#warmth touching me after I’ve spent months shivering

[virtute-atrest]

One day I want to be describe the way poets describe spring

[its-avalon-08]

kiss and tell (cs55)

(in honor of our fav smooth operator's birthday!!)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - friends with benefits, jealousy, comfort

It all started in Singapore. The city was electric that night, the lights from the Marina Bay Street Circuit casting a mesmerizing glow over the entire island. The race had been grueling, one of the most challenging of the season, but Carlos Sainz had come out on top, crossing the finish line first and claiming victory. The celebration that followed was nothing short of euphoric.

The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement as the night unfolded, but amidst all the chaos, Carlos only had eyes for one person—Y/N. She had been a part of the McLaren team for a while now, working closely with the drivers and crew, and over time, a comfortable camaraderie had developed between her and Carlos. There was always something more beneath the surface, though, an undercurrent of tension that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

But tonight, things felt different. The champagne was flowing, the atmosphere was light, and the barriers they usually kept firmly in place were starting to crumble.

Later that night, after the podium celebrations, the party had spilled over into one of the swanky hotels overlooking the Marina Bay. The drivers were mingling, the music was loud, and the drinks were even stronger. Y/N found herself at the bar, nursing a cocktail when Carlos approached, still riding the high of his win.

“Not gonna lie,” Carlos said, leaning against the bar with that trademark smirk of his, “seeing you out there cheering for me was the best part of the race.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Oh, sure, it wasn’t the adrenaline rush of winning or the thrill of outmaneuvering the other drivers? Just me?”

“Absolutely just you,” Carlos teased, his voice dropping to a low, flirtatious tone. “You looked good today, Y/N. Real good.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar warmth that always crept up when Carlos started flirting. “Careful, Sainz, someone might think you’re trying to get me into trouble.”

Carlos chuckled, taking a sip of his drink as he studied her. “Trouble? Who, me? I’m as innocent as they come.”

“Right,” Y/N replied with a grin. “Innocent like you didn’t just race at breakneck speeds through the streets of Singapore.”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” Carlos shot back, his eyes locking onto hers, the playful banter doing little to hide the tension building between them.

They spent the next hour trading flirty remarks, each one drawing them closer until the space between them was almost nonexistent. The noise of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing at the bar, caught up in a moment that felt like it had been building for months.

Finally, Carlos leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for cheering me on today.”

Y/N tilted her head, her heart racing at his proximity. “Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?”

Carlos’s lips curled into a slow, seductive smile. “I have a few ideas. But I think we’d need a little more privacy.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, the unspoken invitation hanging between them. She knew what he was suggesting, and she also knew she wanted it just as much. They had danced around this for too long—why not see where it led?

Without breaking eye contact, she downed the rest of her drink and set the glass on the bar. “Lead the way, Sainz.”

Carlos didn’t need any more encouragement. He took her hand, the heat of his touch sending a shiver down her spine, and led her through the crowd, away from the noise and the people. The tension was palpable, an electric current running between them as they made their way to the elevators.

When the doors slid shut, sealing them inside, the air became even thicker with anticipation. Carlos leaned against the wall, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at her. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

Y/N stepped closer, the proximity making her pulse race. “I think we’ve both wanted this for a while, don’t you?”

Carlos nodded, his hand brushing against her arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “Yeah, I have. But let’s keep it simple, okay? No strings, just…us, enjoying the moment.”

She hesitated for a split second, knowing that agreeing to this meant putting aside any hope for something more. But tonight, with Carlos looking at her like that, she was willing to take the risk. “No strings,” she agreed softly.

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor, and Carlos wasted no time in pulling her out, his hand gripping hers tightly as they walked down the hallway to his room. The tension was almost unbearable by the time they reached the door. Carlos fumbled with the keycard, his usual steady hands slightly shaky with anticipation.

Once they were inside, the door barely clicked shut before Carlos had her pressed against it, his lips crashing onto hers with a hunger that left her breathless. The kiss was everything she had imagined—hot, desperate, and filled with months of pent-up tension.

Carlos’s hands roamed her body, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Y/N responded in kind, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of them in a whirlwind of passion.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice rough with desire. “God, Y/N…this is exactly what I needed tonight.”

Y/N smiled, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, Sainz.”

That night was the beginning of everything—and nothing. They had agreed it would be no strings attached, just something casual between two people who enjoyed each other’s company. But as the weeks went on, and the nights like this one became more frequent, it was clear that the feelings they had been trying to keep at bay were only growing stronger.

But Carlos was determined to keep things light, not wanting to ruin what they had with complications. He told himself over and over that this was enough, that he didn’t need more. But damn, he thought as he watched Y/N fall asleep beside him, her face peaceful and content, I’m in trouble. Because I think I’m falling for her.

And that was the one thing he was truly afraid of.

time skip

The days leading up to that night had been a rollercoaster of emotions for Y/N. Carlos had a habit of making offhand comments about relationships that cut deeper than she’d ever admit. They were subtle, sometimes even playful, but each one was like a small dagger to her heart.

It was just a few days ago when they were sitting in the McLaren hospitality area, surrounded by the usual crowd of drivers and team members. Daniel Ricciardo had been teasing Carlos about settling down, something about how the Spanish driver was getting too old to be a bachelor forever.

"So, Carlos," Daniel started, a mischievous grin on his face, "when are you going to finally settle down and stop breaking hearts left and right?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. "Settle down? Nah, mate, I’m not ready for all that. Relationships are too complicated. I’m enjoying life as it is."

Y/N, who was sitting across from him, felt her heart drop at his words. She masked it with a forced smile, pretending to focus on her coffee. Of course he isn’t ready, she thought, Why would he be? But underneath the casual demeanor, it hurt more than she could admit.

Carlos glanced at her, his smile faltering slightly when he noticed the way her eyes had dimmed. Fuck , Carlos, he thought to himself. Why do you keep saying this stuff? He hated seeing that look on her face, the one she tried so hard to hide.

But then, he did what he always did. He pushed those thoughts away, shoving his feelings deep down where they couldn’t betray him. It’s better this way. She deserves someone who can give her everything, not someone who’s constantly on the move, constantly putting himself first.

Yet, when he was alone, away from the noise of the paddock and the constant demands of racing, his thoughts always circled back to her. He would picture her smile, the way she laughed at his jokes, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about. It made his chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting. God, I love her. I’m so damn scared of how much I love her.

It wasn’t just the teasing from the other drivers, either. There were moments in between—when they were alone, when the world was quiet, and it was just the two of them. Like the time when they were sitting in the team garage late one night after everyone else had left. She was leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and the silence between them was warm, comfortable.

Y/N had looked up at him then, her voice soft and filled with an emotion that made his heart race. "Do you ever think about the future, Carlos? About…what you want?"

He had stiffened slightly, the question pulling him out of the comfort of the moment. He knew what she was really asking, and it terrified him.

Carlos hesitated before responding, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. "I don’t think too far ahead. I’m just taking things as they come, you know? No need to complicate things."

He felt her deflate beside him, her silence saying more than words ever could. It was in moments like these that Carlos hated himself the most. Why can’t I just tell her? he thought, his mind screaming at him to say something, anything, to ease the hurt he knew he was causing. But instead, he just sat there, pretending everything was fine. She deserves better. I can’t give her what she needs. It’s safer this way.

But it wasn’t safer. Not for him, not for her. Every time he said something like that, he felt the distance between them grow a little wider, the connection that had always been so natural starting to strain under the weight of unspoken words and buried feelings.

They were friends with benefits, nothing more. At least, that's what they told themselves. Y/N knew she was in too deep; her feelings for Carlos ran far deeper than casual. But every time she tried to bring it up, Carlos would brush her off with a charming smile and a playful comment about how he wasn't ready for anything serious.

As the night progressed, someone suggested a game of spin the bottle. The group erupted in cheers and groans, the perfect mix of nerves and excitement. The bottle spun, pointing first to Y/N who blushed, much to everyone's amusement.

Then it was Y/N's turn. The bottle spun, clinking against the floor as it finally slowed down, the neck pointing directly at Lando. The room erupted in playful cheers and wolf whistles, while Carlos froze, his smile faltering just for a second.

Y/N glanced at Carlos, her heart skipping a beat, but he had already turned his attention away, a coldness settling into his features. She could see his jaw clenching, the muscle ticking angrily, but he said nothing.

Lando leaned in with his usual cheeky grin. "Guess it's us then," he said, his tone light and playful, trying to make the situation as un-awkward as possible.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding, but not for the reason everyone thought. As Lando's lips met hers, what was supposed to be a simple, friendly kiss quickly shifted. Lando, sensing the tension in the room, deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of Y/N's neck, pulling her closer.

The room fell silent, the air thick with a sudden intensity. Lando's kiss was anything but innocent—it was slow, deliberate, and filled with a surprising passion. Y/N's hands instinctively moved to his chest, gripping his shirt as she found herself kissing him back with equal fervor. She could feel Lando's heartbeat beneath her fingertips, the heat of his body against hers.

(a little carlos pov)

As Lando leaned in for the kiss, Carlos’s internal monologue went into overdrive. Don’t do it, don’t kiss her like that, don’t touch her like that. She’s mine, for fucks sake! Why can’t you see that?

He watched as Y/N responded to Lando’s kiss, her hands on Lando’s chest, their bodies too close for his liking. That should be me. I should be the one holding her like that, kissing her like that. But I’m the one who keeps pushing her away. This is my fault. I’m going to lose her, and it’s my own fucking fault.

The kiss went on longer than it should have, and with each passing second, Carlos felt his control slipping. His heart pounded in his chest, anger and jealousy swirling together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much it’s tearing me apart. But I’m too scared to say it, and now I’m losing you.

(out of carlos pov)

Carlos watched, every muscle in his body tensing, his breath catching in his throat. He tried to look away, but he couldn't. The kiss was more than just a game now—it was a reminder of everything he was too afraid to claim.

When Y/N finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breath unsteady. Lando kept his hand on the back of her neck for a moment longer, his thumb brushing against her skin as he gave her a small, knowing smile. "Well, that was something," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn’t from Lando's touch. It was from the cold, icy glare she felt burning into her from across the room. She turned to Carlos, who was no longer just silent—he was seething. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of anger and something else, something deeper.

Carlos pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. The room fell silent, all eyes on him. He stood up, his expression cold and unreadable. "I'm going outside for some air," he muttered, storming out without another word.

Y/N felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She excused herself from the group, ignoring the curious glances, and followed Carlos outside. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. Carlos was leaning against the side of the motorhome, his back to her, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Carlos," she called softly, but he didn’t turn around.

She moved closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "What's going on?"

Carlos finally turned to face her, his eyes blazing with an intensity that took her breath away. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with anger.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "It was just a game, Carlos. It didn’t mean anything."

"Didn’t mean anything?" He repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure didn’t look that way."

"What are you talking about?" Y/N asked, her voice rising in frustration. "You’re the one who said you weren’t ready for anything serious. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away!"

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, his expression torn between anger and something else—something deeper. "You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for that?"

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Then why, Carlos? Why do you keep doing this?"

"Because I’m scared!" Carlos exploded, the words ripping from him like a confession. "I’m scared of how much I care about you, how much I need you. I’m scared of what happens if I let myself love you and it all goes wrong!"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She had waited so long to hear those words, but now that she had, they were wrapped in so much pain and fear.

"I’m already in love with you, Carlos," she said softly, her voice trembling. "And it’s killing me that you don’t trust me enough to let me in."

Carlos closed his eyes, his face contorted in anguish. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N."

"Then don’t," she whispered, stepping closer until they were inches apart. "Don’t push me away anymore. Let me love you, Carlos. You don’t have to be scared."

For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her as if trying to decide whether to take the leap. Then, with a shaky breath, he reached out, pulling her into his arms. His lips found hers in a kiss that was anything but friendly—passionate, desperate, and filled with all the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long.

When they finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Y/N. I’m just…scared of how much."

She smiled through her tears, cupping his face in her hands. "Then be scared. But be with me. We’ll figure it out together."

Carlos nodded, his heart finally beginning to thaw. "Together," he repeated, sealing the promise with another kiss.

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 18

Word Count: 3.2K Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same. Chapter: 18/? Warnings: steamy scenes and foul language A/N: One day I'll manage both Twilight fics in a day, but today is not the day 😬😬 but hey, this is my longest story as of now, so hopefully if my creativity sparks I can consistently publish chapters like this story My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing Follow 😊 -> TikTok • Instagram • BusinessIf you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click hereMake sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Please check if you're tagged in the story, I've reached the limit of tags on Twilight again it seems. ����

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“Paul,” (Y/N)’s voice broke him out of his trance. She had started to slip on one of Paul’s many forgotten T-shirts, stretching her limbs after their latest encounter.  “You’re staring.”

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled softly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” she smiled. “I sometimes forget they’re there.”

It had been five months since she had been hurt, four months since they had left, three since she had decided to dig herself out of the hole she had fallen into and put her life back on track. And she couldn’t look back –at least not without feeling her heart wrench inside her chest.

(Y/N) had made the decision to move forward in her life, to allow herself to release her past and unbind herself from the Cullens. She had allowed herself to be her first priority –even if meant that she had to release some people she thought the world of. But she had to push forward. Staying stuck in the mud was the last thing she wanted.

Instead, she had spent the past two months and a half investing her time between med school, her entanglement with Paul, the people at the rez, and her work at the hospital. And it had been just the shift (Y/N) had needed.

“I can’t believe I was the one that did this,” Paul whispered as he joined her side. His fingers traced the rough skin of her scars, an electric shiver running through his veins. A few months before, the three ragged lines that ran down her arm had not been there. And in a split second, he’d changed her for life. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I wish I could take that night back.”

“I don’t blame you, Paul,” she breathed. Shudders ran through her body as he kissed her shoulder, his warmth still something she had yet gotten used to. “I should have listened to my brother and step away.”

“But if I had been able to control myself I wouldn’t have scratched you,” he said, his hand running up and down her arm. “I should have been able to protect you. Protect you from myself.”

 “It was no one’s fault, Paul,” she sighed at his touch, a teasing smile spreading across her face after. “And I’ve heard scars make people hot.”

“You were already hot,” he grinned. “Scars just added to it.”

“Okay, cool it, Casanova,” she chuckled. “I can’t go for a round three. I’ve got studying to do.”

“You and I both know that studying for you is a formality,” he groaned. “You’ve been axing all your tests. You already passed Step 1, and in a couple of weeks you’ll be in your clinical rotations.”

“I still need to study, Paul. I’ve gotta make sure all the information is fresh in my brain,” she explained. “And, still, it’s almost time for your patrol shift. So, you don’t have time for anything else either.”

“The bloodsuckers are gone,” he said before kissing her neck. “What is there to patrol?”

“Probably the people of this reservation,” she breathed, trying her hardest to suppress the moan that wanted to escape. But it was as futile as denying him. “But, maybe we can go for one more round.”

Paul could simply laugh in response and take her lips on his. His hands snaked to the small of her back, pulling her body until his legs reached her bed. (Y/N) grinned at him as he buckled against the mattress and used his surprise to push him onto the bed. He forcefully sat down, spreading his legs to allow (Y/N) a space between them. But she seemed to have another idea.

The Uley girl closed his legs together before placing her knees at either side of his thighs, straddling his lap. She placed her hands on his cheeks before kissing him again, telling him she was just as hungry for him as he was for her. (Y/N) would have never admitted it out loud, but Paul knew his way around a woman’s body —not that she had mi b to compare it to. Still, she would never say it to him, afraid that he would think it would lead to something else.

Almost every week she would check in with Paul to make sure they were still on the same page regarding their relationship, or rather lack thereof. The last thing she wanted was to lead him on and she had told him so over and over again. But every single time he would tell her that he understood what they were and what they would never be. That he could separate his feelings from his urges, and that at some point she would have to believe him.

Even with her doubts, she pushed on. She couldn’t deny that she loved the convenience of having him just a couple of houses down and the fact that he was all for their… benefits. Things just seemed to be working out perfectly for her, and she continually overthought her way into thinking that the universe would mess everything up.

Still, instead of dwelling on what could happen in the future, she had started to enjoy things as they happened in the moment. And at that very instant, (Y/N) had started to deepen the kiss between her and Paul. Her hands ran through his short hair, gripping and pulling softly at the dark brown strands. At the same time and unconsciously, her lower half started grinding onto his lap, searching for that much-wanted friction.

Paul’s hand had made a home on her backside, cupping the soft skin that peeked out of her underwear and moving with her motions. Even if he loved being the one to lead in the bedroom, he couldn’t say that was the dynamic with (Y/N). She held all the power in her hands, there and in their personal life. And for the time being, he seemed to enjoy it. Mostly because it was (Y/N).

As the man’s hands finally decided to move and try to remove the shirt that dangled from (Y/N)’s neck, a knock resounded through the house. At first, they ignored it, continuing their exploration of each other’s bodies. But whoever was at the door did not relent, knocking once more and harder the second time.

“Just ignore them,” he groaned against her neck. “They’ll get the hint soon enough.”

“It’ll only take a second,” she chuckled, pushing him away from her body. “I’ll see who it is, okay? You can go eat something in the meantime.”

“Ugh, fine.”

(Y/N) lowered the shirt onto her body, the massive size drowning her inside, and slipped on a pair of sweatpants. In the meantime, Paul did the same, adjusting the ignored hard-on that would tent his pants. It made the girl laugh as she noted the discomfort on his face that was quite evidently laced with annoyance.

“Don’t worry, Paul. It’ll go down soon enough.”

“That’s not funny, (Y/N),” he grumbled. “I was promised something else.”

“I promised nothing,” she laughed, coming down the last steps of her staircase. “And you’ll be fine in a couple of minutes. It’s not like you haven’t gone months without sex.”

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Oh, I know I am,” she smiled. “Now go away.”

(Y/N) opened the door and was surprised by the person standing on the other side. The Forks sheriff was nervously pacing back and forth on her porch. She could see the darkened bags under his eyes and his hair was slightly disheveled. Instantly she knew why he was there.

“Sheriff Swan, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, hello, (Y/N),” Charlie breathed out. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you,” she offered him a smile. “How have you been?”

“Well, I’ll be honest, I’m feeling a bit defeated at the moment,” he sighed. “That’s actually the reason why I’m here. It’s Bella.”

“Is she okay?”

“Physically, sure. But ever since her boyfriend and his family moved away she’s been the living dead,”  the man explained. She could tell how tired he was, tired of being the only one that cared for her well-being —to care for the both of them. “I’m not one to gossip but I know you also went through something a few months back when the Cullens left. Yet, you were able to move on, and look at you now.”

“I can’t say it was easy, but I was lucky enough to have a lot of people rally behind me,” she chuckled slightly. “Still, I’m not sure how I could help you with her.”

“I was wondering if you could talk to her. Something tells me you’re the one who will understand what she’s going through the most and you’re honestly my last resort before I send her back to Florida with her mom.”

“Well then, thankfully I have a free day tomorrow and I can come over,” (Y/N) offered. “I’ll do what I can, Sheriff. I honestly didn’t know she was that bad.”

“I’ve tried my best to help her these past few months, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“No worries, Sheriff. We’ll get her out of this rut soon enough.”

“Thank you, (Y/N). I truly hope there’s something we can do,” he smiled weakly. “And, come on, what’s this sheriff business? You know you can call me Charlie.”

“Alright then, Charlie,” she chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” he offered her another smile, this time a slight hint of hope painting across his lips. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Thank me once I’ve done something, Charlie,” (Y/N) said with a laugh. “But I promise to try my best.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good rest of your day, (Y/N).”

“You too, Charlie.”

The girl waited until the cruiser disappeared down her road before she closed the door, a rush of guilt washing over her. She knew she hadn’t been alone in her heartbreak, that there was someone else that had tasted the Cullen drug and had been ripped away from the supply in the blink of an eye. (Y/N) had somehow forgotten that Bella had also had her heart ripped from her chest, and it seemed like she had been taking it harder than she ever had.

“What did the sheriff want?” Paul called from the kitchen, holding a plate with a sandwich.

“As if you couldn’t hear,” she chuckled. “Did you know it was that bad with Bella?”

“I’d heard whispers that she wasn’t doing good,” he shrugged. “But, honestly, my focus was on someone else. If I have to pick between one leech lover or another, I’m always picking you.”

“That’s not funny, Paul,” (Y/N) sighed, reprimanding her friend with her gaze. “It looks like she’s taking this really hard. Has Sam not gone over to check up on her? I mean, he is the one that found her that night.”

“(Y/N), we were more worried about you,” he responded sternly. “You took this hard as well. Need I remind you of your brief visit into alcoholism? Bella Swan has other people to worry about her. We needed you to be okay.”

(Y/N) remained quiet for a second. She knew if it hadn’t been for Paul and Sam, she would probably still be stuck in the overconsuming darkness of her loneliness. She had done things that she never thought she would do, she said things she never thought she would say, and she had felt the most gut-wrenching pain she had ever believed she would feel.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I know I sent you guys through hell with how I was acting a few months back.”

“Hey, hey,” he called her attention, placing a hand under her chin before wiping away a few stray tears. Paul wrapped his arms around her, letting her head rest on his chest. “You were heartbroken, (Y/N). It’d be weird if you had been fine with it.”

“Still, you guys had to witness me at my absolute worst. You more than others. I wasn’t a good person during that time.”

“Sadness and loneliness make you do crazy things, (Y/N). None of us blames you for how you were acting during that time,” he told her. His voice rumbled through her chest and sent her calming vibrations. “We will always be by your side, no matter what. We love you and care about you. And we’re just glad you’re better now.”

“I’m glad I’m better now too,” she smiled against his chest. “And I wanna help Bella get better too. If the way she’s feeling is even an ounce of the way I felt, she shouldn’t go through this by herself.”

“Want me to drive you tomorrow?”

“No,” she sighed. “I think this is something I should do by myself. Bringing someone that is so against her ex might not be the best thing.”

“She doesn’t know what I am though. At least she shouldn’t know.”

“Because of the pact.”

“Yeah,” he responded. “We can’t say what the Cullens are and they can’t say what we are. So Bella shouldn’t know why I hate them so much. She probably thinks I’m just like every other person of the rez that dislikes the Cullen because of our ancestors.”

“Still, I think I should go by myself for now,” she smiled up at him. “The last thing she needs is to meet someone new.”

“Fine,” he smiled back before it morphed into the Cheshire Cat grin. “What’re you doing the rest of the afternoon then?”

“I still need to study, and Emily invited me over for dinner tonight.”

“What you’re saying is that you have like an hour to spare?”

“I don’t think that’s what I said, Paul,” she chuckled. “But I guess I do have some time to spare —more like thirty minutes though.”

“More than enough,” he smirked.

He placed his hands under her thighs, prompting her to jump onto his waist and wrap her legs around him. She kissed his lips softly, running her hands through his hair. (Y/N) held on tight as Paul moved them back upstairs and to her bedroom. 

Once back inside the now white walls of her room, he lay her softly onto her bed, his lips never leaving hers. He kissed her hungrily, not wanting to waste a single moment he was with her. He kissed her cheek, he kissed her temple, he kissed her chin, and he kissed her neck. It was one of his favorite things. To taste every inch of her skin for as long as she allowed him to.

“What are you doing for Valentine's?” Paul asked abruptly, the question coming out of nowhere. “There’s gonna be a bonfire that night. It’s mostly for couples but we can go as friends.”

“Great timing for that question, Paul,” she panted. “And I don’t know. That’s over a month from now. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m gonna be studying.”

“So do you wanna go if you’re free?”

(Y/N) wasn’t sure. Thanksgiving had passed, so had Christmas and New Year. She had gone through three big holidays that she had pictured spending with him, and there were still so many more that she would have to experience with other people when she only wanted to spend it with him. As much as she had chosen to move on and try her hardest to forget him, it still hurt.

Every day that passed hurt. Every second that passed hurt. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, her heart still wanted him and only him. But it was something she could not admit. Not to her mother, to her brother, much less to Paul. She said she was okay, she looked like she was okay, and she needed herself to be okay.

“I don’t wanna make a compromise like that when I don’t know what my schedule is gonna look like,” she sighed. “But ask me again on the seventh and I’ll let you know.”

“Fine,” he groaned jokingly.

“Now, can we talk about comparing schedules later and go back to kissing?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he smirked before going back to attack her lips.

As they were getting back into the game of bodies, ripping away their clothes and reveling in the other’s body, a shout from outside interrupted them. At first, they chose to ignore it, thinking it was teenagers having fun in the street. But the clear mention of Paul’s name startled them apart. It was a voice that was usually very quiet and had just recently joined the pack.

“Yo, Paul!” Embry Call yelled from (Y/N)’s backyard. “We’re supposed to be on patrol right now!”

“Gods, what fucking timing!” Paul groaned. “I hate how eager he is to follow the rules. Like, does he not know there’s no active threat right now?”

“He’s just trying to make sense of all of this the best way he knows how,” (Y/N) explained. “He’s keeping his head down and doing what he’s told. Just being able to shift is a big shock, but finding out that your father is someone from the reservation is world-shattering. The poor kid is also getting smoke at home from his mom, and he can’t ask questions because he would have no proof of where he got them.”

“You’re actually making me feel bad for him.”

“You should. Right now, he’s not only lost his friends but he’s had his whole life turned upside down. What he needs more than anything is someone to guide him and be by his side.” 

“Don’t look at me,” Paul scoffed. “That’s the alpha’s job.”

“I’m just asking that you don’t make his life harder than it already is,” she smiled at him. “He needs a friend, not someone to kick him when he’s already down.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “That kid is lucky you’re on his side.”

“Shut up and get dressed,” she laughed. “Don’t leave Embry waiting.”

Paul grumbled under his breath as he slipped on every piece of clothing he needed to get dressed in. As he complained and groaned, (Y/N) moved to the window, wanting to give Embry at least a heads up that Paul would take his time with going downstairs.

“Hey, Embry,” she called out. “Paul will be down in a sec, he’s too busy complaining at the moment.”

“Oh, hi, (Y/N),” he said as he blushed. “That’s okay. Sorry I showed up like this. Jared said that if Paul wasn’t at Sam’s that he was most likely here.”

“He is correct about that.”

“And don’t worry, I’ve been practicing suppressing my thoughts so that Sam doesn’t find out.”

“No worries, Embry,” she chuckled. “I know that Sam will eventually find out. So, it’s fine.”

“Oh, but still. It’s good practice.”

“I’m leaving now,” Paul interrupted, a definite scowl on his face. “As much as I don’t want to.”

“Well, I was saved by the bell,” she grinned teasingly. “Now I have more time to study. So, you can go.”

“Ugh, twist my arm why don’t you.”

“Go, Paul,” she chuckled.

“Fine,” he said before kissing her lips softly. “But I’ll see you later for dinner, right?” 

“Yes, Paul. You’ll see me later.”

Next ->

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...continued in comment section

[florafounda]

SHATTER. | A Drabble

CW: unreality / fugue state, blood, warped self image

The shower is a relaxing warmth I rarely experience, particularly in the recent cold snap of the month. Aches that have sunk into the bones seem to seep away and I watch the drain steal it all away like a thief. I catch myself watching how the water spins and spins and spins – down and away. Nothing like a river, I think absently, though I’m not sure why I think such a thing at all.

I do not want to leave the warmth, but I’m hyperaware of how long I’ve been in this one place. The faint urgency is there, as it always is, at the forefront of my mind, pushing and pushing and pushing me onwards. The shower is simply a foolish indulgence I have allowed.

I tell myself it’s a good idea. We stand out less after a shower.

The water comes to a stop, but honestly, I do not remember touching the handles. I continue to stand there for several moments as the water drips from the skin. A neat pile of leaves has collected at the drain and the water pools in puddles around my feet, blocked from its escape. Most of the shower had been spent working the debris from the hair and now the locks cascade across the neck uncomfortably. It tickles where it lay, but a deep part of me knows she will love what it means.

I am yet again aware how loathe I am to leave, to step into the cold rushing under the sliding glass. But I must. And it hits me, a gust of cooler air built up beyond the glass and I suppress a shiver. Worse yet, I feel the aches – the pain that accompanies the body – already beginning to crawl across the bones yet again. It’s probably my imagination though. The cold must be worse than a little chill to hurt us. But outside – that is a different story.

I plan to take us far away from here. I have tropical locales in mind, but more than likely I will simply find somewhere further south.

The other side of the glass is as I have left it. Our bag has been sat as far away from the door, but equally as far from the shower itself. Stolen clothes are neatly folded on the counter opposite the toilet and a towel awaits my hand to the side of the shower door. As I reach for it, movement catches my eye and I freeze in place.

The mirror must have an antifog coating because I can see the reflection staring back at me clearly. But its familiarity does not encourage me to relax. If anything, I am now frozen in place, an unknown emotion battling within me.

She is but a waif of a thing.

Skin holds to bone in thin layers that are too far stretched across the lanky body. For her age, she’s a short little girl, but for her body she seems too long overall. There’s the barest sight of muscle in her arms and thighs, thick enough to hide the bones, but thin enough to wrap an entire hand around. She has been bruised this way before and I blink with pain at the memories I call forth.

Under her too-small breasts, her ribs are visible with each one individually countable by anyone looking close enough and I am looking far too closely than I’m comfortable with. Better than the last time I saw her, I think to myself. But not enough. Never enough. She never puts on enough weight. Never eats enough to please the machines.

Her hair too, even cleansed and wet, looks dirty and messy. I know she must get it cut to make it look right, but she will not. Never again. It is her pride and joy to feel the locks of red in her tiny fingers.

The fingers – the scarring there is bright and pink in the too bright florescent. The telltale signs of WORSE scarring shine on the side of her neck, the barest visage of raised skin and red welting. And I know they travel down her back in a library of horror I do not want to read ever again.

The emaciated form reaches for the towel I am touching. I expect our fingers to meet, to touch. But there is only one hand.

And it belongs to her.

To me. To her. To me. To he—

I wrestle with the identity of the hand back and forth for several moments until it is basically redundant to use the towel at all. WE step out of the shower, the form following my movements with her nervous, uncoordinated gait, all but teetering on one foot as she stands there.

I reach up to touch the hair and so too does she.

The building EMOTION in my chest threatens to explode and I have yet to identify it.

“Stop it.”

No one answers, but the girl’s lips move to mock me.

And in that moment the cruelty of her childishness sparks into flame against the tinder of emotion.

I do not recognize the pain, only the sound as glass shatters around a fist. I peer into the cracks now stained with blood and I see her. I see her and me and her and me. I see a dozen of us.

And then just like that the emotions are gone as if they never existed at all. I am but a shell now and compared to the explosion from moments before – I like this better. I patiently pluck out glass shards from my knuckles and wash my hands as if part of my post-shower routine.

I collect the pendrive and hang it around my neck, then I clothe myself. The fabric is soft across my skin and I appreciate the choice I have made. I heft my bag onto my shoulder and look back at the mirror. She stares back silently at me through the cracks.

“I’m sorry.”

She does not answer and I don’t say anything else.

We are silent.

[ppersonna]

keep me warm - jhs | m

cause you keep me and nice and you keep me warm. wanna feel you on me, can't wait to get back there again - texas sun,  khruangbin

✹ summary- camping is always a great time when you’re with your friends, but even better with your boyfriend, hoseok.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- jung hoseok x reader

✹ word count- 3.9k - she’s a short lil quick dip ;)

✹ genre- smut. lol thats it. cant say there is much plot here besties!!! but there is big brother namjoon, brothers best friend hoseok, established relationship!!!

✹ warnings- explicit smut, cockwarming, dirty talk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (be smart pls!), sex in a tent, a little exhibitionism???, fingering, finger sucking, creampie, lil bit of cum play but not really, hoseok is a dirty dirty boy and i love that about him tbh

✹ a/n- helloooo. i’ve been sitting on this and finally finished it!! thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner and beta reading and general support. i was inspired to write this fic when i went camping but pls be warned that sex in a tent is not as sexy as this fic makes it seem 🤕 ILY BESTIES!!! lemme know your thots!!!

The annual Kim Family camp out is an event you haven’t missed since your seventh birthday when you had chicken pox. It’s an outing that has gained notoriety among your friends, a monumental yearly occasion that takes months of prep in advance. What started as a simple camp out with your parents and your older brother Namjoon has become an event with extended friends and family members and significant others involved. Your parents handed down the event to you and your brother, claiming their older age keeps them from being able to keep up with “the youth” for an entire weekend, instead preferring to join for a big cookout dinner, then head back to the comfort of their tempurpedic mattress and functional plumbing back at home.

Not that you minded.

This year was different. Your cousins, Taehyung and Seokjin, would join with Tae’s girlfriend Maggie. Your childhood best friend Jimin would attend as well, bringing along his lover of the month, a tall and leggy brunette. Namjoon invited his best friend Yoongi, who brought along your mutual friend Jungkook. 

And most importantly, 

Jung Hoseok would be there. Your boyfriend.

Hoseok is no stranger to the Kim Family camp out. He’s been attending since he was sixteen after meeting Namjoon in high school jazz band and instantly becoming friends. You can vividly remember the older high school boy making sure you never felt left out in a group of gangly teenagers—bringing you along on hikes, and fishing, and general mischief.

It’s where you first fell for him.

Every year after that, you pined for Hoseok from afar at every outing. You’d lie awake at night in your shared tent with Jimin, desperately wishing the body next to you was Hoseok, wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm in the forest's chill.

Your relationship with Hoseok flourished after high school, when he was unknowingly in your chemistry class in college. Hours were spent pouring over textbooks together, cramming for exams and practice labs with a familiar friend.

Then came the coffee dates, the movie nights, the dinners. Hoseok went from an occasional study buddy to someone you talked to hourly.

The day he kissed you is a day you’ll never forget. 

Soft lips pressing onto yours over a bubbling beaker of magnesium, his hands cupping your cheeks as he drew you in so close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be mine,” he whispered. “Please, be mine.”

And you’ve been his ever since.

“Aish! Don’t burn my marshmallow, ___!” Namjoon scolds you, jerking your long stick away from the fire as he sits next to you. “I hate burned marshmallows.”

Annoyance bubbles up in your throat as you roll your eyes at your brother.

“I wouldn’t have to do this for you if you knew how to roast a marshmallow without starting a wildfire.”

Namjoon, ever the strong-headed big brother, glares at you. “That was an accident and you know it.”

Hoseok chuckles beside you, resting a hand on your leg as you murmur expletives about Namjoon and a certain stick under your breath.

“I’ll eat your burned one, babe,” he says with a smile. “I love your burned mallows.”

Hoseok’s charm is a balm to all your wounds. He easily melts the ice around your heart and soothes your frayed nerves with a simple look.

“Thanks, Hobi,” you reply. 

“Please, no talk of my sister’s mallows,” Namjoon winces. “It’s bad enough you’re dating in front of me. In front of my salad.”

Namjoon doesn’t mean it. He knows how deeply you love him, and he trusts Hoseok not to hurt his one and only sibling. But it doesn’t mean he’s not above rubbing it in your face that he was Hoseok’s friend first.

Jungkook laughs from where he’s sitting, roasting a hotdog over the crackling flame on Jimin’s lap (“There weren’t any seats left!”). 

“At least he’s not tossing her salad in front of you.”

Yoongi slaps the younger man’s hotdog out of his hand and into the fire, making Jungkook whine and pout petulantly.

“Don’t be gross,” Yoongi scolds and Namjoon nods at his friend in solidarity.

Hoseok smirks and licks his fingers clean of the sticky marshmallow. “Besides, we didn’t bring nearly enough lube for any anal play tonight.”

“Hoseok!” Namjoon screeches and you bashfully bury yourself into your sweater. The rest of the group explodes in laughter while your brother holds his head in his hands, lamenting the day you two met.

Hoseok pulls you into his lap, grinning as he kisses at your ear while maintaining firm eye contact with your brother, eager to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

While you’re relaxing into the warmth of your boyfriend’s body and enjoying the laughter of all your closest friends, Hoseok nips at your ear and whispers gently.

“I love you.”

“I’m so cold.” A shiver wracks through you as you burrow down deeper into your sleeping bag. The night air becomes increasingly frosty and you can easily see your breath in the dim light from the moon. “It wasn’t supposed to be this cold.”

Hoseok scoots his bag closer to yours, rubbing over the meshy material in an attempt to warm you.

“I thought about bringing another blanket before we left…,” he sighs. “But Namjoon told me I was being ‘a boy scout’.”

You bark out a frigid laugh, teeth chattering as you try to snuggle into the warmth of Hoseok’s hand.

Pleadingly, you ask. “Can we share? Maybe if we zip the sleeping bags together we can make one big extra-large sleeping bag?”

Hoseok nods. “Good idea.”

He quickly gets to work as soon as you unzip your sleeping bag and move off of it, allowing him to take it and zip the two bags together. He spreads it back out over the soft padded bed once it’s completed and he slips into his end before beckoning you over.

“Come to me, my little popsicle.”

The fabric swishes and slides as you move into the combined bag, wrapping your cold limbs around the warmth of your boyfriend’s body.

“Holy shit, you really are cold,” he exclaims with a grunt when your ice-cold hands seek the toasty expanse of his toned belly. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is anything but apologetic as the high temperature of Hoseok’s body quickly oozes into you. “You feel so good.”

A moan slips out of your lips, pleased at the warmth that your boyfriend radiates as you seek every spot on his body that radiates heat. 

“Hold on,” he whispers. 

Quickly, he rids himself of his shirt and tugs at the hem of your own.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You gasp as the icy air billows under your shirt. “Why would I get naked right now?”

He huffs. “Trust me?”

He kisses the pout on your lips, then pulls away with your shirt in his hands.

“Skin-to-skin contact is the easiest way to warm someone up. Body heat, you know. Textbook boy scout stuff.”

He twists your body around to spoon into him, back pressed against his ultra-warm chest, making you gasp once you feel the radiating heat spreading across you.

“Oh…” you sigh as you sink into his embrace. “You were right.”

Hoseok smirks as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the nape of your neck—lips pressing gentle, warm kisses to the column below your ear.

“Told you so.”

Your body instinctively presses further into his body, desperate for the warmth that the human-heater seems to emit. His breath hitches as he feels your ass press hard against his lap, cock stirring at the proximity.

Hoseok’s hands run up and down your arms, warming each inch of your skin with his palms. He spreads heat wherever he touches, and your eyes flutter closed as he works his gentle, warming massage into your frozen skin. He is the epitome of sunshine, both in body and demeanor, always able to brighten the coldest chills with one look, one touch. 

When he’s satisfied that you’re thoroughly warmed where he’s worked, his hands move from your arms and shoulders around to your belly and up to your chest. You feel like mush under his grazing touch, gasping and biting your lip as he tugs gently at your perky nipple. It’s a live wire to his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he feels himself harden. He kisses at your shoulder as he continues to palm at your chest, taking the fullness of your breasts into his whole hand and massaging it gently.

“Hobi…” you warn, feeling the desire between your thighs build. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

He chuckles against your skin, breathing hot air over your neck and shoulder, tightening his grip on your nipple for a quick pinch that makes you squeak.

“Who says we can’t finish?”

His voice is low—that deep, sensual tone that sets your tummy aflame with desire. His dick is pressed against your ass, twitching with need as it thickens in his pants.

His hand moves from your chest, rubbing soft, sweet circles on your stomach as he warms the cool flesh around your belly button, before traveling down to where your sleeping pants sit low on your hips.

“We c-can’t,” you meekly attempt to fight back, remain strong, but the warmth of his body and the need growing within you is quickly winning your internal battle of morality. “My cousin is next to us.”

Hoseok smirks as he slips underneath your pants, hand diving in between your thighs to rub at your soft mound. He���s close, so close to slipping inside of you, and you squeeze your eyes tight at the overwhelming urgency you’re feeling for his fingers inside you.

“You think Tae and Maggie are fast asleep right now?” He asks. 

As if on cue, you hear soft giggles coming from the next tent over, giggles that sound suspiciously like Taehyung’s girlfriend.

“Tae is really not that funny,” Hoseok says as he nibbles at your ear. “Let me warm you, baby.”

He seeks your consent, desperate to make you feel good but not willing to further his actions. 

“Mmm, maybe just a little more.”

His fingers seek purchase further, finally diving into your folds. He gasps into your ear as he feels how wet you’ve become from his ministrations, stroking gently up and down your slick slit and circling over your clit.

“Fuck, look at you,” he nearly whines into your ear. “So wet for me.”

“Please, Hobi,” you whimper. You’re not sure what you’re begging for, what you need, but all you want is for him to not stop, never stop. 

“You want me to keep going, don’t you?” He asks, teasingly circling the pad of his finger on your swollen clit. 

Unable to use your words, you nod. The light pressure on your clit has your thighs trembling and Hoseok thrills at the palpable desperation you’re feeling.

“Are you going to be quiet for me?” He asks, slowly moving his finger down before breaching into your channel. “Can’t be waking up the entire camp.”

Using your hand, you clamp over your mouth as your boyfriend's finger fucks into your hole, slowly and achingly gentle but with purpose. A shiver runs down his spine as he watches you try to hold yourself back. You’re not normally quiet—he makes it his mission to get you to whine and cry and yell his name as loud as he can when you’re at home. But the thrill of keeping you quiet while he sinks himself into you makes his body hum with want.

“Good girl,” he cooes as he introduces another finger inside you, scissoring you open with his lengthy digits. “Better stay quiet for me or I won’t let you cum.”

He quickly removes his fingers from your channel, making you whine behind your hand, which he silences with a soft tut.

“No complaining. Be good.”

He continues his journey to disrobe you, sliding off your pants and panties. He throws them to the other side of the tent where your luggage lies, no care about you wearing them the rest of the night. He follows suit with his own pants, swiftly pulling the material off his legs and allowing his throbbing cock to spring free. You desperately want to touch it, feel it in your hands and in your mouth, but he keeps you facing away from him, cock fully out of your reach.

“Such a perfect little ass,” he murmurs to himself as he admires your backside before sliding back into the big spoon position. The feeling of his hot, hard length against your bare ass makes you mewl with desire, teasingly rubbing against it.

“Fuck, Hobi,” you gasp as he slips his hands back to the apex of your thighs, scissoring into you again and warming his icy fingers in the heat of your cunt. 

“Shhh,” he reminds. “Let me give your mouth something to do, yeah?”

He pulls his dripping fingers from within your walls and brings them to your mouth. You eagerly open wide, obedient and desperate for something to take your mind off the growing neediness your body is throbbing with.

Watching you suck your own wet slick off his fingers makes Hoseok’s cock ache with need. The tip is weeping with pre-cum, as if crying out to bury itself within your walls and never retreat. It twitches as your tongue swirls over his digits, teasing him and reminding him how well you can suck his cock.

“Shit, baby,” he gasps. “I’m going to bust right now if you’re not careful.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and uses the spit-slick hand to lift your leg enough for him to line his cock up at your hole.

“You want to warm my cock for me, baby?” He nips at your shoulder as he rubs the bulbous head along your slit. “God, I want to be in this pretty little cunt all night. Can you keep me warm tonight?”

“P-please, baby,” you gasp as the tip prods at your entrance, threatening to breach. He preemptively moves his free hand back to your mouth, covering it gently to help keep your noisy mouth muffled. 

“Such a polite girl.” Hoseok’s lips skim over your neck and ear, nibbling at your lobe as he finally, blessedly, spears himself into you. 

“Fuuuck,” he whines as he drops his forehead against your soft hair, shuddering as he buries himself to the hilt. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Nothing compares to the feeling of Hoseok sinking himself into you. It’s like the first time, every time. He clings to you desperately, as if he wants to bury his entire self in between your thighs and never retreat. Being connected to your boyfriend like this, not knowing where he ends and you begin, is the most dazzling aspect of sex. Your heart beats in overtime, breath short and heavy, as he holds you like you’re his only worthy possession in life.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t withdraw his cock and plunge back into you like his body is begging him to. He wants nothing more than to roll you onto your stomach and fuck you until you’re screaming his name for the entire national forest to hear, but he doesn’t. 

“Mmm, Hobi, please,” you whine against his palm, kitten licking the flesh there to encourage him to move. It almost works, almost spurs him into action, but he remains flush against you and unmoving.

“Just trying to keep you warm, baby,” he teases. “Skin-to-skin contact.”

He can feel your body tense and shake around him, core tightening as you’re desperate to feel the friction you desire. It makes Hoseok nearly growl into your ear, clutching you tighter in his grasp.

“Now you want to fuck me?” He teases into your ear. “I thought you were tired?”

A pathetic whimper is the only response you can muster. You’re desperate for more, aching for his thick cock to thrust in and out of you. His hand slips down your body, caressing each inch of your skin before landing on your clit, circling the nub teasingly.

“I bet you could cum like this,” he breathes as he slowly swirls his finger. “With my cock stuffed inside you.”

He’s right—your body is already reacting to the stimulation and you can feel your body clenching around his unmoving length deep inside you. It’s prodding you in just the right spot that makes you keen, core desperate for some movement. His added touch makes you whine into his palm still covering your mouth.

“That’s right, baby,” he praises as he bites at your earlobe. “Such a needy little pussy, so desperate for me you could cum just from feeling me inside you.”

The pressure rises, stomach tightening as you feel your body near the edge of bliss. You can feel your thighs trembling as Hoseok whispers and nibbles at your ear, fingers working your clit with just the right rhythm to make you see stars.

His finger swirls with delicate speed, playing you like the nimble musician he is.

“Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already about to cum for me.”

Holding back your desperate moans, your eyes nearly roll back in their sockets as you feel your body build closer and closer to the blissful end that it craves. Having him buried deep inside you with none of the delicious friction is driving you crazy, and the speed of his fingers on your clit makes you keen for anything he can give you. You’re so close, so *fucking close* to your climax that your vision blurs.

Suddenly, the telltale sound of another tent zipper opening rips through the relative silence of the campground and Hoseok stills his finger on you.

“Shhh,” he warns, lifting his head to listen carefully. 

The sound comes from your left, Jungkook’s tent, and you squeeze your eyes tight and whimper into Hoseok’s palm at the ache in your belly. Jungkook stumbles around the campground before he makes his way out, and Hoseok smirks as the footsteps get quieter.

“That was close, baby,” he says as his finger teases over your throbbing clit. “We don’t want Jungkookie to find his friend like this, don’t we?”

You shake your head, body trembling as his finger provides not-enough stimulation on your tortured clit.

He keeps quiet and continues his feather-light touch, pleased at the unexpected orgasm denial and the way it makes your cunt clench around his cock as if coaxing it to give you what you need most.

“You better not be loud,” he warns. “You don’t want to ruin our fun, right?”

Agonizing moments later, Jungkook’s footsteps return and he zips himself back into his tent and quickly heads back to sleep. He remains stilled inside you, listening intently for any sounds of the others awakening.

After minutes of desperate silence and your needy cunt aching for your boyfriend to move, he rolls you onto your stomach with him on top, cock still buried deep within you.

“You’ve done so well,” he praises as he leans down and licks a fat stripe on the back of your neck, making you shiver. “Take your reward like a good girl.”

Without warning, Hoseok grips at your hips and starts a brutal pace, fucking you fast and hard while staying quiet. It feels so good, better than the feeling of him being still inside you. Nothing can compare to his thickness spearing into you, stretching you wide. The ridges of his cock feel like heaven from the position he has you in, and you can feel the stimulation building upon your ruined, curtailed orgasm from earlier.

He quickly rams a piece of the sleeping bag into your mouth, forcing you to be quiet as he nearly impales you open, burying himself as deep into your womb as he can before retreating and thrusting in for more. You can tell he’s close by the way his movements lose finesse, the way his hands grip your thick hips as if he’s grasping a lifeline. 

“Gonna fill you up,” Hoseok whispers harshly, his voice taking on the rough edge that makes your body react. “You want my cum, baby?”

Your mouth is full, but your head nods quickly and you arch your back to let him reach even deeper inside of you, desperate to get yourself and him off simultaneously.

“Shit,” he groans as he feels your body accept him even further at this new angle, your ass high in the air. He grips it, enjoys the way the flesh jiggles in his grip and with each thrust. “Cum on my cock, baby, please.”

Hoseok doesn’t beg, hardly ever, so when he’s desperate for your release, you’re equally desperate to give it to him. As he pounds into you, taking full advantage of your prone body and lifted hips, the dam holding back your climax finally erupts, making your walls quiver and squeeze around his cock and forcing you to bury your face as far as you can into your sleeping bag to muffle your whines.

He wishes he could hear your screams, wants to hear the way you cry his name out as your cunt milks him, begs him for his own end. Another round of thrusts and he feels it all snap, cock pulsing out hot spurts of cum into your eager and waiting channel.

He pulls out of you, loving the way his cum follows him out, dribbling out of your spent pussy weakly. He lifts a finger and scoops it up, pushing it back into your juicy walls and nearly whining as he feels it wet and sopping with his release. You’re pulling the sleeping bag from your mouth, panting hard from your own release and turning around to look at your boyfriend, hips wiggling.

Hoseok smiles fondly at you, removing his finger from your walls and rubbing the smooth skin of your ass.

“Are you warm?” He asks with a smirk, knowing by the sheen of sweat on both of your bodies that you’ve successfully warmed up in the bite of the chilly night.

He flops down beside you and pulls you in close, snuggling into the sleeping bag while kissing your face gently.

Hoseok’s cock is still hard, still aching even after a release and you’re quick to grasp it in your hands, finally getting a grip on it for the first time tonight.

“Better keep you warm all night like I promised, huh?” You smile sleepily as you lift your leg to allow him entrance to your center yet again. “Keep me full all night please, baby?”

He is loath to deny you, and the wet heat of your used pussy feels like heaven. He holds you closer, pulls you in tight as he buries his cock as far as he can go, before kissing you sweetly once more.

He knows he’ll wake up in a few hours, dick throbbing with a need to take you for yet another round, but for now, he revels in the warmth and love and safety he feels when he’s connected to you in nearly every way.

“By the way, I love you too, Hoseok,” you whisper to him after a few moments of silence, recalling to the sweet whispered words around the campfire.

Hoseok smiles as he closes his eyes, body and soul in pure bliss.

And when Namjoon complains in the morning that he could hear the sounds of his little sister getting railed, Hoseok will let him know he ensured you didn’t suffer from hypothermia—that it’s his job as boyfriend to ensure you’re kept safe,

and always kept warm.

[atlabeth]

warmth - zuko x fem!reader

summary: the two times he notices her shivering and the one time he does something about it. 

a/n: lmaoo we have been in a DROUGHT my people. i have barely given you any content this whole month and i feel bad. i wrote this out over the course of a few hours after getting the idea in the shower. i did not proofread. i am not sorry. enjoy.

and NO that end part is not dirty it is simply two kids sharing a bed for warmth bc they got cute lil crushes on each other 🔫🔫🔫🔫

wc: 1.6k 

warning(s): this is pure fluff bbbbbb 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three times. 

It happened three times before Zuko was finally able to get over himself and have a real, face to face, one on one conversation with the one person he hadn’t been able to get out of his head. 

Y/N. It was a name that had made a home in his mind, belonging to a girl that had made a home in his heart. He knew that she was a waterbender from the Northern Tribe and that she had joined the team after the Siege of the North, but apart from that, her life was a mystery to him. She was a mystery to him. 

It was pathetic. How could he become so enraptured with a girl when he didn’t even know the first thing about her? When he had spent the past couple of months fighting against her, trying everything in his power to hurt her? When she had no idea he even thought about her that way? 

Sometimes Zuko questioned himself, but then he caught a glimpse of her — the gleam of her hair, the way her eyes crinkled at the edges when she laughed, the fierceness with which she fought rivalled only by the way she cared for her injured friends afterwards — and he laughed inwardly. 

There was no way he couldn’t feel that way about her. She was simply enchanting. 

But there was only one thing he questioned more than his affections — why in the name of Agni could he not just walk up and start a conversation with her? There was no one else in the world that made him as nervous, as flushed, as completely incapable of basic speech as Y/N, and it drove him insane. 

It drove him insane that it took three times. 

~~~

The first time he noticed her shivering, it wasn’t on purpose. 

Zuko was serving tea to everyone as they gathered around the campfire, chuckling as Aang recounted one of their earlier adventures, back when he was still trying to capture the Avatar. Thinking about his past, who he used to be, was painful, but it gave him all the more reason to be thankful for where he was now. 

He wasn’t as focused on Aang’s story as he was on Y/N, though. She could hardly keep her thoughts to herself, interrupting every couple of seconds to add a detail that Aang forgot or give her own input on the events that he was describing. He started to frown as he noticed her shivering despite sitting right next to the fire — Zuko didn’t even realize how distracted he was until he felt someone hitting his arm. 

“Hey!” He was snapped out of his reverie by the harshness of Katara’s voice, angrily gesturing at the broken teacup and now spilled tea all over Haru. 

“Oh— I am so sorry,” he stammered as he crouched down and started to pick up the pieces on the ground. “Are you okay?” 

“It’s just.. really hot tea,” Haru muttered with a small wince. “No big deal.” 

“You’re right. It’s not a big deal.” Y/N raised her hand and with a small, fluid movement, she bent the liquid out of the fabric and formed it into a tiny sphere in the air. “See? Good as new. And you’re not even burnt.” 

Haru chuckled and pulled at his tunic, giving Y/N a grateful nod. 

“Can a sky bison drink tea?” She mused as she moved the liquid orb around in the air. 

“I don’t think so,” Aang said with a small laugh. 

“Shame we have to waste it.” Y/N bent it away from the group and let it fall to the ground, sinking into the rock below them. “Zuko can always make more though, right?” She said with a hopeful smile. 

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” 

“See, guys? No harm, no foul. You’re the best, Zuko.” She gave him an overexaggerated wink then began to pester Aang to get back to the story, leaving Zuko to continue handing out tea and keep his shaking hands as steady as possible. 

She really had no idea the effect she had on him. 

~~~ 

The second time? It was definitely on purpose. 

The night was unusually cold, even with the bonfire blazing in the middle, and he found his eyes trained once more on Y/N. This time she was the storyteller, giving them all a taste of Northern Water Tribe culture as she recounted a bedtime story she was told as a child. She had a whole arsenal of character voices at her disposal, keeping everyone thoroughly entertained despite the numerous lines she forgot. Zuko didn’t even realize he was staring until Sokka elbowed him in the elbow, gesturing at her with a nod of his head and a cocky grin. 

“What are you doing, just gawking at her like that?” 

“Wh— gawking? I am not gawking. I’m— I’m just listening to her.” 

“Yeah, sure. But I’m pretty sure Appa could start talking right now and you wouldn’t notice because you are hopelessly into her.” He gestured at Zuko’s eyes with his hand then in Y/N’s direction. “Gawking.” 

“I— I am not!” He protested, tearing his eyes away from Y/N’s animated face to give Sokka one of his signature glares. He lowered his voice to a whisper to ensure that no one would hear them. “I’m not into her, I’m not gawking, I am appreciating her storytelling.” 

“Uh huh, yeah.” Sokka looked at her and grinned before glancing back at Zuko. “If you’re not into her, then I can ask her out, right?” 

Zuko didn’t respond, simply kept glaring at him in hopes that it would intimidate him into backing down so he wouldn’t have to say anything and risk embarrassing himself. 

Sokka chuckled and held up his hands. “Alright, geez, I’m just joking. But maybe use some of that fire to keep it going? Looks like she’s cold.” 

Almost immediately, he broke eye contact and fueled the fire with a simple blast. Y/N shot him a grateful smile and nodded as she continued her story, and Zuko noticed her hands falling back down into her lap from their former place on her arms. 

No amount of fire could’ve caused as much warmth as her smile. He was sure of that. 

~~~

There was no way he could miss it the third time. After all, she was the only one there. 

Zuko hadn’t been able to sleep so he ended up outside, and there she was — sitting there, all alone in the middle of the temple grounds, shivering quietly with a moonless night sky as her backdrop. Before he could second guess himself, Zuko started walking over. 

“Hey.” Y/N greeted him without even looking up as she pulled her arms around herself, bringing her legs up to her chest in an effort to conserve all the warmth she could. 

“Hey.” Zuko took a seat on the ground next to her and crossed his legs. “Are you cold?” 

She let out an airy chuckle and nodded. “Strange, isn’t it? I grow up surrounded by snow and ice and I’m perfectly fine, but after a few months away a couple of breezes are tearing me down. I don’t get it.” 

“You’ve been shivering a lot lately,” he said after a beat of silence. Y/N raised an eyebrow and gave him a wry smile. 

“What, have you been looking?”

That sent him stammering. “I-I— yes? I mean— no, I’ve noticed, but I’m not actively looking at you, that’s weird, I’m not— I mean—”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed, the same laugh that sent flutter bats through his stomach and made his heart burst with happiness. She set her hand on his and squeezed, giving him a gentle look that almost immediately ceased his rambling. “Zuko, it’s alright. It’s�� nice that you’ve noticed. Like you’re looking out for me or something.” 

He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find his voice — he was sure his cheeks were as red as his tunic, just at the simple touch of her hand — and it only got worse as she placed her other hand on top of it. 

“You’re warm,” Y/N muttered. “Like… intensely warm.”

“Is that bad?” He wondered aloud, preemptively panicking. “Do you want me to turn it off? I can’t turn it off, but I could find a way somehow—” 

“Thank you,” she interrupted with another small laugh, “but no. I don’t need you to uh, turn off your firebending. That already happened once. But you’re adorable to think of me like that.” 

The two of them stared into each other’s eyes, the air between them heavy with something she couldn’t quite place. Y/N pursed her lips and bit back a growing smile as she glanced at the ground. 

“This is, uh… really helping. With the cold, I mean. And I was… I guess I was just…” Another laugh. “I was just wondering if you’d maybe want to spend the night with me? Just because my room is especially freezing, and you’re so warm, and I think I would sleep a lot better if I—”

Now it was his turn to interrupt her rambling. There was something about her getting so flustered about him in the same way he did around her that made this easier. “I’d love to.”

“Great,” she breathed, the same smile from before returning just a little bit brighter. Y/N stood up and they began their walk back into the temple, hands still intertwined, warmth emanating between the two of them. 

Three times. 

Two strikes. 

One success. 

And that was all he needed.  

[loeyparker]

hurt her to save her - d.m

pairing: draco x fem!reader

word count: 7k 

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death and torture

plot: getting closer to Draco during sixth year has consequences. Draco realizes that when he’s forced to hurt you in order to keep you safe from Voldemort

a/n: my HP obsession is back so I’ve returned to writing fics but i might have went overboard with this one lmao . it wasn’t requested, but if someone wants part 2 i’m gonna do it <3

Draco Malfoy had a very good memory. Besides being cunning and arrogant, he was also incredibly smart – which is precisely why he was second best in most classes. Behind the cold, uncaring façade the youngest Malfoy put out into the world however, stood a boy who remembered things he probably should have forgotten.

Lately, Draco Malfoy couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything but fear. He attempted to mask the feeling either with anger, determination or indifference but the true, raw feeling of fear was behind it all, much like a dementor guarding all his other emotions. The past summer planted dread and terror deep into his mind and the ink on his skin felt like it was seeping through his skin, entering his veins and poisoning his heart.

By the time he arrived back at Hogwarts for his sixth year, he felt drained. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, the young boy attempted to pretend to be a normal student, despite the countless sleepless nights and stray tears that sometimes escaped through small cracks in the emotional wall he’d built around him over the years. The tears only saw the light of day in the darkness of the Room of Requirement, where he found himself surrounded by old artifacts and silence.  

“Draco, Severus has been telling me you seem distracted.” The soft, yet scared tone of Draco’s mother rang throughout the empty, rotting room in the Shrieking Shack. Broken windows allowed for the wind to invade the abandoned building violently and loudly, and to dance around the three figures standing in the dark. It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s spine, but he couldn’t tell if the reaction came from the cold or from Narcissa and Severus’s stares aimed at him.

Draco felt so small under their gaze.

“That’s true, I have been.” Draco admitted, looking forward. He focused on a spider trapping a moth in its web. “With school.” The moth fought, attempted to flap its wings but the web was too sticky. “I have to keep up my grades. Them dropping suddenly would be suspicious.” Draco’s voice didn’t waver, despite his heart beating at a much more rapid pace than normally.

“Lie.” Severus Snape spoke simply. The professor was tasked with taking care of the Slytherin boy, but he wasn’t about to listen to his childish lies while the man knew what he had been seeing in the past months around Hogwarts.

Draco didn’t move.

Narcissa sighed and got closer to her son. She placed her palms on Draco’s pale cheeks and she felt them being hollower than she remembered. Draco still didn’t look at her. The spider was covering the dying moth in his web, fully suffocating the creature.

“My boy, the dead don’t need lovers.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet, regretful even. Her heart ached for the boy who was so quickly deprived of a childhood.

“You cannot forget about the assignment because of a girl.” Snape spoke up, his voice monotonous.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Draco spat back and took a step away from his mother, whose hands dropped. He didn’t feel the lack of her palms on his cheeks, as they left no warmth Draco could feel. “And there’s no girl.”

“Do not lie to us, boy. I have seen you with the Ravenclaw girl, I am not blind.” Snape saw the glances between Draco and you in the Great Hall, he saw the way Draco fixed his gaze on you during DADA. He also caught you walking into the Room of Requirement not long after Draco the previous night. On top of that, Minerva had mentioned how Draco’s recent assignments closely mirrored yours. You had a certain style noticeable in your homework answers, and that style began to be seen in Draco’s own homework which lead everyone to speculate the two students may be closer than everyone thinks.

Before Draco could deny, Narcissa spoke “Under other circumstances, I’d be delighted to hear about a girl in your life.” Her tone was soft, yet it held an edge and sternness to it. “But you have a mission, Draco. Do I need to remind you of the consequences to befall our family if you don’t succeed?”

“No.” Draco spat. He already knew the consequences – loud and clear. They had been drilled into his mind, heart and soul the entire summer. If he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would kill Draco’s entire family instead.

“The girl is another weakness. Another person to add to the death list, Draco.” His mother pleaded. “You know he will kill her if he finds out.”

“I know.”

Draco could feel all the warmth in his body melt away and even his bones felt cold and heavy.

“You can still save her.” Snape spoke. “Focus on you mission, hurt her. Make her believe you don’t love her.”

Draco glanced at the spider one last time, and the moth laid still in the webs of the predator. The wind made the web sway, but only slightly. It was too sturdy to be blown away by any forces.

“Hurt her to save her.” Narcissa’s voice echoed through Draco’s mind all the way back to the castle. The Room of Requirement didn’t appear that night, and so the boy went to bed instead. He entered an empty Slytherin common room and even though the fire was burning, Draco couldn’t feel its warmth. Not even as he knelt in front of the flames, attempting to warm his freezing hands. His movements were mechanic. As he laid in bed that night, he couldn’t remember how exactly he got back into the dorm from the Shack.

However, he remembered events that took place years ago perfectly.

He especially remembered the night of the Yule Ball, two years prior. He can pinpoint the exact moment he spotted you in the crowd of well-dressed students. It was, in his mind, the first time he really, truly saw you. He remembered the small -but noticeable skip of his heart that happened as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. You were smiling, but sitting at the wrong table –  which confused him for a moment. You were sat at the Gryffindor table, right next to the Weasley twins who were making you laugh. A Ravenclaw boy whose name Draco didn’t know was behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders thus signaling that he was your date that night through possessive body language. You didn’t acknowledge his presence much, though.

Pansy, Draco’s date, made comments about your dress each time you stood up to dance. The long dark blue satin dress gently touched the ground with each step you took, the slit in its side slightly exposed your leg with each movement. There was a smile on your face the whole night.

Draco thought you looked so beautiful.

He thought you looked beautiful even when your glance danced towards Ron Weasley until the end of the ball.

Draco also remembered the night Pansy dragged you into Umbridge’s office a year later. She held your arms behind your back forcefully while you struggled to get out of her grasp. Your wand was in her possession and you looked angry. A great juxtaposition to how you looked on the night of the Yule Ball. He remembered thinking how much sense it made for you to be tangled in Harry Potter’s mess because that’s what Potter did. He had everyone on his side, all odds in his favor while Draco was being dealt bad cards at every turn.  

You fought and tried to get away from Pansy. Your hair was messy, and your oversized blue sweater was getting untucked from your jeans with each forceful move you made. A frown painted your soft features, your eyes seemed darker than usual. Draco caught a glimpse of the scars on your wrist which he immediately knew came from Umbridge’s detention sessions, and he felt a flicker of rage rise into his stomach. The feeling directly contradicted the satisfaction he had been feeling at the sight of Potter getting his plans spoiled right in front of him.

“Parkinson, lay it off.” Draco found himself spitting when he realized the pressure on your wrist was painful. He spoke before he realized what he was doing, and so he found the confused gazes of Ginny and Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and you – all fixed on him. Pansy obeyed Draco with discomfort.

You looked at him quizzingly, not really understanding why he was suddenly…helping you? He met your gaze just for a second before a heavy glare returned in his eyes and he turned away, focusing entirely on Harry and Umbridge.

It was minutes later when he watched your figure getting smaller as you ran away from Umbridge’s office, escaping with your friends. Draco and his friends were left behind and unable to follow as they each struggled with curses thrown at them in the escape. You were all long gone by the time the group of Slytherins came to, and Draco remembered that he found himself wishing he had people running into the line of fire for him like Harry did – he wished you would’ve glanced back at him in your escape and then weeks later when he was told about the events of that night, he found himself hoping his father didn’t hurt you in the Ministry attack.

Those thoughts and memories didn’t stay with him for long that summer, though. Draco couldn’t say that you crossed his mind after he received the Mark.

Until that night.

It was late and he was in the Room of Requirement, still fiddling with the cabinet. It was the fourth consecutive night spent in there after finding the damn thing, and he wasn’t anywhere close to fixing it. Frustrated, he punched and kicked the wood so hard that his knuckles sent sharp waves of pain through his arm. It was because of the noise he was making, the kicks and grunts that he didn’t hear the Room’s doors open and close.

You had previously been in the Gryffindor common room, attending one of their parties. There weren’t lots of Ravenclaws there – hell, it was only you, Stiles, Padma, Anthony and Michael. And it was all going well. You were sat on a bean bag chair with Stiles in-between your legs, surrounded by your Gryffindor friends: Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, with Dean and Seamus on their way to you all with butterbeers in hand. The atmosphere was fun and light – a welcomed escape from the reality surrounding you, but you all decided to enjoy the moment and pretend the world outside the common room didn’t exist for the night. So you sat close to the fire and you didn’t know if the hot flames were warming you up or if it was the fact that Ron was focusing an unusual amount of attention on you.

You’ve had a crush on the Weasley boy since third year, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating faster each time he smiled at you.

You were having a great time.

“And if I become an Animagus to help Scott, then what?” Stiles spoke. Harry shook his head. You puffed. “What? We’d be the new generation of the Marauders; someone has to keep the legacy alive.” He continued, determined.

“Lupin would kill you, mate.” Ron laughed.

“You know animagi don’t pick their animal though, right?” You questioned. Stiles looked up at you and beamed.

“I know. But it’s like, vibe related so I think I’m safe. I’d absolutely be a dog, or a wolf.”

You glanced worryingly at Harry, but the boy simply burst out laughing and denied jokingly. Everyone else hearing the conversation laughed as well.

“Stiles, if it’s vibe related then you’d be a weasel.” You spoke, prompting laughs from everyone. Ron high fived you for the joke and you smiled wider than you thought possible.

The good mood didn’t last long, though. Only moments later Lavender Brown joined the group and comfortably sat herself in Ron’s lap. You watched him give her a quick kiss and wrap his arms around her. “What are we talking about?” She asked and it was as if your ears got covered. The sound faded, your smile dropped, your shoulders slumped. Ron would never like you back, you had to accept that. It was pathetic how you longed for the boy for so long.

So, you excused yourself and left the common room entirely to take a walk. You didn’t expect to end up outside the Room of Requirement, and you didn’t even feel like going inside. But the hall was dark and cold and you began hearing footsteps and the flickering light of Filch’s lantern slowly began illuminating the stone walls and with a haste movement, you went into the Room before Filch could walk around the corner and catch you.

You found yourself in a Room much different from the training grounds you had known while being part of the D.A. Tall piles of clutter seemed to reach the ceiling and despite the room being extremely vast, it felt tiny and crowded because of all the objects tossed and piled everywhere in sight. You walked on a path formed through columns made out of old boxes and books, all piled amongst stacked chairs, empty owl cages and rusty potions equipment. Loud bangs followed by grunts caused you to stop in your tracks and draw out your wand. The room in itself seemed unpredictable, and so you already had about six defensive spells ready to go in your mind and on the tip of your tongue.

You caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair before anything else. It looked messy – very different from the way Draco usually wore it: slick and perfect. Now, it gave you the feeling that he’d been vigorously running his fingers through it, causing it to become tousled. He was only in a white shirt – the robe, vest and tie laid disregarded on a near-by couch.

Lowering your wand, you gently knocked on a table to get his attention.

He turned around in a panic. His hand reached for his wand but stopped midair when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” Draco spat with no hesitation. His heart skipped a beat again, like it did on the night of the Yule Ball.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You responded, glancing at the cabinet in front of him. At the time, you didn’t think anything of it.

“None of your business.”

“I don’t care anyway.” You glared. “This room appeared to me like it did for you and since I think I need it, I’m not leaving.” With your arms crossed, you leaned against a random tossed out piece of furniture.

“Isn’t there a Gryffindor party you should be at?” Draco’s gaze remained cold and the scowl on his face didn’t falter.

“You know about that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I know everything that goes on around here.” He broke eye contact by focusing on folding up his sleeves. When his hand began working on his left forearm, he stopped abruptly, remembering. He went stiff at the realization, which you noticed. Before you could speak however, he looked back at you with a smirk, “Was Lavender Brown there so you ran away?” It was as if he didn’t look struck by lightning just two seconds before.

However, his words made you forget his strange behavior. “The hell? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/L/N). Everyone knows you have the hots for Weasley. Least you can do is own up to it.” He teased with a mixture of annoyance and amusement present on his face.

“Piss off, Malfoy.” Walking up to the old couch Draco’s uniform laid on top of, you sat down and watched as the dust flew out of its cushion. Draco groaned. “I’m just gonna nap here until I’m sure Filch left and isn’t near the Ravenclaw tower.”

Draco mumbled some things you didn’t bother to understand, and then silence befell both of you. He didn’t really bother to fight you to leave even though, in retrospect, he should have had. Maybe if you didn’t stay with him that night, he wouldn’t be meeting you in the Room months later with tears burning his eyes. But, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that night. That night, he just rolled his eyes at you breaking the silence ten minutes later, when he thought you were asleep.

“What are you even doing there?”

“I told you, none of your business.” He spat.

“Is that the vanishing cabinet Peeves broke a few years ago?”

Draco turned around. It was his turn to be surprised by your knowledge. “How do you know about that?” He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over your figure as you sat cross-legged on the old couch he napped on countless times before. You wore casual clothes – which he always thought looked great on you, and your hair laid straight over your shoulders. The few candles he had lit around softly luminated your face with warm tones.

You smiled proudly at his question.

“Fred and George shoved Montague in it last year” you laughed “it was quite funny.”

Draco remembered the incident. He was, after all, the one who found Montague stuck in a bathroom after the encounter with the twins.

“You’re trying to fix it, aren’t you?” Draco watched you jump up from the couch and walk next to him to examine the cabinet. He suddenly felt on edge, exposed. The Ravenclaw in you was jumping to solve a problem, while the Slytherin in him was about to explode. “Have you tried a mending charm?”

“Of course, I tried a mending charm.” Draco answered with annoyance in his voice. You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t work.”

“Well, then- “

“I don’t need nor want your help, (Y/L/N).” He glared down at you. “I can handle it myself.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled before taking a few steps back from Draco. He didn’t turn to you. Instead, he focused on his task even though his mind wasn’t on it anymore. He focused on your footsteps as you began to walk away without another word and before he could overthink, he spoke up softly. “But you can stay, if you want.”

You didn’t stop walking as you answered him. “I don’t.”

Draco then heard you utter “Lumos”, heard your footsteps getting quitter and quieter, then the heavy doors being pulled open. After they closed, he found himself surrounded by silence once again. Not dwelling on it, he pushed the thought of you away and resumed his work. Nothing was more important than his assignment.

Things slowly started to shift after that night.

The next day in Transfiguration as he was zoning out, a paper butterfly landed on his desk. He glanced around the room but saw nobody giving any sign of sending him the note. However, after he opened it and read its contents, his eyes immediately found you. On the paper was a list of incantations that would be useful in repairing things, and he knew you had sent it even though you looked focused on the textbook in front of you. It looked as if you were purposefully trying to ignore him, and Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to form at the corners of his lips.

Two nights later, Draco walked into the Room of Requirement and you were already there. A few more candles than usual were lit as you sat on the (now clean looking) couch, reading a heavy, dense book. “Have they worked?” you asked without looking up from your book.

Draco sighed, loosening his tie. “No.”

And as time passed, you and Draco began spending more and more time together. Initially, you tried to help him fix the cabinet. It gave you a distraction from Ron and Lavender. But it was also obvious that fixing the old thing was important to him – he seemed desperate and for some reason, you felt like helping. And so, you found yourself sitting close to Draco on that old, tossed out couch with different heavy books resting in your lap every night, both searching for spells that could work. Each few day the space between you decreased until you reached a point where your knees touched and your shoulder pressed into his bicep. Sometimes you could even feel his minty breath on your face – just for a second. But the feeling began to linger even as you walked the stairs up to the Ravenclaw tower late at night.

You also found yourself thinking less and less about Ron.

Then, about a month after the Gryffindor party, the Katie Bell incident took place.

Harry began suspecting Draco of the attack and accused him of being a Death Eater. You didn’t go to the Room of Requirement for a few days after that because honestly, you were scared. You knew, deep in your heart that what Harry was saying made sense and because of that you started to believe that Draco’s cabinet wasn’t just some fun project. You lit on fire all the parchment you had written mending charms on, in a haste and with shaky hands.

You didn’t want to see him after that.

But you found yourself days later sneaking out of the tower late at night, quietly making your way to the seventh floor.

Draco got heavily scolded by Snape for the necklace attempt. The Professor found his action completely foolish and didn’t hesitate to let Draco know that. The boy arrived at the Room feeling beaten, defeated. On top of that, he was met by the empty couch and the broken cabinet and he snapped. In a fit of rage, he broke one of the cabinet’s doors and threw it at the couch. The noise he caused rang through the entire room, momentarily covering the silence. He couldn’t bear the sight of his failure any longer and the thought that you were now possibly scared of him after rumors of him being a Death Eater spread around the school, thanks to Potter, angered him even more.

“Training for the next Triwizard Tournament, Malfoy?”

Your voice made him turn around quickly, surprised look on his face.

A small smile danced at your lips, and you took out your wand. Pointing it at the broken door, you cast out “Repairo,” and the door lifted from the couch, gently levitating towards the cabinet and fixing itself. In the end, it looked as if nothing had happened. “At least this works, otherwise you would’ve had to pick up some muggle skills.” You teased.

Draco let out a small laugh, before his face fell again and he sat down on the dusty floor. His back rested against some other piece of forgotten furniture and he brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes.

You quietly sat next to him with a huff.

“Why are you here?” Draco asked quietly.

After a moment of silence, you answered with honesty “I don’t know.” And you didn’t. You couldn’t understand why, despite the pit in your stomach that took shape as soon as Harry accused Draco of being a Death Eater, you were alone with him in a secret room, late at night.

Opening his eyes, Draco made a quick decision. He placed his left hand on your right knee, squeezing. Your eyes met – he looked calm; you were confused. “Do you trust me?” Draco’s voice was just a whisper. Alas, through the deafening silence of the Room, you heard him loud and clear.

“I don’t know.” You answered again. And, mirroring his impulsive move, you placed a hand over his. He felt cold at the touch and as you got used to the slightly stinging feeling, he found comfort in your warmth. “All I know is that I’m here, for some reason. I felt like seeing you.” You admitted, your voice tender and quiet.

Draco didn’t speak for a while. You thought you embarrassed yourself but didn’t dare to move.

“There are things about me that you really wouldn’t like if you knew.” The boy finally spoke. His eyes were glued to the cabinet that was a few feet from you both, but his mind was miles away. “I’m not a good man.” He admitted with no waver in his tone, no hesitation.

And maybe it was the daily, month-long meetings you’ve had with him. Or maybe it was the flicker of decency you saw in him when he got Pansy to release her painful grip on you the previous year. But your mind dug up small events and information buried deep in your memory that made you frown at his words. You remembered Dobby. Harry told you he was the Malfoy’s house elf who tried to keep him safe during second year, and it all seemed strange to you. You knew that house elves, if owned, could not act on their own volition no matter how strong their beliefs and inclinations were. In your mind it seemed unlikely that Dobby left the Malfoys without their knowledge and so, for the longest time you had a hunch it was Draco who sent Dobby to warn Harry. Especially since Lucius was the one who snuck Tom Riddle’s diary into Hogwarts. You were also quite sure it was Draco who helped Harry figure out the monster from the Chamber of Secrets was a Basilisk.

But overall, you knew Draco didn’t grow up in a good environment. He’d been heavily manipulated his entire life and it was in that moment, as you sat next to him on dirty floors, hand on top of his, that you decided whatever he was doing, he was doing either because of blackmail or manipulation.

“You can’t let the bad things from the past define you,” You whispered as your fingers slowly occupied the empty spaces between Draco’s own fingers. He was quick to grip your hand into his. “I think you are good. You’ve just been dealt shit cards.”

Draco didn’t show any emotion as he processed your words. But that night as he lay in his bed all he could think about were your words. Nobody had told him he was a good person before, and he’d never felt supported before in his life. And he felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He felt envy because Potter had had you all this time and because of your friendship with him, Draco didn’t get close to you sooner. He felt jealousy because he remembered you were in the Room in the first place because you were heartbroken over Ron – again, someone he didn’t like had all the things Draco felt he should’ve had instead. He felt comfort knowing you weren’t scared of him despite Potter filling your mind with (true) accusations. He felt hopeless because he was a Death Eater now and you were one of the good guys. He also felt entitled, selfish and determined because for the first time in a while, he found himself wanting something – someone, that he wanted for himself: you.

Over the next few months, you both unintentionally grew closer. Draco remembered every smile, every laugh shared between the two of you in the candlelight, hidden deep inside the Room of Requirement. Most days, he worked alone on the cabinet while you studied and pretended he wasn’t doing something potentially harmful. You both found yourselves finding comfort in the other’s mere presence.

You began to think less about Ron and more about Draco and it made you feel strangely guilty, especially when Ron would throw his arm around you like he used to in the Great Hall and you’d catch Draco’s eyes and excuse yourself to move back to the Ravenclaw table.

On certain nights you attempted to get Draco to do homework with you. But with each passing day, he became more and more anxious and afraid. And with each passing day, it hurt and worried you more and more. On a few occasions you did his Transfiguration homework for him just to keep him out of detention.

He owled you a Merry Christmas note during winter break but told you not to write him back. He knew you wished him happy holidays as well.

You gave him a Christmas present when you got back to Hogwarts – a ring, as you’d noticed he liked wearing them. His face lit up at the gesture and it was the first time he embraced you. The action was impulsive but it felt right. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back, the other cradled your head gently. His face buried in your neck and he held you so tight you didn’t dare move. He held you to make sure you were real and wouldn’t slip away from his grasp.

A little over a month later, Draco was feeling the pressure of his tasks heavier than ever. He felt sick each time he looked at the cabinet and you were noticing that. You were also noticing his complete disinterest in school and his reoccurring absences. He’d spend days in the Room, not even coming down to eat. You snuck him meals each time you could but sometimes you’d find them untouched on the floor.

“Alright, Draco. What’s going on?” You confronted him one night.

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you pleaded “Draco you’re not acting like yourself please, tell me what’s going on so I can help.” You never pleaded with a man before, never thought you would. Your ego felt too strong for this. And yet, there you were, standing behind a disheveled Draco Malfoy with an ache in your chest.

He ignored you.

You felt like throwing something at his head.

You watched as he opened the cabinet doors and took out a rotten apple. He held it in his hand for a second too long. It wasn’t unusual, you’ve watched him do this repeatedly over the past five months. You flinched when he threw the apple on the floor with vicious force. He then kicked the bottom of the cabined a bunch of times, yelling out in anger and frustration. His scream echoed through the Room. You pursed your lips.

“I can’t do this.” He finally spoke. “I can’t bloody do this and everyone’s going to die.” He started pacing around the small clearing amidst clutter. “My mum, my dad, me…you – we’re all going to die.” He kicked the plate of food you had brought him a few hours prior, spilling the contents over the floor.

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gonna kill you and mum in front of me, make me watch,” He was frantic “probably gonna torture you first so I die remembering your screams. Then,” he pinched his nose, wiped his mouth “then he’ll kill me. I’ll be last and everyone’s gonna be taking the piss out of me, the fucking kid who couldn’t fix a fucking,” he kicked the cabinet again “magic fucking cabinet!” he kicked and kicked until you could feel the pain he felt in his leg yourself.

You walked up to him and attempted to pull him away from the large wooden broken object, but he pushed you away forcefully. You stumbled back in shock. “How dare – “ You couldn’t finish your sentence, however. He hastily turned to face you, pulling up the sleeve of his left arm aggressively, exposing the Dark Mark.

No words came out of your mouth after that.

You couldn’t seem to peel your eyes off of the mark, and Draco watched you with a pained heart. Part of him expected you to run, another to pull out your wand and attack. He didn’t know which one was coming, he didn’t know which one he preferred. However, he didn’t expect you to walk up to him with slow, steady steps.

His eyes locked with yours as you took his arm into your own. It was as if the Room emptied and the only things in it were the two of you. Holding his arm to your chest, you got as close to him as possible. As he looked down at you, his heavy breath fanned your face. “It’s okay, Draco.” You whispered. “I understand.”

And you did. You understood his choice, understood the position he was forced into. And your heart ached for him.

That’s the night Draco remembered best. The way your figure was illuminated by the soft glow of yellow candles, the soft fabric of your sweater rubbing on his skin. The kindness in your eyes spreading warmth through his veins, the way your lips moved when you spoke his name. Most times he thought about conjuring a Patronus, Draco believed the memory of that night was what he needed to focus on in order to succeed.

With his hand on the back of your head, he quickly lowered himself to reach your height and caught your lips in a kiss. He felt you smiling into it and he found himself mirroring you, until you pulled away to giggle into his shoulder. He couldn’t do anything besides kissing the top of your head.

Days later you were both laying on the couch you had transformed into a cozy spot. You were focused on his Mark, tracing your fingers along the lines of it, gently. Draco knew he was supposed to feel pride in having the Mark – that’s what his family had told him, but he felt something close to shame each time he looked at it.

You rested your hand on top of it, covering it. “I’m sorry. But we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

A week later he was forced into the meeting with his mom and Snape at the Shrieking Shack. The following night he walked towards the Room of Requirement late, with heavy steps. It felt as if each movement he made on the way happened in slow-motion.

You were reading comfortably when he finally reached you. A smile formed on your lips upon seeing him, but it faded when you took in his appearance, his sour face, hardened figure, stone gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Draco didn’t speak, only pointed his wand towards you. You froze. “Draco?” His hand shook, his face wavered. You were confused.

“I have to do this, (Y/N). He’ll kill you otherwise.” Draco’s voice cracked.

“No, he won’t. You’re a skilled Occlumentist, right? He can’t get into your mind.” You immediately caught on.

He shook his head. “He’ll know, he’ll know. Snape knows, mum knows,” he sounded so scared that you attempted to get up to comfort him, but he threated so you sat back down “he’ll know.”

Tears formed and blurred your vision as your heart picked up speed.

“You know, I didn’t wanna think about you, I wanted to stay focused. I came here to do a task, that’s it. I came to be great, to do great things for the Dark Lord.” Draco began, “But then I saw you. I’ve wanted you since fourth year and then here you were, being good to me and…you woke up a weakness inside me. And I got selfish, I put my mission aside to get something for myself.”

Tears now ran down your face, and Draco mirrored you. You shook your head, silently pleading for him to reconsider.

“But I have a mission, (Y/N) and it’s so important. I can’t be distracted. And I can’t have you being associated with me – it’ll get you killed and I can’t – I can’t have it.”

The candles flickered and for a split second your mind went to a Divination class, where Trelawney explained candle magic. Their dancing light showed instability, chaotic energy while its tall flame indicated success brought about with complications. The air felt cold as you stared at Draco who hadn’t fully stepped into the candlelight. An abyss of darkness stood tall behind him, the sights of it deepening the pit in your stomach. Despite his shaky hands, dark circles underneath his saddened eyes and hollow cheeks, Draco looked put-together. His hair wasn’t messy like it was the first night you found him in the Room. It was back to its slick, flawless style. He wore his all-black suit, and his tie wasn’t loosened.

“I also can’t have you walk out of here knowing everything about me.” His voice hardened and for the first time while being with him, you felt fear.  

“I won’t tell anyone.” Your voice was small. You sat up, your eyes beginning to look for a way out.

“I can’t risk it, you’re friends with Potter. You’re one of the good guys.”

“I won’t put you in danger, Draco.”

He grimaced at your words as if they’ve hit him with the force of a Cruciatus Curse. He tried not to let any more tears fall. You took his reaction as an opportunity to get closer to him. Maybe if you could take away his wand, touch him. Maybe then you could change his mind.

“I won’t endanger you either,” He whispered. “That’s why I have to do this.” At that, he lowered his wand and took two long strides towards you. Another one of his unpredictable actions that left you frozen in your spot. In a swift motion, he cupped your face between his calloused palms. “You know this is the right choice.”

“No,” you whispered and shook your head “no, it’s not. You can teach me Occlumency, I can help you,” your fearful eyes bore into his saddened ones, his heart ached at your words, at the fear he was capable of instilling in you. “We’re a good team, remember? I can help.” You kept pleading as your own hands rested on top of his. You felt the ring you’d given him still on his finger.

He simply shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. “I’ve already corrupted you enough.” Draco admitted and you were taken aback; rendered speechless. “You’ve been covering for me with your friends, lying to Professors, basically doing my homework while I’m working on bringing the school down.”

Your heart dropped; hands started shaking. Draco felt it. He felt the weight of his words starting to crush you. Down in your mind you knew he was doing something bad with the cabinet, but you didn’t think it was so drastic.

Draco continued. Hurt her to save her, his mom’s words rang through his mind. “I’m using the Vanishing Cabinet to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” his words made you remember the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, where you were almost trampled. You remembered the attack on London that sent one of your family members to the Hospital. You remembered how ruthless the Death Eaters were at the Ministry, when they were throwing deadly curses at a bunch of teenagers.

And there it was.

The look of betrayal, hurt and fear on your face that Draco never wanted to see. He tried to remember the night you saw his Mark, the night you accepted and comforted him. That’s what he wanted to remember, not this. “After I get them here, I’m going to kill Dumbledore.” He continued.

Chills erupted on your body and you recoiled from his touch.

“I knew you were planning something bad, but this, Draco?” You couldn’t speak louder than a whisper as you took small steps away from him. He knew this was coming; the disgust, the unacceptance. Was your speech about understanding him all bullshit? “You don’t have to- “

“Yes, I do. It’s my mission.”

“No, listen to me. You’re not this person, you’re not a Death Eater. I know you, Draco. You’re still a good person put in a terrible situation but it’s not all lost, we can-“ Despite your fear, you still found yourself comforting him, pleading with him. Your mind lead an inner battle between understanding the boy’s motives and wanting to let Harry know of everything that was happening.

You couldn’t let Dumbledore die, couldn’t let Death Eaters attack Hogwarts.

“I cursed Katie Bell. Almost killed her.” Draco cut you off.

“I know.” You deadpanned. He parted his lips and frowned in confusion. “I saw the necklace in your bag a week before it all happened. Then I saw it on McGonagall’s desk. It wasn’t hard to piece together the puzzle.” You explained.

Despite the warmth spreading through his heart at the thought of you not abandoning him even after knowing that all those months ago, at the thought that he’d finally found someone to be on his side for once in his life, someone who understood and maybe even actually loved him – despite it all, Draco’s eyes had never showed less emotion.

You wanted to cry but didn’t. Your ego won.

“You know I have to do this, (Y/N).” His voice didn’t waver anymore. The more reasons you gave him to love you, the more his decision solidified in his mind. “And you know I’m doing the right thing,” he wanted to hold you so bad, but he didn’t move; instead, you both stood feet away from each other. “Knowing all this puts you in danger. Coming here every night puts you in danger hell, even looking at me in the Great Hall puts you in danger. I can’t see you brought into the manor tied up, imprisoned and killed as a punishment for me. And you know I’m right. I’m not just some irrelevant follower, I’ve sat at a damn table with The Dark Lord countless times this summer. He’s been in my home; he knows me personally.”

You couldn’t look at him the more he spoke. So, your gaze was stuck on a candle, but your eyes remained unfocused.  

“You’re smart.” Draco kept speaking, his tone now loud and confident. “This is the part where you tell me that even though you wanna change my mind, you know I’m doing the right thing,” he even joked. You wanted to cry but couldn’t speak. He was right. “Tell me you’re proud of me because I’m putting someone else’s wellbeing above my own for once” his voice became muffled, as if he spoke from underwater. It was silent for a moment as Draco watched you process his words, “You’ll be on the right side of history after this. You’ll go back to Weasley who’s a better choice for you than I could ever be – even though it kills me to say that.”

All you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

By the time you looked back up at him, he had a few tears running down his face and his wand pointed at you. And so you cried.

“We were a good team, weren’t we?” Draco spoke with one last saddened smile.

“Draco, please. I love –“ you began, but Draco couldn’t bear hear it.

You watched Draco wipe his tears with a swift motion, before a white light formed at the tip of his wand. His voice came out strong, unwavering, and determined. His hand stopped shaking.

“Obliviate,” Draco uttered before you could react.

[warmblanketwhump]

sick day

A coughs roughly, bracing themselves against the aisle after another fit of hacking left them gasping for breath.

It hadn’t been that bad this morning. They’d woken with a scratchy throat, achy limbs, and a tickle in their nose, but nothing unmanageable. Besides – they needed the money. Badly. Living alone was expensive, but they didn’t know anyone else in the city, and they were barely keeping their head above the water as it was.

So they’d thrown on an extra sweater, ignored the chill deep within their bones, and headed out to work.

4 hours into a 12 hour shift, A would have welcomed the sweet embrace of death. Or any embrace at all - something to stop the shakes in their limbs or still the spinning world.

As if by divine intervention, a hand reaches out and gently clasps their shoulder. “Hey, are you feeling alright?”

B had never seen anyone that sick still standing. Pale. Forehead slick with sweat. Shaky hands. Wearing one too many layers in the stuffy, crowded air of the grocery store.

A had only been working at the store for a couple months. but B couldn’t recall a time when A wasn’t working, morning or night. And it showed - in the dark smudges under their eyes, and the way they leaned heavily against the boxes of spaghetti they’d been trying to stock. Another round of coughs sent them reeling, and B rushes to their side and grabs their shoulder. “Hey, are you feeling alright?” A jumps, startled at the touch, and B drops their hand instantly.

“I’m...I’ll be fine,” A rasps, wiping their nose with their sleeve. They cross their arms, trying to hide the shiver that hunches their shoulders and rattles their teeth.

“A, you look like death warmed over. At the very least, you’re going to decrease pasta sales by a factor of 10 because you coughed all over them.” B smiles ruefully, but it doesn’t reach their eyes.

A tries to laugh at the joke, but a wave of dizziness swirls their vision, and they weakly grab at the shelf. Instead, they feel another body catch them – B’s solid, warm body which gently steadies them in a sort of hug.

“Easy there,” says B as A gasps for air, clasping weakly at B’s waist as B rubbed their back. In a matter of minutes, A is whisked back to their boss, and after a tense conversation in hushed whispers (of which A hears nothing) they’re out on the snowy streets, in B’s warm car, headed home. “There’s no way you’re working today, bud”, B says, slowly navigating the route to A’s apartment as A protests that they’re fine, to tell their boss they’ll come back to finish their shift after a quick nap.

As they help A navigate the creaking stairs of their cold, damp apartment building, B’s heart twists - no wonder A’s so sick if they’ve been living in a place like this in a winter this harsh.

They enter A’s dark, freezing apartment, and B gently deposits them on the threadbare couch and drapes a nearby blanket around their shoulders.

“Thank you...you didn’t have to bring me–” Another round of coughs cuts A’s rasping voice short, and they tug the blanket tighter around themselves and shiver helplessly. 

B frowns and gently feels A’s forehead (burning up) and slips their hand down to A’s neck to check their lymph nodes (definitely swollen). A draft from the window sets A’s teeth chattering, and B scans the sparsely furnished apartment, searching for another blanket. Eventually, they settle for shedding their own jacket and wrapping that around A, too.

“A, it’s freezing in here. Where’s your thermostat?”

“Won’t matter - it doesn’t work most days.” They cough again, longer this time. B rushes to A’s side, placing a hesitant hand between their shoulder blades and rubbing slow, deliberate circles until A finally catches their breath. A leans back and closes their eyes, breathing heavily, a single tear tracking down their cheek. B can tell that they’re exhausted, and their heart cracks at A’s huddled form.

B chews their lip, worried. The last thing they want to do is insult A, but staying alone in this awful apartment will only make them sicker. Their mind pops to their own warm, cozy apartment, their fully stocked medicine cabinet - and to the extra room, recently vacated by their roommate who had just taken a new job in another city.

You haven’t even known them that long, warns the rational side of their brain. Why should you worry yourself over them?

But even though B doesn’t know A well, they like them - the two of them made a good team, and although A was quiet, they had a fun sense of humor and seemed to genuinely care for those around them, always helping where they could, always quick with a compliment, a kind word, or a smile for someone else. 

And B knew how terrible it was to be sick alone. Two springs ago, they’d caught a bad cold - and nothing could truly capture the miserable feeling of dragging yourself out of bed, feverish, half alive, desperately hoping that someone would stop by and check in on you. Finally, B takes a deep breath.

Just ask. If they say no, you leave. That’s it.

“Say, um...look. I don’t want to be - you know, creepy or anything,” B stutters as A turns to meet their eyes. “It’s just...well, my shift is basically over by now, and I was just going to go home after this anyways, and I know your heating’s out so if you wanted to come hang out where it’s warmer until it’s fixed or something, you can. And I’ve got medicine and stuff at my place too, and my roommate just moved out so it’s just me and it wouldn’t be any trouble. If you want.” B let it all out in a single breath, hoping that they hadn’t sounded as awkward as they felt.

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

A’s eyes well up with tears, and they inhale a shaky breath that has nothing to do with their coughing fits. They had no reason to expect such kindness from someone who barely knew them, what they’d been through, how hard they’d been fighting, how long they’d been alone without anyone who cared.

They knew what B was really asking. B knew damn well that A’s heating wasn’t coming back on any time soon. They knew B likely suspected that A had spent the last few winter nights shivering themselves to sleep, and that this embarrassing, freezing apartment was all they could afford on their own, even after all those extra shifts.

And yet B still gave them the dignity of asking.

If you want. And they did.

“I’d like that.” A says quietly, voice rough from coughing.

B smiles, relief evident in their eyes. “Good. Let’s get you ready, then.”

10 minutes later, they head back down the stairs, B holding them steady and gently rubbing A’s arms to get some warmth into their still-feverish body. And despite feeling absolutely drained, A smiles. Maybe things would be okay after all.

[alpineglowx]

Proposition | Din Djarin x Reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Wordcount: 3K

Warnings: None except some sweet fluff and mutual pining!

Summary: You've been pining after the Mandalorian for months, and a quiet night under the stars might just be the night that changes everything.

Part 2: Placid

Part 3: Promise

***

“Where have you been?”

Glancing up, you could see the Mandalorian’s visor looking out at you from the opening of the Razor Crest. You blinked steadily, coming to a complete halt at the bottom of the drop ramp, unable to move any further. He watched you carefully, unmoving as even Grogu waddled to the edge of the ramp. The kid’s ears twitched as he caught sight of you, and you could even hear his soft murmurs from this far off.

Seeing them in the fading sunlight, safe and sound in the place that you had begun to call home the past few months, made tears well in your eyes. The Mandalorian had hired you as more of a mechanic-caretaker for the kid-scavenger for the better part of several months, but you couldn’t help the pull of being close to him. Mando was more of a compassionate soul then you had thought when you had first seen him on Coruscant, a hulking piece of metal with weapons at every reach. He had almost frightened you then, with his immense height and great reputation.... Until you had seen the kid. The little child that Mando seemed to adore so greatly, the one with floppy green ears and wide, beaming eyes. Mando always held him with such gentleness, the same gentleness that you sometimes found yourself being shown. It may have been a small comment of praise on your work, or a passing touch of the shoulder... Regardless, it had made the walls around your heart start to crumble and fade away, revealing a new affection for them both underneath.

But you hadn’t tried to relish in it, or take it too seriously. He probably only needed your work for a little while longer, and especially after he returned the kid and completed his mission, he wouldn’t need your assistance any more. You would go your separate ways... And he would forget you.

“Hey,” his soft voice came again, tearing you from your thoughts. You blinked, focusing on Mando. “You alright?”

Breathing deeply, you shrugged one shoulder, trying to blink away your tears. “Yeah, I’m fine. I, uh... I went into town to see if there was anything I could trade. I got some fruit... That was about it.”

“Good,” was all the Mandalorian said. “Come on. We’ve got to keep moving.”

You took a deep breath again, looking out into the ocean of trees and the sunset fading around you. You longed to spend more than a few hours or days on one planet, especially one as beautiful as this.

So, plucking up your courage, you turned to him and the kid, waiting for you on the Crest.

“I have a proposition.”

The Mandalorian settled one hand on his belt, shifting to rest his weight on one leg. “Alright.”

“Let’s stay here, just for one more night,” you said. “I’ll build the fire, and get the supplies, and everything. You can even sleep on the ship with the kid, I don’t mind.”

“... what are you proposing?” The Mandalorian asked, sounding mildly curious.

“I’ve always wanted to sleep under the stars... Even if just for one night.”

“Alright,” came Mando’s surprisingly fast response, making your heart beam with joy.

. . . .

“See that one? I think it looks like a womp-rat, what do you think, kid?”

You peeked at Grogu from where he was leaned against your shoulder, curled in the crook of your arm as you leaned against your pack, warm on the blanket you had spread out in the tall grass. Mando sat a few feet from you, one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee, his arm hanging over it loosely. He looked more relaxed than you had ever seen him; he had even removed the jetpack and the cape.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to him, despite never having seen his face. He carried himself with such confidence, with his broad shoulders and slim waist and form that could easily crush you. He could have killed you, easily... You had seen others die by his hands before.

But he had never been anything else but gentle with you. Not the typical warm, motherly-kind of gentle, but a compassion and attentiveness that existed beyond just words. It was wordlessly offering you a blanket when you shivered, letting you have a spare blaster, or simply handing the kid off to you during times spent on the Crest.

Grogu cooed softly beside you, and you peeked to see his eyelids drooping.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Are you sleepy, buddy? You ready for bed?”

At his soft murmur, you gathered him up in a small blanket, gently rising on your knees and tucking him away in the pram that lay next to the blanket. Grogu held tightly to your thumb, resisting your pulling, so you let him hold it until you had pressed him snug into the pram, bundled up in the mass of blankets until the softness screw him away. As soon as his eyes fell, you smiled, gazing down at the kid whom you had come to adore so greatly.

You hadn’t even realized Mando had been watching you until you turned, going back to your original position but spotting the gaze of the visor locked on your face. You flinched, surprised to see him so eagerly staring back at you, not even moving when he realized you had caught him. In the silence, you shut the pram closed and placed your hands back in your lap, swallowing heavily. Mando’s gaze still didn’t waver, and you couldn’t help but admire the soft starlight beaming like silver on his Beskar.

“You’re smiling,” he said suddenly, his voice soft but cutting off your train of daydreams. You shook your head a bit, just to clear your throat and sit back down again, leaning against your pack. You stared at the stars again, trying to calm your thundering heartbeat. You couldn’t admit - although you desperately wanted to - that you were smiling because of him. It was all too much. He was too much, with all his hidden expressions under the mask and the not-so-cocky attitude he possessed most of the time.

“The kid likes you.”

You cocked a brow in his direction, slightly disappointed to see that he was facing away again, back towards the tree line.

“He’s not too bad,” you replied, smirking. “I like him, too.”

The Mandalorian’s shoulders lifted, just the smallest but, signifying the small laugh he would sometimes give in your presence. It made your stomach flip when he did that, knowing you had been the one to make him feel that way.

“Why were you smiling earlier?” He asked, making your stomach plummet.

You could feel your mouth go dry even before your lips had opened, but suddenly the words came tumbling out - and your mind was going a hundred parsecs per second - urging you on and on until you finally...

“You were looking at me, and I-I don’t know, you make me nervous sometimes, okay? Not like the, ‘oh, I’m so scared that you’re going to kill me’ kind of nervous... like you look at me and you’re all that I see and whatever’s going on just kind of fades into the background. And I feel like you’re the first and only person in this whole galaxy to actually see me, as I really am, and you don’t kick me out or push me away. You’ve let me stay on, and I could never thank you enough.”

You finally stopped speaking, folding your hands over your stomach as you dared not another look in Mando’s direction. You only stared at the stars, practically in awe of yourself and everything that you had revealed. You very well might have told him that you loved him.

He stayed silent for a long time, maybe five minutes, maybe more.

“... You’ve been more than a loyal asset,” he said simply, his voice soft.

You expected him to say more, but he stayed silent, letting you mull over his words.

“I’d like you to be more,” he said in a quiet voice. “If you want that.”

You blinked, your heart soaring at his words. Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes. You make me feel safe and wanted and I want to be with you too and help you feel safe -“

“I’d like that,” was all you managed to say without throwing up from nerves.

Suddenly he did move; you heard the shuffle of the blanket and the clank of metal as he shifted. Your gaze flickered for one moment, catching the gleam of Beskar in starlight as he suddenly hovered over you. Your heart pounded - so loud in your chest you swore he could hear it - as the masked man looked down at you, incredibly close. But he didn’t move, his hands didn’t even twitch as he simply gazed down at you... Admiring you?

Your lips parted to speak, but his hand shot up, his gloved thumb caressing the front of your hairline. You shuddered, blinking fast as the back of his knuckle moved down your face. It slid down from your temple, over your cheekbone, and past your jaw in one smooth take. You couldn’t help it - your hands shot upwards, holding your palms flat against the indents in his helmet. Mando flinched, going to grasp your wrists as quick as he could, but the grasp wasn’t tight, just secure, keeping you from lifting your hands.

Your face flushed, realizing your mistake. “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to remove it. I-I just wanted to touch you.”

“It’s alright,” Mando said, his fingers sliding softly down your wrists. Moving your hands, he guided them down to his own hands, gently curling his fingers in between yours and holding warmly.

You couldn’t help it, the sudden rush of emotions coming full speed at you from every direction - relief, security, happiness, joy... Love.

“ Ka’ra,” Mando said in the most gentle tone you had ever heard from him. You blinked, focusing back on the helmet and dark T-visor as you felt warmth streaming down your face. You were crying, and he had noticed before you, saying some word in Mando’a you weren’t familiar with.

“I’ve hurt you,” he said, starting to lean back and sit on his knees, withdrawing his hands.

“No-“ you started, sitting up and going to grasp his hands, pulling him back. “You-you didn’t.”

He stared back at you for a long moment. “You’re crying.”

Your lips parted, and your mouth slowly transformed into a smile, and suddenly you were giggling, throwing a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughs and hide how badly you were blushing. Mando just stared back at you, unmoving, tilting his head just once.

“I’m... I’m really happy,” you admitted through tears. “I thought you didn’t like me at all... Not like how I like you.”

His shoulders dropped, and even the helmet sagged a bit on his head. “Can you... Can you close your eyes?”

Your brows shot up at the request, wondering his intentions. But you nodded anyway, shutting your eyes and sitting on your knees, hands in your lap. You fidgeted nervously with the belt loops on your pants, listening for any sound from Mando. He didn’t move for several long moments, but eventually you heard the small shuffle of material being removed, and a sudden warm touch on your face. You flinched, inhaling sharply as his bare hand caressed your face, knuckles moving down your cheek.

“Mando-“ you murmured, worried for him, for the Creed.

“It’s alright,” he assured through the mask, knowing your thoughts by the anxious tone in your voice. His hand was slow, his thumb swiping away your tears but suddenly moving to brush against your bottom lip. You shuddered, wanting to shrink away, but his touch was soft, secure, and you felt like melting into him.

“What’s that word you called me earlier?” You asked as his second hand rose, cupping your cheek.

“Star.”

Love expounded in your heart for him, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his shoulders, tugging yourself forward right into him. He grunted as you hugged him, squeezing tight into the patches of flightsuit beneath the Beskar. But something was off; you had never hugged him before, but you could feel scratchy patches of hair and warm skin against your cheek. Gasping, you pulled yourself away, throwing a hand over your eyes.

“What are you doing?” You spluttered. “Where’s your helmet? Put-put it back on!”

He laughed, actually laughed, and the undistorted sound of his voice was better than you had ever imagined, deep, raspy, but with twinges of softness as well.

“It’s fine as long as you don’t look,” he said, assuring the nerves in your chest. You slumped, still keeping your hand over your eyes, but you could feel him reaching for your free one.

“Mando?”

“Touch me here,” he said, guiding your hand upwards until your fingertips touched his skin, his cheek. He released your hand, hesitantly letting you follow the softness of his skin, your fingers prickling against what you assumed was stubble. You shifted on your knees slightly, using your other hand to press against his jaw, and when you finally did cup his cheek, holding his face, he shuddered, releasing a heavy breath. His head lolled slightly, and you tightened your arms to hold him, letting him relax in your grasp.

“It’s... Been a long time, hasn’t it?” You asked, not wanting to embarrass him.

“Yes,” was all he said, and his hands were back on your face, brushing over your lips for a second time. You shivered, allowing your hands to rise a little higher, brushing against the soft, wispy hair on his head.

You chuckled under your breath. “I’m glad you have hair.”

“Why?”

“Not really a fan of bald guys, Mando, I’ll be honest.”

He laughed, breathing deeply so you felt him exhale onto your skin. “ Ka’ra?”

“Yes?”

“... Call me Din.”

And suddenly you couldn’t breathe, because soft, slightly chapped lips were pressing hesitantly against yours, and your mind couldn’t function right because his bare face, the face you had been wishing to see for months, was pressed right up against yours - his nose smushed into the apple of your cheek as he cupped your face in his hands, tugging your chin up the slightest bit just to be able to reach you. You could feel wisps of brushing against your forehead, and stubble grinding against your upper lip and chin. Did he have a mustache, or a beard? What color was his hair? Why did he suddenly smell so nice, not just like the wafts of smoke from blaster fire or cold, hard metal?

You couldn’t even respond to the kiss before he pulled away, brushing the bridge of his nose into your cheek as he relaxed against you. He was breathing heavily, hot breath washing over your face like billows of clouds. His hand stayed glued to your face, and you had just realized how tight your fingers were digging into his shoulders. You relaxed your grip, ducking your head and feeling the heat on your face from the sudden kiss.

“ Dank Farrik,” he whispered under his breath. “T-that was bad, I’m sorry.”

You giggled, pressing the crown of your head into his chest. “First time for everyone, right?”

“I guess so.”

Taking a deep breath, you rose again, keeping your eyes closed as your hands rose to his face, mapping his features. He was shaking slightly, sweat forming on the hairline brushing up against his ears. Kriff - he was nervous, shaking like a teenage boy.

Feeling deep sympathy that mirrored your own nervousness, you leaned in close again, running your fingers over the hooked bridge of his nose, the tenseness of his brow, feeling his eyelashes tickle your knuckles. You ran your hand over his hair once, trying to calm him, lightly running your fingers through his hair. His whole body shuddered and moved forward, one hand sliding up to grasp your shoulder firmly.

“Din,” you whispered, remembering his name. You heard his sharp intake of breath, the tremor that wracked his back as you held onto him. You tried to smile, but tears only built in your eyes again, and after you had moved to wipe them away, you cupped Din’s face.

“ Din.”

Swiping a finger over his lips, trying to figure out where to kiss him, Din whispered back, “Keep saying that and I may just have to extend your lease.”

Your heart soared, and you laughed out loud, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Din.” Then to his nose. “Din.” And the corner of his mouth. “ Din.”

He took your jaw with one hand, pulling you forward and back to his mouth. You could kiss him back this time, moving your lips in time with his as his hands found your back, pressing him flat against his chest. Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers digging tight into his scalp to keep him as close as possible to you. He made a small, desperate sound when your hand pressed down flat on the back of his neck, making goosebumps race up your arms. He was everywhere, hands moving down your back and lips leaving you breathless. He was invading all your senses, every dark corner of your mind where fear and doubt had only resided. Din was there instead, sweeping you up into his arms and keeping you close to his heart.

When you pulled away to breathe, both panting against each other’s face, you only allowed yourself four seconds before you kissed him again, surprising him and making him flinch. But he was becoming more and more soft by the second, melting into you. The Mandalorian you had been pining after for months, the one person you could imagine yourself with, was better than you could have ever pictured.

“I wish I could see you,” you murmured when he finally pulled away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. “You will, some day... I promise.”

[gotnofucks]

Choose

Written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Halloween Challenge! This is my first time posting here, so be kind 😊

 Character pairing: dark!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve realizes he can’t let you go when you’re stuck in a safe house with him.

Quote: I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Non-con (implied), non-con touching, blackmail, coercion, 18+ only. Please don’t read if you don’t like.

MASTERLIST

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 The rain was falling in torrents and how you made your way through it you would never know. It was only September, but the rain made it much colder and you were so glad that you were in a car with heating on. Steve was driving almost blind and if it were someone else, you would be scared, but it was him and so you let yourself sink into the seat and relax.

 “Take my jacket, you look cold” He said as he shot your slightly shivering form a sharp look.

 You nod and reach behind to take his jacket and wrap it around your body. You do it without hesitation and with no question. Always so trusting and obedient, at least, when it came to him. You were small, in fact positively diminutive when it came to the super soldier sitting beside you and seemed to drown in his jacket. He smiled when he saw you, and you smile back at his cheeky look.

 “How long until we get to the safe house? I am hungry.” You asked, wiggling in your seat.

 “Not long. It’s right in the middle of this clearing. Maybe 10 more minutes”, He answered, reaching over to pat your knee in assurance.

 “You’ve been there before?”

 “Twice. Nat and I set it up just after we took down Shield and then later crashed here with Sam and Buck around 2 years ago. It’s safe and cozy.”

 You hum and played with your fingers. It was only going to be the two of you this time. It didn’t bother you all that much. You would rather it be him than anyone else. Well, maybe Tony, but after him you liked Steve the best. You were one of the younger avengers, having been recruited only two years ago by Clint Barton. You used to work for a covert government organization IMF where Clint was undercover for a few years and seeing your talent with a gun and a computer, he had once asked your help in one of his Avengers missions where you met Tony Stark who immediately took a liking to you and trained you under him.

 You worked as Tony’s tech girl, helping mostly with recon missions for a few months. Then Natasha started training you for field missions and low and behold, you were kicking ass with them for nearly 6 months now. You haven’t done very difficult missions yet, and not a single solo. Mostly you’re paired with Nat and Clint or, as this time, with Steve. Tony assured you he’ll let you do a solo soon, but always lamented that ever since you got outside, he missed his lab buddy.

 You loved these small missions with Steve. He was always patient with you and taught you the drills but didn’t hold back. He would let you take the lead at times and was always proud of even the smallest achievement. At first when you had met, you had been kind if intimidated of his aloofness, but it didn’t take long for you both to bond over cheesy 40s music and your mutual love for art.

 “Y/n, we’re here” Steve announced and got out of the car. You followed, grabbing your small bag and ran through the rain to the porch. It was like a getaway cabin and you were so glad you didn’t have to stay in some dingy hole. You wanted warmth, food, and a comfortable place to sleep.

 Steve shut the door behind you and took off his wet shoes, putting them upside down near the door. You take off his jacket and your shoes too, grateful to be away from the squelching soles.

 “There’s no fireplace” You observe with a pout, and Steve chuckled.

 “Y/n, it’s a safe house. The smoke would let people know someone is living here. We don’t want that now, do we?” He gave you an indulgent smile and walked through to the kitchen, starting to unpack the supplies and food.

 “But I am cold!” You whine, and for that moment Steve realized your age gap. He gestured for you to come to him while he put the water to boil and you slowly approached him with small steps. Once you are in front of him, he looked at your damp hair and clothes, thankful that his jacket had prevented you from getting too wet.

 “You cold, huh?” He asked, hooking a hang around your waist to pull you against his chest. You stumble and steady yourself with both hands against his massive shoulders, your head a couple inches below his shoulder.

 “Yeah” You moan, wrapping your arms around his body. “How the hell are you always warm, eh?”

 Steve chuckles again and continues to cook while hugging you with an arm around your body. This closeness isn’t new. He would never admit it, but Captain Steve Rogers is a serial cuddler and you are his favourite cuddle buddy. He would cuddle you on the couch during movie nights, he would cuddle you after returning from a tough mission and he would cuddle you when you get your period. Steve Rogers was your best friend, and you felt safe with him. But you didn’t know Steve Rogers wanted to be more than just your friend. He wanted you with him when he went to sleep and when he woke up, he wanted you when he cooked and when he took a shower. No, you had no idea that the National treasure of America was in love with you.

 It wasn’t like he was hiding his feelings. He just never came out and said them out loud. Steve often believed that actions spoke louder than words and so he tried to tell you his feelings by doing little somethings for you. He learnt to make your coffee exactly the way you liked, he watched the movies you liked and read the books you read. He learnt to cook vegetarian dishes since you despised any kind of meat. More than anything, he tried to get along with Tony. Tony was your protective big brother/father, and he loved you enough to scare off every man who ever looked at your way. You were the only one in the team to have rooms on the same floor as Tony and you both shared a kitchen. Steve knew that if he wanted you to himself, he needed to get on Tony’s good side. So, he bit his tongue when he wanted to snap and gave his go ahead to things he deeply disapproved of, just to have to build back the old trust. It worked out, since Steve was one of the only people who were allowed a mission with you.

 “Will there be hot water for a shower?” You asked, body being warmed by Steve. He looked down at your face, full of childish innocence and stripped off every hardness after a tired mission.

 “Maybe, but definitely not enough for both of us” Steve commented. The vegetable stew needed to simmer for a while, so he sat you both down on the worn couch in the living room, your head on his shoulder and his arm still around you. He had hoped you would pick up on his feelings, since having you this close did things to him. Your soft body fit so perfectly into his large one that he never wished to part from you. Maybe tonight would be that night.

 “I’ll call Tony and eat. You take that shower and save me some hot water if you can.” You said and took out your phone to let Tony know you were safe and would leave for compound in the morning as planned. Steve looked at you walk away, speaking softly to Tony and wished more than ever that the rain outside would turn into a storm just to prolong your stay. He didn’t get to have you alone a lot at the compound. There were always other people around, always Wanda wanting female company or Peter following you around asking how you impressed Tony. He liked it here in this little cabin, cooking a meal for you after a hard day of work.

 “Tony says to leave early tomorrow so we can reach home by lunch. He wants to take me to meet Stephen Strange” You say suddenly, breaking out Steve from his domestic fantasy.

 “Stephen Strange? Why?”, he asked, frowning.

 “Tony and him and doing some weird wizard-avenger collab in that Nepal place- what is it called, Kamartaj- for a few weeks”, you answer.

 “What’s that got to do with you?” Steve asked, slightly irritated and hands curing into fists.

 “He’s taking me along. Says he doesn’t want me away for so long. Also, this wiz, Dr. Strange, he’s apparently some kind of genius. Tony says I can learn a lot from him. But I think it’s just a ruse. I’m pretty sure they are dating, and he just wants me to meet him”, You say with a fond smile. Steve doesn’t smile or say anything.

 Weeks? You’d be gone for weeks? That too in another country without him. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

 “You wanna go?” He asked in what he hoped was a normal voice. He wanted you to say no, wanted to see that hesitation in your eyes as you thing of being away from him for weeks, maybe months.

 “Sure, I think it would be fun. I wanna see the Himalayas and maybe I’ll visit India too. I’ve got a pen friend there who I’d love to meet.” Your reply was so nonchalant that for a moment Steve just stares, and then he is angry. Here was a perfect chance for you and him to spend time away from the overbearing presence of Tony Stark, but you would rather see snow covered mountains and meet a pen friend in India? He’d only thought you were being a little oblivious of his feelings, maybe deliberately trying not to acknowledge them as you wanted to take it slow. But it seems like you…it seems like you felt nothing beyond friendship for him at all. After all those months spent hugging and laughing together, and yet you would rather choose Tony over him. A rage settled over him and he needed to clench his jaw and curl his arm tight around the back of the couch to stop himself from grabbing you and…and doing things he had rather not do.

 “Take that shower. Leave your wet clothes outside, I’ll see what I can do with them” Steve said suddenly.

 “You sure you don’t want a shower too? We’ve got layers of grim from crawling through that tunnel.” You asked.

 Steve looked at you for a minute, eyes rowing over your small face. He took in the little acne scars you were so self-conscious about, your slightly chapped lips and those beautiful eyes that reared him in. He nodded.

 “Yeah, you go on. I’ll see if I need one” He said and went to the kitchen while you left for the bedroom with the connected bathroom.

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 The bathroom was nicer than you had hoped, probably Nat’s doing if the products where anything to go by. You’d removed your wet clothes outside and stood naked under the stream of warm water, sighing with relief. It was a small mission but brutal on your body. It would have been heaven to have a tub in here, but safe houses were meant to be quick and effective, and this one was way better than others, so you didn’t complain. You were just going to wash your hair when the bathroom door opened, and Steve entered.

 “Steve!” You shouted, hands covering your breast and turning so your back was to him. You looked at him with wide eyes, expecting him to sputter and leave but he stayed, eyes lingering on your ass a bit before meeting your eyes.

 “Got any of that hot water left or have you finished all of it?” He asked, taking off his t-shirt and leaving his chest bare.

 Your mouth opened in surprise as your backed yourself into the corner, trying to make sense of what was happening. Your best friend had just barged into your bathroom while you were showering and showed no signs of leaving.

 “W-what are you doing, Steve?” You asked in a small voice, still covering yourself with your hands the best you could.

 “Taking a shower. I told you we didn’t have enough water for two, so I thought I’d join you. You were right anyway, we are grimy.” He said and fumbling a bit, dropped his pants down too. You panicked, not understanding what was happening as Steve stood in his boxers, taking steps towards you.

 “No. No no no no” You almost chanted that as a mantra, eyes going here and there, not knowing what to do. Steve reached your small body crowded into the corner and slowly, very slowly raised a hand to wipe away the dirty on your cheek. You started at his touch and quickly sidestepped, running towards the door. You didn’t know what had gotten into Steve, but you needed to get out of here. Now.

 You’d taken only two steps before a hand wrapped around your waist and brought you back screeching to a hard chest, back against front.

 “Stop. Steve, let me go. Please.” You said, your tears mingling with the water on your skin, one hand across your chest and other on his wrist trying to pry it off.

 “No sweetheart, you need to take this shower. You’re dirty and tired. Come.” You hated his voice for being soft and soothing still, showing no indication of what he was doing to you. His voice was still your Stevie’s voice, calm, cool, a little commanding and full of affection for you.

 “I- Steve, I don’t want a shower. Not like this, please.” You tried to break away, wiggling and crying but Steve didn’t listen and dragged you back and turned on the water again. You both were bombarded with hot water and stood under it for a minute before Steve turned it off again.

 “Gimme that shampoo, I’ll do your hair.” He said, releasing you from his hold. But it wasn’t any good as you were blocked by the wall on your back and Steve at your front. You hadn’t turned around yet, but now you did. Sobbing, with thighs squeezed tight to hide you down there and hands inefficiently covering your breasts, you looked at him with betrayed eyes. You didn’t try running again. You knew his strength; you have trained with him. He could take you down in seconds.

 “Why are you doing this? What is happening?” Your voice was small and broken, sending a pang through Steve’s heart. He loved you and didn’t want to hurt you, but you needed to see his feelings for you. He couldn’t risk you going away for months. He just couldn’t. His eyes slowly moved down from your face, taking in every inch of your body exposed, not touching, only looking.

 “We’re taking a shower after which we will eat our food while we watch some stupid movie on that laptop of yours. Then, we’ll cuddle and sleep with you on my chest and tomorrow morning you will call Tony and tell him you won’t join him for his trip to Nepal.”

 He was mad. He was insane, you were sure of it. Face burning with humiliation under his gaze, fire began sparking in your eyes. How dare this tall buff blond muffin think it okay to invade your space and demand such things from you? Just who the fuck did he think he was.

 “No. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but you need to stop. Get out, or if you want to shower, let me go out. I’m done with whatever game you are playing.” You sneered at him. Steve had to smile at this, his little spitfire. He didn’t really expect you to give in easily, that’s not the girl he knew and trained. You were with the avengers because you could handle stuff others would wet themselves with. You were strong and he knew that. But he was stronger.

 “What’s gotten into me?” He asked, closing the distance between you so you were against the wall and caged by his arms on either side. His face was inches away and your breathing sped up. He looked cruel and menacing, the blue eyes you loved so much taking on a much darker hue. “You have gotten in me. You got under my skin and in my thoughts and in my heart. Now I want you under me.”

 He bent down and you were sure he was going to force a kiss on your mouth but he surprised you by pressing his lips softly on your forehead like he did when you had nightmares or right before a mission. It was a kiss of reassurance and love, and somehow, that just scared you more. Whatever Steve thought he was doing, he believed it was driven by love. And when Steve loved someone, he loved them without abandon. If he went against everyone to save his friend, what would he do to have you?

 “Steve…please…” You didn’t know what to say or what to do. You wanted to get away from him and cover yourself up to get some control back. You wanted to talk to him and forget this ever happened and get back your best friend.

 “You have two options. First, we both take a bath right now. I won’t touch you where you don’t want me to, we eat, and sleep and you go back with me to the compound like a good girl and tell everyone we are together. Or..” His eyes narrowed here, “Or, I could take you right here, right now and make you mine with little option. I could rail you deep and hard so you will feel me deep inside you for days on end. I know you’re not on birth control and I have no condoms with me, so if you get pregnant, you best believe I’ll have you tied down to myself with a ring on that finger by the end of the month. The choice is yours.”

 Your heart sank. You looked into his eyes, your whole body shaking and knees ready to give up. He was serious! He was absolutely serious, and you had no idea what the fuck happened. Just an hour ago you were sure he was the person who made you feel the safest, but now that sanctuary had been torn apart and some possessive stranger had taken its place.

 “You’re insane. You’ve lost it!” You cry, sliding down the wall as your knees collapsed, folding your knees to hide your nakedness. Steve followed you down and wrapped his arms around your small form.

 “I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched. You own me, my heart and soul. And soon, I’ll have you too. How that happens is your choice. Choose.” His tone bore no argument. You had just one card to play.

 “Tony would never stand for it. He’ll find out, I’ll tell him and then you’ll be done.” You made your tone harsh and full of venom. You don’t know what you expected him to do, but it definitely wasn’t laugh. It was an amused chuckle, like a daddy who was indulging his silly daughter, full of patronizing hilarity.

 “Sweetheart, you don’t think I have a plan for that? Even if I spend months bringing you flowers and singing love ballads from your window, he wouldn’t exactly be convinced. He isn’t exactly fond of me, is he? I had a plan in place for months. I didn’t want to have to use it honestly, I wanted you to come to me of your own violation. But I just thought as a back up plan…” You screamed as he suddenly scooped you up in his arms, still wet and naked and carried you out to the bedroom. He deposited you on the bed and gave you a towel that you hastily covered yourself with. You looked behind you and the door was locked. It wasn’t any use anyway; he could outrun you in his sleep.

 Steve got his phone out and showed you the screen, making your heart drop. There were numerous pictures of you with your family and friends from the past two years. Not just those, pictures of you with your previous team, the IMF, Ethan Hunt, and others. How Steve got these pictures you didn’t know, but it scared you.

 “Everyone, every single person in these pictures has a target on their backs. I have had a sniper after all of them for over a year, mostly just to keep an eye on you and to make sure you are safe. But don’t think for one second that I will hesitate to take them out. There is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to keep you with me.” He sat beside you on the bed and putting a finger under your chin turned your face towards him. “It doesn’t need to be nasty, sweetheart. I don’t want to be the bad guy. I have never been one and you can keep me from doing anything drastic. All you need to do is convince Tony that you are the one who wants me. You are the only person he actually trusts, so you need to make it believable. He has denied you nothing, and if you come to him yourself and tell him you want me…well…no one has to die, do they.”

 This was a nightmare. Everything that has happened to you today is a nightmare. You didn’t want to believe Steve would hurt anyone, but then you didn’t think him capable of forcing him on you either. If there was even the tiniest bit of chance that he could harm anyone of your friends and family…no. You couldn’t let that happen.

 “Option one”, You whispered softly, eyes downcast and lips trembling.

 “What was that?” Steve asked, turning your face up again so he could look in your eyes.

 “I choose option one. We- We eat and sleep and I call Tony I won’t go with him. Then we can tell everyone we are together.”

 Steve grinned, his happy grin that everyone said only you brought out in him. It unnerved you that a man you loved and respected so much was doing this.

 “My good girl” He praised, and then he leaned down and pressed his mouth on yours. The kiss was gentle and soft, his mouth lazily moving against yours. If it were happening any other way, you would have enjoyed it. He broke away and looked at you with eyes that sparkled. “You’ll love me too, one day. I am yours, and you are mine.”

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 True to his word, you guys ate your dinner and watched a movie as you cuddled like you usually did at movie nights. Steve held you close, sometimes brushing his nose against the side of your neck or rubbing his hand along your sides. Afterwards, he laid down beside you, spooning your small body and holding it snug against his. He was warm, and you didn’t have anymore fight in you for today. The day was too fast and weird for you to process. You vowed to sleep now and to think of a way to get to Tony without arousing Steve’s suspicion. You weren’t ready to give up now.

 You’d been asleep for only a couple hours before you felt cold air around your body. You woke up with a start and found yourself on your back, your t-shirt removed and Steve hovering over you, placing open mouth kisses along your bare chest.

 “Steve! Steve stop!” You screamed, pushing against his chest. He looked at you with eyes blown wide with lust and taking your hands in one of his, he held them up while he tweaked your nipple with his other making you squirm. He bent down and swallowed your protests with a deep kiss, his tongue forcing its way inside your mouth and tasting you while he moaned.

“Steve please,” You were sobbing now, and trashing your legs which he held down with a strong thigh. “You…you promised. You said I get to choose. I chose option one”

 Steve looked at you for a moment then kissed your cheek softly. Moving his hand between your thighs he murmured in your ear, “I’ve changed my mind. I can’t wait anymore”

[ladymercysletters]

A Hint of Gossip // Benedict Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Part 4 of the If You’ll Have Me Series

Word Count : 1614

A/N: I’ve collated A Gentleman’s Eye, A Second Chance and An Artist’s Touch into a series called If You’ll Have Me (link above) this is part 4 to that and I’ll post a final part soon :)

You’d never really liked Society. You’d always blamed it for your marriage to your husband, the late Duke of Pembrokeshire, but after your year of mourning and six months of sculking in the shadows of London Society you thought it best you re-emerge now lest gossip start. That, and Benedict had badgered you mercilessly about how boring evenings were without you there. So, you donned one of your favourite gowns, a simple deep plum silk with a fine cream lace, fixed your diadem and steeled yourself for, no doubt, the whole of the Ton’s glare.

You arrived at the Viscount and Viscountess Frankland’s ball purposefully as the first dance had already commenced as to not garner too much attention. Unfortunately, as you entered the ballroom you could hear the audible gasps of gossiping mama’s; whipping their heads around as you turned to look at them. Taking a turn around the room you diligently avoided the gazes of everyone you walked past, stopping at the food table to grab a glass of lemonade and inspect the canapes.

“Y/N! Darling!” you heard a smug, haughty voice bellow towards you. You turned abruptly to see Lady De Vere barging several poor ladies out of the way to reach you. “Lady Cynthia, how nice to see you again.” You gritted out, trying your best to mellow your displeasure. “Oh you poor thing, it was simply dreadful to hear that dear Percival had died.” She seemed to announce to the entire room making you rather suspect that if Baron’s wife had not been her destiny a life on stage might have been a calling. You smiled and hummed in general agreement as she continued to gesticulate wildly, blithering on about god knows what. A crowd parted behind her and you looked over her shoulder to see a formation of Bridgerton’s gliding towards you; lead by Benedict with Violet coming up on his flank, looking ready to take the boisterous Baroness out.

“Your Grace.” Benedict crooned, bowing to kiss your hand with a smirk. The Baroness was quickly shuffled out of the way with a glare from Violet. The Bridgerton siblings greeted you as one, sharing matching smiles as they glanced sideways to see Benedict still smiling at you. “Delighted to make your acquaintance Your Grace, Benedict has spoken very highly of you.” Violet smiled “I understand you met at an art exhibition: Benedict has always loved to draw, I understand you commissioned him for a portrait not too long ago?” she continued, wrapping her arm in his so he could not escape.

“Mother.” Benedict scolded. Their interaction made you smile and you rather suspected that the Dowager Viscountess was playing matchmaker for her son. Little did she know that she needn’t bother: Ever since those wonderful two weeks Benedict had spent at Pembroke House you were sure that you would not let yourself be courted by any other, should anyone decide to. The conversation continued around you and whilst you were glad of the company your eye couldn’t help but drift to Benedict. His eyes were already on yours and he held your gaze coyly as you shared fleeting glances over your party. “Mother” Benedict interrupted suddenly “I wonder if I might steal Her Grace for a dance. If you wouldn’t mind Your Grace.” He bowed again, holding out his hand before leading you to the floor and taking you in his arms as the music started.

“You look lovely this evening.” He growled out lowly, just into the shell of your ear as he spun you through the crowd. The shiver that ran up your spine when his hot breath hit your ear made you arch yourself into him. His warmth surrounded you, feeling it though the arm of his jacket and gloved hand cradling your lower back.

“So do you.” you smiled at him, looking up at him to see his trademark smirk on his face. You danced smoothly together around the ballroom, discussing the accepted subjects for a ball; the weather… yesterday’s weather, before you started to notice eyes on you. “Lady Cowper is staring at us.”

“Let her.” His deep voice becoming more serious as he turned you so you weren’t facing her.

“and Mrs Featherington… they’re all talking about me aren’t they?” your grip on his arm tightened as you became more aware of yourself again. It was well known that your marriage was not a loving one. You were the second daughter of a minor viscount with little dowry and a scandalous mother, and your husband was almost three times your senior with no other family: it fed the ton for months. Now you were back and it looked like some of the mama’s still remembered you.

“They do not matter. Whatever they say they cannot touch you now.” His soothing tone settled within you, calming your mind a little as you saw their glances and whispers from behind their fans.

“They can still talk.” After that you settled into a comfortable silence for a while. You let yourself get lost in the music, and in Benedict’s arms.

“Thank you for coming this evening.” Benedict said suddenly. You looked up at him to see his kind eyes already staring down at you, smiling before straightening back up again. “I would not have put you through this but marrying you would be most difficult if you were still in mourning.” He finished.

“Ha. I think mourning is a bit of a strong word for … Marrying me?” you said shocked, your head turned like a whip to see him smirking into the distance.

“If you’ll have me?” He whispered, spinning you in time with the music. The world seemed to blur around you as you just looked at Benedict. If you weren’t in the middle of a ballroom floor you were sure you’d jump into his arms that instant. Your whole heart felt so full at his smile: It had been so long since your heart had felt anything you were almost certain that it wasn’t beating anymore – but Benedict had brought you back to life in more ways than one.

As the music came to an end, Benedict had his answer and bid your leave with a kiss to your hand as he departed to inform Anthony of your news. You took this time to seek out a glass of lemonade at the buffet table. You were just inspecting the selection of hors d’ouvres when you saw Lady Cowper approaching from your side vision, Cow being the operative word.

“Lady Portland!” her shrill tone turned your blood ice cold and you plastered on a false smile once more before turning to face her. “or is it still Your Grace? I do apologise but your situation is an odd one” she laughed. Her insults were always obvious but just underlined enough for her to feign ignorance. Your brain whirred, trying to come up with some smart reply to send her one her way when you noted Lady Danbury approaching.

“Your Grace.” She curtsied minimally, holding her cane. You nodded a smile in her direction as she turned her sharp eyes to Lady Cowper.

“Lady Danbury.” She said rather shocked, knowing she’d been busted. “How lovely to see you, and what an exquisite evening it is.” Trying to change the subject.

“Thank you, Lady Cowper, and may I suggest always showing deference to the superior rather than presuming an equal, in polite society. It is always wise to remember one’s place.” Lady Danbury never missed a beat with her remarks and you struggled to stifle a giggle under the glare of Lady Cowper.

“Of course, Lady Danbury, I was merely asking. If you’ll excuse me.” She curtsied politely before drifting off to fuss over her daughter. Lady Danbury turned back to face you.

“How are you my dear. I see the second Mr Bridgerton is easing your passage back into society.” She smirked, looking over to see Anthony and Colin clapping their brother on the back.

“I am very well Lady Danbury; Mr Bridgerton is a fine dancer.” Your voice petered off as you followed her gaze, a broad smile coming to your face as you watched him smile.

“He painted your portrait did he not?” Danbury continued “Two whole weeks at Pembroke House?” her tone caught your attention and you turned to look back at her, stumbling over a response.

“Oh, um … yes.” You blushed. Just as you were trying to make her words sound less sordid Benedict returned to your side, greeting her with a bow as he placed a subtle hand on your lower back to calm you; thumb rubbing gently.

“Ah. Mr Bridgerton, I was just saying to her grace how chivalrous it is that you’ve taken it upon yourself to see her back into society.” Lady Danbury smiled, her knowing look clueing Benedict in to her inference. His brow raised as he nodded between the two of you and you heard his breath hitch subtly at her words. If Lady Danbury were to guess anything, she could quite easily cause a lot of trouble. A fact which, you were sure, she knew. She took in the silence from the both of you, enjoying the mixture of shock and discomfort on your faces as she eyed you like she was picking her next meal. After a moment or two of enjoying your distress she took a step closer, making sure only you and Benedict could hear her. “Just make sure, that when you send the invites, I am on your list.” And with those quiet words, she bid you good evening and turned to leave you both, sweating but relieved.

[hellsenthero]

D for Doll

Written by: hellsenthero

Beefy Bucky X FemReader

Beefy Bucky feels a little insecure about his body. You show him just how much you love it. 

Warnings/themes: Beefy Bucky is a real softy and that’s a warning in itself. Heavy Smut. ** (1.1K Words.)

AN: Requested by anon. Sorry it took so long! This is my first fic writing beefy Bucky and I actually really enjoyed writing him. If anyone else wants a fic request feel free to send me an ask!

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Bucky laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unaware that you watched him from your spot curled up in his arms.

“Whatcha thinking about, bub?” You ask. Bucky turned his head to the side, his blue eyes wide with surprise at the sound of your voice.

“Nothin’ doll.” He said, his tone raspy from sleep. You lay your hand across Bucky’s belly, curling just a bit more deeper into his warmth. You felt Bucky stiffen under your touch. With furrowed brows you lifted your head from his chest to look down at him.

“What’s wrong?” You press. You had been dating Bucky long enough to know when he was stressed about something.

“Nothin” he answered again.

“You sure bub?” Bucky stared up at you for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“I’mstressedoutaboutmybodyandhowyoufeelaboutitandme.” He mumbled. You shook your head, not understanding a single word that came out of his mouth.

“What?” Bucky let out another, longer sigh.

“I’m stressed out about my body. I’m worried that you might not be as attracted to me compared to when we first got together.” You frowned, feeling bad that perhaps you hadn’t been doing a well enough job at showing Bucky your love.

“Bub, I love you just like I did when we got together,” you pause for a moment, thinking your words over, “actually I’ve grown to love you more over that time. I like your body Bucky, I love it and I love you and that won’t change. Plus,” you add as you lay your head back down on his chest, “you’re warmer now, perfect for cuddling.” Bucky smiled as he looked down at you.

“You’re not just sweet talkin’ me, are ya doll?” You shook your head vigorously at him.

“Nope. I love you Bucky.” You say with a smile.

“I love you too, doll.” You leaned forward and gave Bucky a big kiss. Both of you wearing wide smiles once you pull away. You went to get out of bed but Bucky’s quick to pull you in closer. “Come here Y/N, I wanna show my doll some love.” Bucky kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you gasp. His hands pull at your body until you’re straddling him. His metal hand slipping under your shirt, the cool metal making a shiver crawl up your spine. He pulls at your shirt, a silent order to take it off. You toss the offending fabric away before pulling at Bucky’s own shirt. His flesh hand slipping into your sleep short has you gasping, momentarily forgetting about his still clothed chest.

“Bucky-” Your words get cut off by a moan as he pulls you back in for a kiss, his other hand slipping through your wet folds.

“Fuck doll, you all wet for me?” He asks as he pulls away from the kiss. You nod your head with a moan, your eyes closing shut as he slips a finger inside of you.

“Ohh, Bucky, yesss.” You grate your hips down on his hand. Bucky lets out a chuckle as he slips another finger inside of you and watches you fuck yourself on his hand.

“That’s it doll, take what you need from me.” He cooes. A whine slips past your lips as you call out for more. “What do you want, Y/N?”

“More, Bucky, please.” You beg. As soon as the words are out of your mouth Bucky flips you over. You let out a squeal as you find yourself beneath him. He’s quick to pull your shorts off and lower himself down. “Ohhh, god, Bucky, yess.” You moan at the first lick of his tongue through your folds. As you begin to buck up into him he throws an arm across your waist to hold you down. He nibbles gently at your clit sending a wave of pleasure through you. “Bucky please.” You beg, not quite knowing what for.

“What doll?” Bucky rasps as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

“Fuck me, please.” Bucky’s lust filled eyes darken as he gazes up at you.

“That’s all you had to say, Y/N.” In one fluid move Bucky has you on your stomach, your hips up in the air. He runs a hand over your ass, cupping it before he brings the tip of his cock to your opening. “Say it again.” Bucky rasped as he leaned in closer.

“Fuck me, Bucky, please fuck my pu-” your words get cut off by a moan as Bucky pushes into you. The drag of his cock a delicious stretch. Bucky waits for you to adjust. You only need a moment before you wiggle your hips and he’s thrusting in and out of you.

His pace is fast but careful, something between love making and fucking. He growls out your name, cursing under his breath as he feels your walls squeeze him. You bring a hand to your clit but Bucky stops you before you touch yourself.

“No,” he rasps, “you’re cumming just from my cock.” You moan and grasp onto the sheets beneath you, your only response to his words. Each thrust inside of you brings you closer to your end and you tell Bucky just that.

“Bucky, baby, I’m close.” You breathe. Bucky speeds up at your words, growling as he fucks you harder and faster. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chant. Your toes curl and your hands nearly rip the sheets as you find your climax.

“Bucky gasps your name as you cum around his cock. He thrusts up once, twice, three more times before he stills inside of you and releases his seed.

Sweat coats both your bodies as you come down from your climax. You moan as Bucky pulls out of you and lays down on his side, pulling you back into his chest. His seed coats your thighs as you regulate your breathing. Bucky nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, places delicate, soft kisses across your neck and jaw.

“That was...very good, bub.” You breathe out, your lips turned up into a sated smile.

“Sure was, doll.” Bucky’s hand comes around to gently thumb the gold chain around your neck, a small golden D hanging from the chain between your breasts. He’d gotten the gift for you after your six month anniversary.

“You know I never take it off.” You say softly. You turn your head around to look into Bucky’s blue eyes.

“I know,” he says with a smile just as bright as your own, “D for Doll.” He says before kissing you.

You spent the rest of the day in bed, showing Bucky just how much you love him and his body.

[winchesterxxi]

Gentle Pathways (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: M (Mature)

Type: Fluff & Smut

Summary: “all these people keep posting how rough a horny Mando can be but I mean, come on, that man probably hasn't been touched as in skin-to-skin contact since he put the helmet on - we all saw his reaction to Grogu touching his face. So how do you think a touch starved Din would react to reader getting close to him?”

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: No clear time frame except that it’s between S1 and S2; Blindfolding; Smut (Virgin!Din, loss of virginity, blowjob, vaginal penetration, swearing, unprotected but consensual sex)

A/N: Vanilla!Din and Soft!Din GIVE IT TO ME, WE NEED MORE and yes I know the gif is of Kylo and Ren leave me alone. 

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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It was late at night inside the Razor Crest, although no one could tell if it were otherwise because, as you could see through the front of the cockpit, the cold gloom of hyperspace engulfed the ship on all sides.

The Child was fast asleep and had been for a while now, and you were just finishing inserting some coordinates on the navigation panel as Mando asked you to, before leaving you alone and walking to his makeshift chamber. After doing as instructed your hand brushes against something that falls to the floor of the cockpit with a clatter.

Looking down, you notice that it’s Mando’s e-comm, easily identifiable by the big silver-colored scratch across one of its buttons. He never leaves it out of his sight, even when sleeping, that thing is always at arm’s length so you assume that he probably forgot it.

Standing up with the device in hand, you turn off any unnecessary light in the cockpit before heading towards the direction Mando went just a few minutes ago.

After you reach the steel door, you let your knuckles hit it about three times, before hearing a muffled Come in coming from the other side.

Sliding the doors open you step inside of his room, as he stands in front of you, back facing you, still fully clothed. His helmet rotates slightly over his shoulder as he directs his voice to you.

“What is it?”

“You left your e-comm on top of the navigation panel.” you tell him, extending your hand as your feet follow and you get close to him “I know you always have it on you no matter what, so I brought it to you.” your hand softly lays the device on the table against which he was leaning. 

Your face comes dangerously close with the beskar on his shoulder blades and you swear that despite everything in you telling otherwise and that beskar is cold, that you could feel warmth irradiating from it.

Mando strangles a little thank you that you acknowledge with a nod of your head before awkwardly walking back and away from him.

What there was no way of you to be aware of was that the device was left back in the cockpit on purpose. Not in the sex bait type of way, but in the Will she notice this and hence confirm that she also bears some feelings for me for noticing such small things and being attentive enough to come and return it.

A fairly explicit and complex thought, he knew, but that’s exactly what you did to him. Or have been doing for the past year to his head. Although he might not be very skilled in articulating more than one single-worded phrase at a time, his mind is constantly racing. Constantly formulating this extremely clear ways of disclosing his true feeling for you that get stuck in his throat making it shake with anxiety and instead making him opt for the safer options of a simple thank you or You didn’t have to.

Like what he just did. He wanted to facepalm himself right there and then, weren’t it for your presence. 

But he’s had enough. This man has fought virtually every deadly creature in this planet and sure enough this little crush as he tried to convince himself so many times was the scariest of them all for him to face. But enough is enough.

“Y/N.” He croaks out, turning to face you.

You hum and turn around almost instantly, surprising yourself at how easily you reacted to him.

“I - ..... I,...” he tries. He really tries.

“You what, Mando?” you question, brows furrowed while taking slow steps towards him, worried that there is something wrong.

“I ... have...feelings for you.” Your cheeks heat up but you look down avoiding getting overly excited, as this could go one of two directions.

“What type of feelings?” you ask cautiously.

“Feelings.”  The padding inside of his helmet feel like fire right this moment, and the urge to curse himself has never been this strong. 

But you understand. And he sees that you understand by the way your eyes almost pop out of your sockets and your mouth hangs open.

“Oh.” you manage to voice before being struck by utter and absolute confusion “Me? You’re sure about that?.... I’m an absolute trainwreck of a person!”

The tension that he was holding in his body due to the confession suddenly left him in the form of a low chuckle, making you even more embarrassed. “I love you just the way you are.”

“You what?!” your heart stops.

“I...” that’s when it dawns on him what it just said. This man spent months hiding his feelings from you and, just like that, under a minute he goes from saying that he has feelings for you to telling you that he loves you.

“... I love you.” he says, this time more sure of himself.

You pause a moment and look at him, eyes surely meeting something behind his darkened visor and your expression softens.

“I... I think I love you to.” you finally admit, finally letting go of your own months of repressed feelings, that now so easily slipped out to the man in beskar in front of you.

Mando slowly walks up to you, praying that you don’t run away, all the while pulling at a piece of fabric that he had wrapped around his elbow. Your eyes follow his movements before looking up at him and nodding, knowing exactly what he is about to do.

His hands disappear behind your head and then you’re surrounded by darkness.

Being deprived of your vision heightens all of your senses and you can now very clearly hear his breathing. His unfiltered breathing.

“Did you...?” you ask, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Yes.”

His ungloved hand slowly finds your own, bringing your knuckles to meet his lips. You shiver at the contact. Slowly, he brings up his other hand to cradle your cheek, delicately replacing your knuckles with your lips.

You thoroughly melt against his touch, resting your hands upon his chest plate for some balance as he pulls you in closer, ever so gently. The kiss wasn’t too sloppy, but you could feel his inexpertness, but his lips were so soft that everything else was forgotten. And oh how you loved the tickle of his facial hair against you.

What began as a sweet kiss quickly escalates and the both walking into the nearest wall as his hands explore your clothed body, months of previously undiscovered sexual tension arising to the occasion and you could feel how excited he was getting.

The only pleasure Mando had even known had been at his own hand. And even that, he took care of as a chore,  a release of pressure, just getting himself off for the day so that he wouldn’t get distracted.

“Wait.” he pulls away, out of breath “I know that you want to take this further, but I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you query “Disappointed how?”

“I don’t know how to do this... I’ve never done this.” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you can imagine how he is motioning with his hands between the both of you.

“You’re a virgin?”

“Yeah.” he shyly admits, rubbing the back of his head.

“No, that’s - that’s completely fine. I just... wasn’t expecting it?”

“Why?”

“You’re a bounty hunter and, well, word runs on the streets. Besides, the way Xi’an spoke to you back when we went to that prison or the things she said, I thought-”

“Nothing ever happened. Not with her, not with anyone ever. She did try, several times, but I always pushed her away.” he couldn’t bear to have you think that there was ever anyone before you.

“Oh.”

“But I want to do it with you. Here, now.” he confesses, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure? I mean, having sex means that you’ll have to -” you begin, knowing fully well the implications

“I’m sure. I trust you.” he assures you with a gentle stroke on your cheek.

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

With your eyes still closed, you feel the knot in the back of your head loosen, and the pressure around your temples dissipating, slowly bating your eyes open. It was extremely dark in the room, but you could still make out some shapes, the disheveled curls and the prominent nose and his eyes. His eyes. You couldn’t make out what color they were but they were as dark as the sky outside this ship, with a slight glimmer as he looks down at you.

Haltingly, you lift your hand to his right cheek, stopping right next to it.

“Can I?” he nods and your rest your hand where you intended, and he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply and leaning into your touch, a pitiful look washing your face. “How long haven’t you been touched like this?”

“Since I swore to the Creed.” he confides, in a soft voice.

“That’s a long time.”

“I know.” he agrees and you bring your face close to his.

“Is this okay?” you question, not wanting to go to hard and break any boundaries.

“Yeah” Smiling up at him, you lean up and press your lips to the skin on the side of his neck, tugging down at his collar. Shuddering next to your ear, Din lets out a soft moan. 

Your hands roam the front of his body, before tapping against his chest plate.

“Can i take this off?”

“Please” he almost begs.

One by one, you remove the pieces of beskar that adorn his body, letting him discard of your own clothes after, and finally having you take off his last layer of clothing. This alternate game, painfully slow eased the nervousness out of the both of you - even though he was the inexperienced one, you were more nervous to be with him than you had with any other man.

The others were just quick affairs or one night stands, no one ever sticking around long enough to tell you the things he told you a few minutes ago. Always using you as a quick fix for whatever was wrong with their lives. But he was different. He was special, and you wanted to make this special for him, in return.

Once you both stood bare-skinned in front of each other, his hands sneak around your waist, cold skin making you hiss.

“Your hands are cold.” you whisper against his lips, that curiously explore your face.

“Sorry.” he mumbles

“It’s okay.”

You push the both of you in the bed, until the back of his knees hits its edge, and he sits down with you standing in between his legs.

“Y/N, I …um…I-I…I-I d-don’t know how to…”

“Shhh,” you mumble against his lips “It’s okay, I’ll start and when or if you feel comfortable you can take over. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

Returning to kiss his lips, you kneel down, breaking the kiss only when your skin hits the floor beneath you.  You place one of your hands on his toned stomach, gently pushing it so that he gets the hint and lays down on the bed. Running your hands up his legs, you feel his every muscle harden under your palms.

“Try and relax. I’m not going anywhere.”  Din leans his head back and moans softly as your hands work their way up and down his length. You can feel the way his body tenses up when your fingers wrap around his girth.

His fingers unconsciously find their way into your hair, gripping at it as you lick up and down the length of his cock. Every wet trail your tongue leaves pulling another pornographic moan from the man, each louder than the previous one.

You look up at him before opening your mouth and finally sinking onto him fully, earning a grunt of approval. 

“How does that feel?” you ask one time, bringing your lips to the top of his head, before popping away.

“Bloody great...”

When you feel that he is starting to get close, you pull away and quickly step onto the bed to straddle him and he instinctively sits up, face close to yours.

Taking the tip of his cock, you line it up with your entrance eager to work on your own pleasure “Can I?”

Looking down at him, he nods and you slowly sink down onto him, moaning at the way he agonizingly stretches you.

“Maker,” Din moans as you settle on his cock, all of his length buried deep inside of you. “Move, please.” He practically begs you.

“Give me your hands” you instruct and he obeys, you guiding his hands so that they are gripping the soft flesh of your hips.

You start slowly moving your hips up and down, grinding against his pelvis every time you come down on him. At first he doesn’t move, just letting you get used to your own rhythm but as soon as he gets more eager, his own hips start thrusting up to meet yours, joining you in perfect synchrony.

The hands that previously rested on your hips part ways in different directions, one of them coming up to cradle the back of you head and the other slides to rest on your bottom. Instinctively, you throw your arms against his shoulder, one hand finding the back of his head as you both keep thrusting. There was no getting closer than this - him buried balls deep inside of you all the while hugging you against his body.  

Groaning, he lifts his hips causing you to buckle your legs around his waist as he manages to flip you over, so that now he was the one on top.  You refrain from a moan to come out of your mouth.

“Seems like you’re getting the hang of it.”

He only chuckles against the curve of your neck, before resuming the rhythm at which he was working before.

“Y/N...Fuck”

“Mando...”

“It’s Din.” he lets out between breaths.

“What?” you pant.

“The name. It’s Din.”

The knot in your stomach begins to tighten, and your walls squeezing around his cock. Your moans become more frequent as you feel your high growing. You grab one of Din’s hands and guide it down to where your bodies are connected.

“Feel this?” you pant and he hums in response “The hard bud, it’s the clit. Rub it in circles. It feels good.” You guide his fingers a few times circling your clit and once you feel like he has the hang of it, you let him do it on his own. 

“Like this?” he pants, stroking it fast causing you to see stars.

“Exactly like that.”

You can feel your orgasm getting closer and by the way he is tensing, you can tell he is about to cum too, the only sounds in the room being those of your breathings and sloppy kisses, and your skin slapping together. 

Your hips connect one last time before your back arches off the bed, pressing your nipples against his soft chest and Din’s body tenses, groaning in pleasure as his hot cum dashes your insides. 

But he doesn’t stop rubbing your clit until you come down from your own high as he pulls out, rolling to your side, and you let out a soft whimper at the emptiness. 

You’re sprawled out next to him and looking over at you, he chuckles adoringly and wipes a bead of sweat from the side of your forehead before placing a kiss to it. You manage a soft smile, eyes meeting his.

His eyes then trace the shape of your body, glazing over the red handprints your hips and waist.

     You roll over onto your side, draping one hand over his chest as he wraps his arms around you gently, pulling you to him, and burying his face in your hair. You close your eyes and inhale his scent.

     “I love you.” You smile a bit but don’t open your eyes only whispering the same words as he smiles against your forehead, leaning down to kiss it before resting his chin on the top of your head as he holds you against his body for the rest of the night.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

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[spencersawkward]

I love your ff first of all, I'm obsessed and second of all I would ask you a suggestion, idk if maybe is that too much and you're totally free to not do that but you ever thought to do something in the line of the knive kink? I think it will be awesome

i'm so sorry this took so long! big thanks to my guardian angel @voidsfilm for giving me inspiration bc i literally struggled with this one more than i should have. never written a knife kink but i’m glad i tried lol.

summary: reader finds an antique knife that Matthew's kept in a drawer.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), knife play (no blood drawn), Soft!Dom MGG, degradation and praise.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

if there is one thing I absolutely despise, it's working out. getting sweaty, running until my legs hurt and my lungs are burning for air... not really my thing.

but when Matthew brought up the idea a couple months into our relationship, I couldn't say no to him: he had a goofy smile on his face and the kind of look in his eyes that made me relent and ask what kind of stuff he wanted to do.

I think that I've found the one thing that Matthew can't make fun.

"I'm gonna pass out." I bend over and set my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Matthew slows to a stop a few feet ahead, turning around and making a strained expression.

"oh, come on." but his voice is pretty breathless, too. he gently guides me off the path so that we don't get in the way of the other people out enjoying the day. a couple walks by us with their dog, strolling calmly, and I feel a rush of envy. if our workout routine had consisted of a few pleasant ambles around the city, I would have been totally willing.

"Matthew, I wanna go home." I whine impatiently. the only nice thing about this is that he's got one of those stupid sweatbands on his head to keep his hair out of his face, and it makes him look like a 1980's housewife.

"we can go home in fifteen minutes." he smiles, puts his hands on his hips, stretching in an exaggerated way.

"do you promise?" I brush a piece of hair out of my face.

"promise," he's lucky he looks so cute in his workout outfit. "we can even get one of those fancy juices for you on the way back."

"seriously?" I light up. this might actually be worth it; they have this amazing mango and lime combination that I can't ever manage to recreate with our own blender.

"if you beat me to the rock, then sure." he references the enormous boulder in Central Park that we both gawked at on our first date-- ever since then, it's been the end point for our runs. my lips curl into a grin.

"you're on." I take off, making sure to push him out of the way in order to gain a head start. he lets out something of a protestation but is quick to follow. I can feel his feet pounding behind me, trying to catch up.

I may not be good at running long distances, but I'm sure as hell faster than he is.

...

it's quiet when I step out of the bedroom, drying my hair with the towel and wandering into the living room. Matthew is sitting at the table with his sketchbook, drawing god knows what while he waits for me to finish up.

"what are you up to?" I ask softly as I plop down across from him. my head is slightly tilted while the towel rubs my scalp.

"I'm not really sure." he shrugs, frowning and holding up the notebook from a distance as if that'll help him figure out what to do.

"can I see when you're done?"

"of course," he sets it on the table again, then runs a fingertip across his chin. "actually, can you do me a favor?"

"sure."

"I have a set of colored pencils in the desk over there," he points to an old piece of furniture under the window. "would you mind getting them for me?"

"yep," I reply, getting up and leaving the towel on the table. "least I can do after kicking your ass."

on the walk past him, Matthew grabs my waist and pulls me into him, attacks me with tickles. I squeal and hit his shoulder.

"stop!" I laugh.

"you barely beat me!" he gives a dazzling smile and finally lets me go. I lightly smack him upside the head and head over to the desk, rifling through the drawers for the colored pencils he wanted.

as I push around various art supplies, glue sticks and random paintbrushes that look to be on the brink of falling apart, my fingers pass something cool and metallic. I grab the thing and pull it out.

it's a knife; like, a fancy one with an intricately decorated handle and what seems to be a pretty dulled edge. before he can notice what I've found, I start to move the thing between my hands curiously. there's a nice weight to it, but it's definitely old.

"hey, Matthew?" I ask warily.

"yeah?" so unassuming and sweet.

"why do you have a knife?"

there's a scratching as he gets up from the table to walk over to me. I lean against the desk. Matthew doesn't seem too bothered by what I'm saying at all, only gently taking the weapon out of my hands and examining it himself.

"oh, yeah!" he lets out something like a laugh. I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to continue. "do you remember when we went antiquing in Cape Cod, like, a month ago?"

"yeah." I nod at the memory. he'd been lucky enough to get some vacation days and we'd spent them sitting by the water with glasses of wine and nothing but time to talk. it really was a great trip, now that I think about it.

"I found it there." he still hasn't looked up and I realize that there's something he's not telling me. I don't know what I'm missing, but I start to get nervous.

"...why?"

"I was gonna ask then, but I guess I just forgot." his tongue darts out across his bottom lip as he lifts his face to meet my gaze. my heart thuds when he opens his mouth again. "I kinda wanted to try something."

"like?"

"I've been thinking about maybe using knives... in a sexual way."

"what?" I frown, confused by his wording. Matthew seems to realize that he's phrased it awkwardly and shifts his stance. he keeps glancing between the object and my face like he's worried about scaring me away.

"I don't mean I'm gonna stab you or anything," he laughs. "I just mean I think it sounds fun."

my hand finds his, brushing my palm over the steel to touch it myself again. there's a curiosity that burns through me now, something I'm a little unsure about but not enough so to deny the possibility of trying it.

"what do you wanna do with it?" I peek up at him. he bites his lip. we're speaking in gentle tones and I notice that our bodies have gotten closer within the last few moments. a warmth, a tension.

"like, pressing the blade flat against your skin while I fuck you." he takes the thing and demonstrates. the cool silver rests on my neck, too dull to really threaten a serious cut if he were to move too quickly. a shiver runs down my spine at the sensation of the metal.

I gulp, feel the curve of my throat push against it when I swallow. it's nice.

"oh." is all I say. Matthew is watching me intently, but he doesn't make any motion away from it. like he's entranced by the sight of me with a knife to my throat.

"are you interested?" he asks.

I mull it over. on the one hand, weapon play is something I've never considered in my sex life before. Matthew and I aren't vanilla, but this hasn't crossed my mind. that said, now that I can really feel it, there is a desire forming in my stomach. it would be a strange, new sensation.

"yes." the confirmation makes him smile a little. he lowers the thing and instead wraps me in his arms, kisses me passionately until our tongues are dancing over each other. I love how he holds me, our torsos against each other while my body leans slightly back to accept the weight of his touch.

he goes to my head like alcohol. and it's even more surreal when I feel the blade move under the hem of my shirt to rest against my back. I smile into his mouth. he doesn't do anything with it, just leaves it to remind me.

he starts to rut his hips against my lower stomach, getting aroused at the proximity of our bodies and the heated nature of our kiss. there's an urgency to all of it, like he's holding back. I don't want him to hold back; I want him to give me everything he has, everything beneath the surface.

my fingers twine in his hair and tug on the ends, causing him to groan into our embrace. there's no way we're going to make it all the way to the bedroom with the way he's grabbing at my body, so I stumble backwards towards the couch until the backs of my thighs hit the arm of it.

"you're horny." I giggle slightly when he pushes the hem of my shirt up my body, his nails dragging over my ribcage and trailing the object along with it. I feel the excitement growing.

"I'm just glad you're willing to try this." he murmurs the words, holds our foreheads together before his lips eagerly seek mine out, again. somehow, even with a weapon leveled against me, I can sense the love in every single action. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't trust him to treat me with the utmost care.

I work at the buttons of his shirt, pushing it over his lovely shoulders and arms as he unclasps my bra. we're fervent, greedy in our movements, trying to kiss despite the attention needed to remove our clothes. mostly we just tangle up in each other until there's nothing left but my shorts for him to shove down my legs. he keeps his pants on.

"c'mon, beautiful." he mutters, pushing my legs open so that I'm sitting on the arm of the couch. he tilts my head and leans closer to suck on my bottom lip, and then starts to massage my tits. I can feel the handle of the weapon against my nipple.

when he reaches to slide his finger between my folds, I hiss out a breath at the cold sensation of his skin.

"is this because of me or the knife, baby?" he asks, corners of his mouth twitching up while I moan into his mouth. he starts to rub my clit with the collected wetness, teasing me too much. I want to fall back, but I can't. I won't let myself.

"both." I find myself turned on by the way the blade sits against my ribs again. the edge is just sharp enough to elicit a reaction from my body.

"feel that?" he angles the thing the slightest bit. I exhale and nod.

that isn't the response he's looking for, however, because he moves it so that it's under my chin. goosebumps on my skin while I pant uselessly against the weapon. I can feel it press harder with every breath out of my lungs, and I love it. I love the risk it brings out of me.

while Matthew dips his index inside my pussy, I writhe against it and tilt my head even more so he has better access.

"look at you," he lets out a dark chuckle, thrusts into me to the last digit. "you want more of this, don't you?"

"yes, sir." I breathe. my neck is actively moving against the metal. I glance down at his body and see his erection straining against his pants, craving release but finding none as he plunges his fingers in and out of me. I can hardly breathe from sheer focus on the sensations he's giving me right now.

"what are you looking at, sweetheart?" he quickens the pace of his movements and uses the object to make me focus on his face.

"you're hard." the words nearly die on my lips. he stares darkly at me, lifting his brows just enough to make me question whether I should have spoken at all. I bite my lip in anticipation.

"and what are you gonna do about it?" his voice is raspy as he stands back, removes his fingers from my pussy, and lets me drop to my knees. I'm weak both from the stimulation and from the loss of it, but I make quick work of undoing his belt, pulling the pants down his legs until I'm face-to-face with his cock. it sits against his stomach, throbbing impatiently while he watches. he uses the metallic point under my jaw to angle my face up to his.

"are you gonna suck me off, baby?" he smirks. I nod rigorously with wide eyes and an open mouth, dragging my tongue along the underside. Matthew's nose scrunches up for a moment at the shock of contact when I tease the head. all his concentration is on watching me wrap my hand around the shaft and pumping him gently. "spit on it."

I obey and spit right onto the tip before rubbing my thumb over the top to gather the precum. as I start to swirl my tongue and move my lips onto him, he throws his head back, lets out a wanton noise. it urges me on. I take every moment with a deliberate attention to the veins and sensitive spot he has.

"that's it, that's it." he rasps while knotting his hand in my hair. the other keeps the knife pressed to my throat. he lets me move on my own for a bit, gauging my desires from the way my eyes attempt to memorize the sight of his face above me, that jaw dropped in licentious craving. I can tell that he wants to fuck my face, but I go slow just to draw it out a little. it makes the soreness of my jaw worth it when he gets all impatient and flustered.

I hollow my cheeks and bob on his dick, bat my lashes, pull myself off him for a second just to kiss the tip.

"can I use your mouth?" he asks through a restrained groan. I open it and nod, sighing at the feeling of his fingers twining through my hair again before he pushes back into the opening. now that he's got full control, he starts to develop his own movements, sometimes meeting his thrusts by pressing my face against him.

he gets deep in it, never losing his grip on the knife, until my nose is pressed to his stomach. my throat closes instinctively around him even more tightly, and he lets out a guttural moan.

"such a cute mouth when I'm using it." he thrusts until I gag and then he's smiling. "get up."

he removes himself so fast, my eyes water at the sudden lack of blockage in my throat. I gulp air while he hooks his hands under my arms and hoists me up. I'm about to turn around so I can lift my leg and give him better access, but he sits me on the arm of the couch and parts my thighs.

"I wanna see your pretty face." he leans down and pecks my cheek. I smile at the surprising tenderness-- although it doesn't last long. steel sits against the space between my neck and collarbone. it's only a moment before he positions himself between my legs and slides his cock into me.

my back arches and I look him in the eyes, gasping.

"fuck, baby." he drags out the first word as he inches inside. I mewl helplessly at the way he stretches me out, my pussy clenching every few seconds. he keeps one hand on my lower back to support me and bring me closer to his pelvis, and then we're staring into each other's eyes as he finally settles in it.

his hips start to thrust into me, hopeful for any kind of contact while I accustom myself to the shape of him. it happens every time, despite the amount of times we've done this. and I'm bad at patience, but he's worse. his body stutters against mine.

"is it good enough, sir?" I ask quietly. he tightens his grip on my back and on the blade, the edge threatening my skin the perfect amount. I suck in a breath at the way it stings a little.

"you're doing perfectly." he recognizes what I want to hear as he finds my sweet spot and begins to hit it repeatedly, smoothly works my body. I swear there are planets in my eyes when I stare at the expressions on his face, both of us so wrapped up in each other that every other thought becomes obsolete.

he moves the knife to under my chin to rest on my throat.

"feel that?"

I nod so the edge bites more. he smirks.

"just to show you who you belong to."

my hips push up to meet his thrusts, needing more stimulation, more friction. what I want is for him to be relentless, to slam into my body with the kind of hunger I know he has. there are sounds, movements, that he's made before that make me want him to use them. but he's withholding, probably hesitant about the dangerous object on my pulse point.

"I belong to you, sir." I egg him on. he likes the sound of that, grunting and starting to pound into me.

"yeah? you're my dirty little whore." he speaks through gritted teeth. I shiver.

"mhmm."

"I use you how I want, when I want." his fingertips dig into my skin and he yanks me closer so that he can hit a new angle. I let out a surprised noise when he brushes my g-spot. it's otherworldly and I expose more of my neck to him.

"my little slut likes pain, huh?" he nudges the weapon harder into my skin. it doesn't draw blood, but I can sense the mark it'll leave. I love it.

"yes, sir." we're both getting needy, but we can't hold each other the way that we want to in our given positions. my palms are occupied on the arm of the couch to hold myself up and one of his hands is too busy holding the object for us to fuck as deeply as we need.

"are you gonna take it like a good girl when I cum in it?" he mutters. he runs his tongue over my jawline and the weapon nicks my skin. I moan at the mingling of sensations that's building all across my body.

"yes, sir." I plead. it's nearly unbearable, how much I want him. we're chasing our orgasms and I know what will finish me off. he knows, too.

Matthew drops the knife. it clatters to the ground, but there's no time for me to register it with the way he grabs my hips and lifts me into the air, my legs wrapping around his waist while he keeps fucking into me. he maneuvers us with shocking ease, laying me on the couch and positioning himself at the right moment so that I can drag my nails over his back and keep my thighs locked around him.

"mmm... baby, I'm gonna cum." he drives into me recklessly, both of us finally able to cling to each other. the angle is just enough to stimulate my clit and I nod, using the leverage of my legs to pull myself to him and roll my hips for friction.

Matthew slams my body into the couch, grunting in my ear as he finds his climax inside me. it's so deep, I have to work to keep the yell inside, but he's not done. he rides it out and plows into me while I reach the edge.

"tell me how it feels." he orders in my ear. I sigh.

"so-- so good, sir." my voice is thin. "I'm close."

"show me." he leaves bruises on my hips with his hands. I feel the knot finally snap, every muscle in my stomach spasming chaotically. I finish with a loud moan, begging him to drag it out further. my vision nearly goes black at the tide that threatens to overtake my body.

"Matthew--" I gasp. he moans quietly at the way I say his name, still rocking his body into mine while I come down from the shocks of orgasm. it's nearly overwhelming, the pleasure running through my body.

slowly, we come to a stillness and he drops his head into my shoulder, panting. he doesn't let go at first, but then he withdraws from my pussy and lets me take a rest. I lay there on the couch while he kneels between my legs, pressing gentle kisses to my neck.

"I love you." he repeats it over and over.

"I love you, too," I hope he can feel the meaning, despite the sheer exhaustion in my tone. he runs his fingertips across the red marks where the thing went a little too deeply, but I'm not worried about it. "we should try that again, sometime."

"you liked it?" he smiles brightly. I love the lines by his eyes.

"definitely."

he lets out a cheerful noise and buries his face back into my throat because he knows how much it tickles. I screech and giggle, my legs kicking wildly around me. more contented than ever before.

[pillage-and-lute]

Eskel is a Fanboy (Part 2, Electric Boogaloo)

This is a second part of this. Which in turn was inspired by this.

Please note, this is less funny and a little deeper than the first part, despite the title. Discussions of FEELINGS, hardcore, but also the trials. Brief mention of hypothermia.

Read it here on Ao3

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

Geralt arrived late that year. Vesemir had been pacing the corridors, a worry line between his brows, for the last week. The snows were getting worse and worse and innocent snowflakes joined other completely harmless snowflakes until a very un-harmless amount of snow had piled on the track and the passes. 

Lambert, alongside Aiden (another reason for the creases on Vesemir’s brow) lounged in the great hall, completely unconcerned. 

“He’s stayed later and later every year,” Lambert said, lazily. “He keeps lingering with that bard of his. Why should this year be any different?” His eyes were half closed as Aiden played idly with his hair.

“If he doesn’t get here in the next two days he’ll be too late,” Vesemir snapped.

“I recognize I’m the outsider, here,” Aiden said. “But I don’t always winter with my troupe, and Lambert occasionally spends winters away...”

Eskel shook his head. The constant bickering was impacting his reading and he’d long ago marked his place in his book and set it aside. “Not Geralt,” he said with certainty. “He always winters at home.”

Aiden levelled a chilly, yellow gaze. “You love him.”

“He’s my brother in arms.”

“He’s special to you.”

Eskel wanted to growl and snap, but Aiden wasn’t saying it in a malicious way. There was no threat or accusation in his words. If there had been it would have been pure hypocrisy, what with the way Lambert currently lay in his lap. Eskel had spent a week pretending not to see the pairs’ furtive kisses.

“He is special to me,” Eskel said at last. “I found him, after his second trial, was given special allowance to be away from training to help him. Whatever happened, with the mutagens, he was deaf and blind for nearly two weeks. And had as much strength as a kitten.”

Vesemir’s pacing gained a sharper edge. “I wish I’d killed the mage that called for that second trial.” He said. Lambert and Eskel made eye contact, they were familiar with the self loathing in Vesemir’s voice. Lambert was angry at the world and his whole situation, but they had all forgiven Vesemir years ago. There was no choice but to mend bridges with a pack so small. Still, they rarely talked about it.

“You killed the mage that called for his third,” Eskel said, quietly.

Aiden’s head jerked up. He’d been a witcher, albeit a different school. He knew the trials, he knew the pain, but three trials... “They tried...?”

Eskel nodded his confirmation. “Geralt survived, and the mages who ran the trials wanted to see how many he could take.”

“So I split his throat on my knife,” Vesemir said. There was no satisfaction in his tone, but just an empty statement of action.

“I didn’t know it was you that killed the mage,” Lambert said. “I just knew one had been killed for the suggestion. I heard they made the witcher drink hemlock as punishment.” There was a warmer light of respect in Lambert’s eyes than usually shone there.

“They did,” Vesemir said. “It didn’t kill me.”

That was it for conversation that night, but Eskel went to bed thinking about Aiden’s words. 

He’s special to you. 

Geralt was special to him. There was an understanding, something gentle and kind between them. Geralt and Eskel lived their separate lives and had lovers and adventures. But for three months of the year they had each other.

Eskel had sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with him. He never gave his heart to anyone. Sex meant nothing and love didn’t happen, and he could only love Geralt for three months at a time. 

Except that wasn’t true at all, because of course Eskel loved Geralt all the time. It was only a softer kind of love than he read about in poetry. He didn’t need fiery passion and desperate declarations of love. He had a steady love for Geralt, as sure as the beating of his heart. It was as good a love story as any, but now Geralt had his bard and a tiny, hidden part of Eskel whispered “If Only.”

If only he and Geralt could lounge like Aiden and Lambert, to pet each others’ hair and share small kisses in the corners. If only Eskel really had Geralt for those three months. He had no doubt that the feelings were mutual, but something in their lives had been built apart, and it would take something powerful to shape them anew.

The next evening brought a blizzard. And Geralt.

It took both Aiden and Lambert to shut the door behind Geralt with the way the wind blew in around him. It curled and flickered shards of ice through the air that melted in the heat of the hall, dampening Geralt’s old, black cloak. Which he was holding around himself like a cocoon. Vesemir took Geralts cloak for him, which revealed what he’d been holding. 

Huddled against Geralt, nose red and face pale, was a young man in a blue cloak. 

Geralt bundled him in front of the fire without a word, pulling away the damp cloak and hanging it to dry. Vesemir brought blankets as Geralt pried the instrument case from the man’s hands.

A lute case.

Eskel’s pulse picked up. This was obviously the bard. This was Jaskier, Oxenfurt’s most prodigious poet. He’d studied with Rumi and Alighieri and Li Bai. In just a few years he’d reformed witchers’ reputations. They’d all been treated better these past few years. More money, less tar and feathers. Eskel went to sit beside Jaskier to beg him for stories but Geralt met his gaze, smiled softly, and shook his head.

Eskel restrained himself. Jaskier was clearly staving off shock from the cold, as well as hypothermia. Instead of doing what he really wanted to do (lay himself prone at Jaskier’s feet and worship his skill with words) he put on a kettle for tea. 

Aiden and Lambert make eye contact with each other, nod to Geralt, and leave. Vesemir also makes a tactful retreat. This time was just for Eskel and Geralt. And the bard shivering on a pile of cushions next to the fire. 

“He had a hard time on the Killer,” Geralt said, quietly.

“It’s called the Killer for a reason.”

“He begged me to come, I told him it would be too dangerous,” Geralt whispered. “He followed me and I couldn’t make him leave, that’s why I was late.”

“Vesemir’s been worried,” Eskel said, staring at the fire. He sat on the cushions, beside the bard, without taking his eyes from the coals. Geralt sat on the other side of Jaskier, rubbing carefully over the bard’s chilly hands, pulling off the woolen mittens and gently warming each knuckle.

“I had to go slower for him,” Geralt said. Between the two of them, the bard seemed mostly asleep. His eyelashes flickered on his cheeks, struggling to stay open.

“You can sleep,” Eskel whispered. “You’ll wake up, you’re cold but not in danger.” He took the other chilly hand. “Just sleep.”

Blue eyes slipped closed and Eskel took the kettle off the fire so it didn’t whistle. 

“He was so desperate to be here, he wanted to see the Keep,” Geralt said. “And I wanted him to come. To meet you.”

“I did make you promise I’d get to meet him,” Eskel said, sitting back down and resting a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I think I’ve read everything he’s ever written.”

“That’s not why I wanted him to meet you,” Geralt said.

Eskel’s breath caught. They were talking about it, sort of. “I know,” he said.

The bard curled up a little, like a nautilus shell. Geralt lay down on the cushions behind him and Eskel made himself comfortable. Sleep and warmth and the smell of the pine fire lulled him slowly to sleep. Just as he was drifting off, Jaskier reached out in his sleep and placed one hand, less chilly than it was, on Eskel’s arm. It stayed there until the morning.

“So True Love’s Waste wasn’t inspired by a person?” Eskel asked over breakfast, mouth full of porridge. 

Jaskier shook his head, gulping down hot tea. “No, I was out on a bender with some friends and we saw this washerwoman’s cat trying to catch a soap bubble, right?”

Eskel nodded, entranced.

“It was so totally focused on catching this soap bubble, it’s eyes were all wide and determined, like all it wanted was the bubble, but when it caught the bubble...”

“It popped,” Eskel laughed. “And you wrote a poem that has been deemed the best love poem of the last hundred years about it.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Art is more trite and derivative than people think.”

Eskel reached out and touched Jaskier’s wrist, looking into those heavily-lashed eyes. “Your work could never be called trite, or derivative.”

Behind Jaskier, Eskel saw something flash in Geralt’s eyes, and he stood from the table, clearing his plate, but then Jaskier was telling a story about Rumi, his former professor, and Eskel’s attention was diverted.

The next week passed in peace, for the most part. Repairs to the keep were ongoing, but halted when the snow was heavy. Vesemir kept them training and the library, neglected by all but Eskel, kept Jaskier busy. At mealtimes and in the evenings Eskel and Jaskier chatted about art and music and life on the Path. But Geralt was subdued, something tired and sad gleaming in his golden eyes. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he fled when Eskel tried.

It hurt, that Geralt suddenly wouldn’t talk to him, but Eskel knew the white wolf better than anyone, so he cornered him in the training yard one afternoon and pinned him down.

“Talk. To. Me,” he panted, grinding Geralt’s shoulders into the flagstones.

“Nothing to say,” Geralt grunted.

“Bullshit.”

“Nothing!”

“You keep hiding! It’s not nothing!”

Geralt kicked his feet up, flipping them both over and freeing himself. He stood over Eskel who was still laying on the ground. “You can have him,” he said, beginning to walk away.

Eskel snagged his ankle, bringing his idiot wolf down to the ground without remorse. “You’re stupid.”

“I’m not, he adores you. You have so much in common, it makes sense.”

Eskel remembered the conversation of the year before. Please don’t take my bard.

“I’m not taking your lover boy from you,” he snapped.

“He’s not my lover boy.”

“He would be if you would only ask him.”

“He deserves better.”

“He wants you.”

“He wants you,” Geralt howled. “He looks at you like you got out a ladder and personally nailed the moon to the sky. Every time you talk he hangs on your words.”

“He looks at you the same way,” Eskel said, quietly. “And I...” He paused. This was so close to the thing they never talked about.

“You don’t look at me that way,” Geralt whispered.

“But I feel it all the same.”

The admission rang in the empty training yard, despite it being barely a whisper.

“I want you to have him, to be with him, because the two of you are made for eachother. It was obvious to me before you’d even met. I just wish,” Geralt stopped, his voice growing tight. 

“What do you wish?”

“I just hate that it hurts so much. I love you both, I do, so so much, and all I want is you two happy, and you’ll be happy together, but I just wish it didn’t cut me out.”

Eskel rolled over and bumped his forehead to Geralt’s. There were tear tracks in the dirt there. “It doesn’t have to. That’s a silly rule and you made it up for yourself. I love you both and he loves us both, so you can have us both.”

Geralt sat up, bringing Eskel with him, then pulled him into a kiss that burned. It was a simple press of their lips together but Eskel felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Oh,” came a quiet voice from the nearby doorway. Jaskier was standing there, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “I’ll just--”

“Stay,” Eskel said, chuckling. He pulled Jaskier down to sit on the flagstones with them. “I think Geralt has something he wants to tell you.”

Geralt looked nervous. He swallowed a couple times, eyes darting over Jaskier’s face. “I...” He said. “Um, what Eskel means is that... um, I”

“Oh you great big oaf,” Eskel said. “Jaskier, he loves you, he’s absolutely mad about you. He just can’t say it because he loves me too and it’s taken him the better part of a century to tell me.”

Jaskier beamed, his blush growing. “And you?” he said.

“I’m not sure I love you yet,” Eskel said. “But I think I will.”

“I think I will too,” Jaskier said, then he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to Eskel’s lips, off center, so it brushed his scar and part of his cheek too. Then he kissed Geralt the same way. 

“Aiden’s going to be so pissed that he lost the bet,” Jaskier said, as if he hadn’t just rocked both witchers’ worlds with a mere kiss. “He bet Lambert you wouldn’t figure it out until next week.”

“You knew,” Eskel said, touching the tips of his fingers to where his face was still tingling from the kiss.

“They way Geralt talks about you, well...” Jaskier said, smiling at Geralt. “And then the way you talk about him,” he smiled at Eskel. “And the way you both look at me, I knew. I just wasn’t sure you knew.” His smile shifted into something bashful and a little insecure. It was an odd look on his normally confident face. “And it seemed too much to assume you both would really want me, I’m not all,” he gestured at his shoulders and arms, obviously comparing their builds.

Eskel couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “We don’t care about that,” he said, carding his hand through Jaskier’s hair and revelling in the way the bard leaned into his touch. “I’ve seen Geralt with a face full of pimples, and I mean full, and that was back when he was calling himself Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde. It isn’t about looks.” He trailed his eyes across Jaskier. “And even if it was we wouldn’t find you wanting.”

“He’s right,” Geralt said, pressing a little kiss right behind Jaskier’s ear. “We find nothing about you wanting.”

“You both are going to leave me wanting if you’re not careful,” Jaskier whined, borderline laciviously. He leaned back against Geralt and pulled Eskel closer, kissing Eskel’s cheek chastely in spite of his words. When he turned to kiss Geralt’s cheek too Eskel nuzzled closer, feeling Geralt’s arms pull him into the pair of them.

“You have to promise to write me into your poetry, after all this,” he said.

Jaskier laughed, head tilting back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “As if I haven’t already,” he whispered. 

Three months later the great bard Jaskier debuted his latest poetry anthology. Silver and Steel was praised by academics across the continent, although the line about being eaten alive was highly debated. Jaskier’s sudden penchant for high collars might have answered the questions, but he wasn’t about to give away the secret. 

[milazka]

someone said they left together |𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

harry and charlie polaroids

warnings: sex, swearing, choking, underrage drinking, little age gap.

last thought: sorry for the delay! i had to finish all my exams before starting this and i had the white page syndrom for a few days, but now i’m back! i hope you will like it! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

The warm weather of September had recently given way to the raining days of October. It has always been her least favorite month; first, she was forced to remain confined to the four walls of her home. Second, she hated halloween and everything that came with it. Third, her father always spent most of his time in the hospital due to limited staff resources or locked in his office with his patients files. Rain flowing down her window accompanied by Sweater Weather echoing in her dimly lit room only makes her boredom worse. She misses the summer evenings working on Marcus' motorcycle or staying up until the early hours of the morning, drinking cheap wine on the roof of her house.

Touch my neck and I'll touch yours

A shiver runs down her spine at the words. It’s been more than a week since his perfectly shaped face was buried between her shaking thighs; she can still remember exactly how his big paw-like hands gripping her thighs felt. Her face heats up and flush at the thought of being in that position with him again. It had been more than a year since she had orgasmed this hard with a man.

Realising her father will most likely be stuck in his office for the whole evening, she slips on her favorite oversized flannel over her black hoodie and grabs the camera on her desk before walking down the hardwood stairs.

"I'm going to be at Marcus'!" she shouts to his dad who looks at a white sheet of paper, eyebrows furrowed. "Just text me if you're leaving for the hospital so I know you need me to come back and take care of Brady," she pets the little dog on the head before closing the door behind her.

The droplets of rain glide along her face despite her hood pulled back over her head. As soon as she reaches Marcus’ bedroom window, she can’t help but laugh at his awkward position; he is laying on his bed, his head upside down in the void. 

“Are you drunk, stoned, or just stupid?” she looks amused, a smile slipping on her lips as she stands in front of him, taking a picture of him with her disposable camera. 

“All of them,” he smiles clumsily, patting the mattress on his left to encourage her to lay down by his side. Upside down like him, she feels the blood flowing to her head, making her feel a bit lightheaded.

“Why don’t we join Max and the others downstairs?” she suggests, sitting at the end of his bed, feeling the blood leave her head. “We have nothing else to do and you already smoked the last blunt without me,” she emphasizes the fact that he didn't wait for her, which amuses him.

“Alright, let me change and I'll meet you downstairs,” he sighs; he knows that she gets along with her twin and her friends more than him.

The multicolored lights flash to the rhythm of the music. Her eyes take a few moments to get used to the intense lighting while she pours some vodka and orange juice in a red solo cup. 

“Hey pretty girl, would you pour me one of those?” this voice, she could recognize it among hundreds. She turns around instantly, meeting two ocean irises and a smile that awakens millions of butterflies in her tummy.

“Harry!” she smiles, slipping her arms around his neck, burying her nose in the crook of his neck while his hands grab her hips firmly. The familiar fragrance of Giorgio Armani tickles her senses, bringing back memories from two years ago. “I thought you were still in Indiana?” she says, pulling back from the hug to face him. 

God, she missed those blue eyes and perfect blond hair. 

“I’m just visiting my family for the week,” his hands lightly squeeze her hips like he used to do, making her weak in the knees. “Jordan told me Maxine was having a little get together and I had nothing better to do,“ he laughs, deliberately omitting to say that he was hoping to run into her. 

“I missed you,” she admits, her thumb caressing his cheek. 

“I missed you too, pretty girl,” he kisses the palm of her hand, making her blush and lose the last ounce of self control that she had left. 

He was her first. 

Her first kiss.

Her first date.

Her first 'i love you'

Her first time.

Her first heartbreak.

It’s probably the emotion of the moment mixed with the alcohol flowing in her veins, but her eyes get lost in his and their lips collide in a fiery kiss. She can taste the last bit of beer on his lips when she bites his bottom lip, stealing a grunt from him that makes her core throb in desire. Both of his hands cup her face as his tongue slips into her mouth to move in sync with hers. 

“Take me to your place,” she whimpers against his lips, pulling on his belt so that their crotches collide. 

─── ° • ❀ ───

“Have you seen Charlie?” Marcus asks Abby as he pours himself a drink.

“Last time I saw her, she was with Harry,” she answers, grabbing a few cans of beer in her hands. 

His heart tightens at the mention of this name. Harry was Charlie's first boyfriend and her first heartbreak. Marcus clearly remembers the day he picked her up in crumbs after they decided to break up because Harry was going to Indiana to play quarterback for the University of Notre Dame. Marcus never really liked him; Harry had always had a reputation for sleeping with girls and wasn't the type to have girlfriends. It surprised everyone in school the day he arrived hand in hand with Charlie. She was the first girl to win his heart. Six years younger than him, she had him wrapped around her finger for two years. 

“Do you know where they are?” he tries to look unaffected by the whole thing.

“Someone said they left together,” Brodie shrugs, taking a sip of his beer, not noticing the way Marcus' face drops. 

─── ° • ❀ ───

As soon as they reach Harry’s room, his lips meet hers while he waste no time to sit her on his old school desk. Her fingers lace across his hips, pulling him close to get the friction she is desperate for. Her hands find their place at the back of his neck while he grabs the bottom of her black hoodie, peeling it off her body in no time and does the same thing with her jeans. Charlie starts to grind on his crotch, moaning silently at the feeling of his hard on. 

“Fuck… you’re…so hot...” his jaw goes sharp in hunger as he takes a look at her perfect boobs squeezed in a forest green lace bra. She almost rips his shirt off when she pulls the black clothing from him, biting her bottom at the sight of his toned chest. His lips are reddened and swollen from the kiss, hair messy like she loves. Her hands roam his chest, feeling his abs tense under her touch. She squeeze her legs around his hips, sending him a clear message of her intentions. 

“Eager, ma’am?” he teases her, slowly unzipping his belt until his erection is only contained in his briefs. He presses his hard on against her core, rubbing himself up and down. The whimpers leaving Charlie’s parted lips are like music to his ears as his lips suck the sensitive skin of her neck. “Fuck, I’ve missed this…” she moans, tugging at the roots of his hair while his mouth works wonder on her neck.

In one harsh motion, he lays her down on his bed, hovering above her until his lips crash against hers. His hand slides down into her underwear, running two of his fingers up her slit. She groans when his fingers graze her clit, slowly circling the bundle of nerves.

“Please… I want you,” she begs, her hands grabbing his biceps. 

“Say it again,” he demands, applying more pressure on her clit until she starts to squirm under him. 

“I want you,” she cries out. “I fucking need you.”

Charlie’s legs spread open on either side of him, he grabs the lace underwear off her body, lifting her legs up in the air as he slides the material off her ankles. Completely naked on his bed, she remembers the first time they did it, how safe she felt with him. She blushes when she notices the way he bites his bottom lips as his gaze travels down her body. He pulls out a silver square foil from his jeans pocket, ripping the corner open. 

“You sure about this?” he asks one last time in all seriousness. She nods quickly, lifting herself on her elbows to kiss his plump lips. A smirk curves up his face as he wraps one of her thighs around his waist and throws the other over his shoulder, kissing the ankle bone next to his head. He takes his tip, running it up and down her slit in tease. Holding himself in place, he slowly push his hips forward, a whimper escaping the back of her throat at the so desired feeling. He lets out a heavy exhale when his hips meet the back of her thighs. 

“Fuck Charlz...you feel so good,” he cusses in pleasure.

He slowly pulls back and rolls forward, letting her get adjusted to him. She feels lightheaded; she missed this feeling of fulfillment that he had always given her and the way he can be gentle and rough with her at the same time. 

“Harry...fuck, harder…” she moans, eager for him to rock his body into hers. He immediately picks up speed, sending a wave of warmth pleasure in her lower stomach. Trembling whines leave her parted lips as he rolls his hips in a perfect rhythm. He had always known what angles and speed felt good for her, he loved to watch her lose control under his touch. Her stomach starts to spin, the familiar warm feeling starting to grow in her lower abdomen. 

“Shit, right there!” she cries out, her nails digging into his skin. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he encourages her, squeezing her hips firmly to the point of leaving a dark red mark. She hums, eyes shut under the pleasure. His hands slide further up her body, meeting her throat where he wraps both hands. The pornographic moan that escapes her lips when he applies pressure around her throat makes his dick twitch. 

“You missed being choke, didn’t you?” he whispers darkly, rocking his hips harder to hit the right spot. She whines in response, clenching around him as his grip on her becomes tighter. He crashes his lips on hers, kissing her without slowing down his pace. She digs her hands into his hair, yanking it hard. He moans into the kiss, his hand around her throat tightening. 

“You still like it when I pull your hair?” she says in a cocky way, pulling his blond locks harder. She knows he likes to be in control. He grunts into the top of her shoulders, rocking his body roughly into her. He brings his thumb in her mouth, lubricating it with her own saliva before bringing it between their bodies. She gasps at the sudden feeling on her sensitive nerves, whining as he starts to circle it with the pad of his thumb. It doesn’t take long for her to start feeling the familiar feeling of her orgasm. Her jaw drops as she feels the wave of bliss rolling up her body. 

“Oh shit!” she screams, her core pulsating around him and her head getting filled with hot air. 

“Give it to me, pretty girl,” his raspy voice sends her over the edge and he soon follows, thrusting fast into her as they both ride out their orgasm. His forehead crashes to her chest in total exhaustion, heavy breath leaving his parted lips. They both catch their breath, his hands engulfing her sides. He slowly pulls up and locks his eyes into hers. 

“I’ve really missed you, pretty girl.”

─── ° • ❀ ───

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