari shot upright.

“They’re mainly used in self-defense,” Lucanis explained, “to disarm someone, for example. Or to quickly take someone out. They are not that useful in heat of a battle. But one-on-one, they could mean a quick victory.”

Taash’s enthusiasm had caught the attention of Davrin and Harding, who glanced over from their spot by the fire, now tuned into the conversation.

“Can you show me?” Taash leaned their chair precariously forward, balancing on two legs.

“You planning to disarm dragons with those moves, Taash?” Davrin quipped, earning a burst of giggles from Harding.

“Can you imagine,” Harding wheezed, “a dragon on its knees because you tickled the right spot?”

Taash waved them off with a rude gesture. “We’ve been fighting more than just dragons lately. You never know when it might come in handy.” Turning back to Lucanis, they fixed him with an eager stare. “You did promise to show me some Crow tricks, so... time for a practical lesson.”

Lucanis chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I did promise that.”

“Oh, this is going to be good.” Davrin sauntered over to the cupboard and grabbed a beer, grinning. “Lucanis taking down Taash? I wouldn’t miss this.”

“No, no, I actually want to learn something,” Taash protested, putting all four chair legs back on the ground. “I won’t pick anything up if I’m knocked out cold. You can demonstrate on Davrin instead, Lucanis.”

“Over my dead body, Crow,” Davrin shot back immediately, pointing his beer bottle at Lucanis before he could even voice his refusal. He raised his hands in acceptance. But the Warden’s defiant expression quickly shifted to something more mischievous. He nudged Harding with a knowing look, before speaking up:

“Hey, Rook! Care to lend a hand here?”

Rook glanced up abruptly from her conversation with Bellara. “With what, exactly?”

Lucanis, catching on to Davrin’s scheme, groaned.

“Taash is interested in becoming a Crow.” Harding replied.

Rook shot a puzzled look at Bellara, who simply shrugged. Clearly neither of them had been paying attention.

“Lucanis wants to show off a few moves,” Davrin explained with a grin. “But he needs a volunteer. You’ve had enough practice as a Crow yourself, haven’t you?” She just blinked at that. “Yes?” “Well then, both of you, show us those fabled Crow training techniques.”

“Just get over here already, Rook!” Taash cut through the chatter, clearly growing impatient. “And bring that spoon.”

Harding giggled from the sidelines, pulling Bellara closer to her and prompting a smug smirk from Davrin. Meanwhile, Taash remained oblivious to the silent game the pair seemed to be playing. And Lucanis made a mental note to add triple the amount of Taash’s peppers to next evening’s soup.

Rook glanced back to Davrin and Harding, sighed in resignation, grabbed the spoon, and approached Lucanis and Taash. Her head tilted slightly as she regarded Lucanis with a questioning look. He shrugged apologetically.

“Right”, Taash instructed, gesturing dramatically. “First, disarming. Rook, attack him!”

“With the spoon?”

Lucanis muttered a curse under his breath and stepped forward. Gently but firmly, he took Rook’s arm and adjusted it, lifting it into a stance as though she were about to stab him. He tried to ignore the amused quirk of her lips -and the unwelcome warmth blooming in his chest. So close to. Rook. He forced himself to focus, recalling his training. She was their leader, and a fellow Crow. A de Riva, Viago would lynch him, Caterina’s heir or not.

“Like this.” Lucanis shifted his stance, his boots making a soft scrape on the stone floor as he anchored his weight. He stepped into Rook’s space with precision. His hand gripped her wrist with practiced ease, and in a smooth motion, he twisted her arm downward and to the side. The spoon clattered to the floor with a hollow ring, the sound cutting through the muted chatter of the room. The sudden twist forced Rook to her knees, her arm following the motion as though caught in an unseen current.

Lucanis’ hand remained steady on her wrist, guiding her back to her feet with a gentle pull that spoke of years of training. He retrieved the spoon from the ground, and handed it back to her.

“You went too fast,” Taash complained, leaning in. “I barely saw what you did.”

“There’s a reason,” Lucanis replied, taking Rook’s arm again, “the element of surprise plays to your advantage.” He turned it palm-up. “Here,” he said, tracing the delicate lines of her wrist, making a mental note of the scars that lined her wrist, “just below the pulse point, toward the center.” His fingertips brushed her skin lightly as he searched for the spot.

He risked a glance at Rook. Her gaze was fixed on her hand, her expression unreadable. But her cheeks where a tint darker than before. When he found the point, he pressed firmly with two fingers. Rook’s hand opened reflexively, and the spoon slipped from her grasp once more.

“Sorry,” he murmured with a faintly apologetic smile as he noticed her wince.

Meanwhile, Taash was practically on top of them, mimicking his motions on their own hand with rapt concentration. They nodded along as if committing each detail to memory.

Lucanis moved Rook in front of him again, motioning her to take an attacking stance again. She nodded to indicate she understood the plan. So, when he moved in again to disarm her, she blocked him with a twist of her own. One foot planted firmly on the ground, she kept a hold of the spoon this time, even managing to tap him on the shoulder with it. Whatever she had said about her skills before, she knew how to hold her ground in a fight. “Oh, element of surprise, now I get it.”

“If that was all-” Rook made to walk away, but Taash grabbed her shoulder. “No, not done yet.” Rook glanced longingly to her papers. “I was busy with something though…” Taash turned to face Lucanis again.

“Now, how to take someone out.” Taash ignored Rook’s sputtering objection: “Excuse me, what?!”

“There are multiple ways…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taash interrupted. “The most effective one.”

Lucanis sighed, slipping into the cadence of his old lessons. “If your goal is to buy time, there is a stranglehold that is really effective.”

“Choking someone takes too long.” The Qunari cut in.

“There’s a difference between a choke and a strangle. And it’s a bit safer if your intent is not to kill but incapacitate someone.”

He glanced at Rook as he spoke. She had taken a step back, crossing her arms, a knowing look on her face. Lucanis caught her gaze and managed a small, brief smile before forcing himself to look away.

“A choke cuts off airflow, which usually means crushing the windpipe. Messy and risky.”

Rook arched an eyebrow but said nothing. She seemed to know where this lesson was leading.

“Strangling,” he went on, “is different. It blocks blood flow or targets specific nerves, cutting off oxygen to the brain and causing unconsciousness. A sharp blow to the neck can do the trick, but it’s less refined. Precision,” he said, “is about blocking the main arteries.”

Taash’s gaze stayed fixed on him, unrelenting. “Go on,” they urged.

Lucanis hesitated, glancing over at Rook. “Ah… Rook?” He started. And before Rook could raise her concerns, Taash waved a hand dismissively. “She’ll be fine. You said so yourself, if the intent is not to kill, remember?” Of course they’d pay attention when killing was involved.

Rook gave him a long look, her eyes narrowing with clear apprehension. “Remind me to never let you make promises to Taash again”, she said dryly.

Lucanis tilted his head, silently asking the question. She held his gaze for a moment before relenting with a shrug. “Fine. But I’m sitting down for this. I’m not faceplanting on these stones. Viago, at least, was kind enough to have us practice in a grass field.”

He chuckled at her comment. “Never took Viago for such a sap.”

Rook shook her head and lowered herself to a nearby chair, muttering something under her breath that Lucanis couldn’t quite catch. He thought her heard her say: “…in the middle of winter, on frozen ground...” That was more like the Viago he knew. Taash, meanwhile, leaned forward eagerly, waiting for the demonstration to begin.

Lucanis took a moment to collect himself before stepping in front of her. She looked up at him, a nervous flicker in her eyes, her lips drawn to a thin line. The disarming was one thing… Movements they would emulate in battle.

His hand brushed against her neck, fingers sliding with practiced ease to the hollow just below her jaw. He angled her chin upward gently and their eyes locked. How he could get lost in that deep blue. Rook smells of. Fire and ashes… For the love of- not now, Spite! He pushed the demon back down.

“First, find the pulse at the throat,” he instructed, suppressing his inner turmoil, pressing two fingers lightly against the side of her neck where he could feel the rhythmic beat. Her pulse quickened under his fingers, the slight hitch in her breathing betraying her composure. She broke eye contact and glanced downward, her gaze fixed on the ground. Lucanis pushed aside the fluttering in his own chest, focusing on the task at hand.

“Then, locate the same spot on the other side with your thumb,” he explained, shifting his hand to demonstrate. He moved aside slightly, so Taash could take a closer look.

From the corner of his eye, Lucanis saw Harding lean toward Bellara, whispering something that made Bellara slap a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. Her wide eyes darted toward them, and Davrin’s booming laughter quickly followed.

Rook, flustered, brandished her spoon at the group like a weapon. “You’re lucky I don’t skin you with this,” she muttered. Davrin winked at her. She huffed in reply.

Lucanis coughed into his free hand to regain focus. “Now, with the remaining fingers, you apply pressure to the nerve at the base of the jaw, just under the ear -here.” He adjusted his hold, his fingers digging in slightly. Even this light pressure made Rook hiss slightly, trying to move away from the pressure. Taash leaned in to take a look, humming in understanding.

“Don’t see much immobilizing yet! Is the tactic to bore your opponent?” Davrin called from his spot by the fire.

“Yeah, Lucanis,” Harding added, her grin devilish. “Stop stalling. Just show us already. You can explain after.” Taash nodded eagerly, clearly in full agreement.

Maker, they’re enjoying this far too much, Lucanis thought grimly. He glanced down at Rook, tilting his head in silent inquiry. He had been stalling. But not for whatever reasons Davrin was so keen on implying. This would hurt. He’d be overloading her senses, the feeling of a sledgehammer to the head. She met his gaze with a steady look, then sighed and gave him a small, resigned nod before closing her eyes. He felt her relax as her own training took over, her breathing slowing. She would have been taught to not resist, not to panic. Still, there was no threat of cane or blade here. They were among… friends? Who had worrying interests, sure, but, friends nonetheless. She could say no, he would understand. The goading of the others, he could deflect that for her if needed. She had nothing to prove. Rook. Trusts us. To catch her. Spite piped up again. Did she?

He couldn’t afford to linger on the quiet strength in her eyes -or how easily she trusted him, even now.

Adjusting his grip for a final time, he pressed down, practiced and quick. Her pulse, which had been fast but steady, now faltered -skipping beats and racing unpredictably. Her breathing hitched at that sensation, a brief gasp escaping her lips. Within moments, her body went completely limp.

As she began to collapse forward, unconscious, Lucanis released the hold and caught her easily, keeping her upright. He eased her back, carefully, supporting her as she began to stir.

Rook blinked rapidly, her vision clearing as the disorientation ebbed. Her hand went to her throat, massaging the tender spot with a grimace. A soft curse escaped her lips as she rubbed her head groggily. Maker’s breath, I forgot how unpleasant that feels,” she muttered, her voice rasping slightly.

“Breathe, you’re fine”, Lucanis murmured, his voice low and apologetic. He kept his fingers at her neck, monitoring her pulse until it slowed and steadied once more. Only when he was satisfied she truly was fine, did he let go.

Lucanis stepped back as Taash clapped their hands together. “That. Was. Incredible,” they said, eyes alight with fascination. “Show it again, slower!” Rook raised a hand in weak protest at that. “Find another practice dummy. I am out.” Lucanis agreed: “Once is plenty.” Taash turned to the others. “Davrin?” “I already said no, and after that? I’m staying well out of arms reach, Lucanis!”

Taash slouched back in their chair, sulking briefly before Harding came over and whispered something in their ear. Whatever she said brought an immediate spark to Taash’s eyes, and a wide grin spread across their face. Moments later, the pair excused themselves, leaving the room with an air of conspiratorial excitement.

Bellara wasn’t far behind. She gathered her notebook and pens, offering a soft “Good night” and a cheerful wave before slipping out into the hallway.

Rook returned to the table, intent on her papers, but her focus faltered. With an irritated sigh, she began gathering the scattered sheets, muttering under her breath. She tapped Assan, who had remained by her chair, and the gryphon stretched before bounding after her. Together, they settled by the fireplace. Rook sank onto the floor, scratching Assan behind the ears as the gryphon let out a low, contented rumble. Her gaze drifted to the flickering flames, but her shoulders betrayed her unease, despite the warmth of the fire washing over her.

From deep within, Spite stirred, its voice curling like smoke in Lucanis’ mind. The demon muttered a pointed complaint about the audacity of hurting Rook, followed by an insistence that he should “make it up to her.” Lucanis clenched his jaw, pushing Spite’s grumbling aside with the mental equivalent of a weary hand wave. He refocused on the half-finished letters scattered across the table, their words blurring together under the flickering firelight.

Across the room, Davrin lounged in his chair, swirling the remnants of his drink. His gaze lingered on Lucanis, then drifted to Rook, a sly, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well,” he drawled, setting his bottle down with deliberate ease, “time for me to find some rest. Assan, coming, boy?”

The gryphon, who had been nestled comfortably beside Rook, gave a soft, reluctant whine and nudged her arm before rising to follow. Rook smiled faintly, her hand brushing the creature’s feathers in farewell as Davrin and Assan slipped out of the room. The door closed with a quiet thud, leaving Lucanis and Rook alone in the flickering warmth of the hearth.

Rook raised a hand in a lazy wave as Davrin disappeared, then pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Her gaze remained fixed on the fire, the light dancing across her face in warm, flickering hues. The soft crackle of the flames filled the silence.

Lucanis sighed, his attention drifting from the unfinished letters to the quiet figure by the fire. Abandoning the task for the second time that evening, he pushed his chair back and rose. A quick glance confirmed Rook hadn’t moved, her focus lost in the flames. He crossed the room, his footsteps soft against the stone, and rummaged through their modest stores, pulling out a bottle of wine and two mismatched glasses.

He returned to the hearth, lowering himself carefully to the floor beside her. She blinked, glancing in his direction, an inquisitive eyebrow raised as he extended one of the glasses toward her.

“A peace offering,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Rook tilted her head, studying him for a moment before reaching for the glass. The faintest smile curved her lips as she took it, her gaze lingering on him with quiet curiosity. And here you were calling Viago a sap for having us collapse in a grass field. Now you’re offering me wine. What will the other houses think of your training methods, Dellamorte?

Her words held a teasing edge, but there was an underlying bitterness, an old wound barely scabbed over. He didn’t rise to the bait, instead lifting his own glass toward her.

“Let this be my vow to never entertain Taash’s fantasies again.” Rook barked a short laugh. “You have no idea the kind of ideas you’ve inspired in Harding and Taash, do you?” Lucanis blinked, caught off guard. “I- what?” Rook stared at him in disbelief. “You really don’t know? How close those two have gotten?” When he gave her nothing but a blank stare, she laughed again. Then it clicked. “Oh, mierda.”

“Forget the wine,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Watching you put that together was worth all of it.”

“I do apologize if I hurt you.”

She shook her head. “Honestly, my idea of normal is probably a little warped.” She leaned back on her arms, letting the fire’s warmth seep into her. “But I know you never meant to hurt me. I’m serious though- no promising things to Taash without running it by me first.” She gave him a playful shake of her glass. “Grandson of the First Talon or not, I had no trouble telling Viago off. I’ll start doing it with you too. As far as everyone’s concerned, I’m still the leader here.”

There was no bite to her words, her smile soft and open as she locked eyes with him. In the depths of her gaze, the blue was filled with trust.

“Then I will gracefully defer to our great leader,” Lucanis said, inclining his head before taking a sip.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of them as the flames slowly burned down to embers.

[writingsbychlo]

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo is your slightly toxic, slightly unhinged, but absolutely adoring and completely obsessed boyfriend.

word count; 7077

notes; literally the moment I started watching the PPP music video I was like 'oh it's so matty coded' and this came to mind immediately. I didn't intend for it to get so long, it was supposed to be a short drabble. whoops.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, you were just walking out of detention as he was walking in. 

Well, being dragged in by Madam Hooch, more like. He had blood on his face, and his knuckles, and he was smirking to himself as a sorry-looking Cormac trailed them inside. His eyes met yours, he’d winked, and you’d both continued to watch one another over your shoulders as you crossed paths, until the door shut. 

You were his, from that very first moment. 

The following days brought stolen glances across the classrooms and the Great Hall, his arrogant smirks and your shy smiles, and the look on his face that made you blush. You had to see him again, and opportunity presented itself that same Thursday, in Potions class, as Mattheo argued with Snape over… something. 

You’d tuned out, preferring to sit and watch him. He was just so pretty when he was mad. 

“That will be detention, Mr Riddle.” Snape drawled in that monotonous tone of his, and Mattheo glared across the classroom at the professor, who looked like he couldn't have cared less if he tried. “Unless anybody else has any objections, we can return to—”

Your book hit the ground with a resounding thud. The sound of it echoed around the room, and all eyes turned to you. You weren’t sure what exactly had brought it on, and your friends stared at you, horrified about the disruption. An excuse sat on the tip of your tongue, but then your eyes met those enchanting honey-brown ones, and he was smirking at you once again, a single brow raised. 

“Motherfucker.” You squeaked out, and after a pause that felt like it lasted an eternity, your professor sighed. 

“Very well. Detention for you, too.”

Your jaw dropped, heat flushed your face, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched into a smile. Another wink, and you were a goner. 

That same evening in detention, you’d been punctual and prompt, and he had sauntered in fifteen minutes late, sliding into the chair right beside you. Whispered conversations became jokes and confessions, inching closer and closer together, until you could count every little freckle that danced across his nose, and taste the nicotine and mint still on his breath when he spoke. His eyes held you captive, the stories he told had you on the edge of your seat, and the way his hand slid up your thigh had you burning. 

Your first kiss was a month later, when he’d made you promise not to get any more detentions just to see him. Instead, you’d waited outside the classroom, and the moment he’d been out, he’d given you that same flirty grin. Pressed up into the stone wall behind you, with one of his hands beside your head as the other sat on your waist, his tongue had slipped into your mouth. He’d tasted like chocolate and cigarettes, and you’d been intoxicated. 

And when he pulled back, his softest smile yet on his face as his hand had taken your own, you’d known that he was yours, too.

“What do you mean you’re going out with Mattheo Riddle?” Your friend hissed, her eyes wide as the two of you huddled close together, ducking along the corridors as you hurried to your next class. 

“Well, I mean that he asked me out on a date, and I said yes, so—”

“Don’t be sassy with me!” She scoffed, and you smiled, shrugging. She really had left herself wide open for that, it wasn’t your fault you took the chance she presented. “He’s bad news.”

“Oh, come on. What does that even mean?”

“It means that he’s bad for you. He’s bad for everyone!” Finally reaching the classroom —early, as always— the two of you settled in at your desk, unpacking your books, and still whispering despite the empty classroom you found yourselves in. Not even the professor had arrived yet. “He’s always getting in fights, and he’s always in trouble or detention, and— hey! I bet he’s the reason you’ve been getting a string of detentions lately, huh?”

You had no rebuff to that, heat coating your cheeks but you couldn't hide the smile that grew on your face at the mere thought of all your detention time spent together. “He told me not to do that anymore, that’s why he asked for a date! See? He’s good for me.”

“Oh, gee, what a saint he is.” She muttered, eyes rolling so hard you thought they’d fall out. All humour slowly dissipated between you both, and she frowned and opened her notebook, dipping a quill in fresh ink. As the seconds ticked by, tension grew between you both that you didn’t like. 

“Look, I know what people say about him, and the reputation he has, but he’s not like that with me. He’s not been like that with me.” Your hand lifted, scratching your cheek subconsciously. “It’s… not our first date. It’s just the first one I’ve told you about, because I knew you’d react like this. But, if you knew him like I did, you’d understand…”

Your voice trailed off, dreamy with a sigh and she turned to look at you. One of her brows raised as she put down her quill delicately. A beat passed, and her shoulders sagged, a little of the tension slipping free. “He really makes you happy? Because… I’m just worried about you, y’know?”

“I know, and I love you for that. But I just need you to be happy for me right now.”

“He’s going to break your heart. He’s going to make you cry, and hate the world, and I don’t like that.” 

Your hand slipped to hers, taking it in yours and squeezing. Flicking through your mind was the confidence brought on by every sweet word he whispered in your ear. All the soft kisses and touches. They didn’t know the kindness, and the devotion, and the loyalty. 

How could they, when they never gave him a chance? But his friends did, they saw the same side of him that you did. The version of him that would defend their name, and stop at nothing to make them happy. The version of him that didn’t believe the lies and the rumours, and never even looked at any other girls. 

They didn’t know how funny he was, how secretly cuddly he was, or how he just craved a little attention. They didn’t see him on the nights he’d sneak into your dorm just to crawl into bed and hold you, or the flowers he’d drop off outside your door. They didn’t see the love-hearts written on the corners of his notes in class or the way he got grumpy if he went too long without affection. 

You had good taste. You knew you did. It was just a shame nobody else saw it.

 “He won’t, I know he won’t.”

“I hope for your sake he proves me wrong.”

Mattheo was nothing if not a sweet-talker. He’d spent the morning covering you with kisses, and whispering into your ear about the date he would take you on tonight. By the end of the day, you’d been kissed on every inch of your face, and the husky tone of his voice was still ringing in your ears as he bid you goodbye, and promised to pick you up in a few hours. 

He’d been right on time, too. Knocking at your door at seven on the dot with flowers in hand and a whole new batch of compliments rolling off of his tongue. Gods, did Mattheo love to make you blush. Everything from looking you up and down seductively, to telling you that you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, he did it all. 

He kissed you like you were the only woman in the world, like he wanted you to feel his love and devotion as much as he spoke the words, and you melted into him every time. Whether it was a brush of his lips over your own, or his hands grasping at your body, pulling you so close you nearly fused as his mouth claimed yours, he did all of it so passionately. 

Now, he was kissing your knuckles, guiding you toward one of the more expensive restaurants in Hogsmeade, one you’d never been to before, and grinning at your expression. 

“Matty, this place isn’t cheap!”

“Nothing will be good enough for my girl, but certainly nothing cheap. For now, this is the best I can give to you.” Tugging you in close, the two of you stood outside of the beautifully decorated little building, and he nudged his nose against yours. “One day, I’ll take you all around the world, to eat the best food with the best views.”

“Oh…” Your hands settled on his face, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks as he smiled, and you pressed a kiss on his lips in gratitude as words seemed to escape you entirely. “I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty girl.” His arms were tight around your waist, not quite ready to go yet, and his lips parted like there was something more he had to say. “Listen, when we get in there, I just have to speak to one of the workers real quick, okay?”

“Okay.” It didn’t seem all that concerning to you, and with a final kiss to your lips, he was holding open the restaurant door for you. His hand was warm in your own as he led you through the building. But then he was guiding you right past the hostess station, and you glanced back to it, but his feet never stopped moving, and you hurried to keep up with him. 

Past tables and other workers, your jaw dropped with a soft gasp as he let himself into the back of the restaurant.

“Matty, I don’t think we’re allowed back here…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Mattheo smiled, leaving another kiss on your cheek as he let go of your hand. “Wait here for me, ‘kay? I just need to speak to one of the chefs.”

With that, he was disappearing into the kitchens, and you leaned back against the wall, staring at the clock opposite you. Seconds ticked past, turning into minutes, ten of them, to be precise, before the shouting started. Mattheo was yelling, you’d know his voice anywhere, and when you poked your head around the doorframe and into the kitchen, it was to find him holding a vaguely familiar-looking chef by the collar, and slamming him into a wall. 

“Mattheo!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears, as the two began to push. Mattheo’s back hit the counter behind him, a sickening smack and a grunt of pain, before the two were throwing fists. Every crunch of bones on skin and every rattling sound of a body hitting the workstations and countertops made your stomach turn. You covered your ears, turning your back on it all and shaking your head. 

You didn’t need to see that. 

Eventually, the other chefs stepped in, dragging Mattheo out of the backdoor. When it was all over, you apologised profusely as you hurried through the kitchen to follow after him, hopping over the boy he’d beaten half-senseless who was groaning on the floor. 

Stepping out through the backdoor, Mattheo was pacing, spitting a bloody mouthful out onto the floor, and his head snapped up in your direction. Only when he realised who it was did his gaze soften, and he wiped his palm across the back of his mouth. 

A few seconds of silence passed as the shock settled and you checked he was okay, and when he reached for you, you turned from him. Storming away down the alley, you heard his frustrated groan behind you, the sound of him kicking a trash can, before he was hurrying after you. 

“Okay, I know that wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go—”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Your laugh was so dry it almost made your chest hurt, and you didn't even bother to look back at him as you began to walk back through Hogsmeade.

“I fucked up, I know—”

“Understatement of the century.” You muttered, ignoring his attempts at excuses and explanations as you wove through the streets. People offered you both funny looks, no doubt because of the blood running from his nose as he tried to stop it, the pair of you mid-argument. 

When you reached the edges of the town, Mattheo fell into step beside you, his hand skimming down your back, burning into you through the thin fabric of your dress. A dress that had been a damn waste to put on.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, slapping his hand away from your lower back, and he whined.

“Oh, come on, baby. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry! You planned this, and told me we were going on a date!” Your arms crossed over your chest as you stomped back out of the small village, beginning the walk back towards the school. “You lied to me!”

“Woah, now! Hey! I never lied! I fully intended to—” He huffed as you continued to walk ahead of him, all but speeding in your heels until you wobbled, and he cursed under his breath, catching you to steady you. Spinning you around, he tipped your chin up with one finger. “Listen, pretty girl. I never meant for all this to happen, okay? I meant it when I said I’d made us a reservation. I just figured I’d go and get my money from this guy, maybe even let him off a few galleons so he’d give us better service, and then we’d have a nice date. I didn’t expect him to start a fight!”

“He didn’t start the fight, you did!” You poked a finger into his chest, and he winced. Obviously, you’d found a bruise by mistake. Smoothing your palm over it in way of a silent apology, his hand cupped yours, holding it over his heart. “You said ‘Let’s take this outside’.”

“Okay, well, I was calling his bluff. I didn’t expect him to actually take me up on it!”

Your jaw tightened, and your lip wobbled. You felt ridiculous, you’d gotten all dressed up, and you were hungry, and he’d let you down. At your expression, his own face crumpled, and he sighed sadly as he cupped your cheeks. 

“Please, baby, don’t cry because of me. You look so pretty, you did your makeup so nice, I don’t want you to cry because of me. Let’s just go back and find somewhere else to eat, yeah?”

“I don’t want to, and we can’t! You’re dirty and bleeding, and you’ve got a black eye coming on. We can’t go anywhere.” You muttered, crossing your arms. He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I love you, more than anything. I really didn’t mean for it to go like this. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Promise me.” You huffed, gaze finally returning to his, and he nodded emphatically. “No more acting stupid in front of me.”

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll never mix business with pleasure again, okay? When I’m with you, it’s all you.”

Just like that, he had your walls crumbling. How could you stay mad at him, when he smiled so sweetly, and made you feel so special? You gave in, one hand lifting to his cheek, touching gently at the swollen skin around the cut on his face. He hissed and pulled back, and your frown only deepened. “C’mon, you can come to my dorm, I’ll clean you up.”

“You’re gonna’ clean me up?” His smile was like that of a puppy, taking your hand happily and guiding you back along the path. “I tell you what, I’ll force Nott to sneak into the kitchens and make us some pasta, in exchange for the room to himself tonight, how’s that?”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You smirked, and he matched it, shrugging. 

“I don’t know. Maybe the cold, stone floor in front of the common room fireplace.” Your eyes rolled, and he dipped his head, leaving a kiss on your neck. “Or maybe, my loving girlfriend will let me stay over, and I’ll make it worth her while…”

“I don’t want to look at your battered face.”

“Put a pillow over my head and get on top, then.” He snickered, and your jaw dropped.

“Matty!”

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the forest, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you. 

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the Lake, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you.“Baby, wake up.” The words were mumbled tenderly into your ear, and you groaned a little at the hand gently shaking your shoulder. “Come on, pretty girl, open those eyes.”

“What, Matty? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, that’s why it’s the perfect time!” Excitement tinged his voice, and as you forced your eyelids open, you found him standing at the edge of your bed, wand lit up dimly, and your coat in his hand. “Get up, baby. We’re going for a walk.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You don’t think the stars and the moon are romantic? Isn’t there just something… better about the night?”

Your smile was against your will, sitting up slowly and swinging your feet out of the bed, suppressing a yawn. “You’re lucky I wore full pyjamas to bed tonight.”

“You mean I could’ve walked in here to find you naked?” He clasped a hand over his heart, letting out a pained groan. He handed you his wand to hold, before dropping to his knees before you. 

“No, you perv! I meant that I’m wearing full-leg pyjamas, not my shorts!”

He only snickered to himself, while navigating your trainers onto your feet and tying the laces up for you. Once they were secure, he took his wand back, sliding it into his back pocket and clasping your hands in his own. With a kiss on your lips, he wrapped the warm coat over your shoulders. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, Matty.”

He grinned at that, taking your hand, and leading you through the silent halls. Twigs snapped under your feet as you crossed the courtyard together, giggling and shushing each other, and you had to admit that he was right. Both the adrenaline of it all, and the beauty of the scenery, made for the perfect blend of excitement and romance. 

As you cleared the school building and began to make your way out across the fields, Mattheo’s arm looped around your waist, supporting you through every dip and hole in the grass, never letting you so much as stumble. 

“Nearly there.” He whispered into the cold night air as you approached the quidditch grounds, the different house flags blowing gently in the summer breeze. 

“Nearly where? I thought we were just going for a walk.”

He didn’t reply, and only a couple of steps later, the barely concealed voices of several of his friends carried across the pitch towards you both. “Mattheo Riddle, I swear to Merlin, if you’ve brought me along on one of your ridiculous schemes—” You shrieked, cutting yourself off as one of the Weasley’s firecrackers shot past your head, between the two of you, and Theodore’s laughter echoed out, following it. 

“Oi, Nott, watch it. If that’d hit my girl, the next thing to be hit would be your face on the fuckin’ concrete.”

“Relax, she ducked! No harm, no foul. Right, principessa?” Theo smirked, seeming to appear from the shadows as he sparked his lighter, and brought the flame to the end of his cigarette. Lorenzo was there too, a bag over one shoulder that rattled suspiciously as he came towards the three of you, and your arms crossed protectively over your body. 

“Matty, what is this?”

“Don’t flirt with my girl in Italian.” Mattheo glared at his friend, but it soon melted away as he was handed the cigarette, and Theo tucked his hands into his pockets, appraising you. 

“This, bella, is revenge.”

“What did I just say about the Italian—?”

“Why do you need revenge?” Your words crossed Mattheo’s who only huffed, but remained quiet as he passed the cigarette beyond you to Enzo. Nobody answered, and your boyfriend shuffled from one foot to the other as your narrowed gaze turned on him. “Mattheo.”

“The Gryffindors were talking shot about our upcoming game, and McLaggen and his mates thought it’d be funny to charm all our jerseys pink for practice, so we’re just getting even.”

“Why do I get the feeling that whatever you’re about to do is far beyond ‘even’? Pink jerseys don’t seem equal to… whatever you’re doing here. I want no part of it.” You spun on your heel, but didn’t get very far, not even a single step, before Mattheo was wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulling you into himself. You jabbed a finger into his chest, putting the full heat of your wrath into your stare, “You said we were going for a walk!”

“We are! We did. Look, this is gonna’ be fun, you’ll see. I know how much that one Gryffindor chick has been pissing you off lately. I'm getting revenge for you too, here!” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your lips, before planting a kiss there. “I’m avenging you, baby.”

He took your hand, pulling you along behind him with the kind of infectious excitement that made you smile, even when you didn’t want to. Sitting down on one of the benches, you watched with an amused smile at the way he and his friends whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves as they thought through just what they might do. 

That innocent adoration you had didn’t last long.

You’d been expecting a few stink bombs in lockers and foul-smelling potions tipped into the shower drains that would stink for weeks. Maybe even a hex or two for inconvenience. A shriek burst past your lips as another of Theodore’s rockets shot past your head, screeching as it went and your hands clasped over your ears. 

He was letting them off, inside. Glitter exploded everywhere, the few flaming pieces of ash sprinkling down eroded holes in the towels and jerseys hanging on hooks around the locker room. Glass shattered somewhere, and Theo all but howled with laughter as the rocket shot off into the night sky to fizzle out with a colourful bang.

Enzo was spray-painting something on the walls in the shower room, following his rude and physically impossible message spray-painted on the inside of the door that he was still snickering to himself about. 

Mattheo was systematically unlocking all of the cupboards, and placing a different bad-luck hex on every single piece of equipment. After leaving a sporadic spiral-dive hex on one of the brooms and putting it back, you’d had enough. 

Sweeping your hair out of your eyes, you stood, making your way over to his side. “Matty…”

“Yeah, baby?” He was distracted as he mumbled his response, careful wand-work as he charmed one of the beater’s bats to flop like wet spaghetti every time they tried to hit something. 

“Mattheo.”

At your tone, and the use of his full name, he looked up. He took in the nervous expression on your face, the sad and pouty frown on your lips, and sighed. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“They were talking shit about us!”

“You're risking really hurting someone, though!” You gestured around, from his handiwork to the broken window and glass fragments on the floor. “You’re actually damaging school property!”

“A few spells will have it cleaned up in no time. Don’t be dramatic.”

You gaped at him for a second, before walking away, turning your back to him and plopping down back onto the bench with a huff. Behind you, you heard him kick something, swearing under his breath, before he stepped back into your sight. When you didn’t look up at him, he dropped down to his knees, forcing himself into your line of vision. 

He has his puppy dog eyes on, and pressed a kiss to each of your hands as he took them in his own. “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty girl. I just meant… you don’t get it. This is what we do. You’re just too sweet for this, you wouldn't hurt a fly. But this could be so much worse, it’s all a bit of fun, just trust me, yeah? I’m getting them back, for me, and for you.”

“But it’s a lot. And I never asked you to get even for me.” You whispered, and he nodded. 

“You don’t have to ask. I protect you, that’s what I do. It’s you and me, baby. For life.” You softened a little at that, and he noticed, his smile growing again as he knelt up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I won’t do anymore, how’s that? I’ll round up the boys, and we’ll get out of—”

Just then, voices flickered through the room. The angry, panicked shouting of at least six different people, rapidly got louder as they neared the space you occupied. Enzo clambered up onto one of the window ledges, and peered out of the broken glass. “Oh, shit. They know. ‘Least ten Lions, coming this way. And fast. Fucking go!”

The first spell bounced through the open glass, sending shards flying as it caught the last of the jagged spikes still on the frame, just as Enzo ducked out of the way. Theo scrabbled past, and out of the back door, Enzo quickly following, and you jumped to your feet as Mattheo did. 

Another spell burst through, bouncing on the locked door, and the muffled voices of your accomplices felt a million miles away as fear struck through your body. The door rattled again, the lock creaking as the half-arsed spell they’d sealed it with threatened to give way. The pounding of your heart in your chest was deafening, roaring in your ears—

Then, a hand clamped down on yours, pulling you along. “Baby girl, let’s go! Come on, what are you doing?”

Mattheo tugged on your hand, like a splash of cold water the jolt he made snapped you to your senses. You stumbled after him, staring at his bouncing curls and the flush of his cheeks as he looked at you, guiding you out of the backdoor and into the night. Stumbling down the hill, the two of you ran so fast you almost fell several times, angry shouts following you out into the night as flashes and flickers of bright spells whizzed past you constantly. 

You let Mattheo guide you, running until your lungs burned and your chest ached from your pounding heart, but you’d lost them. You’d lost Theo and Enzo, too. Silence shrouded you both as you finally came to a stop, only the lapping water at the shore of the lake and both of your soft pants to break the heavy quiet.

He turned to you, one hand lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you glared at him as he leaned in to kiss one of your no-doubt flushed cheeks. 

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, knuckles still tracing up and down your jaw as he stared at you under the moonlight. 

“I’m so mad at you for that. I hate running, and panicking, and vandalising. All the things I hate, you just wrapped ‘em up in one.”

He smiled something wicked, and leaned in, to bump his nose with your own. “You love me, though.”

“Debatable, right now.” Your scoff was lost as he pressed soft kisses to your lips, coaxing you into remembering just how much you loved him. You were ashamed to say that it worked, as you parted your mouth a little more to reciprocate. 

You felt his smile pressed to your mouth as he did, that hand on your cheek smoothing out, fingers in your hair as he cupped your head, and angled your face for a deeper kiss. 

You were once again both panting by the time he pulled away, satisfied and smitten. 

“Come on, my angry girl. Let’s go for that walk now, yeah? Just me and you for a stroll around the lake.”

You winced as another cracking sounded out, the echo of Mattheo’s fist against the cocky Ravenclaw’s jaw had your stomach rolling. A boy you’d never much cared about. He was entitled and arrogant, and tended to run his mouth a little too much. He thought he was the best thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts, and a blessing to womankind, and you’d caught his eyes on you a couple of times. 

Of course, you’d never mentioned as much to Mattheo, in hopes of sparing him this exact situation. Mattheo didn’t take kindly to lingering gazes, and he didn’t tolerate leering ones at all. He was protective, overprotective, and he was a little bit crazy. He was also in love, and in his opinion, the cat-call the Ravenclaw had given to you and the choice words he’d accompanied it had crossed a line.

And they said Ravenclaws were the smart ones.

So, Mattheo hadn't hesitated. He’d dropped your hand, curled it into a fist, and swung on the boy before he’d even finished smirking at your shocked look. 

Now, you were sighing, as he took the Ravenclaw down to the ground, uncaring of the blow to his shoulder as the two rolled over the stone floors. Scuffling and throwing blows, a crowd formed around them, jostling you endlessly from side to side. He was winning, as always, beating the poor boy into the same blue as his house banners, and no amount of pleading on your behalf to just drop it was going to stop him now. 

You should’ve been halfway to Hogsmeade by now. You’d never make your reservation, and you’d gotten yourself all dressed up for nothing. Hours wasted on hair and make-up and picking out the perfect outfit for this date, all for Mattheo’s impulsive temper and one gross creep to ruin it.

The two continued to brawl, fists slamming, feet kicking, and blood splattering as the crowd cheered and shouted so loud it was deafening. You’d learnt it the hard way a long time ago that you couldn't do anything to stop him now, not when he got into this state, without risking getting hurt yourself. All you could do was wait, and hope.

Finally, the Gryffindor prefect stepped in. He was a sturdy man, broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, as was his friend, as the two grabbed for one of Mattheo’s arms each, pulling him off and to his feet. Blood streamed from his nose, and he grinned, pink tainting his teeth before he spat at the boy curling up on the floor. 

“You be fucking glad they stopped me, because I wouldn't have!” 

“For fuck’s sake…” You muttered, the heat of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks as several gazes fell on you. Elbowing his way through the crowd was an equally red Professor Slughorn, but his flush was from anger. 

“Riddle! Of course, it’s a Riddle. You can take yourself to detention.”

A whine slipped free from your throat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mattheo attempted to shake off the two prefects, wiping his nose with his sleeve and wincing at the feeling. He shrugged, “I can’t tonight, professor. I have plans.”

“I don’t care! Detention, now!” 

Stepping over the Ravenclaw still whimpering at your feet, Mattheo smiled what you assumed was supposed to be a seductive grin at you as you neared him. With the split of his lip, the stain of dried blood on his face, and the splotchy swelling along his nose and jaw, it didn’t quite hit the mark anymore. You were too angry to fall for it. 

“So you’re bailing on our date, again?” Your lip wobbled, arms crossed your chest as you tried to glare at him, but the stinging in your throat betrayed you as your voice cracked. 

“Don’t cry, baby, you did your make-up so nice. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He leaned in, lowering his voice in an attempt for intimacy, despite the Gryffindors tugging on his arms. “I love you.”

You sighed, but released your anger, cupping his face softly so as not to aggravate the painful patches further. “I love you too.”

His lips barely brushed your own before Slughorn was grabbing him by his collar, and yanking him away through the crowds towards detention. Once he was gone, the cowering boy on the floor dragged himself to his feet, his friends hauling him away, and he made the wise decision not to even glance in your direction. 

Even as the crowd parted and you made your way back to your dorm, the lingering feeling of anger petered out to immense disappointment. 

Your reflection was frowning as you stared at yourself in the mirror, pretty outfit and stunning makeup, all going to waste while your boyfriend rotted the night away in detention. 

Detention. 

The same place where your relationship had started, and a ridiculous idea began to root itself in your mind. Tipping out the contents of your school bag, your books and quills scattered across the bedding, and you repacked it with what you’d need instead. 

With a fresh spritz of perfume and a new swipe of lipgloss, you left your dorm, heels clicking against the stone as you hurried yourself along on your mission. The doors were spelled against sneaking out of detention, but sneaking in was surely a different case. 

Your suspicions were confirmed as you pushed the door open, the loud creak echoing through the room, but you were granted entry as you stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind you, and yet, Flitwick didn’t so much as flinch from where he was snoozing atop the desk at the front of the classroom. Mattheo watched with widening eyes and tissues pressed to his nose as you walked through the aisles and took a seat beside him at the desk he’d claimed as his own. 

“What’re you doin’ here, baby?”

You scoffed at his muffled voice, swinging your bag off your shoulder and onto the desk, before sitting down. Taking his hands in your own, you pulled them back, inspecting the damage he’d made to his pretty face. “It’s date night. I wasn’t going to let you sit in here all alone, when I put effort into looking this good.”

Your whispered words made him grin, and you took the tissues from his hands, dabbling softly at the last of the blood. When it was gone, you rifled through your bag instead, producing a small vial of swirling purple liquid. Upon seeing it, he groaned. “Oh, no, I hate those. They taste gross and musty.”

“Maybe if you hadn't done this to yourself, you wouldn't have to take it.” You uncapped the vial, and as the smell drifted to him, he gagged. You raised it to his lips, and he offered a sullen look but parted them for you to tip it into his mouth. Swallowing it came with a grimace, and you wiped your thumb over his lips to get rid of the sticky residue it left. Within seconds, the swelling on his jaw was going down, the cut on his nose was healing over, and the nasty bruising under his eyes was fading away. “That’s better. My pretty boy is back.”

He blushed at that but offered a cheeky grin, and leaned in to kiss you sweetly. Before his lips could meet yours, you swerved, and he grunted unhappily as his mouth landed on your cheek instead. 

“You’re not kissing me while you still taste like that gross potion.”

“Typical.” He mumbled, but left a few more peppered kisses along your jaw. You worked as he did, laying out the various snacks you’d brought with you along the table, and as he caught sight of the chocolate frog, an excited gasp slipped free. He snatched the frog up quickly, tearing off the foil wrapper and snapping off a leg. 

He lifted it to your lips, always offering you the first bite, and you let him feed it to you while he watched on. Happy you’d taken it, he snapped off another, dropping the chunk into his mouth and chewing happily. 

“God, I love you so fucking much,” He sighed as he finished eating, finally leaning in to claim this kiss he had been denied earlier. “I’m gonna’ marry you someday.”

“Yeah, and you’ll probably get yourself arrested on the big day.” Your voice was bitter but your smile was the same as whenever he talked of his plans or your joint future. He knew you were bluffing too, closing the gap between you both once again, and nipping gently on your bottom lip. 

“I always come back to you though, baby.”

That made you kiss him properly because you had no retort to offer. It was true, he always found his way back to you. He was crazy, reckless, and impulsive, but he was in love with you, and he didn’t care to hide it. 

Not from the others in the detention room, not from the people in the halls, not from anyone on this earth. It was the two of you together, he’d never leave you behind or let you down, and you could trust him in that. 

So, maybe he did prove ‘em right. But he also proved you right. Mattheo Riddle was so much more than they all said he was. He was loyal and loving, and he was yours.

[lucimaaie]

big deal ✧.* tlou

pairing - Ellie Williams x fem!reader, ellie williams x miller!reader

summary - you and ellie fight over your jealousness.

warning - short, not proofread bc what is that, lil angst to fluff, possibly occ ellie idk

jealousy was something ellie knew all to well. though she wasn’t exactly ready to deal with it in you. she didn’t entertain any other girl (not on purpose) and left you very mushy (to be kept private for that very reason, notes when she was gone with joel and tommy. and yet, you were jealous.

“i’m serious. i don’t see how she was flirting,” ellie walked along side you, ahead of joel and tommy who had been tuning in and out of the argument.

“really? she did the arm squeeze, el. i did that before we got together, remember?” you walked at a pace faster than anyone else, the embarrassment of having to explain your thought process making you want to run away just for a moment. yes, you were jealous of some girl you barely knew and yes you were having this conversation in front of your dad and uncle. it wasn’t something to be particularly proud of

“the arm squeeze?” ellie looked at you incredulously as she walked to keep up with you. “the arm squeeze.” she repeated.

“yes!” you stressed.

“the fuck is that?”

“it’s basic psychology, ellie. the arm squeeze means she likes you. did you not know that when i—“

“does it matter? i like you, not her.”

“i know that.”

“then i don’t get why this is such a big deal, i’m dating you!” though her words rang true something in them didn’t agree with you. maybe it was the just the heat getting to you and not envy. maybe, but it didn’t matter the reason because your feet took you elsewhere as soon as you got to an old abandoned outlet.

you walked around the open space, kicking rocks of debris around as you looked at the broken in and looted stores. some caught your interest and you ventured into them despite joel’s warning to not go too far. you hadn’t even noticed ellie creeping behind you as you flipped through old ripped magazines. “ellie!” you screamed, covering your mouth.

she looked equally as shocked as you as you waited for sounds of clickers, runners, or any monster in the shadows. when the coast was clear, ellie smiled sheepishly and leaned against the counter you sat on. “so..jealous.” she tapped the counter, looking up at you.

“i..don’t want to talk about it, el. you’re right. it doesn’t matter.” you flipped through the magazine as opposed to looking at her. the image of carefree teens looking back at you made you frown. ellie grabbed the paper from your hand and set it on the counter.

“you did an hour ago.” she said with seriousness this time.

“that was an hour ago. it’s not a big deal, like you said.”

ellie shut her eyes as you threw her words back at her. she knew deserved it to some capacity. “it’s not nothing. okay, maybe she was flirting, but i didn’t flirt back, i swear.”

“you don’t have to—“

“yes, i do because you’ll just keep talking about it until i get you to believe me.” she sat down next to you on the counter, her hand coming down over yours. her eyes flicked from your hands to your face.

“i believe you, el.”

“so, then why’re you still mad at me?”

“i’m not. not really. i mean, i was. it’s stupid. i don’t get jealous about anything but—“

“me?” she said, her eyes widening in surprise. you could tell the way she held back a smile, even if the mood was serious.

“no, cupcakes. yes you!”

“alright, alright. i’m just clarifying.” she held up her hands in peace. “you only get jealous about me? actually?”

“yeah. and it does not feel good being the jealous girlfriend. at all. i just started an argument with you over an arm squeeze.”

“you did.” she laughed lightly as she knocked her shoulder into yours.

“my theory is still valid.”

“bullshit. i smell bullshit.” she sung. “i get jealous when it comes to you too. i just..don’t say anything.”

“and i turn it into an argument.”

“both equally as shitty.”

“not a competition.”

“like hell it is.”

the light of flashlight flicked on and off and your direction. the sight made you and ellie squint your eyes before you recognized it was joel’s signal in a place like this. “c’mon. gotta get back before the oldies get grumpy.” ellie hopped off the counter and reached for your hand. you did the same and intertwined your fingers with hers.

“e?” you said as you two walked out of the store and into the empty space. she hummed. “if..when you get jealous. could you tell me?”

she looked at from the ground to you. she seemed to consider it for a moment before gnawing on her lip. “you’d get annoyed with me.”

“did i not just piss you off fighting with you?”

“eh.”

“i’m saying annoy me, piss me off back. i’m your girlfriend, i can handle that.” you shrugged as you spoke the words despite your feelings underneath the facade. the whole girlfriend thing was new to the both of you, who known each other for years at this point. you knew the most about each other than anyone else. neither one of you want to be the one to mess it up.

“i’ll hold you to that.” ellie said quietly. your words seemed to give her an unexpected confidence boost enough to pull you closer to her and press a gentle kiss onto your lips. her own were but a bit cracked but that didn't matter as her came to cup your face. she pulled back, eyes soft with affection and hint of anxiety for your reaction. this wasn't your first time kissing each other, she didn't know why she was desperate for- "mph!" she hummed against your lips as you kissed her again. this time still sweet, but not so gentle.

“are yall kissing?” tommy yelled.

you and ellie quickly dispersed, pretending to be enamored with the broken displays of the stores. it wasn't surprising that neither Tommy or Joel bought it. Joel simply waved you two over, glaring as you walked ahead of him, hand-in hand. the air of awkwardness barely lasted a minute before you and ellie burst out laughing, only to be shushed by a grumbling, mildly mortified Joel. "to be continued." Ellie mumbled into your ear.

thank you for reading!

[hiraethwrote]

AS I LIVE AND BREATHE

pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : he thought time had extinguished any silly little feelings he'd had for you. that was way back in high school anyways. why would they linger when he didn't have you around to remind him? cw : just pure fluff, very self indulgent, kinda boring but idc, heavy pining, timeskip, set in 2016, flashbacks, reader is a uni dropout (lowkey me venting about dropping out lol), mild cursing, no use of y/n word count : 3.5k

He couldn’t help how his looks always used to linger — a generous gesture he had only spared you.

It wasn’t news to Tobio that he was notorious for being unapproachable. He had a permanent frown stamped on his forehead that always gave the impression that he was in no mood to interact with anyone. And if someone had been possessed with the spirit of engaging in small talk, he would keep his answers short and to the point. If the topic didn’t interest him, he saw no reason why he would waste his energy on it.

Eventually people just stopped trying, leaving him to live in his exclusive bubble where volleyball was the only thing that mattered — and that was enough for him.

However, you decided to go against the stream, ignoring the pinched eyebrows and standoffish demeanour.

It wasn’t anything big, but you just spared him something as simple as a smile. If he accidentally locked eyes with you across the classroom, or you passed each other in the halls, your lips would curl into the kindest smile before going on with your day.

At first he had thought you must have mistaken him for someone else, because why would you smile at him? You never really talked to each other, falling into the roles of simply being classmates.

But the tiny smiles continued, clearly meant for him. And what was probably just a meaningless act of kindness to you, had heat creep up his neck and colour his cheeks in dusty pink. Eventually he developed the tiniest hallway crush, eyes shyly seeking you out as he impatiently waited for you to catch him.

That’s where his courage stopped however. He knew he would never be brave enough to ever initiate a conversation, based on the few times words were exchanged between you and his mouth would completely dry out. You could come over to ask the most casual question of “do you have a pen I could borrow?”, and when he muttered a shy no, you simply went on to ask the next person, thinking nothing more of it.

Tobio would churn over the interaction for hours, hindsight supplying him with all the possible answers he could have given you.

Three years of a childish crush eventually came to an end when graduation rolled around. When separated, your smiles simply ceased to exist in his life and it was like a fog had lifted. He left Karasuno, and the crush evaporated into nothingness and he grew out of the childish infatuation.

That’s what he thought at least.

Right now, that very smile that had his heart race was staring back at him, identical to how he remembered it — turns out his infatuation had nothing to do with age, and everything to do with you.

Your deadpanned expression twisted into one of pleasant surprise when you spotted him. “Kageyama Tobio, as I live and breathe!”

Maybe he had always had a tiny glimmer of hope he would eventually run into you again — that being said, he was not prepared for that time to be now. Last he heard, you were basking in the glorious university life in Tokyo, attending some prestigious education he could only imagine getting into. You weren’t supposed to stand behind the counter of the quaint convenience store, much like you had done when you were sixteen.

What was even more unexpected was how you knew his name. Your interactions throughout your acquaintance had been so few and far between, he had just assumed you knew him as ‘that volleyball guy’ — but hearing his name spoken in the tune of your voice, travelling in cheerful waves, had his heart beat a little faster.

Despite his frozen stature, he let his eyes take in the scenery of you sat behind the counter. Your shoulders were close under your ears, the corporate fleece doing little to shield out the gushing cold air that occupied the store.

As unflattering as the white light above might have been, it did little to diminish your appearance which was prettier than he recalled — you looked very much like yourself, just slightly different. Every feature had turned more defined, the childlike curves slowly fading with time.

“There’s a face I didn’t think I’d see any time soon.”

Swallowing his nerves, praying his flushed cheeks wasn’t beyond obvious, he placed his items on the surface in front of you.

“Could say the same.” He wished he was brave enough to look at your face, wanting to take in all the subtle changes to your appearance. But he didn’t dare let his eyes rest on you for more than a few moments at a time, redirecting his attention to the rather interesting products he was purchasing, impatiently waiting for his heart to settle so he could act like a normal human being.

“Thought you were busy being a big shot volleyball player,” you teased, the obnoxious beeping of you scanning his items ringing in his ears. “What are you doing back home?”

He cleared his throat, hoping it would bring back some steadiness to it. “Just visiting,” nodding carefully as the words tumbled awkwardly out of him.

As he paid for his items, he tried to let his innocent urges control him and tilt his head to look at you — he had to greet the embarrassed redness to his cheeks like an old friend when he saw you already had your eyes focused on him.

“Are you in town for long?” You asked as you handed him the bagged groceries, your fingers brushing against his in a featherlight touch. It was so modest, he wasn’t even sure you felt it — he most certainly did.

“Just a few days.”

“That’s nice. A break from your hectic schedule.”

“I’ll still practice.”

Your smile widened as you pulled your sleeves over your hands, folding your arms and leaning forward on the counter. “Yeah, guess I kinda knew that.”

He felt so stupid, ogling you with big eyes as he racked his brain for all that he knew of small talk, and yet he blanked completely.

“Guess the life of a pro athlete never stops,” you said as you checked your wristwatch, probably waiting for the time to strike eleven so you could close up.

“No, not really.”

He sensed an awkward silence sneak in on the conversation, and he so desperately did not want it to end. And he spotted the slightest betrayal in your expression when your smile wavered for a split second — and he was convinced it was because you thought he was being weird.

With this opportunity served on a silver platter, he wanted to prove he wasn’t as socially inapt as he came across to be.

“You’re in Tokyo now, right?”

“Well, yes, technically,” you chuckled, undisclosed information hiding in your answer. It was uncontrollable how he quirked an eyebrow in confusion, though he quickly smoothened it in hopes he didn’t come across as rude. “Guess I’m home visiting as well. For a while.”

“And do you like it? Tokyo?”

“It’s definitely more my pace.”

That confirmed his suspicions, possessing a lively personality that seemed too big for this small town. He had always found you to have a soothing type of vibrancy that filled every room you walked into.

And your energy was infectious. He was still anxious beyond belief, but somewhere inside him he could sense that your presence had a calming effect on him. It possessed him with a flash of courage when he said “it’s nice seeing you again.”

You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise at his unexpected line, and for a moment he was sure he had messed up. He clenched his fists, waiting for you to laugh at him or tell him off.

He didn’t expect your smile to return, reigniting the butterflies once again. “Yeah,” you spoke softly, “yeah, you too.” The smile remained and the cute crinkles by your eyes deepened.

The conversation was once more drifting towards a close, and this time Tobio didn’t think he had it in him to resurrect it. He took a deep breath and presented you with a tight lipped smile, mumbling a quiet “see ya,” before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

He only had time to place his palm against the cool glass before you called his name. “Hey, Kageyama,” capturing his attention, eyebrows narrowed as he waited for your next words. “I close up in like ten minutes. Wanna walk me home?”

What? Had he heard you right?

You sunk your teeth cutely into your bottom lip, a tiny bit amused by how visibly his mind was racing to comprehend your request. “I would love to catch up more.”

His shoulders raised, as if this wasn’t the most stressful interaction he could ever remember being in, “sure.”

You gave him a look, one he couldn’t quite deduce the meaning of, while there was a sprinkle of mischief in your pursed smirk.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket so his nerves wouldn’t spill out in anxious fidgeting, while you started all your closing routines.

As subtly as he managed, he kept his attention on you, standing behind the register, counting the change as you quietly hummed along to the melody coming from the cheap radio behind you. Consuming his mind was the thought that you seems to fit perfectly into the impression he had created of you back in school — kind, generally keeping a smile on your face, really just trying to enjoy the day that was today.

Your head tilted down to check your wristwatch again as you let out a deep exhale, ridding yourself of the strain caused from the closing shift before you disappeared down one of the isles.

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he was still trying to mentally prepare himself for the walk home — he was probably never again going to get the chance to prove to you that he wasn’t as socially constipated and egocentric like everyone thought he was.

The lights shut off, and you emerged again, having changed out of the uniform and into a black hoodie. “Finally,” your head fell back playfully in light exasperation, hands rummaging through your bag before you pulled out your keys, “staying open until eleven on a Saturday should be considered a crime. There’s not a soul present the last hour.”

Tobio walked out the door first, and without even thinking about it, he simply held the door open for you. He had just acted on pure instinct, and didn’t reflect on it until you flashed him another one of your charming grins. As you mumbled quiet gratitudes, he spun his head away and retracted further into the neck of his jacket — if you were to look directly at him, you would definitely be able to see the generous flush spreading across his face.

“So, Kageyama Tobio,” you said nonchalantly, spinning the keys around your finger before tossing them in your bag again, “the olympics. Quite the achievement.”

“Thank you.”

You chuckled as you startled to fiddle with the packaging of a protein bar. “Never took you to be so humble,” you teased.

Turning to look at you again, he let his eyes be led by the protein bar heading for your mouth, before landing on your lips — your plump, glossy lips that looked so extremely soft. It wasn’t until you’d finished chewing and started talking again he was able to catch himself staring and avert his gaze back to the path ahead.

“I mean, from what I’ve seen of you on the court, it’s not the first word I would use to describe you.”

“You’ve seen me play?”

A deeper laugh escaped you, one that reactively caused a smile to grow on his face — he quickly wiped it away, too scared to lean into the feeling. “Of course I have. Several. Always having us at the edge of our seats. But you-“ you cut yourself off, pointing the bar in your hand at him.

Did you even have a clue what you were doing to him? His breath hitching in his throat, tense shoulders stiffening his arms when you so abruptly stepped ahead to walk backwards while always able to look at him.

“You, mister, got pride filling your every fibre when playing.”

Eyes widened at your compliment — because that’s what it was, a compliment. Not a comment with rude undertones, not a snarky statement to piss him off, but genuine admiration for his craft.

“You think so?”

“No, I know so. It’s quite obvious when looking at you.”

“Been looking at me quite a lot, have you?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

This time he surrendered to the urge to flash you a smile. It was a reserved one, however, barely able to spot how the corner of his lips tilted upwards — cute.

“Guess it’s not too long until you head for Rio, right?” You asked as you took another bite.

“In a couple of months,” he retracted his hands from his pockets to clutch around the strap of his bag. “Kind of a wonder they let me visit home.”

“Yeah, would think they’d have you locked up in the gym until you leave,” and you chucked again, a sound he quickly realised he really liked to hear.

He cleared his throat, slowly stepping into a more confident role. “When are you heading back to Tokyo?”

Your steps came to a halt, and he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked under the warm light from the street lamps, he nearly missed the uncertainty that traveled across your face.

Eventually it seemed you reached a conclusion, opening your mouth. “I don’t know, to be honest. Soon hopefully.”

“Studies going well?”

“No,” you hesitated, forcing a laugh. “In fact, they’re not going at all.” You could tell by the look on his face he was confused. “I dropped out.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t know why it had so easily slipped past your tongue. Usually you had a hard time admitting it out loud, feeling the weighing sensation of disappointment from everyone you told.

However, there was something about Tobio that had you fall into a sense of comfort you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the fact that he was someone who wasn’t a complete stranger to your life, yet unfamiliar enough that he felt unrelated to everything going on.

“Do you regret it?”

It wasn’t the question you expected. People usually wanted to know why — why would you do that, and what were you to do now? Would you manage to find a job no when you had strayed from your original plan?

You let the question linger in the air for a moment before you answered, “no. I don’t.”

His chest raised as he took a deep breath, a welcoming and warm smile greeting you, one that was wider than the one he flashed you earlier. “Good.”

It was one word — just one word, yet it was loaded with a sense of understanding you had barely received when sharing your life changing news. It had you purse your lips to contain the overwhelming smile that was about to overtake your entire face.

The eye contact was intense, heart pounding a little harder by how surprisingly comfortable it felt, filling you with giddiness you hadn’t experienced in a while.

“You know,” you cleared your throat as you turned your back to him and started walking again. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” It only took him a few seconds to catch up and walk along side you again. “You’re quite the character, Kageyama.”

He scoffed, pretending like what you said didn’t make his heart flutter. “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know, I always just assumed you would be like how you are when you play,” you sighed. “You’re so sure of yourself when you’re tossing. Very serene, if you will. Unless you were yelling at that little guy. Damn, what was his name? The ginger?”

Amusement twisted his expression. Not only because you knew Hinata as ‘the ginger’, but also because you had known his name, but not remembered his old teammate’s name despite him being considerably more outgoing than himself — Tobio was almost certain you’d had more conversations with Hinata than you had ever had with him.

“You talking about Hinata?”

“Yes! Him!” Excitement spilling out in your gestures. “Besides the point. My friend had a crush on one of your teammates, so she sometimes dragged me along to spy on your practices.”

He was slowly growing tired of how you had the blush lurking under his skin almost permanently, when he once again felt it approaching as he waited for the rest of your story. For the short time you had been walking, he had managed to find a somewhat steady presence, but the little confidence he grasped onto was hanging on by a thin thread. Whatever you were to say next threatened to sever it.

“There was a handful of times I witnessed you scream at the poor guy,” you laughed, nudging an elbow to his side.

Maybe he could latch onto the pleasant vibrations of your laugh to maintain his peace, trying not to let the memories of his outbursts crush him.

“It was a refreshing sight.”

Come on, Kageyama, give into the banter.

“Has anyone ever told you that you come with quite loaded statements?” He hoped he managed to smear his voice with sarcasm in order to hide the insecurity that tainted his words.

“Sorry,” trailing off with a soothing giggle. “Bad habit — what I mean is, it expanded the impression I had of you. You were always so quiet, minding your own business, much like you are now. When you’re playing, however, you’re emotional, if that makes sense?” You said with an awkward chuckle.

Was he dreaming? Was his ears playing a trick on him? Had you really been doing such an analysis of his character, enough to form an opinion that went beyond the impression he gave to most people?

He turned to look at you, locking eyes with you immediately — there was something so tender in your expression, gaze seemingly holding a deeper message he was eager, desperate, to unveil. But he struggled, too wrapped up in how your vibrant grin had transformed into a shy tilt. He couldn’t quite describe it, but it felt more genuine somehow — emotional, maybe, as you’d put it.

“Anyways,” breaking the eye contact, feeling an unfamiliar burning sensation tingle up your neck. You weren’t used to being flustered like this. “Yelling at Hinata, proved you’re more of a hothead than you let on,” trying to fall back to a casual tension, ignoring how the recent eye contact with his captivating blue eyes had stirred up the tiniest whirlwind inside you.

“Never thought you were so observant,” he quipped, and much like you, he tried to smother the boyish excitement you had caused.

“What? D’you go around thinking I was too daft or something?” There was a very evident joking manner to your tone, but didn’t seem like he picked up on it.

“What? No! That’s not-“

“I’m just playing with you, Kageyama,” you laughed, true melody to his ears.

“I just meant… of me.” He kept his eyes locked ahead, knowing his face was about to completely succumb to the blush that was so easily brought to the surface around you.

“Yeah, well,” he heard your deep sigh, “I don’t know. You stuck out to me, despite you trying your very best not to.”

All his experiences regarding you from his school days suddenly intensified — everything was put in a new light with this revolutionary information. No wonder he had found himself falling for you when there was an unspoken connection he wasn’t even aware of.

“This is me!” Your tone changed immediately, the sentimental energy evaporating into nothing but a memory. “Thanks for walking me home.”

He was fortunate enough to receive another of your characteristic smiles, those would probably always have an hypnotising effect on him, as you backed up towards the entryway of your house.

“My pleasure,” he said, trying his best to mirror the earnestness of your affection.

You had pulled out your keys again, “and I’ll make sure to tune in when you’re in Rio. Even if I have to get up in the middle of the night.”

“Maybe you’ll see some of that emotion you were talking about.”

“Oh, I’m betting on it,” you opened the door. “Good night, Kageyama.”

“You know,” he was quick to interject before you had the opportunity to disappear through the door. He swallowed his fear, “you can call me Tobio.”

A smile. “Good night. Tobio.” You held his gaze a second, and you were out of his sight.

tags : @hiraethwa

an : okay i am not so happy with it... the words were working against me on this one. might be bc i'm not familier with writing for hq yet but eventually. i have more hope in my next hq fic. it is also v boring, but it's more of a venting fic for how i feel about dropping out (it comes in waves yk)

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Realistically, Steve knows the band won’t hang around Chicago forever. He knows they’re out promoting a new album; knows they’ll have to move on and that Eddie has to go with them. It doesn’t stop him from wanting Eddie to stay; to live in the quick familiarity he’s built within Steve’s little found family.

Eddie and Robin seem to have already created their own secret language, all gestures and movement and eye contact Steve picks up on but can’t quite read. He’s already picking on the Party like he’s known them their whole lives; ruffling Dustin’s hair, elbowing Mike, throwing his arm around Will’s shoulders, and giving Lucas little shoves. 

It’s easy; so easy to get caught up in how charismatic Eddie is. Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off him, and Eddie knows. He keeps making comments, throwing winks in Steve’s direction, seeing right through every wall he’s ever built around himself and Steve is caught between being obsessed with it and terrified. 

He stops drinking after the one beer, worried he’ll make things weird if he gets anywhere near tipsy, opting to stay as far away from the possibility as he can. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.

Lucas is chatting animatedly with Jeff, Max sitting close by, twisting braids into El’s hair. Dustin, Mike and Will appear to be grilling Gareth and Freak about dungeon and dragon campaigns Eddie used to run. Nancy has her arm looped through Robin’s, but her attention is on the phone in her hands, as Eddie and Robin talk about what touring is like.

“Where else are you going on this tour?” She asks as Steve tunes back into the conversation.

“This isn’t really a tour, we just haven’t been on the road in a while and we just stopped the album, so we lined up a few shows to get our feet wet before we hit the road for real this summer. One more show out in LA on Tuesday, then we’re done until May, for now.” Eddie explains.

“We’re in LA on Thursday!” Robin exclaims, and Steve’s stomach drops because, yeah. LA on Thursday. He trains his eyes on the glass in front of him, not willing to actually look at anyone they’re around. 

“We could totally meet up again if you guys are able to swing it?” Freak offers, and Steve forces a little smile onto his face and nods.

“We can figure it out later,” Eddie says after a few beats, and Steve is grateful for how the conversation rolls onto the next topic. When he finally looks back up, though, Eddie’s still looking his way. Steve hits him with what he hopes comes off as a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t seem to pay off the way he hopes.

Once the tab is closed and the staff is tipped well, Steve catches Eddie’s elbow on their way out the door. “I would like to meet up in LA, if you’re interested. I didn’t mean to get weird about it, it’s… I’ve been in my head a bit about that game since it was announced.”

“Oh, hey, no worries. We’re in LA the whole week, then we’re heading home. So no pressure, honest.” Eddie hooks his hand over Steve’s softly.

“Well, we should get in Wednesday, but we could totally do something after the game or even Friday?” 

Eddie smiles and nods, patting over Steve’s hand. “Text me about it.”

“I can do that. How much longer are you guys in town for, anyway?” Steve asks.

“Ah, the dreaded question comes,” Eddie’s playful, and it makes Steve’s face heat up. “We’ve got just under another 24 hours in the Windy City before hitting the road again.”

“Oh,” It pulls his chest in a way he wasn’t expecting, in a way that shouldn’t be happening for a rockstar he was adjacently aware of in high school. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Harrington,” Eddie’s teasing again, and it does nothing to help the blush on Steve’s face. “You can’t possibly miss me this much when I haven’t even left yet.”

“Shut up,” Steve shoves him away then, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, only for Eddie to pull him in with an arm around the shoulder.

“We can grab brunch or something? We leave around 8 to avoid rush hour, so I’ll have to be in the bus by 6, or I’d say dinner.”

“Brunch works for me.” 

~~~~

The trip back to the hotel doesn’t go as Eddie expects; everyone is silently chatting amongst themselves, nodding and tapping along to the music and not causing a scene. He almost points it out, but elects not to bring unwarranted bullying upon himself instead. The guys had been giving him shit about Steve near constantly, so this was a nice change of pace after the last few days.

There was actually quiet as he made his way back to his room. A hot shower finally restored warmth to his bones the hockey arena had stolen, and he was drying his hair when he heard his phone vibrate with a text notification.

Steve: anything you're craving for brunch tomorrow so I can pick a place?

It’s practically too easy to flirt with Steve; he sets up lines without even seeming to realize. But Eddie still can’t get a real gauge on how Steve feels about the flirting, so he sidesteps the easy pass he could have made about Steve being enough of a meal, in favor of actually answering.

Eddie: French toast?

The next series of texts come before Eddie even moves his hands back to the towel over his hair.

Steve: sick, I’ll pick you up around 10:45

Steve: you mentioned going home, did you mean like, back to Hawkins?

Eddie twists his hair up in the towel, and lays down on the side of the bed he doesn’t sleep on before firing off an answer.

Eddie: nah, I’ve got a place in Nashville and no reason to go back to Hawkins anymore. My uncle moved to Indy, so that’s usually as close as I get.

Steve: any reason you moved to Nashville?

Eddie: are we playing 20 questions?

Steve: sorry.

Eddie bites his lip, and only hesitates for a moment before flipping over onto his belly and hitting the FaceTime button. Steve answers on the second ring, looking embarrassed, but Eddie doesn’t let him get a word in.

“My mom was born and raised in Memphis, but she always told me her favorite city was Nashville. I was there with her a few times when I was little and she’d just, like, light up. And music is so heavily engraved into every inch of the city, it’s hard to not find inspiration everywhere you turn. So. I bought a place in Nashville the minute I had enough saved up, and it’s kind of my home base now.” Eddie explains, watching as Steve’s face softens and he relaxes into his chair listening to Eddie’s answer. “Do I get to ask a question now?”

“I really wasn’t trying to be annoying, “ Steve looks ready to keep going with an apology, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Why do you play hockey?” It stops Steve dead in his tracks, and he genuinely looks confused for a moment. Eddie almost offers to drop the topic, but Steve fumbles his way into an answer.

“My, uh. My dad wanted me to play before I was even born. Because he played. Professionally for a few years when I was growing up, then he went on to coach.” Steve explains, and it sounds a little rehearsed. Eddie’s sure it’s something that comes up often if his father played and coached. “Gotta keep the Harrington legacy alive, I guess.”

There was a bite to Steve’s words that wasn’t lost on Eddie. “You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

Eddie can see Steve working over how he wants to answer before he shrugs and sighs. “Because it’s all a show for him. The part we don’t talk about is how I got hurt and benched most of my senior season and he cut me off when I didn’t get full rides. Convinced me it was better to not go to college at all, despite the other scholarship offers, than to not get promised a spot on the ice. Convinced me to self-sabotage so I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to get into the league at all.” Steve pauses, then, and lets out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, that’s so unbelievably whiny of me. I love getting to play professionally, and I don’t take the opportunity for granted.”

“Not whiny. Dads can be the fucking worst.” Eddie offers, gently, and is grateful when Steve doesn't press on that particular bruise.

Instead, he takes his turn to ask a different question. “Why music?”

“This is lame, but the answer is once again my mom.” Eddie rolls his eyes at himself, but he smiles. “She was a musician. There were always instruments around and music was always playing and we traveled for her to perform. I knew my whole life I wanted to be a musician like her, but it wasn’t until after she died that I figured out that songwriting… telling stories and painting pictures with words and melodies and making people feel something…” Eddie trails off, lost in the thought.

“I’m sorry you lost her. It sounds like you enjoyed your childhood with her.” Steve offers, hopes it doesn’t sound like a forced nicety, but Eddie smiles and his nerves ease.

“She was a force to be reckoned with. Firing on all cylinders at once, chaos and home bundled into one.” Eddie’s soft a quiet for a moment, and Steve appreciates the silence by taking in how relaxed the other is to be talking about his feelings; it’s a refreshing break from many of his experiences with teammates or opponents who don’t know how to get emotional in a healthy way. Eventually, though, Eddie clears his throat. “Anyway. Back to 20 questions,”

“I wasn’t trying to start a game, really, I just… like talking to you,” Steve admits around a blush, tucking his chin into the collar of his shirt in an effort to hide the shade of his cheeks, but Eddie’s smile says his cover is blown.

“ANYWAY!” He announces louder, then taps at his chin. “Favorite and least favorite teams to play and why, go.”

“I’m not a dog.” Steve laughs but thinks about his answer anyway. “Favorite is probably the Flyers in Philly. Their fans are absolutely brutal, and their mascot is hilariously terrifying.”

“I have seen many a Gritty TikTok, so I completely understand,” Eddie gives him a few beats before he prompts. “Least favorite?”

“The Kings. LA. Billy Hargrove.”

“The…, what the fuck? How many guys from Hawkins are professional hockey players?” Eddie asks, because honestly, how had he not known there was more than Steve?

“He’s technically from LA, which is why he went back, thank God.” Steve mumbles, before dropping his head back against the wall behind him. “But, for whatever it’s worth, there’s me, Billy, and Tommy Hagan in the league.”

“Well isn’t that a fun bunch to surround yourself with,” Eddie muses out loud. Tommy and Billy were two of the biggest assholes Eddie had ever met, and it sounded like Steve wasn’t too fond of the other pair either.

“I actually…” Steve trails off, before trying again. “I was going to invite you guys to come to the LA game, but I’m really not sure it would be a good idea, so I’m… I’m actually going to ask you guys not to come, if that’s not too much of a dick move? I can get you tickets to literally any game you want for the rest of the season, just. I don’t think it’s worth it to get Billy started, and if he’s heard any of the press about us, I’m already going to hear it even if you’re not there.”

“Homophobe extraordinaire still, then?” Eddie guesses, and Steve chokes out a laugh, before covering his mouth and holding up a finger to ask for a moment to compose himself.

“He's… a lot of things.” Is the response Steve opts for, but Eddie can tell there’s more there. Whatever the two of them are doing, it doesn’t feel like Steve is ready to elaborate, so Eddie moves on. 

“I think it’s your turn.”

~~~~

Nothing changes after Corroded Coffin leave Chicago, though. Not in the ways Eddie had expected, at least.

Steve still texts him throughout the day, answers his Facetimes whenever he’s available. Eddie makes him the playlist he promised, and Steve gives feedback on which songs he likes and which ones he really doesn’t, after Eddie promises to not take Steve’s opinions personally. Which, to be fair, he tries really hard not to.

The concert in LA comes and goes, and Steve seems to send him every TikTok he comes across from the show. It’s a refreshing break, as every few videos in Eddie’s feed are of him cheering for Steve at the game, or Steve watching from sidestage in Chicago. 

A text from Robin eventually confirms their arrival in LA, and Steve and Eddie make plans to meet up after the game. Since Steve had expressed concern about Eddie going, he decides to just watch from the bar they agree to meet at. Televised games make it easier to track the puck, but Eddie decides he likes being there in person better.

Eddie’s sipping absently on his beer and in the time it takes him to look down at a text from Chrissy, several of the people around him react to something. Eddie looks around to make sure someone in the bar hadn’t passed out. When he looks back at the screen, absolute mayhem has broken out on the ice. The refs are trying to separate players from one another, and Eddie’s scanning through the numbers on each Blackhawks jerseys before he finally spots Steve, slightly off to the side from everyone else. The camera pans away from him, zeroing in on the fight, now between a Blackhawks defenseman and none other than Billy Hargrove. 

Billy’s helmet and gloves are off, teeth shining with blood as he grins like a psycho and starts to skate in Steve’s direction. One of the refs pulls him back, though, escorting him into the penalty box while another Kings player gathers his helmet, stick and gloves and clears them to the bench. 

The camera finally pans back to Steve, who is now sitting with his back against the boards. He’s got a gloved covering the lower half of his face, but his white jersey is covered in blood. A ref and the Blackhawks goalie are kneeling on either side of him as someone else speaks with him. The camera zooms in as the TV crews work to make out what is happening, just in time for Steve to lower his hand and shows off a gnarly gash along the side of his face. He leans forward a little and spits out blood onto the ice, and the TV jumps to the announcers in the booth. 

The volume is off, but they show a slow-motion replay of the few moments Eddie’d missed; Steve passes the puck off to another player on his team, just before Billy slams into his side. The impact sends both of them into the boards and down onto the ice. Billy swings his stick around and cracks Steve in the face with the blade heel. Steve reacts, throwing his whole arm into Billy’s face, before a sea of white Blackhawks jerseys sweep in and suddenly Billy’s a few feet away, with players from both teams piled up.

Eddie’s hand hovers over his phone; has no idea what to do in this situation. Texting Steve is useless; it would likely be hours, if not days, before he even thinks about looking at his phone. He doesn’t want to bother anyone, but he’s… well, he’s stressed. Even if Steve isn’t interested in him the way Eddie’s interested in Steve, they’ve still built a weird little friendship and that was an awful lot of blood.

So, Eddie ends up firing off a text to Robin. It’s just a simple 'let me know if there’s anything I can do,' but his phone lights up with a call immediately.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m not back with him yet, but just… meet us at the hospital, if you can?” She asks. While her voice waivers a bit, she’s calmer than Eddie expected her to be.

“I’ll be right there.” He agrees, hangs up and exits the bar before the game even returns from commercial break.

[der7py]

Yandere Radio host x reader

Victor Rodriguez was the most popular radio host there was to date! He had late night talks shows, was always on the evening and morning radio, and was super charismatic! Only problem? He didn't have a co-star. But you'd make a lovely co-star.

Warnings: Mature language, addresses being leaked (only to yandere), stalking, car tampering, hero complex, mentions of abusive households

You swear that Victor was always on the air! Day and night, on every station. You could've sworn nobody listened to radio anymore! But apparently, with this new hotshot, everybody did now.

It's not that you disliked the man. He didn't do anything wrong. Surprisingly, unlike other radio hosts, he wasn't that boastful. But you were just sick of hearing him all the damn time.

Eventually, you tuned in (your friends wanted you to listen to him for once), and you made the mistake of accidentally calling in.

"Hello, this is Victor Rodriguez speaking! Who do I have the pleasure of talking to?" Oh wow, he answered the radio like it was just a normal contact in his phone!

You two had a surprising, really meaningful conversation! He didn't talk over you, poke fun at you for his listeners, and actually remembered things about you in the short time you talked.

You actually emailed him (he has a work email), and he responded back! You two emailed for a bit before exchanging numbers since you had made plans to hang out with him!

_______________________

Shit! You were running late! Your car just wouldn't start, and now you don't even know if he's still there. But before you could call a mechanic, a black car pulled into your driveway, and a very concerned Victor immediately jumped out of his car. "Are you okay? You didn't show up for a while, and I was worried if you got into an accident!" You felt your face heat up and start to turn pink. No man had ever done what he did. Usually, they just got impatient and left at the first minute. But Victor... he actually went looking for you. To make sure you were safe.

"Yeah sorry, my car just won't fucking start." You explained, pointing at your car which was a pretty old model. Victor cocked his head, peering into the car, before looking back at you. "You got tools so we can pop the hood up? Maybe it's the engine." What happened next you had no control over. It was magic even. You opened the hood, grabbed a toolbox out of your garage, and handed it to him. In the next 30 minutes, he had fixed whatever problem your car had.

Victor turned back to look at you with a goofy smile, and you swore your heart was moving a mile too fast. "All done! But the ice cream parlor is probably closing by now. Do you wanna just hang out here?" He asked, and you nodded your head immediately. It was surprisingly a really nice day with him! You both had a cookout, lounged in the sun, and even had a water balloon fight. You were having so much fun, you let one thing slip your mind.

How the hell did he know where you lived.

_______________________

Okay, so maybe he has every caller's address show to him and only him so he can stay safe. It's not his fault! He didn't know if his step-dad was still looking for him.

After he ran away from his abusive household (promising his mother and little siblings, he'd come back and save them from his step-dad's wrath), he immediately got picked up from a small radio station who needed a new radio host after the last one quit.

Clearly, he was better than what he expected because now he had worked his way up to the top radio station and was on nearly every channel!

So when you called in, he just expected a regular old caller, like always. But you... you were different. You actually talked to him. You made him feel alive in a way he didn't know was possible.

So he may have copied your address down just in case he needed to give you a surprise visit, but hey, who's really paying attention? Not him, and apparently not you either cause you did not have a care in the world when he showed up at your house.

You didn't even know that your car was perfectly fine the night before. But it's okay! Because he got to come to the rescue when your car wouldn't start! Even if he was the one who fucked up your engine so he could play hero.

But it's fine! Cause you didn't care, and let him play the hero. You let him be your savior! And that was perfect for him. You were perfect.

Just let him keep playing the hero. You need a hero in this world with someone as perfect as you. Just keep tuning in, and let him save you.

[luxtrys]

a hundred and ten percent ready.

your first time with anakin skywalker (18+, smut noshy. innocent!reader, cocky asf ani (a warning in itself) size kink. )

you couldn't hear the dramatically aggressive slam of the door to yours and anakin's apartment over the soft music flowing out of your record player. you hummed to the tune, swiping your hand through the chocolate you had used all your muscles to chop into the pot of boiling heavy cream.

anakin watched lovestruck, leaning his head on the kitchen door frame as you let out an excited squeal to yourself while mixing the steaming pot of hot chocolate on the stove. ani was confused the first time you had brought up hot chocolate to him, on the first conversation you ever had might i add. the way you talked about it with so much care and love he thought it was a childhood pet your parents just let you name. you added in the espresso powder and vanilla essence before stirring it with the heart spatula ani had gave you on a random sunday.

once you noticed a few to many bubbles rising to the surface of your beautiful creation, you quickly bent down to be eye level with the stove. as you slowly changed the size of the flame under your pot, you felt a strong arm snake around your waist, pulling your ass into the persons crotch. squealing, you straighten your back instantly as the familiar smell of smoke, sandalwood and cologne enters your nose. "what'chu makin baby?" anakin rasped, bending down to rest his head on your shoulder.

you looked up at him, mustering up the most annoyed face you could. he knew what you were making, you made hot chocolate at-least twice a week without failure. "oo baby don't look at me like that, gonna make me cry" he smirks, leaning down and catching your lips in a heated kiss. you indulge for a few seconds before pulling back, moving your attention back to the pot on the stove "i added espresso powder this time ani! i read it on that blog i like, it said it really brings out the chocolate flavour and i'm so excited to try" he scoffed at how quickly you just ignored the make out session you had just, rubbing your stomach with his hand and shaking his head.

it was only a few minutes before ani was pouring the steaming chocolate liquid into the matching mugs you made him for valentines day, your names etched on each and bunnies and hearts decorating the white cups. anakin always did that job, banning you from it after you accidentally poured the hot chocolate all over your hand and he had to sit in the ice cold shower with you to calm the burning for over four hours, holding you close to his bare chest as you sobbed.

you sat down on the kitchen stools, tapping your acrylic nails onto the marble surface in excitement. "what sprinkles tonight baby?" he asked as he grabbed the whipped cream out of the fridge, he knew the answer because you picked the same every-time, but he asked anyway. "pink and white hearts please ani" you answered, glancing out to the lively city of Coruscant through your endless high windows.

"thank you ani!" you exclaimed as he placed the hot mug filled with hot chocolate, a mountain of whipped cream, small pink marshmallows and little heart sprinkles into your hands. he took the seat next to you, holding his mug filled with only hot chocolate, no sprinkles, marshmallows or cream, you almost broke up with him for that when you first started dating. the whipped cream and marshmallows you got, but the sprinkles? no way.

he wrapped his hand over the back of your chair, effortlessly pulling your chair closer to his so you were touching. you stared at him as his slid his hand over the top of your bare thigh, snaking it up and down before gripping the inside of your thigh, way to close to your heat. all while just staring absent mindedly in front of him and sipping his mug.

you were starting to feel those tingles inside of you, that you coincidently only got around ani. you and ani had done stuff before a few times after you came to him at the first feeling of tingles rising inside of you. he smirked at you then and patted the space on the bed beside him, telling you it was normal and he would help you out. he always helped you out, and you felt like it was time to return the favour. he never told you that you had to though, never making you feel like he deserved something in return, but you were ready. ready for sex.

you stared down at your mug, the little pink marshmallows drowning in the chocolate as the cream melted away into nothingness. you would never pass down a hot chocolate, never. but as you looked between your boyfriend and your mug, you realised you didn't crave hot chocolate. you craved anakin.

the loud screeching of your chair as you pushed it back and your socked feet hitting the floor alerted anakin of your state. your pupils wide and palms sweating as you pulled at the fabric of your - his - shirt. glancing over to see your mug untouched, ani was just about to pull you into his chest and console you at whatever got you worked up this time. but before he could, he heard words that made he nearly spit out the hot chocolate in his mouth.

"i want to have sex with you anakin"

out of all things anakin guessed you were going to say, those words were not one of them. you were shy, even after dating for more than a year, you never just said what you wanted without taking 5 minutes to stumble over your words. and you definitely didn't say words alluding to any sort of sexual activity unless ani teased you to say it after working you up with his fingers buried in you for way too long. "what? can you say that again princess i think i heard you wrong"

"i- pfft- ani you know what i said" you whined, still standing at least 5 feet from him, because if he were to touch you near there again, you might just explode. "nope. i need you to say it again, or you're getting nothing." ok. now he was just being mean.

you always oddly noticed that though. that anytime you guys would do anything down there, ani was just a bit mean. he was always in control, powerful, dominating, but in the bedroom it was like those present qualities were maxed out to 1000.

a flush spread across your cheeks as you huffed. "i- i want to have sex with you anakin" you voiced. that signature annoying cocky smirk spread across his features as he approached you. his combat boots still on his feet from jedi duties and his biceps bulging out of his thin black short-sleeve shirt, you thought you were going to faint.

you noticed again as he stood infront of you how fucking massive he was. he was at least a foot taller than you and could literally crush your body with a single arm if he wanted to. he left goosebumps on your delicate skin as he trailed his fingers up and down your arms making you shiver. he continued on his painfully slow attack of his soft touches before running his hands to the top of your thighs and hooking his thumbs on the sides of your lacy pink underwear.

he stared down at you, biting his lip and all knowing that your underwear was completely soaked because of him. you noticed he was stalled, not making another move and deep in thought. "ani whats wrong?" you asked, no, whined.

"you know this is a big thing baby, i'm fine with helping you out as long as you need me to ok? i don't want to rush you angel. i need you to be very sure you want this." he said softly, drawing circles with his fingers on your thighs.

you weren't exactly sure if it was because you were so horny or just so in love with him, but those words could make you break down and cry.

"im sure ani." he smiled down at you "ok baby, just-. are you 100 percent sure, because not to alarm you but if we start, i'm not sure ill be able to stop" you leaned into him, your forehead resting on the soft fabric of his shirt. "i'm a hundred and ten percent ready ani, promise."

at those words he quickly gripped your ass, hoisting you up into his chest so your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms swung around his neck. your squeal made him even more giddy as all he could feel was you, his thoughts echoed with your giggles and moans and he could practically smell you soaking through your panties.

his dick was straining in his pants as he set you on the soft pink blanket you insisted on putting on your bed. he kneeled down onto his knees pulling you by your feet so your legs dangled off the end of the bed as you squealed. he could feel the need to protect, pleasure and destroy you rise in his body as he reached under the shirt that swallowed your body entirely when you wore it, which was almost always.

he went as slow as he could as he ran his fingers up and down your folds through your panties. you threw your head back at the contact, biting your lip and whining his name. he chuckled at how little he had to do to have you melting in his hands.

as much as he wanted to tease you, he just needed to see you so bad it hurt. he gripped the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, the site of your bare chest almost making him bust in his pants. "shit baby you gotta stop doing this to me, won't fucking last. you're just so pretty." he had a slight groan to every word he said, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking, making you mewl.

he looked into your eyes as he kissed all the way down your stomach before making it to the waistband of your panties. the cold air hit your sensitive clit as ani peeled of the underwear, staring at the wetness he had created and throwing them somewhere in the room. he licked a thick strip through your folds, gripping the insides of your thighs with both of his massive hands, stopping you from wriggling as he ate you out.

"fuckin' hell baby, this pussy 's gonna be the fucking death of me. taste so sweet" he said, his breath on your clit making you squirm. he needed to be in you, now. but there was no way he was fitting in you without stretching you out first, and he needed to fucking hurry.

he sucked his fingers, teasing your hole before sliding two fingers in at the same time. you gasped, looking down at him shocked, he never did two fingers first. "i know baby, you're alright. just need to get you stretched out ok? you're alright."

you nodded franticly as he pumped both fingers in and out of you, the pain quickly subsiding into pleasure. anakin didn't know how he was going to fit inside of you, because judging how hard your gripping two fingers, he wouldn't even fit three in and he was way bigger than three fucking fingers.

he finally decided to enter the third finger into you, slowly working his way through the resistance in your pussy "n-no ani, it's to much" you were blinded by pleasure, stars clouding your vision as all you could see was anakin.

"you're ok. quit whining and take it" his tone was rough and jagged, and you could not be more turned on in that moment. you whined, struggling under him as he brought you to your first orgasm of the night. you came all over his fingers with little warning, whining into your bed sheets as you gripped and pulled at his hair.

you almost let out an objection as he got up from his spot, but judging by the clouded, stern look on his face, that probably wasn't a good idea. he pulled his top off of his body swiftly, his toned, tan chest muscles straining as he ripped of his shoes. in that moment you noticed how venerable you were, you were lying in front of him stark naked, aside from your frilly pink socks, and he still even has his massive dumb combat boots on.

you slowly gripped the pink blanket under you, about to cover the bottom half of your body before a large hand halted your actions immediately. "i swear to god princess, stop or it'll be the last thing you ever fucking do" he spat, running his fingers up and down your folds again.

you noticed that now he was only in his boxers, his hard on showing through the thin material. as he slid his boxers down his legs, his length sprung out and made you gasp. you had never seen a penis before, but the way your friends crudely described it to you, you did not think it would be this big.

"what baby? you're gonna make me insecure if you keep staring at my cock like that" you huffed at his language, wondering how long it was. you stared at it for another few seconds before deciding it had to be at least 10 inches long, or even more and thick as well. safe to say it scared the shit out of you.

"ani, are you sure its meant to be that big?" he only chuckled at you, making you regret you ever asked that question. "hope so princess, had it all my life"

you reached your hand out, touching it for a moment before you heard ani hiss and pulled back instantly. "no baby its ok, i'm just to fucking horny right now, here" he gripped your hand, bringing it up to your mouth and telling you to spit. you did reluctantly and watched as he brought your hand to his dick.

"ani, thats not gonna fit down there.." you say, looking down to your pelvic area. "we're gonna make it" he smiled sweetly, a devilish twinkle in his eye.

"and just bring it right here" he instructed, guiding you to the base of his dick. you tried to wrap your hand around it, before releasing your hand didn't reach fully around the width of his cock. he groaned and threw his head back, watching as you shyly pumped up and down the shaft of his member. "here, squeeze a bit harder yeah? its not gonna break if you add a bit of pressure baby, promise"

you nodded shyly, tightening your grip on the heavy dick resting in your hand. as he was watching your movements closely, you kept eye contact and you brought your lips down and kissed the tip softly.

"fuck this" he exclaimed, manhandling you to be in the middle of the bed as he followed closely behind you. his dick slapped against his stomach, raging red and dripping with precum.

"you're doin great, bein' such a good girl for me, yeah? just need to be in you right now" you nodded frantically as he used his hand to hold the base of his dick, positioning in right infront of your pussy.

"ani is it gonna hurt?" you ask, his expressions changes from desperation to his soft loving face, lulling his head to the side as he looks straight at you. "just for a bit baby, then it will feel good, ok? you just gotta trust me on this. but if it hurts to much you tell me to stop ok? pinky swear it" you nodded as he quickly brought his pinky up to yours, inlacing it tightly before kissing your finger and letting go. "im just gonna put the tip in first baby, ok?" you nod again, a switch seems to flick in his face and he looks mad, really mad. "fucking words baby" he says before you whine "yes ani" he smiles sweetly, jesus these facial expressions are giving you whiplash.

he interlaces your left hands together as he pushes his thick tip past your walls, you mewl in pain and pleasure, the other hand you have resting on his bicep gripping so hard you're drawing blood.

"ow ani! i thought you just said the tip!" you whine, scolding your boyfriend. "that was just the tip." he states, your comments feeding his already oversized ego as all the blood rushes to his dick. you sit in that position for about another minute, until you announce for him to start moving again.

he enters his dick slowly into you, inching more until he's about half way through your walls. "s-stop. how much more to go?" you feel like his dick is the size of a fucking lightsaber, stretching you out father and father till you feel like you're simply just gonna split in half. "halfway baby, i can stop here for today. dont have to go any further angel" you looked up at him, god, you loved him to much. "kiss?" you asked softly, releasing you haven't even kissed him this whole time in the bedroom.

ani smiled sweetly, bending down and kissing your lips softly. once he pulled away, you looked at him, and then down at his length impaling you. "keep going ani"

he nodded quickly, not even having the might to protest. you breathed through your mouth as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you. it hurt, it hurt like fucking hell but with every inch he pushed inside you, you felt pleasure pulsate through every part of your body.

you let out one last squeal as he bottomed out inside of you, falling into you as he moaned in pleasure. "knew you could fucking take me baby, such a good girl" you beamed at his compliment as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you.

he was amazed how he hasn't cum yet, but he needed you to before he could. he knew you were close, he studied your moans and your facial expressions long enough to figure out when you were cumming.

"ani g- gonna cum" you moaned, feeling him in every-part of you. "go on baby, right behind you". you could feel his dick empty out in you as you came all over him, scratching up his toned back.

"i love you so much ani" you breathed, pulling and tugging at his hair, his breath tickling your shoulder as he answered. "you don't even understand how much i love you baby, no one will ever understand."

[starzwithapen]

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

[writteninlunarlight-years]

(Hazbin Hotel request) I would like to request headcannons for how Charlie, Alastor, Angel Dust, and Lucifer would be around a friend/partner who is bilingual and likes to sing songs in their native language to themselves/when they are alone (I hope this made sense my English isnt the best)

Charlie (Platonic/German)

You didn't necessarily hide the fact that you spoke a different language; you just didn't flaunt it.

When you were alive, you grew up in a bilingual household, your mother speaking German and your father English.

It was natural that you picked up a few words or two, mainly because your mother only spoke German to you.

The hotel was used to regularly hearing you cuss in German, so it was typical for everyone.

The day Charlie walked by your room and heard you singing in German was a spectacle.

She was so excited to hear the dialect and the articulations you used.

When you finished, she busted into your room and asked you to sing again, rightfully scaring you.

You inevitably agree because she is so adorable when she asks and sing for her once again.

From there, Charlie sits in your room nightly to learn new words and hear you sing.

Alastor (Romantic/French)

You were really reserved about your secondary language. Especially when you met Alastor.

Your parents talked to you in the language plenty, but you were afraid that you would sound robotic and he would judge you.

As time progressed and French accidentally slipped out, Alastor found you attractive; no one else in the hotel knew what he said.

One night at the bar, Alastor slid in next to you while talking to Husk and began speaking to you in perfect French. You did a spit-take and laughed.

When you two started dating, Alastor took it upon himself to teach you how to converse better with a Creole person.

After a long session with him, you returned to your room, singing softly under your breath a song your papa had sung.

Alastor shadows heard your perfect articulations and immediately got Alastor.

He was astonished to hear you singing so fluently as he phased through the shadows in your room behind you.

Once you finished, he immediately asked you for another song scaring you. One kiss and a song later, though, and you were content to share this part of your life with him.

Angel Dust (Platonic/Italian)

You grew up in Italy with your family for a portion of your life, which gave you an understanding of the language.

When you came to the hotel and met Angel Dust, you two became fast friends. He wanted to know what mob bosses from Italy were like.

You would teach him words that he didn't quite know and he would teach you about mob culture in America.

Angels porn star life would strian your friendship just do to his long grueling hours and your desire to help him out of his deal.

After a particularly heated fight between you two due to his boss, you stormed off and went to the bar.

Drinking your glass Husk gave you and thinking about the argument left you blue.

You began to hum a soft tune, eventually ending up entirely singing it.

When Angel calmed down, he felt bad for treating his friend poorly and went to find you.

That was till he heard your song and was immediately enamored.

He wanted you to sing to him every night after work instead of fighting from then on.

Lucifer (Romantic/Spanish)

Spanish was spoken around you from the day you were born. From your family to neighbors, even friends at school. It was natural you learned some of it.

You were always told it was the language of romance, and though you could see why, you also never thought too much about it.

When you met Lucifer and heard your accent, he was immediately curious about you.

He would talk to you for hours to hear your voice and even dream of it later.

When Lucifer finally confessed his feelings for you, the cherry on top was you confessing in Spanish.

Lucifer never asked how much you knew; he took what he could when you spoke.

However, the night he walked into your shared room and heard you singing a song in Spanish, he was whipped.

He begged for hours for you to just sing the same song repeatedly, a big cheesy smile on his face.

[georgiapeach30513]

A Snowflake Melts, Part 3

Summary: it's spring time...or is it?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, stalking, voyeurism, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You take a glance out the window, eyes raking over the still powdery white lawn. Winter is lasting too long. You had chosen this place because of its long winters, but this has gone on far longer than anticipated. You catch a glimpse of Steve, tending to the animals with a much larger Sugar Cookie and Mistletoe trailing behind. He looks towards you, winking, and your cheeks flare up like the heat of coal.

You look down to the sourdough, trying to avoid his lingering gaze. Steve gives you a boyish grin that you don’t see, his face just as heated as yours, despite the never ending snow. The two of you had too many moments of getting too close, and still it isn’t close enough. You don’t know how much longer you could withstand not touching him.

Especially if the temperature continued to plummet. You fear for the livestock. They’ve been cooped up all winter, and there should be signs of spring arriving. Sighing, you take a glimpse at your phone. You know what you have to do. Your dad had a busy Christmas season, and now he’s in a hibernative state until preparation for the next Christmas season begins.

He would know what to do. He would know how to get in touch with Jack, and demand that he stops the winter. This isn’t right, and he wouldn’t be aware of it if you didn’t tell him. Gulping, you pick up the phone. Steve still had a while before he would come back into the house, you really didn’t want to explain either man to each other.

Rolling your eyes, you call up your dad, waiting until his jolly voice answers the phone. Tapping your fingers on the counter to the merry tune, you nearly lose your voice when he says your name. How long has it been since you’d fully heard his deep timbre, “Babydoll!” You want to cry. He sounds like home.

“Hey, daddy,” the overwhelming feeling of just wanting to crawl into his lap hits you like a ton of bricks. He always knew how to make things better.

“I have so much to tell you, but it doesn’t even matter. It’s good to hear your voice. The few photos you’ve shared haven’t been enough. Did you and Jack make up?” You shake your head like a nerd, but your silence tells him everything. “With it being winter I should have known. To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?”

“Can I not just call you?” His laugh jingles in the air. Everything he does always seems so magical. He is your hero in so many ways. “Well, it’s still very cold.”

“Some places the winter takes longer to fully defrost, you of all people should know that,” it wasn’t just the cold. It is frigid. Steve could only stand to be outside for short bursts to tend to the livestock, and let the girls run around. They love being in the snow.

“There’s no patches. Ste — umm, the lake is still frozen. There’s no melting to see earth. And the snow is still falling,” silence befalls the conversation, and you can only hope it’s a good thing. Your father rarely involved himself in Jack’s business, but Jack to your knowledge has never been so vindictive. His superior is your father.

“Daddy, his tracking works better in the winter. I swear I smelled peppermint, and Missy hissed at me to get back inside,” your father didn’t want to believe that Jack could be mean to you. But he wouldn’t never deny Mistletoe’s unwavering intuition concerning you. She is special, and she takes her job very seriously.

He takes a deep breath in, a low growl spewing out of his mouth, “I’ll take care of it,” the line ends quickly, and you turn your phone off. Laying it on the counter, and watch Steve. You hate to call it frolicking, but you didn’t know how else to describe it. He runs around with the girls in the snow, smiling and teasing them. Missy looks to be playing a game of tag as she bounces between the two of them.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, and you wish that you could be out there with them. Frolicking in the snow, and throwing snowballs at Steve. His cheeks are more red when he’s outside. The prettiest shade of pink. You’re happy that they had someone that could get them out and running.

Nearly returning back to your bread, you notice Missy pausing. Her crystalline eyes darting around the clearing before a gut wrenching scream echoes through the forest. You watch in terror as she sprints to the house, and Steve and Sugar Cookie follow swiftly. They didn’t know what her battle cry was for, but you did. You take tentative steps away from the window. He’s here.

Too scared to even start pulling down the blinds. Huffing and rustling noises sound outside, and you collapse on the floor. Scooting away from the entrances and windows. Clenching your eyes as you cover your face. Rocking back and forth when Missy hisses as she approaches you. Her thick muscular body stalking around you. Followed by Sugar, and you look up to see Steve bring in a wheelbarrow of firewood before he slams the door shut.

He makes quick work of placing the board over the door. He stomps around the house, closing every blind and curtain before he sits on the floor behind you. Steve wraps his arms around your body, and he rocks the two of you much slower than you had been. A steady rhythm before you even dare to speak, “Why did she scream?”

You don’t know if Steve happened to see anyone, or if it was just her instincts. There’s a reason she was yours, but you were also hers. And she immediately liked Steve, even brought him to you. It’s something you struggle with ignoring. It meant something good.

“I believe she smelled peppermint. You want to tell me about this ex?”

“He’s a bounty hunter. The best in the world, and he flourishes in winter,” your words clip off as you look up. The cabin is cast in so much darkness and shadow, and the wind roars outside. Your father clearly spoke to Jack. “There’s going to be a blizzard,” you answer with finality. “The cows and horse?”

“They were fed, and I made a covered cat walk to get to the barn earlier this winter. Nothing will stop me from getting to them. Not snow, not ice. But we’re not dealing with a normal man are we?” You shake your head no. It’s too difficult to explain everything. “Peppermint. Is it like your never ending scent of marshmallow?”

“You smell me?” Everything is caked in terror right now, but Steve can smell you. Mortals didn’t have the gift, but he smells you. That can’t be just luck or coincidence. That’s fate.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. He slides his body from behind you to in front of you. You two stare at each other, sitting on the floor like children. “It’s a very strong scent. Sometimes you smell like roasted marshmallows,” you look away from him, while your embarrassment radiates through your body. He could smell the change. Did he know what that change meant? Did he know that whenever the two of you fell asleep, and you woke up with his arm around you that your body burned for more than his arm.

You’ve tried to remain cool with him living with you because he’s been the biggest help. But simply put, you want him. You like him. You want to feel him all over your body. “What do I smell like?” A bit of pink stains his cheeks, and you look down at your lap, wondering if he’s been feeling the same way you do.

“It depends,” his brow cocks up as he looks at you with a mischievous grin. “Most of the time you smell like pine. Fresh, a bit of darkness, but also bright. But sometimes — sometimes your scent is like burning embers in a fire. That brightness is still there, but it’s smoky, and…deep,” you gulp, and Steve shuffles around on the floor. Making it no secret of adjusting himself. Surely you aren’t alone in these feelings.

“Why,” Steve clears his throat, his eyes cast down your body, staying on your neck and chest. Your body heaves with how deeply you’re breathing. “Why does one’s scent change?”

“Well,” your throat is parched, and you need a tall drink of water, or just him. You aren’t sure, but you’re not the only one uncomfortably swishing around. His scent is so heady and deep that it makes you dizzy. Your vision blurs everything out, but him. He’s more clear than you’ve ever seen him before. “Generally speaking, it’s during heated moments.”

“And what does that mean?” He smirks. Is this flirting? Is he toying with you because he wants you to be explicit about why his scent is changing?

“When,” you close your eyes softly, unable to look at him anymore because emotions are running like crazy in your mind. You try to focus on anything but the quickened beat of his heart. You’d heard about how scents of true mates mimicked one another in some way. Your dad smelled like cinnamon, and your mom like cookies. They complimented each other.

You forced yourself to believe that marshmallows and peppermint worked, but you were the warmth, and he was the cold. You are the very heart of Christmas, while he is the crystal on the trees. Steve’s scent is warm, and harmonizes with yours, and you’re terrified as to what that means.

“Holly?” He pries for more information. His body scoots ever so slightly closer.

“When your scent gets darker like that it’s usually because you’re aroused,” you look away from him quickly, but he captures your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m sorry, this close proximity is getting to me. Fear is elevating it. And…”

“You don’t find me attractive?”

“I didn’t say that,” your voice is timid as you look at him, wishing you could shrivel up inside yourself. His eyes flick down to your mouth, and you forget to breathe. It was only a split second and it stole your thoughts. “You know you’re attractive.”

“To you?” You nod your head, and he inches even closer, “Breathe,” impossible. You cannot breathe currently. You’re struggling to stay afloat here. Your body screams for him, and your mind is saying there’s a blizzard outside due to Jack’s anger of needing to cut winter, and let the spring prevail. He is probably running through the woods looking for you. He’s close, but Steve is closer. “I’m right here.”

Steve holds your gaze, and you wish he’d just close the gap. Wish he would end your misery, and judging by the tightness in his pants, his own. What did you have to lose? You’d been here for months with Steve, growing to know him. And nothing happened. The most that had happened was snuggling. Giggling. Smiles. Fun. Warmth despite the cold. Home.

It’s hit you in this moment, while you missed your parents and ‘home’, you’d miss Steve even more. He is home. Wherever he is, you want to be.

“Kiss me,” you whisper because you dread the rejection that’s about to follow. Instead Steve adjusts himself to his knees. Leaning forward too slowly, “Steve?”

“I’m taking my time, but I do plan on kissing you,” he studies you from this angle and closeness. Looking at you like he’s never seen you before. Never seen anyone but you before. Everything freezes and stands still as you study him. Nothing before now mattered, and nothing else will ever matter but him. Home.

The two of you create a snow globe with this tiny little cabin. The snow may swirl around outside with Jack’s fury, but you’re safe with him. Right where you belong. Jack’s need to isolate you, made you want to truly be alone, and in that journey, you found Steve. A friend. And now…

He inhales briskly before he closes the gap. A tingle of a snowflake surges through you the moment you touch, and then your body lights up with a cozy fire. Immediately you pull him back with you as you lay down on the floor. His body hovers over you, and this just doesn’t seem enough. Months of being separated by clothes, and all you want is him all over you, and in you. Two people becoming one.

His tongue instantly brushes against your lips, and hungrily you open your mouth to grant him access. Home. You can’t explain it. It’s just a perfectly fuzzy feeling. Like Christmas morning with people you love. People that you need in your life, and you claw at the material daring to keep the two of you separated.

Howling winds beat at the doors and windows as each of you pull and tug desperately at the other's clothes. Swirling hands and arms wrestling to get each other naked. To feel him in the depths of your soul. Your hand runs up his bare chest, resting over his heart, and you take comfort in knowing his heart is bursting to get out, too.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks. Giving the two of you a moment to realize that you are as naked as the day you were born. You hadn’t even given yourself a chance to stare at the most perfect man in existence. Hadn’t even gawked at the steel rod he’s kept hidden. Has it been as hard for him these past few months as it has been for you? “We can wait.”

He tries to keep his eyes on yours, but he curiously glances over your body. Tracing the gentle curves of you, until he sees your weeping cunt, and a squeak exits his mouth. “I don’t want to,” he grips tightly to the base of his cock, and smooths it through your folds. Your mouth gapes open at the erotic feeling of his wet skin on yours. You’ve never wanted anything more.

“Steve, I want,” his hips jut forward, and the crown of his cock rests at your entrance. “I want you.”

“Shh,” he looks down between the two of you. Silently gawking at his head just kissing against your entrance. “They say when a woman really wants a man,” his mouth lifts into a smile, while yours turns into an O. Arching your back, while you look up at the ceiling. “That her body just sucks him in.”

If you didn’t see it happen or feel it, you would laugh and think he was crazy. But your cunt pulls him into you. Sucking him like a lifeline, and he sinks into your wet heat slowly. Making your body mold to him. Letting you feel every ridge of his cock, and follow the vein on the underside of his length. He doesn’t stop until he is balls deep, and the cabin rattles. Shutters trembling when he fully seats himself into you.

Your arm wraps around his neck because you’re obsessed with this feeling. The feeling of having him so close, and still it didn’t feel close enough. The lights fade in and out. The power suffering from the connection, but you still only see Steve. You see nothing but the man that changed everything.

Grunts, sniffs, snorts, howls, screams, and a world of horror rages outside your bubble, and you don’t hear the torment of Jack’s wrath. The storm of his power failing to break in, and rip the two of you apart. You don’t hear the lashing of his anger. Water immediately turns to ice. You only hear Steve’s heartbeat.

Steve pulls himself out of you, snapping his hips quickly back in place. The feeling of not being in you, torturing him to the point of a quick return. Grabbing onto his ass, you pull him more into your depths. Pleasure wraps you into a cocoon with every roll of his body into yours. Had it been so long or was this really that great? You’re guessing it is that great because immediately you're dumb off him.

Your vision is blurry with anything that doesn’t involve this moment. Hell is happening in the forest. The demons of winter come out as reinforcements for Jack, but inside is the brightness and warmth that winter can have. The Spirit of Christmas being reborn, and coming into its own power. Sobbing out his name when a crash of lightning rockets the most intense pleasure in your body, and Steve halts his movements to stare at you.

“What was that?” He smiles down at you.

“I wanna ride you,” you knew Steve was a strong man, but the ability he has to lift you up without leaving your warmth. He walks you over to the couch. Sitting down, and immediately you start bouncing on him. Bringing his hands to your chest, letting him knead the spheres, while you ride him. Pressing your forehead against his. Breathing in his smoky scent. Fusing the two of you together for all eternity.

Breathing so deeply you see stars, and you crash your lips into his like your life depends on it. Swallowing all his moans, and all his sweet pleasure. Because each of you owns that. You’re claiming the other’s euphoria as your own.

“Son of a bitch!” Jack curses. Looking up to the sky when another crash of lighting lights up the cabin and your silhouette. “Such a fucking whore!” He kicks a tree, knocking it down to the forest floor. Bringing other trees with it, creating so much chaos, and you don’t falter your movements. You hear nothing.

“No! Nonononono!!!”

His eyes turn to pure ice. Gathering up all the cold he can muster until a figure lands in front of him, punching him in the chest. “That’s enough of that,” he cracks his neck as he looks to the cabin. Another round of lightning illuminating the two of you.

“You get off on watching your ex? I’m sure her father wouldn’t think too kindly of this temper tantrum.”

“Why are you here?” Jack grunts, and crawls out of the snowflakes. He glares at the head of the soldiers of winter. He’d known where you were all along. Of course he did.

“Well, I am her personal bodyguard, and your time is up. You’ve extended winter, were told to cut it out, and now you’re sorely pissing me off by making this storm, and more damn snow. She doesn’t realize you’re even out here, you know why, don’t cha?” Jack glares up at the tall soldier. His eyes are nearly as icy and cold as his own.

“There’s nothing you can do now. You chased her right into the arm of her mate,” it’s the very thing Jack has been refusing to admit. To see. The reason he was trying to break into the cabin, and stop this foolishness. You belonged to him, and instead, just like the whore you were, were spreading your legs for an idiot.

“He’s a mortal!” Jack growls. He bounces up, and stands nose to nose with the soldier. “He’s nothing. He’s not good enough for her! She belongs to me, and I will destroy him!”

“Are you threatening the Spirit of Christmas’ mate?” Jack doesn’t back down, but the soldier sees in his eyes the fear. “You’re already on probation. You were supposed to return north.”

“And what about her!” He shouts, and it isn’t lighting that lights up the house, but something else entirely. A warm glow encapsulates you and Steve, and the soldier grimaces as both of you scream out in pleasure. And the glow remains, and all anyone can see is you two sharing breaths.

“It’s done. You can’t fake that, and he’s not ready. They have seasons to get through. And nowhere does it say she belongs north. You do. So get your ass back where it belongs, and deal with your consequences. She wasn’t ever for you. You dulled her light. You were with her for years, and never could produce an heir. Because she wasn’t yours!”

“You’re playing the old man’s politics again, soldier. It doesn’t look good on you,” Jack cocks up an eyebrow, but the soldier knocks him again, sending him to the icy floor. “Would you stop?” Jack had forgotten how deadly the soldier could be.

“Go home.”

“I don’t want to. I have business to attend to.”

“Go home!”

“She is mine!”

“She’s been fucking claimed, you creep. Do you see that glow? Do you see the two of them wrapped in it? If you stayed in contact with the boss you would have known,” the soldier looks back to the cabin, and still that glow radiates around the two of you. Growing brighter. Warmer.

Jack rolls his eyes as he starts to walk deeper into the woods. “The fucking cat again?”

“She’s not an ordinary cat. You hate her because she’s never liked you. Kris just tolerated you because he thought you made Holly happy. And you’re not walking that way,” Jack freezes, and spins around to glare at him. “You’re coming directly with me. The boss wants a private word with you, and I’d meet with him. You’d hate to be demoted. Again.”

Jack’s full arm points towards the cabin. Annoyed that the soldier is ignoring you laying down with a mere mortal. Hadn’t even let him slip out of you. The two of you were sickeningly just staring at each other, “Now that you’re gone, those two will have some peace and quiet, and she can go outside, and enjoy the snowflakes, like she’s supposed to,” Jack grunts again, but the soldier grabs his arm roughly, and they disappear with a flicker.

You tremble in Steve’s arms, but his soothing hands on your back calm you slightly. That was new. All of it was new. Like you’d never had sex before. Nothing has ever been or felt like that, “That was magical,” he pants, looking across your glistening skin. He starts ghosting his lips over your shoulder. Looking so beautiful, the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

You should tell him. You should tell him everything, but you can’t. You’re terrified that he will run. You just need more time. Let him see you in your element. Unafraid of the outdoors. Missy meows loudly, and you jerk your head towards her. He was gone. But he was here. Lifting up Steve’s hands to your mouth, you kiss his knuckles, “Winter’s over.”

“Holly it was brewing a blizzard earlier. Winter isn’t over.”

“If you say so,” you know deep down inside of you that winter is over. He’d returned. Somehow you just know that this snow wouldn’t last. By tomorrow afternoon, you’d see a patch of earth, maybe even some green. His power couldn’t hold the winter any longer. It had overstayed its welcome, and now spring can prevail. And you can join Steve outside tomorrow. A new adventure awaits.

“How does this work?” He asks, kissing around your neck, and you hum in question. “Are you on anything? Are we taking a gamble here?”

“Are you asking about pregnancy?”

“Yeah,” he looks up at you confused, and you give him a sweet smile. “I’m not opposed, but it’s very early,” you couldn’t tell him that your window with pregnancy was during a true winter. While not impossible, it is extremely unlikely to happen.

“I’m not, but after this time, maybe we should be more careful,” you see what he’s thinking. He didn’t have a supply of condoms with him. “Just pull out. I trust you,” you pull him in for a sweet kiss, you’d never tire of this.

“Are you worried about your ex?” You shake your head no. Jack could never hurt you again. Well, almost never. At least his powers would be drained until next winter. “Are you going to come outside and build a snowman with me tomorrow?”

“He’ll probably be a teeny tiny snowman,” you didn’t have the heart to tell him that snow outside was not going to last. You didn’t want to terrify the man. Leave him with more questions before he ever works through his feelings with you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you smile, kissing him as you answer yes. “Okay. Me, too.”

And everything would be okay. Everything is going to be okay.

“You girls stay away from the cows!” Steve yells over to Mistletoe and Sugar Cookie. Giving the two of them a disapproving look because Missy wants to play. He clears his throat when the stubborn cat takes another step towards the cows.

“Steve,” you giggle trying to pull him back down to the blanket. “Just sit back down. Leave them alone. The cows enjoy the attention,” you always let them get away with everything. “Here. What do you think of this?”

“Everything you make tastes delicious,” he says with a grunt, falling down onto the blanket, but more importantly onto you. Your cheeks heat up with unashamed happiness as he starts nipping on your neck. His body crawls more on top of you, and you playfully try to get him off.

“Steve! We’ve got to eat.”

“Mmm, I’d rather be eating you.”

“I’m sure you would,” your voice darkens, and Steve jumps off you. Sitting up straight, and starts to pick at the fruit in the picnic basket. “No, that's not fair!”

“If you don’t want me to eat you, then I’ll eat these grapes. I can think of something so much sweater,” he’d been insatiable. So had you. You wanted to try and get some fresh air that didn’t include washing the sheets again.

You groan, falling onto the blanket, and in his lab. “What cha doing?” He asks, looking more like a schoolboy than the sex fiend he is. As much as you love winter and the snow, seeing Steve’s arms exposed in that stupidly tight shirt, and his freckles start to pop out over his nose is amazing. You’ve loved the seasons for their own beauty, but Steve is adding to that beauty. He is beautiful.

You discover something new about him everyday. Every hour, you learn a new story of his, or find a mark on his body, a new move he’s used on you, a new way to make him climax, a new facial expression when you tell a corny joke. It didn’t matter, you just wanted to soak every part of him up. So much newness and you thought you were learning about him when you were just friends in a cabin.

“Winter would have been miserable without you,” he pops another grape into his mouth before he looks down at you. “I’m serious.”

“Are you talking about me or my cock?” You roll your eyes at him. Did he seriously forget the months that you were just cuddling?

“You’re such a teenager! I am talking about you,” his cheeks turn rosy as he looks across the property, avoiding your gaze, and you can’t look at the beauty here, because you’re struck on him. He is far more beautiful than any forest.

“Stop staring,” he giggles, staring down the road that leads to his cabin that he’s never returned to. Well, to stay in. The two of you did bring his clothes here. “I think we should go visit your folks,” he says nonchalantly. Still refusing to meet your eyes. He’s so embarrassed, and it’s adorable.

“I don’t know if you’re ready to meet them.”

“Why not?” He looks down at you accusatory. “I’m fun. And cute. And you love — spending time with me,” holy shit. He knows. He knows but is afraid to say it. It’s more endearing in a way. “Why?”

“It’s complicated. My dad is kinda famous.”

“A famous delivery man? Okay. So you’re not ashamed of me?” You gasp, clutching your nonexistent pearls. “Okay, I’ll take that as you’re not ashamed. So when do I get to meet them?”

“You really want to?” He gives a smile, nodding his head as he lifts you up from his lap. Holding you almost like a doll as he kisses your lips over and over again. “Okay okay! But you have to have an open mind, and you can’t judge. Judging kills the — essence.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“My dad kinda runs on people believing in him,” you cringe, trying to come up with a way to explain things. It’d probably work best with actually seeing it. Everyone believes when they see. “But he does tend to hibernate in spring. Maybe…maybe in fall? Give him some time to get ahead for the winter season.”

“I like these riddles,” he starts kissing you again. Pulling you on top of him as he lays back, his head in the grass and not on the blanket. “He’s a delivery man, he hibernates in spring, Christmas is his biggest season but it’s everyone’s in retail, he needs you to believe him so his ego must be a bit broken, and you flourish in winter. I get why you call yourself the Spirit of Christmas,” he had no idea…

And you didn’t call yourself that. That was a title bestowed to you. But for the first time in your life, you feel like you deserve it. The joy that wraps around your heart with just the simplest of acts makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. Like roasting the most decadent marshmallows.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @musingsfromthemitten @distractingbeth

[targaryenmarvel]

Fallin' All In You (Part 3) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl. 

Warnings: Cursing

Note: It's a bit late, but here's part three! It was initially longer, but I didn't want to make you guys wait too long. I hope you enjoy it, and I'll post the next part as soon as I finish editing it. Also, credit to the creator of the GIF.

Word count: 4,377

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

///////////////////////////////////////////////

Voices echoed through the halls as students lounged around before classes. Some were engaged in lively conversations, while others scrolled through their phones. 

The air remained charged with energy and excitement from the previous day's win, as proved by the many praises you received from students and teachers. The elating compliments usually made you smile in glee, feeding into your ego. Yet, today, you could only muster a mediocre half-smile. Fatigue overran your body as a result of a sleepless night. Thoughts of Wanda had invaded your mind with no plan of ever leaving.

How could they when you nearly kissed the girl? You had spent the night overanalyzing the situation. Initially, you thought Wanda wanted to kiss you, but you were unsure after her speedy escape. God, you were an idiot. You had ruined any possibility of her ever liking you. She probably thought you were a creep. The fact that Wanda couldn't even look at you throughout the day attested to your thoughts. Even now, as you were seated with your friends, you could sense the uncomfortable tension that had taken over before she left your car. You just wished your friends wouldn't notice anything, especially Pietro. 

"We should do something today." It was Natasha who saved you from your agonizing thoughts.

"What do you have in mind?" Steve asked, slinging his arm over her shoulder.

"Let's go to the movie theatre," she glared at you, "and you can't find an excuse not to go this time."

"I wasn't going to third wheel you and Steve," you defend yourself with a pout, crossing your arms.

"You wouldn't have to third wheel if you accepted a date from the many guys and girls who have asked you out," Natasha refuted. Wanda, who seemed to have been tuning out the conversation, instantly looked at you, causing you to feel more self-conscious.

"Ahh, you never told me this," accused Pietro, looking at you like you had just run over his cat.

Steve leaned on his elbows and playfully whispered, "She's quite the heartbreaker."

"I am not!" You snapped, feeling the heat in your upper body increase by the second. The three are stifling laughs, amused by your embarrassment. Wanda simply looked curious. "I am not, okay. I've never gone out with anyone-" you looked pointedly at Natasha, "-and you know I wasn't interested in dating."

"Are you interested now?" She provoked. When you didn't answer, she continued tormenting you. "Common Y/N, there's gotta be someone you like."

You rested your head on your arms, trying to hide from their analyzing gaze. You wanted to deny it but couldn't find it in yourself to lie, especially in front of the girl of your affections. Moreover, if the girl felt anything akin to your feelings, such denial would probably make her feel relieved you didn't kiss. So instead of answering her, all you said was a muffled, "Shut up."

Later that day, the five, along with Pietro's date, met at the movie theater and, after a majority consensus, bought tickets to the new Conjuring movie. The two couples sat together, leaving you to sit next to Wanda. You didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. However, one thing was for sure: it would be difficult to focus on the movie when there was an apparent superior sight.

You really tried to concentrate on the movie; you swear you did, but you couldn't stop yourself from noticing Wanda's discomfort throughout the film. At first, you thought you were the problem, that your presence caused her state. Then, you noticed her ragged breathing and clenched fists, or how she would seal her eyes shut during the frightening scenes. 

Despite your qualms about your relationship with Wanda, you made a bold decision. Shielded by the darkness of the theater room, you dared to slide your hand over until your pinky touched hers. Wanda's already irregular breathing stopped at the action, and you expected her to move her hand in rejection. When she didn't, you summoned the last of your courage to entirely place your hand over hers, feeling Wanda's turn intertwining with your own. 

You struggled to contain the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips, but there was no controlling your racing heart and the swirling happiness that erupted in your stomach. You held hands for the remainder of the movie, and least to say, you paid even less attention, finding more comfort in the soft feel of her silk skin. 

You again offered to drive Wanda home, considering Pietro had to drive his date home. You reasoned that it would be awkward for Wanda to third-wheel her brother. Unlike the previous day, only the sound of the radio filled the atmosphere—neither of you daring to say a word of last night's occurrence or the hand holding. Feeling the increasing tension, Wanda finally decided to break the silence. 

"Have you started the book?" She asked, fiddling with her hands, keeping her eyes on the road. 

"No." You internally cursed yourself, having already forgotten about the reading. You had been too preoccupied with preparing for the game. "I need to check if they have it at the library."

"I figured you hadn't started." She giggled, and your heart skipped at the sound, "I can lend you my copy, don't worry."

You raised an eyebrow at her, "You're already done?"

"Mhm, besides, I've read it so many times I know it by memory." Once again, you pulled over in front of her home. "Wait here," Wanda instructed, hastily exiting the car. 

You assumed she didn't want a repeat of last night. Yet, not even two minutes later did Wanda return, walking to your side of the car. 

You lowered the window, taking the book from her outstretched hand. "Thanks."

"No problem. Though I am warning you, if I see so much as a scratch or bent page, I will kill you," she threatened, menacingly pointing her finger at you.

You scoffed and chuckled amusedly, "Wanda Maximoff threatening me over a book."

She shrugged nonchalantly and justified, "My books are my babies."

"Fair enough."

You expected her to bid you farewell, but she fidgeted in place, lips opening and closing before finally whispering, "Thank you- what you did in the theatre." Then, she quickly leaned in, kissed your cheek, and took off before you could react. 

You were left flabbergasted as your fingers brushed the burning imprint her lips had left on your skin, a sigh of delight leaving your lips. Wanda certainly had a way of spicing your nights. 

You returned home, Wanda's copy of 'Pride & Prejudice' in hand, still feeling giddy and dazed enough for your mother to notice.

"You okay, honey?" You hummed distractedly before biting your lip to contain a grin. Your mother recognized the lovesick expression you wore. "What's their name?" You furrowed your eyebrows at her question, and she clarified, "The person who has you love-struck."

You froze in place. Were you really that obvious? No matter, it wasn't a conversation you wanted to have with your mother. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mom. I'll be in my room." You could hear her laughter as you went up the stairs and into your bedroom. You stayed up until your eyes could no longer stay open reading, trying to distract yourself from Wanda. 

The next out-of-school opportunity you get to spend time with Wanda is Friday. One of your teammates was throwing a victory party while her parents were traveling. You weren't much for partying, but knowing Wanda would be there was motivation enough to assist. Knowing Pietro would probably drink, you decided to pick up the twins.

The three of you decided to find Steve and Natasha upon arriving. Once you did, Natasha offered you alcoholic beverages. You only took a sip of yours since you were the designated driver, and you had work early in the morning the next day—an easy weekend job at a flower shop. You noticed Wanda was also not keen on drinking, so you got sodas for the both of you. 

The five of you remained together until Pietro's girl arrived. Then, Natasha and Steve left, leaving you and Wanda alone. 

Finally, you took the opportunity to admire Wanda fully, from the black combat boots and ripped jeans to her signature red leather jacket covering yet another band teeshirt. Though you loved her outfit, your favorite part was her bright green eyes brought out by a sexy black eyeliner. You were a gay mess, to say the least. 

"You don't seem happy to be here," you commented, noticing her pout. Damn, she had such pretty lips.

"That's because I'm not. I'm only here because Pietro bribed me with new books. Now that I'm here, I realize it's not worth it, considering he left me alone," Wanda whined, playing with her rings.

"Alone? Am I that bad of a company?" You teased, enjoying the slight panic in her eyes before bursting out in laughter. "Don't worry, I won't leave you alone."

Wanda felt grateful for your company as she wasn't one to party, especially since her friends weren't there. Shuri, Peter, and the rest of the science club had left on a trip. Monica had planned on coming until she came down with the flu. It was funny how things changed between you two. How, years before, she would have panicked at the thought of being so close to you. Now, she could only feel her chest flutter with butterflies as you rant about your thoughts on Pride & Prejudice.

Not long after, Peggy Carter interrupted you both, wanting you to meet someone. You reluctantly agreed after Wanda said it was fine, and you promised to return quickly. Peggy led you into the kitchen, where a muscular boy your age stood with a red solo cup. She introduced him as Sam Wilson, her friend from another school, before leaving you two with a mischievous smile. 

"I think she's trying to set us up." Although you appreciated the noble gesture, now more than ever, you wished to return to Wanda. 

He nodded and said, "Look, you're beautiful, but I have my eye on someone else." His eyes looked over your shoulder, and you followed his eyesight and came upon James Barnes, Steve's best friend.

"Don't worry, I do too. You should go talk to him."

"We don't even know eachother." He lowered his head, avoiding your eyes.

"I can help with that." You took his hand and led him towards Bucky. "Hey, Bucky. I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Sam."

Bucky immediately smirked as he eyed Sam. Pleased with your work, you dismissed yourself, ready to return to Wanda's side. But, much to your dread, the brunette was gone when you arrived. Maybe she was tired of waiting for you? Perhaps she had found Pietro? No, but what if it was something terrible had happened to her? 

Not willing to take your chances, you decided to search for her. You looked throughout the entire first floor and even outside with no success. You were going up the stairs to scour the second floor, your concern threatening to detonate at any moment. Then, you heard her voice.

"Get away from me!"

In a panic, you followed the voice, leading you into one of the more isolated corridors. Your sight immediately landed on Brock Rumlow, backing up Wanda against the wall. Your blood boiled at the sight, and you clenched your fist, ready to attack. Before you could interfere, Wanda raised her knee, striking him between his legs. Rumlow tumbled down as he groaned in pain.

"You bitch!" he cursed, attempting to reach her on all fours. You were sure she could handle him herself, but you were consumed with rage as you ran forward, slamming your foot into his stomach, causing him to curl into a fetal position. You were about to deliver another blow to his face, but a gentle touch on your arm pulled you away. You are met with Wanda's pleading eyes telling you it was enough. 

You lowered yourself, yanking Rumlow by the hair and saying, "No means no, you fucking piece of shit." Before succumbing to your desire to injure him further, you intertwined your hand with Wanda's and led her to the front porch. 

You sat on the porch swing, closing your eyes and resting your head on the wood. Your lips were pulled into a tight line, fists clenched, as you tried to control your labored breathing. Your mind had a different idea as it drifted about what could have happened if you hadn't been there. Wanda handled the situation well enough, but the knowledge didn't lessen the anger. For fucks sake, all you wanted was to go back in and rip him apart. 

"Are you okay?" her honey-sweet voice broke you from your thoughts, a dry chuckle falling from your lips.

"I should be the one asking you that." You glanced at her. "You're the one who that asshole was..." You had to stop to take a deep, shaky breath, "I just want to go back in there and-"

Wanda lifted her hands to your cheeks, gently turning your head so you would look at her. "I'm okay," she whispered, thumbs caressing the skin of your cheekbones. You were instantly entranced by her intense stare, soothing voice, and the addicting feel of her skin on your own. Her lips turned upward, causing you to glance at them briefly. "You know you're always saving me. First, Trent Griffin, and now this idiot." She lowered her hands, making you immediately miss her touch. 

"I won't take credit for Rumlow. You had him handled before I interfered." You smirked at her, "Perfect kick, by the way." Your compliment evoked laughter from you both, Wanda's hand falling on your own. This time, you took the liberty of interlacing your hands. 

"So, who'd you meet?"

"Huh, oh, one of Peggy's friends, Sam. She was trying to set us up."

Wanda's head whipped around so fast, you thought it would fall off. "What?" She questioned, all playfulness was gone from her tone. 

"Yeah," you responded, unwilling to look at the girl. "Total waste, though. He looked like a nice guy and all, but definitely not my type. Besides, he had his eye on someone else." Your answer quelled the uneasiness in the brunette. 

"Really? Who?" She asked, disinterested but trying to seem unaffected by your words earlier. 

"Bucky," you answered with a grin, thinking of the cute couple the two would make. You missed the double take Wanda made. 

"Really? Bucky?" She questioned, perplexed. Although she didn't know Buck that well, she was highly intimidated by the man. The way he appeared to scowl at anyone except Steve. 

You found her incredulity hilarious, but you loved teasing her even more. "Do you have something against Bucky?" 

"What? No," she hastily replied. "It's just," she sighed, looking down, embarrassed, "he's kind of scary."

You burst into laughter as Wanda pulled her hand away to cover her face. As your giggles quieted, you uncovered her face, lacing your hands again. "Wanda, don't let the mean face fool you. He just has one of those faces. Bucky is a literal teddy bear. He would dare hurt a fly unless you mess with Steve or Alpine."

"Alpine?"

"His cat. See, totally safe," you assured.

Wanda sighed. "Sorry. I'm not actually scared of him; it's just that he appears intimidating."

"He does, doesn't he," you agreed with a smile.

"Anyways, this Sam," she dragged out, playing with your fingers. "You said he wasn't your type," Wanda took a deep breath. It was now or never. She looked straight at you and asked, " Tell me, who is your type?"

You felt the wind knocked out of your lungs as you gasped for an answer. What were you supposed to say? That she was your type? That all you could think about day and night was her? Or how anyone paled in comparison to her? You didn't dare to say any of those things yet. 

Instead, you nervously laughed as you rubbed your neck. "I don't know.'

"Not, Natasha?" Wanda pressed.

Your eyes shot to her, looking at her as if she'd grown a second head. "No, no, no. That's not- No," you vehemently denied. "Nat, she's amazing, but no."

You took a deep breath, furrowing your eyebrows in thought. "Pietro, he's my best friend, and while you and I didn't speak much, I always appreciated your presence." Wanda listened quietly, yet still confused about what that had to do with the conversation. "So when the two constants in my life left, I felt lost. I didn't know what to do with my best friend. Then, Natasha came along. She's kind of been to me what you are to Pietro. Someone who grounds me and pushes me to do better. It's because of her I got into soccer, you know? She basically dragged me to tryouts."

Wanda nodded understandingly. The quiet remained for a moment.

"What about you, Maximoff?"

She shrugged, "I haven't dated either."

"Really?" You asked, surprised that the goddess before you had not dated either. However, it was cut short by her following words.

"Actually, I did go on a date with this guy in California. It didn't work out."

You weren't jealous, no. You were curious about who was the idiot who let her go. "Really? Why"

"Jarvis came from an affluent family. All that money made him quite pretentious. To tell you that on the date, he took me to his mansion to show off all his money."

"Jarvis? His parents were definitely setting him up for failure with that name." Wanda laughed and playfully bumped your shoulder. 

When your laughter died down, you were left in silence, facing forward with a hint of a smile remaining on your lips. It wasn't uncomfortable like in your car, but peaceful and reassuring. You stayed in that position until you realized how late it was.

"Let's find Pietro so I can take you home." 

It didn't take long to find Pietro and his date, Crystal. The two were engaged in a competitive game of beer pong. Only two cups were left closest to them, while four remained on the opposing side. From his intoxicated state, you deduced they would soon lose. Pietro's uncoordinated throw needed more momentum, and the ping pong ball landed inches from the red solo cup. It wasn't long before the game ended.

You and Wanda walked in hand towards her brother, only separating as you threw your arm around his shoulder. The other took the alcohol-filled cup from his hands and set it down on the counter. "Okay, buddy, that's enough. Let's go home."

"Oh, come on, guys. It's still early."

"Seriously, Pietro. It's eleven," Wanda scolded with crossed arms. 

Pietro wrapped his arm around Wanda, so you were both on either side of him. "Sistra, aren't you enjoying yourself?"

Wanda shot daggers at Pietro, and you had to stop yourself from laughing. "No," she gravely responded.

"Okay, okay, okay." Pietro squeezed you both. "We can go... after you dance with Y/N." He looked down at you with a grin. "It's a party, and you two haven't done anything fun. Come on." He released you and took Crystal's hand, leading her to dance. 

You and Wanda watched, taken aback. Wanda scoffed, but you felt humored at Pietro's suggestion. Despite the loud music filling the atmosphere the entire night, it was the first time you cared to listen. Suddenly, all you wanted was a dance with Wanda. 

 You turned to Wanda, outstretching your hand. "He's right, you know? Let's have a little fun. Dance with me?"

She glanced at your hand, hesitation clear in her viridescent eyes. Wanda was not much of a dancer; back in California, when Pietro forced her to go to parties, she spent her time in secluded corners with her friends. She regretted not accepting the countless invitations to dance; maybe she wouldn't be destined to embarrass herself in front of everyone. With that thought in mind, she picked up Pietro's discarded drink and gulped it down in one go. A little liquid courage is all she needed, Wanda thought as she dropped her hand into your own and followed you to the dancing group.

You saw the nervousness in her eyes; you won't lie, you felt in yourself. Your coordination only functioned in the field, not on the dance floor, but you didn't care. You wouldn't mind making a fool of yourself for Wanda. You had half a mind to follow her lead with a drink but held back.

You stood still among the dancing teens sticking out like a sore thumb. You were unsure of what to do with your hand. Should you hold Wanda by her hips? Would that be too audacious? Wanda felt the same, uncertain of how to proceed. Wanda found it comical that you continued to be a nervous mess despite your newfound friendship. Although she didn't mind, she enjoyed seeing the all-mighty Y/N and confident Y/N from her childhood shy because of her definite ego boost. It made up for the millions of times she had to hide away in fear of embarrassing herself when you were near. 

Wanda bit her lip, looking up at you from under her lashes, and she swears she could hear how you take a sharp breath. With foreign confidence, Wanda wrapped an arm around your neck and, with the other, took your hand, placing it on her hip.

"Is this okay?" 

You nod stupidly, flushed by the action. Frankly, Wanda's boldness turned you on. It took a few mental reprimands to let loose and get into the rhythm. The music took over your body as you moved in sync, each beat resonating in your chest. Your body came alive with the music and the electrifying touch of the woman holding on to you. Nothing else mattered as you gazed into her hypnotizing eyes.

Your body tingled as she brought you closer, locking her hands around your neck. You could feel the silk-smooth skin of her hips as your hands reached under her shirt or her fresh mint breath on your lips. You felt drunk on the feeling of Wanda. 

Similarly, Wanda felt euphoric like never before, and despite her earlier concerns about dancing, her body moved so naturally. Every cell in her body is reinvigorated by your touch and the way you slightly scratched at her swaying hips. Suddenly, she couldn't remember why she hated parties. Was it because you weren't there? It didn't matter, not when she could feel the tension building and building to a place of no return. She licked at her lips, alternating her gaze from your lips to your half-lidded eyes.

You couldn't hold back any longer as you raised a hand to cup Wanda's cheek, like water slipping through a broken dam, your restraint torn down by need. Wanda leaned into your touch with a sigh, relishing the softness of the action. At any other moment, the brunette would find it unimaginable to act in such a way, but she figured it was the alcohol feeding into her boldness.

The two of you had stopped dancing long ago as you engaged in a battle of who would make the next move. It wasn't that you weren't dying to taste her lips. In truth, the need became nearly paralyzing. Maybe if you had acted sooner, you could have saved the moment. 

As you leaned in to kiss her, a drunken stranger crashed into you, and you staggered back with Wanda in your arms. It seemed as if the universe had a vendetta against you by how it intervened. For a second time, you were deprived of her lips by the consequence of outer forces. 

The blow knocked you out of your daze, and with regained senses, you took in the frantic, inebriated man thrashing around. Wanda turned around in your arms, confused by the commotion. You protectively pulled her closer to your body and stepped back to prevent getting struck by the man as his friends tried to pull him away. The situation only got worse as the drunk man noticed a laughing group.

"That's our cue to leave," you said, ignoring the near kiss, more apprehensive about the unfolding scene.

After collecting Pietro and Crystal, you bid farewells to your other friends and made your way to your car. You and Wanda lead the way in silence, yet not uncomfortable. Though the near kiss rested heavily on your mind, unlike last time, there were no doubts. Of course, you felt disappointed in the interruption, yet some of you acknowledged it wasn't the place or time. You were sure the moment would come soon enough.

Your hand itched to reach for her, but you held back, unsure what Pietro would think. When you got your car, you rushed to open the door for Wanda, sharing a smile as you did so. Behind you, Crystal complained to Pietro about his lack of chivalry and how she needed to be more like you. 

The ride to Crystal's place was short, but the couple in the backseat made the ride feel eternal as they made out. You and Wanda looked at each other disgusted while playfully gagging. You chuckled, poking fun at the couple. After dropping Crystal off, you made your way to the Maximoff residence. The collective exhaustion became visible in the lack of conversation. Pietro's usual talkative self hummed to a song on the radio while Wanda closed her eyes and rested her head on the window.

On the other hand, you used the time pondering on your next move. Should you talk to Pietro first before asking her out?

The twins thanked you for the ride as you stopped outside their place. Wanda kissed your cheek goodbye when Pietro was distracted like the other night and left without another word. Pietro followed, but not before making plans for him to come over the next day. As they walked away, you could only stare, entranced by the brunette. She would be the death of you.

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap two/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Fancy Meeting You Here

chapter one <-

summary: A peek out your bedroom window has you flustered, and a late night run in makes it worse.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. no minors! some good ol tension building and ogling 😉

Series Masterlist // Playlist // The tune:

Sunday -

You were able to unpack most of your ‘chaos’ the next day. Fun distractions in every box as you slowly put your life back together one side step at a time. Your A/C was working over time by mid day, the temperature outside almost breaking 90. Stuttering every so often with the heat trying to get the best of it, the sun shines through your window with harsh light directly on your freshly hung Ivy. The intensity of it at its peak in the sky threatens to fry them before they even have a chance to start. 

“Gotta get some curtains,” you mumble to yourself, adding it to the long list of things you already need.  

Licking sticky red lips, you grab the plastic cup you just drained the last of your wine from, the warm buzz of the alcohol making you sweat as you rinse it haphazardly. Water splashes all over the sink before you fill it up to the brim, your bare feet pad with low quick thumps against the wood floor, skin a little slick with every step to your window. 

The Cure’s ‘Just like heaven’ cuts off the loop you had it playing on all day when you get a notification on your phone, but you keep humming along as you step up on the ledge, kicking away the newly added throw pillows. The wrath of the summer sun makes sweat bead at the crown of your hair while the soil absorbs what you give it like it hasn’t been watered in days. A flash of color catches the corner of your eye, stealing your attention to the window.

That's when you see Steve.

He wears red running shorts this time, the color making his bronze skin pop while the black tank top that hangs loose off his shoulders has his arms on full display. The darkened patches from the heat on the front and back of It makes the damp cotton dip to tease the curled hair on his chest that matches his legs. His jog stops once he hits his gate, pulling out his AirPods his shoulders move up and down with his heavy breaths. He looks even better than yesterday, the sheen that covers him making him glow.

That’s when he does it, he takes it off.

Long fingers find the bottom of his shirt as he pulls it over his head, abs flexing when it gets caught at the bottom of his chin for a second. He pushes back his hair with both hands catching that stray that never seems to go away. Cold water hits your toes, a squeak leaving your mouth at the sight.

“Shit, shit, shiiit.”

You set the cup down cursing under your breath and you know you should look away but when you see the dark happy trail that runs down into his shorts you can’t. Not yet.

If he can feel you staring he doesn’t show it when he sits down on his porch swing, the muscles in his thighs bulging against the nylon. He dabs his forehead with his discarded tank top, letting his neck fall slack and his head tilt back using it to shield his eyes when he’s done.

Watching past the point of what feels appropriate you pry yourself from the view suddenly needing the coldest shower.

Wednesday -

Job hunting day was long and hot. Your feet are sore from hours spent walking in the haze of the sun, the bottoms of your converse peeling against the pavement with each step. The trains were more confusing than you’d bargained for, opting for the bus and expecting some reprieve but somehow managed to get on the one that offered you none. Packed tight against strangers in a heat that was somehow even worse than the one outside, you glowered at your feet.

Oh yeah, and you hated that every song on your shuffle reminded you of the man you spent all of ten minutes with.

The biggest glass of wine you could humanly pour calls your name by the time you get to the end of your block. Your pace is quick with annoyance, and the need for A/C is urgent when your thighs start to rub together, stinging in the humid air.

That’s when you see him. Again.

He’s getting out of BMW M6, a dark red one with black trim, shiny with the kind of paint that glitters in the sun like just went through a car wash. The tint of the windows is just dark enough to give you a glimpse at the silhouette of the car seats and the air freshener that dangles over his rear view mirror. He’s fully clothed this time, a white long sleeve dress shirt that clings to him like it’s custom tucked into dark gray slacks that look freshly pressed. The black oxfords on his feet look polished with no scuffs in sight, and when he goes to answer his phone by the bluetooth in his ear the silver of his watch reflects off the light. The look is thrown though by the familiar blue of a Cubs hat, backwards on his head - that loose strand hangs out the front. Ray Bans cover those eyes that a few days ago couldn’t stay off of you.

“Of course,” you grumble to yourself, trying to ignore the hope that starts tightening in your chest.

“Hey Ron! It’s Steve.” The whites of his teeth show themselves in a confident smile that’s not directed at you.

He stops at his mailbox as you reach your gate thinking there’s no way he hasn’t noticed you. You just want him to at least acknowledge you.

He hums in agreement to whatever ‘Ron’ is saying on the other end, throwing in an ‘exactly’ every now and then. You watch as his expert fingers pop the buttons up at the bottom of his sleeves, before rolling them up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms moving. The few seconds in the heat already getting to him. 

“Don’t worry, I got you seats right behind home plate for helping me make this right on such short notice.”  

He keeps his head down and he sifts through envelopes, humming a ‘no thank you” before the noticeable click and end of the phone call. The metal of your gate seems to creak louder than usual, but the noise still isn’t enough for him to look your way. Not even when your steps mirror each other’s as you both make it to your respective doors. You keep peeking over as you jiggle your lock, silently trying to get his attention. 

He tucks his mail between his teeth as he searches for his house key. A muffled ‘aha!’ when he finds them, quickly unlocking his own door before freeing his mouth to greet Bandit. The sound of his nails pattering excitedly against the floor fills the quiet between you two before the slam of his door.

Friday -

It had been two days since you even caught a glimpse of your confusing neighbor, making it easier to get back to your normal brain chemistry. Instead of running through your first day here over and over again, you focused on prepping for the interview you got called back for.

The bright glow of the moon breaks through the sheer curtains of your room competing with the warmth of your bedside lamp. Your bluetooth speaker is set at a volume that is only meant for you to hear while The Marias Care For You becomes the soundtrack to finally organizing your room. 

You dance a little as you make your way around your space, smiling as you walk past the window. The flick of a light breaks your concentration making you search for where it came from, the regret is instant when you find the source.

You don’t know how it took you a week to realize his bedroom was right across from yours, but the way he’s walking around in nothing but a low slung towel makes you think he doesn’t know either. Water drips from the tips of his hair and down his chest, curling the dark thatch that connects to the happy trail that you’d been teased with earlier in the week. There’s a subtle dip between his hips, a soft V that taunts you.

The books in your hand slip from your grip, the hard spine connecting with the top of your toes. 

“Ouch - fuck!” 

You scream loud enough to duck, scared that your outburst caught his attention while your hands wrap around your foot in an attempt to soothe the pain. You rock back and forth a little until the aftershock subsides. Still too scared to stand, you crawl towards your window to see if your worst fear actually came to life. 

Your fingers rest on the window pane as you slowly let your eyes peek above the wood. He’s not looking at your window, but his towel is now replaced with just as low hanging dark green mesh shorts. His back is turned towards you revealing even more freckles and moles than the ones you’d discovered on his arms and nose. His shoulder blades move as he texts someone on his phone. The glow of the screen lighting his face in the reflection of the mirror over his dresser.

You groan as you slink back, laying on your floor with a huff. Staring at the ceiling with a sweaty palm on your forehead, the image of him in the towel is etched in your mind, making your blood run hot. You’ll need better curtains for your bedroom too.

Trash, you’ll take out the trash.

There’s a chill with the breeze when you get outside, the humidity disappearing with the sun for once. The street lamp flickers over the alleyway, the glow of the full moon doing more to light your path. Goosebumps dance over the exposed skin of your legs, while you keep your eyes on your feet as you move over the uneven ground. completely focused on not rolling your ankle again, you don’t notice the sounds of sports highlights getting closer.  

“God, of course he choked— umph!”

Steve’s voice catches your attention too late for you to stop the slam of your face into the hard muscles of his chest. The sound of glass breaking in your trash bag echoes loud through the quiet when you drop it next to your feet, quickly followed by the skid of his phone. Your cheek bounces lightly off of him, the material of his gray shirt soft against your skin. The hair hidden underneath is still wet enough for you to feel the way it dampens the cotton, while the mint and pine of his body wash overwhelms your senses. His hands find your hips to steady your balance, fingertips accidentally brushing the top curve of your ass when they spread wide to get a grip.

“Whoa! Easy tiger.” There’s a smirk in his words and tobacco on his breath, the heat of it fanning across your face.

Your eyes finally meet the greens of his and the golden specks are just as easy to get lost in as the first time. There’s less peppered stubble covering the sharp edges of his features, the shadowing of it signaling that he must have shaved since the last time you saw him. The moon reveals a new set of moles that sit like vampire bites on the underside of his jaw, a placement that makes you wet your lips. Your heartbeat pulsing through your fingertips wrapped in his shirt. His grip on your hips stays unwavering while he takes in your face like he missed something he didn’t know he lost.

The sound of a car honking signals its presence down the alley breaking you two apart, the headlights making you squint when they hit your line of sight. His hands drop quickly and you untangle yours, taking a step back as the car drives past at what feels like a snail's pace. There’s a beat of silence before you clear your throat.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you offer as a bad attempt at breaking the ice. It makes him snort a little, sidestepping you briefly to grab his phone that landed on the gravel next to your feet. The score of the Cubs game is still playing from the small speaker. 

The low light conceals the way your eyes wander when the back of his shirt rides up as he bends down. The baseball game drowns out the sound of you swallowing hard when you don’t see an outline of briefs under his shorts. He clicks the button on the side, cutting the sportscast off abruptly and for the second time you wonder if he can hear your thoughts.

He smirks when he brings his attention back to you, almost missing the way his gaze wanders around your curves when he drops his phone in his pocket.

“You’re telling me, I thought this was an exclusive spot.” He laughs, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

There’s a beat of awkward silence this time.

“Well, not gonna force you to chat. Have a good night Steve.” You try not to let it show how much it bothers you as you pick your trash back up.

“How’s your ankle? Did the ice pack help?” He blurts out before you can walk away. 

You stare at him for a second, eyes raking over his face as you try to decipher his mood swings.

“Yeah, it helped a lot. Thank you.” Your smile is small but it makes his whole face light up. “Tell Bandit I said thanks too. Maybe give him another kiss for me.”

You watch the way his ears turn the rosy color of his cheeks as he looks down, kicking the rocks at his slipper covered feet.  

“I’m sure he’ll be very appreciative of such a kind gesture.” He looks at you from under his lashes, the playful spark from the day you met slowly coming back.

“I hope I didn’t do anything last week to make you uncomfortable - “ you start out, determined to address the elephant in the alley between you, and his eyes get big when he finally registers what you’re saying. 

“What? Uncomfortable? No, honey - look, you didn’t do anything to make me run off like that. There’s some things about me that you don’t know, it’s just - I’m sorry,” he huffs out, shoulders slumping defeated when he realizes how he’s come across. 

“I’m just trying to make some friends around here. Thought I had one in you and Bandit, but I guess not.” You try to lighten the shift in his mood when you look up at him with an exaggerated sullen face, and it works when the whites of his teeth start to show, eyes crinkling at their corners.

“We can be friends.” He chuckles with his signature nervous tick, long fingers running through damp hair. “Bandit can be a little high maintenance though.”

It’s your turn to laugh, a giggle bubbling past your lips and Steve thinks it’s one of the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard. He wants to make you do it again. 

“I think I can handle him, it’s his owner I have to worry about.“ You roll your eyes before you peek over at him with a smirk.

“That old guy next door? I heard he’s pretty lame, you might give him a big head if you wanna be his friend.” He lays it on extra thick by taking the trash bag from your hand, walking the few short steps to the dumpster for you. 

He tosses it in with ease, his shoulder blades moving under his shirt. The lid closes loudly,  drowning out the way your heart is trying to jump from your chest when he makes his way back. 

“That was a very friendly thing for you to do, Steve. Thank you,”  you tease, making him snort at your bad play on words. 

“Gotta make myself indispensable, tough girl.” He winks not missing a beat, lips stretching into that million dollar smile you saw him give on the phone the other day. Only this time it’s just for you.

“Well you’re really starting to build your case.” You bite your lip to try to hide the way you want to mirror him.

“Oh, you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me with good conscience.” He stops in front of you, eyes meeting yours like they did the first time. The smell of his body wash takes over again while the stray he’s always pushing back makes a reappearance. “Do me a favor though? No more taking your trash out this late. At least not alone.”

“Are you going to come over and help every time I need to take it out past nine?” You grin, crossing your arms, only half way teasing when you see a rat scurry by.

“What are friends for?” He shrugs, playing along with ease, whatever nerves he was battling with before retreating when his smile turns lopsided. The rake of his fingers through his hair seems intentional this time, especially when he licks his lips.

You wonder if he can hear the flaps of butterfly wings in your stomach, or how your breath hitches.

“Already working your way to best friend status Steve, careful,” you warn, trying to hide your nerves in humor and it works, earning a full belly laugh from him.

“Have a good night honey. I’m right next door if you need anything.” His hand reaches out as if  to touch your arm, but he pulls back at the last minute, fingers flexing looking for that ‘missing’ ring again at his side.

“See you around, Steve.” You smile warmly trying to save him from whatever internal spiral you saw him trying to fight off again.

Your touch is gentle when you do what he was too scared too. His skin is warm against your palm, the muscles moving underneath the simple gesture. You trace the pad of your thumb over the same cluster of freckles twice before you let go with a squeeze, heading back to the wooden gate that closes off your shared backyard.

He doesn’t answer till you’re almost all the way through.

“I hope so!”

The smile that spreads across your face can’t be contained any longer, hidden from him when your back presses to the wooden door as your gate latches closed loudly behind it. You wait until you hear him get inside, silently trying to decipher whatever he was mumbling to himself the whole way there but failing.  

You can’t help but replay the whole interaction back in your head as you make your way back upstairs, trying to manage your expectations. The words ‘there’s some things about me that you don’t know’ stick to the front of your brain like glue, just like the word ‘friends’.

You avoid your bedroom window for the rest of the night, and vow to get better curtains in the morning. 

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

---

----

chapter three

[cheriladycl01]

That'll be the back up generator! George Russell x CoffeeShopOwner! Reader

Plot: George Russell finds himself in a coffee shop after the Italian Grand Prix but a storm makes him get stuck in the shop.

A/N: Tell me your views on Sam and Colby and like other youtubers in the comments and if you like them!

It was a really slow and hot day in the cafe, it had been your dream since you were a child to own a coffee shop on the street you grew up in, in Milan.

You got a degree in the UK at the request of your parents before coming back to your home country to set up the shop. You had the exact shop in mind on the street and it was the same one that had been run down an abandoned for years.

You completely re-done up the shop, making it exactly how you envisioned it. You had loads of plants running throughout and a little street section with seats out the front and a small balcony that looked over the whole street.

You were very busy today, everyone seemed to be wanting iced coffee's and smoothies. Loads of tourists came in for water, making you chuckle each time when they enunciated their words assuming you couldn't understand English.

But it started to get a little later and darker and people were now choosing to go to bar's as they were opening now. It was a Saturday so you new it would be busy because of the race in Monza and most people coming back to Milan centre to spend their evening.

There was no-one in the store right now and you let the last two staff go home from their shift early as you'd heard them talking about going clubbing tonight. You were making yourself a smoothie the blender so loud you didn't hear the bell chime. Just as the blender stopped you tuned into the conversation.

"This looks pretty quiet, lets stay here" one of their voices said that sounded British but had a slight American twang to it.

"I forgot cafe's were a thing!" a louder American voice out of the group added as you watched as they took the booth at the back. That's also when you noticed the team wear they were in, they worked for the racing teams.

"Yeah, Carlos' life hack apparently!" a fully British voice says and you walk slowly over to the table.

"Hey guys, what can I sort out for you today?" you ask, and they all push up their glasses, their faces were red and a some of their foreheads were lined with sweat.

"Oh, hello erm could be just get some water for now and food menu's please" another guy asks in Williams gear and you smile nodding, grabbing them from the counter next to them. You grab a jug of ice cold water and four glasses placing them down on the table.

They eventually give you their orders and you make yourself busy in the back small kitchen putting together the sandwiches and salads they'd requested.

You make light conversation with them handing them out eventually finding out they they are some of the drivers, Lewis and George who both drove for the Mercedes team, and Alex and Logan who drove for the Williams team.

You saw how they were struggling with the heat of the shop, you kept the water consistent and move the fan that was behind the counter with you to face them, you couldn't imagine how exhausted they felt after a race.

Eventually, Logan left first saying that Oscar and Lando wanted to hang out which you can only assume were other drivers. Then Lewis and Alex left at the same time with different reasons, one being Alex girlfriend just landed and Lewis wanted to do some shopping.

"And then there was one!" George sighed with a shake of his head, taking a bite of the pastry you'd brought him over.

"Hey, you want a smoothie, on the house of course. I'm just trying out some new things" you smile, trying to engage him in conversation.

He looked up at you with a huge smile and a nod of his head.

"Yeah, I'm down to try anything!" he smiled. You go behind the counter starting on cutting the fruit for the smoothie. You would look up every now and then catching eyes with George who always seemed to be gazing at you when you would meet his eye.

You bring him the smoothie over on the tray, making it a little fancier than you probably would when you put it on the menu.

"One, smoothie by yours truly!" you joke, smiling down at him.

"Your accent is strange" he says smiling up at you with his head tilting to the side.

"Thanks?" you offer with a small laugh not exactly sure what to say.

"No-no not like that, you obviously are Italian but you have an English twang to it?" he offers looking over your features.

George didn't think he'd ever met someone so beautiful. And it was an effortless kind of beauty as well, your hair up in a claw clip and a little messy from a hard day at work, flour covering the bottom part of your apron and a little sweat building under your eyes from the heat in the cafe.

"Ah, I studied in the UK for a while before I came back here, but i was born here in Milan!" you explain knowing what he was on about, you'd easily picked up on some British slang in your time their and the speech patterns to make your English sound easier on the ear.

"What did you study?" he asks, a look of shock on his face.

"Business management!" you smile. And he takes his first sip of the smoothie you gave him, his eyes going wide.

"That's amazing! And I'm guessing that's how you came to own this place?" his eyes light up taking another sip.

"This is really good, what's in it?" he interrupts his own question looking up at you.

"That is a secret!" you grin before walking off and over to the counter grabbing your own smoothie you'd made earlier. You check the time seeing it's around half an hour till you close, you walk out the front to bring the street chairs and tables in until you see and feel the weather.

It was really windy, and you felt the spotting of rain. The sky had turned awfully dark. You bring all the tables and chairs in before locking and bolting the door.

"Er, are you kidnapping me?" George asks seeing you latch the bottom bit of the door tightly.

"No no, I'm sorry the weather out there it just really picked up and the doors the original so it's pretty loose unless it's latched and I don't want it flying off!" you explain, worried he genuinely thought you were trying to hold him hostage.

"Holy shit yeah!" he exclaims looking out the front windows seeing the wind affecting some of the other shop owners who are hurriedly trying to pull their chairs or stock in depending what kind of place it was.

You both sit together but the storm only picks up and after what feels like an hour, you and George started to play uno which he had on him for some reason.

The door of the cafe was rattling and you could hear the whistling of the wind flow its way from the upstairs balcony and down the stairs.

"It's getting worse" you explain. Looking out the window and he nods. It was way past closing now but the streets looked so bad, no-one was out on them and George didn't feel like risking walking back to the hotel with the amount of debris flying around.

However within seconds, the room went dark and you gasped, not being able to see anything.

"Did, did we just loose power?" he asks, feeling around for his phone only for his hand to rest on your thigh, another gasp coming from your mouth and a string of apologies from George.

"It's okay, I just didn't expect it and it's so dark right now and I'm scared shitless!" you offer with a small chuckle.

"Where's like, your power supply and stuff!" he asks, finally turning the torch on his phone on, sending light up into the room when he turns the phone face down leaving it in between you two.

"I have a back up generator, that should kick in once it realizes there's no power" you smile, looking at his handsome face light up by the torch.

However, it also looked really creepy the way the light shaped his sharper features. It made you laugh a little.

"What?" he asks laughing along with you.

"Sorry, I feel like I'm in a Sam and Colby YouTube video right now, telling ghost stories while in a haunted house" you admit, changing so your on your knees.

"Well, this place isn't haunted right?" he laughs nervously.

"Nope, not as far as I'm aware!" you smile, it's gone extremely cold since the storm started and you shivered a little. There had been no predicted cold areas today so you hadn't brought anything with you.

"Oh, you look cold take this!" he smiles handing you his team jacket. You shrug it on with a small thank you. You both talk about everything you could think of to ask one another. From questions about his driving to your time in university. You told him all your funny club night story's from your first year where you still weren't really accustomed to British Culture and what is right and what was seen as wrong. He told you about how he used to be in Alex and Logan's team but basically got moved into a better car. You didn't really understand how it worked and you listened before asking your questions that he was more than happy to answer.

He's looking at you, holding your eye contact the whole time you both talk even if you look away to use your hands to embellish what your saying. Sometimes you used Italian words that George didn't know but in the context of the sentence he'd be able to work out the English for it and explain to you.

He's so impossibly close to you, that you think he might be leaning in closer and closer.

Before anything happens, a whirring from the back startles you both.

"That'll be the back up generator" you smile looking at the low level lighting and small strip lights all turning on.

"Er yeah, i guess it is!" he smiles looking over you. You get up onto your knees seeing that the wind is slowly dying down.

"I recon you can go now, it looks like the wind had died down enough!" you smile unlatching the door.

"Yeah, thank you. Er, yeah thanks" he smiles walking out the door. You follow him out locking up from the outside before taking off in the other direction. You didn't know if you'd ever see him again but you hoped he would.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[lou-struck]

Another Layer

Lucifer x Reader x Mammon

~ After an incident during magic practice, you no longer have a jacker to wear on your chilly walk home.

Genere: Fluff

Wc: 1.4k

Warnings: Brotherly competition, Mc is shorter than the brothers, mention of Mc overworking themselves and not taking care of themselves. Reader lights themselves on fire harmlessly.

It finally happened; you accidentally lit yourself on fire.

The enchanted flames from your fireball spell singe the fabric of your jacket, and you hastily throw it to the ground with a shriek. Your foot stomps frantically on the light pink flames in an attempt to salvage the garment, but you are unsuccessful and can only watch as the enchanted fire eats through the fabric, leaving nothing but a pile of ash in its place.

"Damn," you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. You really liked that jacket.

With another huff, you grab your bag and prepare to leave. Next time you decide to practice your magic on a day off, you'll remember to wear the magic-proof garments Solomon told you about.

Sensing your presence, the double doors part for you magically. The heated air of the building disappears as soon as you step across the threshold. You shiver; the air is so much colder than you remembered it being on your walk over.

The thin short-sleeved shirt you're wearing does little to keep your body warm as hundreds of little goosebumps prickle your skin, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep the little heat your body is letting out.

The cold wind seems to make your walk to the House Of Lamination much longer than usual as it whistles a melancholy tune that bounces off the iron fence posts along the walkway. The dark clouds overhead foreshadow a heavy bout of rain coming your way.

You quicken your pace, hoping to soon be back home and in the arms of one of your much warmer demons. 

Maybe you can take a nap with Belphie and watch the storm through the roof of the observatory?

Maybe Asmo will let you warm up in his bathtub?

Maybe Satan could read to you by the fireplace?

Whatever it is you end up doing, you know that you will be warm and relaxed, unlike now. 

The wind blowing in your ear and the drumming of your heartbeat makes it close to impossible to hear anything else as you turn a corner blindly and bump directly into someone's back.

"Oi, what gives?" a familiar voice says. Taking a step back, you realize that it was Mammon you had just bumped into. Just beyond him, you notice that Lucifer is with him as well, his arms crossed over his chest. "Huh, Mc? What are ya doin out here?" The Avatar of Greed asks, trying to hide the elation on his features at your presence.

"I'm sorry, Mammon, I didn't mean to bump into you," you say quickly. "I was just leaving the private casting room at RAD and wanted to get home before the rain came."

"Mc," Lucifer addresses, looking you over. His discerning gaze lingers on your exposed arms and shivering figure before narrowing his crimson eyes. "Where is your jacket? You had it on when you left earlier today."

Shit, of course, he would notice that kind of thing.

"I kinda set it on fire," you admit with an innocently guilty smile on your face. 

"Just the jacket?" he presses, raising a brow.

"I kinda, maybe, sorta was wearing the jacket when it was set on fire," you admit directing your gaze to the all too interesting pavement. The random cracks and stones are much less humbling than this conversation with Lucifer is.

"So you set yourself on fire."

"Yes…accidentally."

Lucifer's hands reach up to rub his temples in exasperation as Mammon gasps.

"What do you mean you set yourself on fire?" he exclaims, reaching out to grab you by the shoulders. His hands are warm on your cold skin, and his face is filled with worry. "What the? Your skin is so cold."

"I was t-trying to get home. "You say softly, doing your best to fight the shivers.

"Silly human, ur gonna get sick out here." Mammon sighs, pulling his leather jacket down his shoulders and placing it over his own. Although leather may not be the best material for generating heat, already, you feel as if you are being held tightly. 

Breathing in, you smell just a bit of Mammon's cologne. The scent comforts you, warming you up in a different way as you look up at the handsome demon whose body is physically shielding yours from the wind. "I feel much better now, thank you, Mammon."

His cheeks turn pink at the sight of you wearing his clothes, and he turns away, "It's nothin'; the Great Mammon just doesn't want to hear ya sneezing tonight, that's all."

"I see," you nod, not fooled at all by the tsundere's words. "So that's all?"

"Ya might want to stay close though, so ya don't get too cold."

Just as he is about to take your hand, Lucifer clears his throat.

Mammon, do you really think that will warm them up sufficiently?" The Avatar of Pride says, taking a step between the two of you. He looks down at you affectionately as he speaks. "Mc, you should really wear my cape instead; you would be much warmer.

"Oi, they're not taking it off," Mammon says protectively, zipping up his jacket all the way up to your throat childishly as a way of proving his point. 

"Hmmm, then I suppose I'll just have to give them another layer to keep them warm," he replies, taking it off his shoulders and draping it over you like a blanket. The weight warms you even more as you feel the soft fur against your face. 

"How is that, Love?" he says, leaning in to secure it in place. "Is this other layer warming you up?"

"Mmhmm, I feel much better," you sigh, giving him a content smile.

"You really shouldn't be so reckless," he breathes into your ear; his breath is warm but sends a different kind of shiver down your spine. "What would I do if you were to catch a cold out here?"

"I'm sorry?" you offer, unconsciously leaning into his warmer frame. He chuckles warmly and allows you to lean on him.

"Sounds about right," Mammon says, wrapping an arm around your other side. "Ya really gotta take better care of yourself, or at least let me take care of ya. I'm your first, after all."

You giggle as the three of you go along, not noticing the subtle way both brothers are trying to steer you closer to their side of the walkway. 

"Oh," Lucifer says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It seems the cape is a bit too long for you; I wouldn't want you to fall. Allow me to take you back." 

Looking down, you see that he is right; the dark fabric of his cape is dragging behind you. "Are you sure?" you ask. "We are almost back at the house; I can walk the rest of the way."

"Don't be silly; the rain is about to come down, so it's better if I carry you," he says with the persuasion expected of a demon such as himself. You find yourself nodding, and he scoops you into his arms effortlessly.

"I wanted to take them," Mammon whines, reaching a hand out to you with puppy dog eyes. 

"You didn't ask Mammon," Lucifer smirks at his younger brother before looking at you with a loving expression. "Is this comfortable?"

"Very," you nod, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of the two demons' clothing enveloping you.

Lucifer is too proud to ever admit it, but getting to take care of you like this is one of his guiltiest pleasures. Especially when you are draped in his clothing and secure in his arms. 

You work too hard, and they all know it. 

"Not fair," Mammon pouts, reaching out to hold your hand in hopes of getting some kind of physical contact with you.

You smile and give his hand a squeeze. "Just you wait, Mc; when we get back, I'll make ya the best cup of tea you've ever had, and then we can go and watch a movie under all those blankets you like."

"That sounds good." you say, "We could all watch something together by the fireplace; I can even show you guys the spell I was working on."

Lucifer and Mammon lock eyes worriedly, "Uhhh, maybe not." the white-haired demon says.

"Perhaps you should rest for now." Lucifer offers. "You can go and get changed, and I'll take care of the fire."

[pullthehilt]

carrot at the end of a stick

Desc.: meet cute… but is it really

Characters: IMPLIDED RELATIONSHIP Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Azul Ashengrotto

Reader: not explicitly yuu

t/w: implied non-descriptive cannibalism

why is it all in bullet points? idk :> one day i will flesh this idea out, but i just really wanted to get this out before my dreams for the next few days is just this lol.

"And… let's talk about your love life."

It was a quiet afternoon on the pier; a summer buzz blanketing the residences of the shore as the rumble of the rollercoaster in the distance groaned. One such man had taken shelter from the sweltering heat in the cloth-covered stall of the fortune teller.

The guy in front of him was… shady to say the least; the man was in a pressed suit in the middle of summer, gloves and jacket and all.

He was sceptical, but he was also incredibly bored. So, agreeing, he splayed his hand palm-side up.

He peered over his glasses frame. "It'll be extra for that."

Tsk.

"Aha, dear customer. It seems you'll be having an encounter that'll change your life very, very, soon."

“A man, oh it kinda looks more like a woman-- well the encounter will definitely be with a person. Hmm, well it seems to be on the shoreline. Perhaps heading north-- in the evening…” blah blah blah

Well he's killing time at least and it’s not the worst place to be rotting his summer away in.

Exiting the tent he revels in the sticky, salty air and heads down the steps towards the shoreline.

He'd like to dip his toes in the water, kill the heat some more.

And then he sees them.

He sees you.

You're certainly a sight for sore eyes. Flushed from the sun, digging your feet in the sand. You sway gently with the waves, rhythmically matching the seas tune. The sun behind you douses you in liquid gold. It's like your clothing is just artistically draped onto you, white silk against your skin. There are shells piled into your arms, cradled as you continue to collect, bend and gently poke into the ground.

He's a long ways from you but it's like the world around him silences-- enraptured. He can no longer hear the sound of mechanical enjoyment, the rollercoasters and man-ran stalls. No sounds of children crying or couples bickering. Just the sounds of the waves accenting you.

And you're getting further and further away, shyly toeing towards the half-submerged tide pools.

He has half a mind to not bother you. It's a bit weird to trail after you, isn't it? You hadn't even noticed him as you were minding your own business.

But the words come back to him, the same way the water laps at his shoes.

"An encounter…"

At first he's only walking towards where you've disappeared over the horizon. The leisurely pace he treads, a product of hyping himself up for conversing with you, if you're still in the area. But then he hears a short yell and his heart staccatos.

Chasing after you is easy, sand being flicked up with every gallop towards your direction.

There's butterflies in his stomach from how your voice was carried in the wind-- is that what you sounded like when you were hurt? Or was it a yelp of surprise? Even scared, you sound so...

He scolds himself for even thinking of the other sounds you'd make.

When he reaches you, you're drenched and sat on a sloped rock.

The tide pool itself is shaped like a crescent, the open mouth leading directly to the sea-- and the waves are really working up a storm, as the tide has gotten inches higher from where it was just a few hours ago. At the centre of the crescent shape from where you're sat is a small rock pathway.

Your face is contorted, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pressed to a thin line. Slumped over your leg, you clutch at the leaking wound at the side of your shin.

"Oh god, are you alright?" He calls out to you, body leaning in your direction. It's cute how you jolt to attention, dishevelled.

At first it looks like you're analysing him, and so he tries, "I'm not here to harm you." Palms facing up, showing that he had nothing of a potential threat on his person. "I… I just heard a shout-- a scream. I thought someone needed help and you…"

"I scraped my leg… But… Uh, I'll be alright."

Your voice is light, fluffy even. He soaks it into his system like a sponge and wishes you'd talk more-- god he'd do anything to make you talk more--

"Do you need help?" Dumbass, he thinks to himself, of course you need help. He'd reprimand himself further if his mind hadn't frozen at the way your lips curved to a smile.

"It'd be nice if you could help me," calling out to him you kind of beckon him with your hand. "Come. Come help me." Stumbling to the edge, he prepares to step.

"What's your name?" He's afraid of coming off a bit too strong, but he needs to know. He can feel the water seeping into the canvas of his sneakers, pooling at his toes, but he only steps closer with one foot on the first stone of the pathways towards you.

The shape of your name casts into your lips, but the waves at the moment steal your voice. What? What did you say? He can't hear you, and he says so.

Carefully, he commits his weight to the first stone before moving to the next.

It's a short way to you, but he's slow to make his way as the water spits and crashes against the pathway. Torn between you and the stone he’s stood on, his eyes flicker between the two. Your hand is still stretched, as still as a marble statue. Waiting for him. A heat filters to pool in his ears the closer he gets to you. There's a flicker of hope tickling his spine as he imagines the words he'd say when he gets you off this rock-- he'd ask further if you were alright and if maybe you wanted him to accompany you to the lifeguard's tower to get you patched up. You'd say yes and then he'd follow up with shy conversation leading to the eventual exchanging of numbers. Then he'd for sure ask you on a date, maybe visit the small restaurant overlooking the cliffside a short walk away. Circle back to the pier, win you a couple of prizes from the vendors there… Visit the fortune teller and give him an extra tip.

He's so close to you now. Balancing on the next rock is hard, and he focuses to where his foot nearly slips. It would be terrible to embarrass himself by falling into the water-- troublesome too from how his shoes would be waterlogged and maybe tangled in the seaweed he could see dancing below.

The next stone is even smaller and he gets why you could've slipped here because, he's swinging his arms to regain his balance. But he sees your hand just in front of him and he clasps his to yours, fingers tightening.

Your smile is so bright, stretching to your eyes as your cheeks squish and mould into something Cheshire like.

He winces, your grip firm.

"Thank you." And he's tumbling as you yank sideways.

Water fills his lungs, salt attacking his tastebuds and stinging his eyes.

No one hears you when you're drowning, especially in the sea. The water crashing against the rocks is already loud in itself, and the fact that you have to fight between sputtering out water and kicking your legs to stay afloat and shouting is a battle in itself.

He screams to you, help him god-damn it. Fucking wench, why did you do that-- he'll actually drown at this rate. You're a bastard for tricking him like that-- a whore.

But your eyes are vacant and unfocused. You don’t see him, but you’re looking at his direction.

And then he feels something squeezing his leg. He's kicking harder now, has the thought to untangle the kelp or something he probably accidentally tangled into—

When he looks down, he doesn't see a clump of black wrung around him. Instead, there is a pair of half-moon eyes peering from beyond the water, coloured a sandy brown and warning sign yellow.

-

The water starts to turn a beautiful pink reminiscent to the colour of the coral and anemones dotting around your home. He, the man, is quick to have been pulled under with a trail of bubbles popping to the surface; at first it stays in once place, before the shape of him thrusts forward-- he rushes through the water like a bullet, tearing to circle the rock you sit upon.

 A warm sensation spreads across your stinging wound. When you look down there are a set of eyes fluttering back at you.

"Jade, stop that..." His tongue slips back into his mouth.

He parts from your calf, propping his head by your thigh, smiling. Floyd surfaces for a minute, eyes peeking back at the two of you. There's little disturbance as he moves almost jerking back and forth before his head fully floats above the water with a satisfied sigh.

"Was that all of him?"

"Dunno,” he burps out. “Definitely not all of him though.”

“Can you check?”

“Will I get a prize for doing it?” Glaring, you flick droplets at him with your free foot. He splashes back, waving an arm at you.

Clasping the foot, Jade cradles it to his chest. "Then… what part did you eat?"

"Dunno. An arm?”

“Floyd.”

“Hmph.” He dives back down, body folding to flicker into the deeper waters. After a moment, he resurfaces carrying something by the way he sways a bit more unevenly. “It was an arm.”

[biblical-chronicles]

Kissing lessons

__________________________________________________

where the reader decides to confess to Noel that she is yet to have her first kiss after her bandmates tease her. Lucky for her, Noel offers his services.

___________________________________________________

The dimly lit pub was the usual hangout after a long night of rehearsals and gigs. A few of your bandmates were scattered about, chatting, laughing, and knocking back drinks while the remnants of the crowd slowly trickled out. You could hear the buzz of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of a jukebox playing some classic rock tunes making it feel like home.

You and Noel were standing at the bar, beers in hand, side by side but not speaking. He was carefully nursing his drink, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. You’d crossed paths plenty of times over the years—on stages, backstage, and sometimes just passing through Manchester’s music scene—but lately, it had been different. 

You’d started spending more time with him, often finding yourselves in these quiet moments together. The friendship was easy, the conversation usually flowing effortlessly. Nonetheless tonight you felt a tension that neither of you had addressed yet.

He turned to you, flashing a wry smile. "What’s on your mind, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You’ve been quieter than usual tonight."

You stiffened a little, caught off guard. "Nowt, really. Just thinking " You said quickly hoping to get him off your case. Truth to be told, before coming into the pub your bandmates were pulling your leg a little as they found out you never kissed anyone before. It wasn’t meant seriously, but it has somehow lingered in the back of your mind, especially now with Noel in front of you. How could you ever make any moves on him when you were so green about these matters?

He studied you for a moment, a small smirk pulling at his lips. "Well, you’re always thinking. It’s a bit of a problem, isn’t it?" He chuckled under his breath, but there was a softness to his gaze, a hint of curiosity.

You laughed lightly, feeling the heat of the moment creeping in. "Yeah, I guess so. Just…, sometimes I get caught up in my head too much."

He leaned against the bar casually, taking a sip of his beer. "You’re not alone there. The mind’s a funny thing. But," he added, "sometimes it helps to talk about it, you know?"

You looked over at him, surprised by how open and earnest he sounded. Most people would be more focused on the next drink or the next joke, but there was summat different about Noel. You’d always known he had this mix of wit and depth, but it was in moments like these that you found yourself drawn to him even more.

"I guess I’ve been thinking about… relationships," you said after a long pause, feeling your heart rate pick up. "And about… kisses."

Noel’s brow furrowed slightly, clearly intrigued. "Kisses, eh?" His voice was a bit teasing, but his eyes softened with curiosity. "What’s the deal with them things?” he inquired clearly not getting what you were on about.

You felt your cheeks flush, suddenly aware of how personal this conversation had gotten. "Well, I don’t know. I’ve just never really… had a proper one," you admitted, taking a deep breath. "I’ve never kissed anyone."

Noel blinked, his face unreadable for a moment. "Never kissed anyone?" His voice was low, like he was processing it.

You nodded awkwardly, embarrassed but feeling strangely relieved to admit it. "I mean, it’s not like I haven’t wanted to, but… I don’t know. It just never happened, I guess. I guess I’m kind of… behind everyone else in that department."

Noel’s expression shifted then—something between surprise and amusement, but there was an underlying gentleness in his eyes. "Well, that’s… summat," he said, his smirk returning but with less of his usual cocky edge. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a more serious tone. "You know, it’s not about being ‘behind,’ love. Everyone’s got their own pace, no one’s counting. But," he added with a slight grin, "if you’re looking for a lesson in kissing, you’ve come to the right place."

You blinked, your breath catching. "What?"

Noel chuckled, clearly enjoying the look of surprise on your face. "You said you’d never kissed anyone, right? Well, lucky for you, I’m 'ere to offer my services."

The words hit you like a shockwave, but you found yourself laughing nervously. "You can’t be serious. You’re just messing with me, right?"

"No," he said, his voice lowering, the teasing edge fading. "I’m not messing with you. I’m serious."

You stared at him, half disbelieving, half intrigued. "You’re offering to teach me how to kiss?"

Noel raised his glass, taking another slow sip, all while keeping his eyes locked on you. "Why not? I mean, it’s not like it’s a big deal. People kiss all the time, it’s just about figuring out what works, innit?"

You felt a mix of disbelief and hesitation, but there was something oddly comforting about the way he was speaking. It wasn’t anything like the nervous tension you’d expected from a conversation about something so personal. "You’re really serious about this?" you asked, trying to gauge whether this really wasn’t just the alcohol speaking.

He nodded, leaning in slightly closer, his voice soft. "Completely serious. It’s not like you’re asking for the world’s most romantic kiss, just a bit of practice. No pressure."

Your heart was pounding now, the thought of actually being kissed by Noel swirling in your mind, if you were sober you’d probably chicken out in a minute.

You bit your lip, feeling a strange sense of confidence wash over you. "Okay," you said, before you could second-guess yourself. "Show me. No pressure."

Noel’s eyes flickered with something—amusement, but also a touch of warmth. He leaned closer to you, his voice low and sincere. "Alright, love. Just relax. It’s not ‘ard. You just gotta feel it."

Before you could respond, he reached up and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. The touch was soft but firm, and it sent a warm shiver down your spine. His face was inches from yours now, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. His eyes locked with yours, searching for something, as if making sure you were still okay with this.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice hushed, just above a whisper.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, your heart thudding in your chest.

Without another word, Noel leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, soft at first. You froze for a moment, your breath caught in your throat, before you instinctively leaned into him, your hands resting lightly on his chest. The kiss deepened slightly, and you could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with yours.

It wasn’t like the whirlwind kisses you’d seen in movies but it was… real, sweet. Like a slow building of something that had been waiting to happen for a while.

When he pulled away, you were both a little breathless. He gave you a small smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek again.

"See?" he said softly. "Not so bad, is it?"

You shook your head, a little dazed but feeling the warmth spreading through your chest. "No," you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper. "It’s… it’s nice."

"Good," he replied, his voice soft but serious. "I’ll teach you more whenever you want. No rush. Just, y’know, let it ‘appen."

You nodded, feeling a sudden burst of courage. "I think I might want to learn more."

Noel raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into that familiar, cocky grin. "Yeah? Well, lucky for you, I’m full of lessons and I think we’re ought to schedule another one right away"

You couldn’t help but laugh, you weren’t sure where things would go from here, but had a feeling they’d be a hell of a lot more interesting with Noel by your side.

_______________________________________

Once again lookin forward to feedback from you lot (and requests). hope you enjoyed it xx