#How nice it would be to think that perhaps I simply have a different

[darknessembrxced]

Was part of the worry and the need to check on her simply due to the fact the bar was crowded? Maybe. Was it a level of worrying that someone was going to come and harass her? Yeah, that did play a factor into it. Hunter wasn't one to examine his feelings too closely. So, he didn't want to bring to light the feeling that he didn't like being too far from her. This was a woman that he had met that evening. She couldn't be allowed to throw his entire world into a tailspin. Yet, there was something there that was so entirely different from everyone and anything else. A sense of connection that he had with only a small handful of other people. An important thing that couldn't be overlooked. Not when it felt bigger than simply this very moment.

Hunter shook his head at the tease, leaning back in his head and placing a hand over his heart, as if she had wounded him with the very notion of it all. To be this free and relaxed, to be able to goof around was not a privilege that everyone had. A fact that she could not have known about and he wasn't about to enlighten her to the fact.

"I bring you here to save you from jumping out a window and this is how you repay me? Insulting my good name and trying to say I'm robbing the cradle. I don't know what I'm going to do. Evening ruined. This is what I get for being nice." There was no way to stop the smile that remained, entirely cutting any risk of the words being taken seriously. A long pull of his beer was taken as a means to soothe the anguish. "Being called old. A man's ego will never recover. I'll just have to give up my job and go into hiding now. Never to be seen again." Barely was he able to restrain the laughter that threatened to ruin the end of the sentence. Though, he did outright laugh as she tried the offended route herself.

"Cocktails and wine are boring," he offered with a playful smile. "We'll get you living life yet. Don't worry. The cheap beer and greasy burgers will create a whole new palate for you." There was something so satisfying about the combination. Maybe because it was a bit of a cheat meal. Maybe because it was simplistic. Maybe because it was just down right good. Whatever it may be, Hunter was more pleased to be enjoying it now compared to ever before and that was down to the company he was keeping.

"Well, certainly a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy for sure." He paused and really thought about the best way that he could explain it. In a way that made sense. That was perhaps the biggest challenge. After a second, he seemed to settle on it. "Was always into sports growing up. Actually played some basketball and baseball, believe it or not. Got into bodybuilding as a teenager and things sort of spiraled from there after a few competitions. Met some wrestlers and decided it was what I wanted to do. Didn't want to do the whole college thing. Guess I got lucky that it worked out. Turns out, I'm pretty damn good at punching people in the face." At least it was an honest answer. He didn't feel the need to try and inflate it for her sake, to try and impress. It felt more organic and natural to give her the real reason. Inherently knowing she would appreciate that more.

Any sort of follow up was cut short by the drunk ass that bumped into the table. Almost instantly, Hunter was wound tighter than a spring, ready to intervene. It was with immense restraint that he initially held himself back, knowing that a fight wouldn't do any good, especially since the guy hadn't done anything just yet. But the creep wasn't taking any cue. Too drunk to realize. Or too much of an asshole to care. Either way, Hunter was not going to let him get away with that behavior. His beer set aside, the gentle touch to his forearm was more than enough needed.

"She isn't interested. Now, I think it would be best if you wandered back over to your friends, don't you?" The tone left little room for arguments, even a daft drunk would be able to pick up on that. He shifted his chair just a hint closer, sizing the guy up. No doubt there would be some false bravado there and he was ready to handle it. Already, he was inching slowly out of his seat, ready to stand. And after a few seconds, he did just that, not afraid to attempt to Intimidate the drunk to get him to scurry off and leave them to their evening.

@[xoxoitsgia]

That entire situation was peculiar, and everything tying her up to Hunter was even stranger. There was a feeling there, something she didn't recognise that knotted up in her abdomen, making her heart beat fast and her cheeks flush anytime her dreamy eyes fell on the man. And whatever that tie was, it felt like it was getting them closer and closer each second.

Gia had learned very quickly not to miss people, loneliness, absent family and being touch-emotionally starved since she was a child was much easier to deal with when she pretended she didn't need anyone. But, in the brief minute Hunter left the table to go order, she found herself realising she immediately missed his company. Absurd, in itself, and yet, so plain and simple, it was devastating. She wanted to be by his side, and anything else seemed so unimportant.

She was well aware reality would have knocked at their door sooner rather than later, but, for now, she was willing to ignore it. Was it worth remembering she had another identity and responsibilities to go back to when she had never felt alive before she walked into this stranger's car?

"Oh, I am sure you do," she giggled, tapping her index finger on her lower lip, pretending to examine him, studying his features. "I was wondering if you aren't too old for me," a cheeky smile popped on her lips as she openly teased him.

"Sir," Gia followed up, pretending to be utterly offended at his question. She knew he wasn't judging her, but it was just fun to be having fun with him. "I'll have you know I am the classic fine wine girl, or, if the occasion requires it, a cocktail. But, this place doesn't suggest any of that, right? And I must blend in. Plus, god, that sounds so boring said out loud." She giggled, shaking her head. Then, she leaned closer, unafraid and unbothered by the complicity growing between them. "So, tell me, how did you get into wrestling?" She had many more questions, devoured by her need to know everything about him. "Punching people in the face all day beats therapy, I guess." He surely had the look of someone who could, potentially, make you regret crossing him. But, with her, he looked nothing but gentle, and she felt safe around him, more than with any other good-for-nothing bloke she crossed before for sure. "Must be a hell of a life you live," she continued, "For all the good reasons." Freedom, for one.

Then, suddenly breaking their moment, a drunken guy walked into her and lost balance, stumbling on their table. "Oop, fuck, sorry," the hazed attention of the guy fell on Gia first and never moved, as a slimy smile grew on his lips. "Oh, wow, you are a pretty one, uh?" He mumbled, words slurred by too much alcohol, possibly. No attention was paid to Hunter whatsoever. He drew closer, causing her to instantly freeze. Gia tried to move away, but the space on her chair wasn't enough. "What's your name? Wanna come have fun with my friends?" His gaze fell oll over her, making her feel extremely uncomfortable. Gia reached over the table, grabbing at Hunter's forearm, both a plea and to feel the reassurance that he was close. "No, thank you," she expressed politely, knowing the guy's attention wasn't about to dissipate that easily.

[cherry-leclerc]

greed ☆ op81

genre: smut, affair, erotic literature, angst, forbidden romance, enemies to "lovers", a bit angst/yearning, established relationships, voyeurism

word count: 16.4k

greed (noun) — intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...pwp, unprotected sex, missionary, riding, fingering, f!receiving, deep throat, m!receiving, finger sucking

inspired by red sex (re-strung) [rakhi singh]

cherry here!...had fun writing this one teheee. it's a long one, so definitely take breaks in between and enjoy. missed you guys—welcome to the twisted world of greed mwah!

Twirling your tongue around the bright pink straw, you blink blankly, quietly taking in the conversation that occurs in front of you. You should probably talk a bit, you remember thinking. Smile, at least, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to lie—you didn't want to be here.  

“I thought you hated pineapple?” 

Turning, you shrug half-heartedly over at Lando. “It makes my mouth itch,” you mumble, not enjoying a single sip of the smoothie. Well, except for the whipped cream. Taking a lick, your eyes stay connected onto his blue ones as he shakes his head. 

“Don’t drink it, then,” he tries, but you simply turn a blind eye, facing the complete opposite direction. From where you're sitting, you spot a group of kids playing jump rope. Even when one of them falls with a loud splat and starts to cry, you continue to stare.

“Oh no,” a soft voice gasps.  As soon as you hear it, you grind your teeth, hearing a slight crack immediately. “Poor baby.”

You like to think of yourself as an even person. Everyone who enters your life deserves a fair chance. You’ll get to know them—befriend them, perhaps—and if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but no one can say you never tried.

But oh, how you hated Lily Zneimer.

The worst part of all is that there isn’t really a single reason for your sudden distaste towards her. On paper, you two should be the best of friends, but the one thing holding you back is sitting right in front of you.

Oscar clicks his tongue, a nice tick coming through as his sharp brows raise with surprise as he watches the scene unfold. He, too, sort of remains as stoic as you, but the one difference is that he has a bit more empathy. You lack a lot of that, you’ll be the first to admit. 

The cries continue, the young boy's parents suddenly alert by now as they run towards their child. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he says, squinting his eyes due to the bright sun. “It builds character.”

“Getting hurt?” Lily asks, frowning as she gently shoves his shoulder. “You really do have a heart made of ice.”

This gets a snicker out of your boyfriend, making you sigh, instantly checking out, but Lando is as happy as can be. While he enjoys the moment, you lack interest in it, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Australian was the one that invited you both out for drinks, then you would have happily been tucked away in bed. Make good use of the hotel perks and whatnot. 

The brown eyed driver swings a hand behind his girlfriend's chair, playfully tugging her hair, making her blush and making you recoil with disgust. Not that you ever show it, but you definitely feel it. “Maybe I do, but only you can make it melt.”

That’s enough to call it a day. Standing abruptly, the chair squeaks against the pavement as you share a tight lipped smile. All at once, their eyes look up at you as you force a yawn. “I think I’m going to head up now. Thanks for the invite,” you say. 

Lily pouts subtly, blue eyes round and hazy. “So soon? It’s still early.”

You nod, sparing her small smile, but deep within, the sound of her sweet voice begins to irritate you to the point you think you might snap. “The sun’s got me tired. I just need to lay down a bit.” Leaning forward, you peck Lando’s cheek, warm and sandy. “But I'll see you later, yeah?” 

“Sure,” she squeaks, waving numbly as they watch you walk away—practically fleeting, really. Humming sadly, the British girl looks down onto her lap, toying with her bracelets. “I don’t think she likes me much,” she mutters, wincing sheepishly. 

Oscar frowns. “That’s not true…”

Lando frantically nods, feeling bad for Lily and her first encounter with you being a total bust. Come to think of it, ever since the blue eyed girl has been around, you’ve been quite distant. “She hasn’t been sleeping well.” Lie. “She just needs to recharge, that’s all.”

-

You end up spending the next few days locked up in yours and Lando’s room. You avoid the paddock at all costs because you’re really not in the mood to see anyone—especially her. The British driver tried his best to get you out from these four walls, but gave up shortly after you blamed it on a migraine. You haven’t had one of those in years, but he learns to respect your decision. You do promise to be there for his race, though.

And as expected, you see her. Sat perfectly with her legs crossed, the young girl beams, motioning for you to join her on the open chair. At first you act like you don’t see her, preferring to stay standing for the next few hours rather than being pushed up next to her, but when she calls your name, you curse beneath your breath before making your way. 

“Hey,” you cheer, hugging her briefly before taking a seat. 

A giggle. “Hey. I heard you’ve been feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Huh?”

Lily blinks. “Lando said—”

In one quick motion, you click your fingers, nodding along. Right—Lando had lied on your behalf. It completely slipped your mind. Letting out a muffled groan, you wince theatrically, hoping she buys it. She does, worry quickly taking over her gentle gaze. “I have, yeah, I have.” Cheer’s erupt as the camera pans over to the fan zone, then back to the drivers that line up for the National Anthem. “But I'm much better now!”

Her concern slowly melts away as she smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

You would have not traveled with Lando to this week's race if you had known she would be here. Usually, she’s not, but you almost feel as if you know everything about her from how much Oscar talks about her. It gets exhausting hearing the same stories being told over and over again, as if she was the best thing to come around. Was it really that hard to just not bring her up?

But alas, you are here, and so is she. 

It feels like an eternity slowly goes by, so you’re quick to dart out the garage as you make your way towards the podium. The good thing is that she doesn’t need to because Oscar secured a lucky fourth place. Close, but not close enough. 

Running towards you after a round of media, Lando pecks your lips. He smells like a mix of champagne and sweat, not a completely unpleasant scent. He wiggles his brows. “Proud?”

You grin, eyes crinkling just the same as his. “Super.” Another kiss. “You were great out there.”

A subtle shade of red burns his nose as he smiles widely, pulling you towards the direction of McLaren Hospitality, leaving you to follow him as you admire the way everyone looks at him the same way you do. 

You like that he’s a winner. You like that you’re dating the winner. And that’s why you admire him, because he gives you the right to brag about him by simply being his girlfriend. The kind everyone wishes to be. Entering the familiar orange motorhome, you two are caught at a stop as soon as Zak calls out for Lando who turns curiously. 

“My man!” he cheers, making you take a step back and letting them have their moment. You listen for the first few minutes, but when it looks like the congratulatory might run deep, you claim a seat on the nearby sofa, scrolling through your phone to kill time. At some point, you look up to see them bid goodbye, sighing tiredly as you make your way up. Zak grins from ear to ear, pointing at you with nothing but radiant energy. “See you there!”

With that, he walks away, leaving you two alone once again. Raising a sharp brow, you tap Lando’s shoulder with confusion. “What does he mean by that?”

“He’s rented a yacht for the team to celebrate today's win,” he explains, guiding you towards the privacy of his room with a large hand on your lower back. “You know him—he likes to go all out.”

You hum, still walking up in front of him. “I figured you would want to go clubbing…”

There’s a cloudy sigh behind you as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I mean, yeah, I do, but we should probably skip that and do this instead.” Reaching to twist the knob, you pause, turning to face him with a surprised expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” you respond, shaking your head. “Look at you maturing. You see, my Lando would have never preferred a classy yacht party instead of a trashy club.” 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’ve changed.”

“Right,” you tease, finally opening the door, but as soon as you do, the room next to you squeaks, indicating someone exiting. Oscar and Lily come to a halt as soon as they spot you both. Your lips open in the smallest of gaps as they smile politely. 

“Congratulations,” the British girl is the first to break the silence as she goes in for a quick side hug, one that Lando accepts without missing a beat. “You must be over the moon.”

“I am,” your boyfriend lets out, still not used to the feeling of being first. A beat. “Hey, did Zak mention anything about—”

“The yacht party?” Oscar fills in with a loopy grin. Lando snickers, nodding at his guess. He shakes his head. “Yeah, but we can’t. I have to drive Lily to the airport.”

Intrigued by the fact, your brows dart up. “Ah, no way—you’re leaving already?”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling tiredly. “I have a few tests lined up for next week, and I can’t miss them.”

“Shame,” you hum, but the relief of not having her around anymore makes you feel a thousand times lighter. “I was going to suggest grabbing dinner next week…”

“Really?” Lando and Lily question in sync, both equally as surprised as one another. On the flipside, Oscar stands with an unrecognizable expression, making you avoid even looking at him because something about it somehow convinces you that he can see right past your lie.

Coughing awkwardly, you bob your head, catching the glimmer in her blue eyes as she holds her breath, almost. Something about it makes you feel bad, but just for a split second. “Yes, really, but it looks like we got a bit unlucky.”

Swiftly, Lily turns to face Oscar with a helpless expression, as if pleading for aid, but for him it was an easy decision. “You can’t skip out on exams,” he whispers lowly, but still clear enough for you to hear. “You know that.”

And sure—she does—but ever since she got here, she’s felt so out of place. Not with the team, not with two McLaren drivers as a duo, but rather with you. And now this? Any opportunity to have you as a friend is as good as gold in her eyes.

And to be quite honest, you didn’t expect for someone as truthful as Lily to lie to their professor in a lengthy email, claiming to be severely down with the flu in order to stay a couple extra days and catch that unpromising dinner you had made up as some way to get her to think you’d miss not having her around. This was your reality and you just had to deal with it.

But Oscar? 

Watching you carefully as you hug Lily back when she leaps with excitement into your arms, he squints with subtle suspicion in your character. Something in your rigidness and mannequin smile makes him want to pull the British girl away from you, feeling the need to protect his girlfriend's innocence. 

Smiling softly over her shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Oscar, making your stomach churn. His eyes remain on you for a second longer before sharing a smile of his own.

Yup, you think to yourself. 

He knows.

_

A week goes by at a snail's place. 

The four of you fly together to the next continent with nothing but fake enthusiasm. Well, fake from you, and unbeknownst, fake from Oscar, too.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t trust you completely. In hindsight, you haven’t done anything wrong, but everytime you and Lily are together—which is most of the week—it feels like you have. Maybe it had something to do with the sinister glares you’d send her way when you thought no one was looking, or the fact that you’d have to take a heavy breath in preparation every time she’d greet you with a warm hug. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was seeing something that wasn’t there, but that doesn’t mean he’d be at ease for the rest of the week. 

Hence, dinner. 

You find yourself forced to make a reservation at one of the fanciest cuisine restaurants close to where you’re staying and that itself was annoying. You shouldn’t be doing any of this—she shouldn’t even be here.

Smiling gingerly, the British girl let out a small giggle at some joke Lando made. By the looks of it, it’s pretty funny, so you numbly follow her lead, though you have yet to know what it was. “You must be laughing all the time,” Lily notes, blue eyes focused on you with wonder. You hum, pursing your lips with uncertainty. She giggles harder. “Well because of how funny he is.”

Lando claps once, making you flinch in return. “Thank you! It’s about damn time someone appreciates my humor.”

“I do appreciate it,” you defend, slowly losing your patience. Licking your lips, you look back towards Lily who remains with a smile. “Don’t listen to him, he just likes the attention.”

“That I can agree on,” Oscar adds, cracking a grin of his own. Suddenly, you’re all into the discussion. The Australian sneers childishly. “You can’t seem to live a single moment without making things about yourself.”

“Oscar,” Lily warns, faint pink painting her pale skin. “Be nice.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Lando says, waving her off like it’s no big deal—which it’s not. He leans back against his chair, flipping his teammate off who scoffs lightheartedly. “This is how we talk. Right, Osc?”

“Right.”

Somewhere in between dessert, while you’re in the middle of licking your spoon clean, the invitation that came to ruin your life, comes up. Lily clears her throat nervously, suddenly worried by the thought of you turning her down. “I was meaning to ask…” Puzzled, you keep your eyes on her, awaiting her next words. She shrugs sheepishly. “Well, I graduate this summer, and Oscar is throwing me a party up in North Carolina…” She trails off, gathering her words. “I was wondering if you two would like to come?”

“Oh,” Lando's voice comes through like a muffle, mouth full of cheesecake. He swallows, blue eyes flickering between the couple and his girlfriend who remains with a blank expression, metal spoon still in place. “I mean—yeah. Right?”

Unfreezing, you place the utensil down onto your plate, smiling weakly. “Uh…yeah.” Lily grins, letting out a breath of relief, making Oscar frown over the realization that your response mattered so much to her. You nod robotically. “Sure, why not?”

“Great!” Lily cheers, beaming like a kid on Christmas Day. “And don’t worry about spending on a hotel—we’ve got you covered.”

You blink, bewildered. “You do?” 

She nods. “Of course, we do! You’re our guests, you’ll be staying with us.”

Your boyfriend smiles faintly. “That’s kind of you, but it’s really no problem. We wouldn’t want to overcrowd.”

“Nonsense,” the Australian speaks up, shaking his head, brown strands of hair swinging in the slightest. “We have plenty of room. All of our family and friends are already staying in the hotel nearby—it’d be nice to have a bit of company.” His eyes soften, making your heart beat a little faster. “What do you say?”

It feels like he’s looking directly at you—chocolate orbs as sweet as can be. As if nothing else exists in this moment if it’s not you or him. But in reality, his attention is focused on your boyfriend, awaiting his response.

Not yours.

Flustered, you poke Lando’s leg beneath the table, hoping he takes the hint. Blue eyes flicker towards your direction for a millisecond before returning with a nod. “Looks like you have two roomies.”

Lily squeals, smiling brightly as Oscar’s lips remain in a thin line, his version of a smile. 

And if he could turn back time…

He really fucking would.

-

Once the season ends, everyone is on a high. Lando for coming in second in the Driver’s Championship and for bringing in the Constructors Championship for the first time in years, and Oscar for the latter. Regardless, it was an outstanding season for the two of them. 

You and the Brit end up flying in a few days later due to going back home to pack a few more necessities, but once you’ve got that all figured out, you find yourselves in the middle of a heatstroke, making you second guess all your life's choices all at once. 

“It feels as if my skin’s melting off,” you groan, fanning yourself with the roadmap, because as it came, satellites are utter shit when it comes to where you’re staying. Lando tries to convince you that having no internet for a few weeks isn’t all that bad, but as soon as a twenty minute drive turns into a one hour drive due to getting lost without the guidance of a GPS, he regrets his words. You roll your eyes, narrating as he finally pulls up to the driveway of what appears to be the best looking house in all of North Carolina. 

He whistles. “If it weren’t so hot during the summer, I’d definitely move here.”

Scoffing, you exit the car rental, looking up at the navy blue house where green ivy hangs. “We are not moving here. I’d rather die.”

“Fair,” he mumbles as he makes his way towards the front door, you right on his heels. Swinging the door open, you two are instantly hit with the fresh gust of air. “Thank God,” Lando moans, loving the fact that the AC is the only thing preventing him from fainting. 

Pushing him in, you make sure to close the door behind you as you shut your eyes with sweet relief. Somewhere towards the end of the hall, you hear shoes squeak against the wooden tiles. Lily waves, hair up in a similar ponytail as yours, as she smiles as warm as the weather that nearly cost you your life. “You made it!”

“We sure did,” you respond, gritting your teeth in order to prevent yourself from letting out some snarky remark. Not that she deserves it, of course she doesn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Pointing back towards the wooden door, you wince apologetically. “Sorry to barge in. Someone didn’t bother knocking.”

Lando makes a face, then turns to the blue eyed girl with a playful smile. “You don’t mind, do you, Lily?”

She shakes her head, pursuing her lips with delight. “Not at all. We left it open knowing you two would show up. We’ve been fixing the guest bedroom for the past hour and we didn’t want to run the risk of not hearing you knock, so…I guess it all worked out just fine.”

“See? Lily says it worked out just fine,” your boyfriend says smugly as you roll your eyes, not at all impressed with his sudden cockines. “Where is Oscar, by the way?”

Lily signals upstairs, then blushes. “Do you mind helping me grab a few things from the car, Lando?” A shy chuckle. “It’s just we went out for some party essentials last night, but we were too tired to bring them in, and the box is too heavy, and Oscar is pretty busy, and I’d hate to bother him, and—”

“Sure,” Lando cuts off her rambling. “That way I can grab our suitcases, too.”

“Fantastic,” she hoots, dusting her hands against her shorts as she grabs a set of car keys from the kitchen table. Turning to you, she grimaces. “Do you mind checking up on Oscar?”

Your plump lips part, a line of dehydration hung upon them. “I would, but I should help Lando—”

“It’s okay,” your boyfriend fills in. “I’ve got it all under control.”

Lily pleads silently, brows drawn in together. “You’d really be doing me a favor. It’s just that he was in the middle of fixing the duvet and he tends to run out of patience if he doesn’t get it right away.” A chuckle. “Please?”

Which is how you find yourself in a room, alone with the one person you probably shouldn’t be alone with, but find yourself wishing that were always the case. Alone with one another, that is. Gently knocking on the already open door feels like the right thing to do, so you do just that. Alerted by the sound, the Australian’s head jerks up, brown eyes caught against yours.

You tilt your head slightly, like some greet. “Lily sent me,” you find yourself explaining as he sighs, resting on the unmade bed. Leaning against the doorframe, you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say next.

He huffs. “Of course she did.” A snort. “Sorry your room still isn’t ready. It's just that, I, uh…can't seem to get this right,” he admits, shyly scratching the back of his neck as he motions towards the unmade mess. “Lily always helps, but she’s a bit busy right now, and I'd hate to bother her, and—”

“I can help.”

A pause, then: “Oh, don't worry, you don't need to do that. You’re our guests.”

Chuckling, you shake your head, already making a move to grab the sheets. Taking hold of one corner, you signal for him to do the same, the Australian instantly catching on and taking hold of the opposite side. Aligning it, you look up at him, watching as he focuses on your hands and repeats the order. You smile, going for more and doing it all over again. Once it's perfectly laid out, you take a step back. “Not too shabby.”

“Huh,” he muttered, blinking with amazement. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you say, fixing the mountain of pillows before taking it in with a gentle smile. “Lando’s excited to be here.”

Oscar looks up, neat brows raising. “Is he?”

“Mhm,” you hum, finally connecting your gaze to his. From this distance—close—you note the faint trace of cologne that hugs him, along with a thin layer of sweat. Grinding your molars, you fume silently within you as you catch it—her perfume. You wonder how close she had to have been in order for it to imprint on him, but as soon as you ponder for too long about it, you shake your head, acting as if you’re brushing away some invisible dust. “He’s looking forward to jet skiing.”

A deep chuckle. Pressing his back against the wall, he crosses his arm, giving you a clear view of his muscles that pulse like the world's biggest temptation. If you had the chance—just one—you’d kiss them the way you've fantasized for so long now.

He opens his mouth, about to say something that's going to change everything amongst you two, but bails at the last minute, shaking his head as if he barely caught himself. Intrigued, you raise a neat brow. “What's wrong?” you ask, feeling far too curious. 

Oscar tsks. “No, uh, it's nothing.” A beat, then he looks up, squinting his eyes skeptically, as if you're a puzzle he can't quite figure out. He's looking at you the same way he did that day you lied about planning the dinner, and that itself makes your stomach dip. Suddenly, you're not as interested in finding out what he has to say anymore. “Lily loves you, you know that?”

Not what you were expecting. “She does?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, orbs still trained on you. You want him to look away—you need him to look away. Pink lips curl into something of a scoff. The Australian’s eyes darken, making you freeze with trepidation. “She thinks you’re great.” Opening his arms like some grand gesture, he motions towards the lively room. “I mean, look at her. She’s trying her best to please you.”

Something about the way he says it makes you feel as if he’s not that fond of Lily’s behavior. As if you don’t deserve her kindness, even just a sprinkle of it. Pursing your lips, you rock against the heels of your feet. “And I appreciate that, I really do.” A hint of hesitation. “And I like Lily, as well—”

A raw chuckle. Blinking, you catch him shaking his head, brown eyes shut in disbelief, and when he opens them once again, it’s not that kind-hearted and easy-going Australian you’ve come to know—no. He’s broad, and cold, and guarded. 

“No you don’t.”

You gulp, laughing awkwardly as you rub your forearm, feeling the heat of shame radiate off your body. “What are you talking about? She’s super sweet—”

“I never said she wasn’t,” he cuts you off again, this time a bit harsher. Enough to take a step back. Your heart races times a million at this point, palms moist with sweat. “I never said she wasn’t sweet—I don’t doubt that even for a second. But I know that you’re lying, and I know that you hate her.” A beat. “Why?”

“I do like her,” you continue to insist, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. “What makes you even think otherwise?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” he says, accent sharper than usual. “Like you wish her the worst—I know what hate looks like.”

This time, you grab what’s left of your courage, and look at him straight in the eyes, not backing down. “Yeah? And what does hate look like?”

“You’re looking at it.”

It’s as if an ice cold bucket of water is thrown at you with no alert. His insinuation makes you want to recoil, but if you do, then he’d know he’s gotten to you, and if he gets to you, then he’ll figure the rest of it out. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” He smiles tauntingly, inching close and tilting his head as he opens his mouth. “I just don’t like you, that’s all. I’m not cruel enough to hate.” Cruel. He’s calling you cruel. He knows, therefore, you’re cruel. The word itself shouldn’t affect you this much, but it does. Narrowing your eyes, you push him away, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he cocks his head in question with little to no surprise. “What? You don’t like hearing the truth of what you are? Did you really think you were a good person?”

“Look,” you finally speak, glaring. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen, but I don’t hate Lily. For God sakes, I barely even know her!”

“Exactly!” he shouts back, breaking. “Which is why I’m more than confused! What has she done to you?”

Have possession over you, you think to yourself as you pant, blink with defeat. I hate her because what she’s done to me is have possession over you, and that’s not fair.

“I—”

“Hey,” a soft voice melts into the room, Lily coming into view, cheeks flushed. “Is everything alright in here? We thought we heard yelling.” 

Standing behind her, frowning over her shoulder, Lando stares with a lost expression. Everything indicates that there had been some sort of altercation, but the smiles you two wear are enough to try and convince them otherwise. Walking towards her, Oscar wraps his arm around her waist, pecking her temple as she blinks, still worried. “What? That’s absurd. We were simply talking. Weren’t we?”

It takes you a minute to register that he’s talking to you, so when you do answer, it’s nothing but a whisper. “Yeah… just, yeah.” You shake your head, blinking hastily. “We were just talking.”

“Are you sure?” Lando asks, pushing past the couple as he rushes to you, large hand grabbing your wrist softly as he looks at you. His gaze flickers momentarily toward Oscar, as if accusing him for doing something, in return, making the Australian frown for his sudden distrust. As if he’s the bad guy. 

You nod, plump lips formed into a thin line. “Yup,” you say, attention flickering down to where Oscar keeps Lily secure against his touch. As if you’re the bad guy. You chuckle, shrugging. “He was thanking me for helping him do something so easy as setting a bed.”

Oscar clenches his jaw. “Yeah. Thanking you.”

Anyone who knows you, knows that you’re a decent human being. There’s not much to contradict that. But no one will ever know you the way you know yourself. Because if they did?

They’d find out that there was no one greedier….

Than you.

-

Dinner that night is homemade pizza. Lily followed a recipe. 

It’s quite delicious, sure, and you’re able to make that note due to that one small bite you had before you ditch it for your mimosa. Lando tries to get you to eat, but you gently promise him that you’re just not that hungry. You see the way Oscar stares, feeling bad for his girlfriend who spent hours making this for you. She excuses herself, rushing towards the kitchen as the Australian apologizes, following after her.

Turning abruptly, the British boy huffs, causing commotion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“This again?” you groan. “I already told you—nothing. Drop it.”

“What’d he say to you?” he questions, a layer of curiosity making an appearance. “Did he say something to offend you?”

“No,” you hum against your glass. “He did not.”

“Did you say something to offend him?” he switches the inquiry, making you glare. 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

Lando sighs, relaxing against his chair once again. He takes a bite, swallows, then takes another. “I get the sense that you’re keeping something from me—you’re not like that.”

Actually, you are. He just doesn’t know it. Placing a hand over his, you hum, calming him down as he connects his gaze onto yours, eyes as soft as jello. “He might’ve lost his temper on me a bit.”

“What?” he screeches, making you hush him.

“Let me finish,” you hiss. He nods, curls bouncing. “He couldn’t get the sheets to stay in place. Remember how Lily said he tends to lose patience because of that?” Another nod. You shrug. “Well, that was it. We just didn’t want you two to make a big deal out of nothing. Much like now,” you point out, spotting a subtle blush threatening his cheeks. 

“Well, forgive me for looking out for you,” he sings. “I care, you know?”

“And I thank you for that, darling, but you can let go of it now, right?”

“Definitely.”

He doesn’t. Matter of fact, as soon as the couple makes their way back, it’s the first thing he brings up, teasing his teammate who blinks, confused, then: “Oh. Yeah. Right. I had a bit of a moment where I couldn’t get the…yeah. That was it.”

Lily rolls her blue eyes. “Didn’t I warn ya?”

You giggle. “You did, you really did.”

There isn’t much to do from that point on, the sun has set and the moon hangs as bright as headlights. Lando knocks out after a much needed shower, and while you can’t sleep with wet hair, you settle on fixing yourself up a tea now that it’s cooled down. 

Walking barefoot towards the lake, you hum, finding peace with the way crickets sing. Blue, gentle waves sway back and forth as you look beyond, mind at peace. That is until you hear a small cough. Startled, you search for the culprit and you find him, laid down on the grass. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Oscar sighs. “I’d rather not talk to you right now.”

“Or ever?” you offer, but he doesn’t find you humor all that entertaining. Making your way, you find a space next to him. “You can’t ignore me, you know that? We’re about to spend a month together. That, and you’re my boyfriend's teammate. I see you on track.”

He disregards the fact that you're right, sitting up instead, laying his arms over his bent knees. “What’s your game?”

“I don’t have one,” you say softly. “I’m just here to have fun—it’s summer.”

A scoff. “I’m serious—what do you want from us?”

There was a point in time when you first met the Australian where you remember thinking: this is a boy. His arms were twigs, his neck was small, and his fireproofs fit him loosely.

Fastword, a year later: everything has taken a turn. Oscar Piastri has matured, and now—now you want him. 

“My parents had my sister three years after they had me.” Oscar cocks his head, puzzled as to why you’re telling him this. You continue, occasionally sipping on your tea. “And the months leading to her birth, they always told me how lucky I’d feel to have her once she was born. Then she was,” you say. “And you know what I felt?”

“Lucky?” he finds himself guessing quietly. 

You shake your head, causing his brows to jump up with surprise. “I love her, I do, but I think that was the moment I realized I didn’t like to share. I wanted my parents to stay my parents, and not hers. I wanted my grandparents to stay my grandparents, and not hers. And…once we grew up and we were old enough to date—I wanted her boyfriends to like me more than they liked her.”

Quiet, his eyes linger with disgust. “I love knowing that I can get away with it—get what I want.” This time, you look at him, and it hits him all at once: you want him. You smile, like what you’re saying is funny and not fucked. A giggle. “You’re a smart individual, Oscar. Do you get what I’m saying?”

He does. And it makes his stomach knot. 

“I’m in love with Lily,” he states, as if that will make you back off. “I’m. In. Love. With. Lily.”

But he can tell you don’t care. You never have, and you never will. And the fact that she has you is why you hate her. He sees that now. 

Standing, your knees are at his eye level, forcing him to look away, forcing him to look up. You hold power in this stance, and he’s basically at your knees—worshiping you. He doesn’t like that. In one fast movement, he jumps up, towering over you, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter. And he realizes he can never win when it comes to you because it seems you like that too. 

He gulps. You grin.

“Doesn't matter.”

-

You’re playing a dangerous game.

It starts early in the morning and ends late at night. At times, he feels like a kid hiding behind his mum's skirt, practically sticking to Lily like superglue, and normally she loves that, but with how busy she is with graduation, she pushes him off most times now. It’s always: Oscar, no or Oscar, what now? He can’t seem to get it right.

“Why don’t you go jet skiing with Lando?” you speak up and he finds it weird that you’re helping him out. The British girl nods. Yeah! Why don’t you? He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

They come back with fresh sunburns and a couple new freckles. Lando’s curls are hard from the sea salt, so he gives you a quick kiss, running up stairs for a quick shower. He’s been having lots of those. Not even a minute later, Oscar goes on to do the same. 

Somewhere along the line, you hear your name, and you know what that means. Rolling your eyes, you look over at the blue eyed girl. “I bet you he forgot his towels—”

I forgot my towels!

Giggling, Lily shakes her head, muttering ‘boys’, then signals towards her room. “I just washed some, you can grab them from our cabinet.”

“Thanks,” you chirp, making your way. While yours and Lando’s room sits at the far right side of the hall, Oscar’s and Lily’s is on the left. And you never meant to walk in on him, not at all, but you did. 

Swinging the door open, you’re caught face to face with a shirtless Oscar, dying his wet hair with a blue towel. He freezes. “W-what are you doing here?” he stutters.

You try not to stare, you really do, but you can’t help it. His body is solid, chiseled, even. His skin is moist from lathering lotion and that’s enough to make your head spin. And yet, you don’t let him see that. Pushing past him, you dig your hand deep into the cabinet, pulling two fresh towels, similar to his. He frowns.

“Just grabbing towels for my boyfriend.” Smile. “See you.”

Is this how you get people to fall for you? By not seeming desperate? Because while he knows that you want him, you sure don’t show it, and that definitely confuses him.

That same night, you four are watching a movie in the living room. Cherry Falls to be exact. The entire way through, you’re curled into Lando’s chest under a blanket. On the other side of the long couch, Lily and Oscar sit as straight as can be, but his arm remains over her shoulder, keeping her safe. 

You’re not jealous over something like that, but when she flinches during certain scenes and he comforts her, that gets you. “Hey,” you start, whispering into the Brit’s ear. Green eyes are stuck on the screen, nodding robotically. Yeah? You kiss his warm skin, making him jump. “Why don’t you and I go to bed?”

“Bed?” he asks, slow and unsure where you’re headed. “Already? But…we’re halfway through.” You yawn, rubbing a hand along his thigh. He blushes, impressed with how cool you’re able to play it. Coughing, he nods excitedly. “I think we’re done for the day,” he announces, a bit too loud.

Lily pauses the movie, tilting her head curiously. “Aw, but we’re halfway through…”

“I know,” you add, smiling apologetically. “But I’m just so tired.”

“As am I!” Lando cuts you off, voice squeaky. He shakes his head, blinking hastily, then clears his throat. “But please, don’t let us stop you from finishing the movie.”

“Yeah,” you quip, getting up, about to walk away when Lando reaches for your hips, keeping you in front of him. It doesn’t take much to feel his bulge pressed against your ass. He laughs awkwardly. “We still have that picnic tomorrow, don’t we?”

“We do,” Lily cheers, smiling widely. “Oh, I’m so excited!” Turning to face the Australian, who hasn’t said much up until now, just stares blankly, she taps his knee. “We should probably go to sleep, too.”

“No!” Lando yelps, blushing bright red as the blue eyed girl frowns. “Keep on watching. Keep the telly on. In fact…” He reaches for the control. “Turn up the volume.” 

“Great idea,” Lily says, pursing her lips as the numbers go up on the screen. “Alright then, you two go rest.”

“Thank you,” you reply, walking carefully in front of the British boy who still tries his best to hide behind you, waving sheepishly. “See you in the morning!”

Oscar really underestimated how naive Lily can be. While she was wide-eyed enough to believe that you two were ready to knock out, he knew the truth. Pecking her cheek, he makes a stand, making his girlfriend pout. “Where are you going? I thought we were gonna finish the movie?”

“We are,” he promises, smiling gently. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom real quick. Be right back.”

Running up the stairs, two steps at a time, he rushes to your side of the hall, quickly identifying small moans. He stops dead in his tracks, heart stuck in his throat, and he doesn’t know why. 

Fuck, baby, he hears Lando groan. Oscar grimaces, shutting his eyes with discomfort. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t have his ear pressed against the door, intruding in your guys’ private sex life. 

He shouldn't be bothered so much. Or at all.

Lando, you whine, surely writhing with pleasure. The sound makes him break a sweat, makes his brain go fuzzy. He can’t even think properly. And he knows this is wrong—on so many levels—but what’s worse is that he wishes Lando were dead. 

Skin to skin contact makes his jaw clench with anger. The fact that he knows what you feel like makes him want to barge in and rip you two apart. And it dawns on him—why does he care so much?

“No,” he mutters, taking a step back as if the door were made out of lava. He blinks hastily, shaking his head harshly until he feels his brain jump from side to side. “God, no…”

It’s official—you have his attention.

Without even making a move.

-

You feel his gaze on you. You don’t even have to look and see to know that it’s him and not Lando. Lando’s gaze doesn’t burn, but his? His zaps. Looking up from where you rested on the red gingham blanket Lily rolled onto the fresh grass, you squinted behind your glasses, making eye contact with the Australian. 

You know you have him.

Reaching into your bag, you grab your sunscreen, squirting it onto your legs, making sure to lather it on in a teasing manner. You rub up and down, slow and steady. Briskly, he looks away, paying attention to his teammate who continues to ramble on and on about nothing in particular. 

Not as particular as you.

“I love having you two around,” Lily says, ripping your gaze away like one would their band aid. She hums, gingerly fixing her floppy hat and motioning towards your sunscreen. Go right ahead. “Thank you,” she replies sweetly. A beat. “I have a favor to ask.” This get’s your attention. Furrowing your brows, you nod, urging her to continue. “So, I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

“What is it?”

Lily blushes, as if she’s too embarrassed to admit. “Remember how I skipped a few exams in order to extend my stay the first time we met? In order to have that dinner with both you and Lando?”

“Yeah,” you say, still uncertain about where this might possibly lead. “I think I do.”

She cringes. “I never took them.”

“What?”

“I know! And now my advisor is telling me I won’t be able to graduate if I don’t find a way to take them, and I don’t know what to do!” She groans, bumping the edge of her palm against her forehead. “Oh God, Oscar is going to be so mad at me.”

“Okay, calm down,” you soothe her. “Have you tried reaching out to your professor?”

“Not yet,” she mumbles, tears pooling the corner of her eyes, making you feel just a dash of pity. “Should I?”

“Yes,” you respond quickly. “You should. Ask them if there’s any way to take those exams. Say you’re sorry—like really sorry. They have to be able to tell that you never meant to skip out in the first place.”

“I didn’t,” she squeaks, voice wavering. “I’m not usually like this, but…” Her blue eyes flicker down to her lap, fingers playing nervously with the hem of her shirt. “I just really want to fix this and graduate on time. Everyone is counting on that!”

“You’re going to walk that stage, Lily, alright? You just need to keep your eye on the prize.” Sighing, you unlock your phone, handing it to her. “E-mail them right now.”

“O-okay,” she sutter, eyes softening. “Thank you for being such a great friend.”

You blink. “Oh. Yeah—anytime.”

She finds privacy back in the parking lot, leaving you alone with the boys deep in the horizon. It’s peak golden-hour, so they look significantly tan. You smile, lying back down, glasses hugging the curve of your nose. You’re halfway asleep at one point, but as soon as you feel a droplet fall onto you, you peek an eye open.

“Where’s Lily?” Oscar questions, furrowing his dark brows.

You roll your eyes. “She went to get something from the car.” She probably wouldn’t like Oscar knowing the truth, and you’re not one to tell it. You wave your hand dismissively. “Now move—you’re blocking the sun.”

Grinding his teeth, the Australian scoots, but his eyes remain down on you. You lay tan now, white bikini standing out against your skin. Brown eyes trails down your legs, spotting an ankle bracelet. He hums. “What’s it say?”

You sigh. “Could you be more specific?”

He kicks your feet, making you lean against your elbows, staring at him coldly. Noticing what he was referring to, you lick your lips. “It's the number four.”

“Four?” he asks plainly. “Why four?”

“I’m really trying to relax,” you spit, taking your sunglasses off and glaring. “You’d be doing me a huge favor if you just left me alone.”

Aren’t you supposed to want him? Aren’t you the one who's supposed to be chasing after him? 

The tips of his ears burn bright red, and not from the sun. Seeing as he wasn’t leaving, you let out a heavy breath. “He asked me out on April fourth—fourth month, fourth day. His racing number is four.” You make a face. “Do you get it or do you need further explanation?”

He ignores the dig. “Why an ankle bracelet, though? Why not a ring or a necklace?”

Your red lips part open, then close. His guts twist with jealousy once he comes to the realization. The reason it’s an ankle bracelet its so that anytime he fucks you, legs dangled over his shoulders, he could admire it. Seeing as he figured it out without having you respond makes you blush. 

“Ankle bracelets are my favorite.”

His eyes darken. “You know what? Next time you two fuck, why don’t you moan a little less loud?”

Your neat brows lift up with surprise. “How are you so sure we already did?”

He pauses, clearly caught on spying. He swallows. “You sound like a pornstar.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” You laugh. “Lando doesn’t seem to mind. In fact…” Biting down on your bottom lip, you blink innocently up at him as his breathing pattern becomes uneven. “He fucking loves it.”

God—what were you doing to him?

Just as he’s about to speak, Lando calls out for him and Lily calls out for you. Where are the beers, mate? The Australian spins back and lets out a lousy smile. “On it, give me a second!”

As he turns again, you’re already up on your feet, adjusting your bikini and throwing Lando’s shirt over your head. The sight alone irks Oscar more than he’d like to admit. “I should go see what Lily needs,” you sing teasingly. Spinning on your heels, you stop, cocking your head to the side and giving him one last glance. “Oh, and Oscar?”

You point down to his hard on imprinted on his short. Horrified, heat rushes to his cheeks.

“Don't get so excited over nothing.”

-

What appears to be the first time in her life, Lily lies to Oscar. 

They need some last minute measurements for my cap and gown, she explains, puffing her cheeks as if the thought of flying back home is too much of a tassel, and not a necessity—she has to go back and take her exams. She had received an extension, but the only catch was that she had to take them in person, as originally planned. I’ll be back in a week. 

The Australian tries to tag along with his girlfriend because the thought of being left alone to third wheel a couple who probably fucks 24/7 is too unbearble. But as expected, Lily declines, claiming it’d be rude for both hostesses to leave their guests behind. And all would’ve been fine if Lando’s father hadn't broken his clavicle playing rugby. 

“Do you really have to leave?” you sigh, zipping his suitcase. 

He nods. “Mum would kill me if I didn't show up.”

“I’ll miss you.”

A soft smile. Pecking your lips, his thumb rubs against your cheek lovingly. “I’ll be back before you know it. Time will fly by.”

Which is how you and Oscar find yourselves sharing a large house with a million desires. He's quick to note that you have a thing for summer dresses—and so does he, apparently. Jaw clenched, he carefully watches as you cut up a variety of fruit, humming as you prepare yourself a plate. You hum a soft melody, making him more and more intrigued to know what it was. 

“Love in the Morning. Ennio Morricone,” he hears you say, munching on a slice of watermelon, walking towards the living room. There, on T.V., plays an unknown reality show, but he's not paying much attention, either way. No, his gaze is stuck on you, focused on the way you stretch your legs onto the coffee table, the rest of your upper body resting against the comfy couch. You swallow, reaching for a piece of mango. “One of my favorite instrumentals.”

It's one of his, too, and not because he knows it by heart, but because you do. Because you sound so beautiful, like a siren, when you hum it. He wonders if you're aware of the power you hold. Though, the way you ignore him lets him know that you do. 

Against the sunlight, the one that peeks through the open window and summer skies, your ankle bracelet shines, blinding him, almost. He feels his chest grow tight—so much so, that it hurts to breathe regularly—and he has to remind himself that this isn’t normal—this isn’t normal. 

Since when did you matter this much to him? Since when did you affect him this much? 

Without a second thought, he claims a spot next to you on the couch, reaching for a berry and popping it in his mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, somehow satisfied by this small action of his. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. In all your time of knowing the Australian, he never once bothered to get to know you—really get to know you. He never cared, not even in the slightest. But now, in a turn of events, he does. Squinting suspiciously—teasingly—you shake your head, vanilla perfume radiating off your skin. 

“No.”

His lips turn downwards. “No?”

“No,” you repeat, flipping through the channels, pretending he wasn’t even there. A click. “Why should I?”

Because suddenly, you’re the only one in my mind.

He bites down on his tongue, tasting a hint of blood. “I’m not into you, don’t flatter yourself.”

“I never said you were,” you say, a bored tone evident. 

Oscar’s hands get clammy, thankful for having them pressed against his lap. Maybe he can still make a run for it. To his room. Back to Australia. He doesn’t even care where, exactly, but far, far, far from you. That way, he wouldn’t feel so grossed out in wanting to know more about his teammate's girlfriend. The one whom he never thought about once before this trip. And how can he even defend his honor?

You got into his head.

You don’t register what he’s doing—not instantly, at least—but before you know it, he’s pushing your legs off the coffee table, claiming a seat there, instead. Now, rather than having a clear view of the television, you have one of him. Large and desperate and perfect. 

He narrows his eyes, sharp and threatening. “Are you glad that both Lily and Lando are gone?”

“Nope,” you respond, popping the p. “Why would I?”

Why would you? Geez, who really knows? Oh, maybe because now you have me all to yourself, and isn’t that what you wanted all along? Why don’t you want me anymore? 

Slightly grinning, Oscar lets out a raw chuckle, making you want to jump onto his thick lap and lick up his neck. You bet it’d taste like salt and cologne, but the mere thought sounds like a dream. A wild, wild dream. 

“I know you think about me.”

Zero reaction. Unimpressed, you push your bottom lip out, wagging your index finger at him before pressing it against his cheek, making him pause because that alone makes his skin burn. You push, forcing a dimple before doing the last thing he’d ever thought you’d do.

Slap him.

He thinks he’s imagining it, and you didn’t just do that, but the smug look on your face and the sting on his lets him know that he isn’t picturing it, and you did just do that. You smile sweetly, standing and ditching your place right in front of him, making your way towards the stairs. 

“Get a life, Oscar. Not everything is about you.”

You like to mess with people’s sanity. That must be it because—what the fuck is wrong with you?

First, you insinuate lusting over him. Later, you put on a show for him every chance you get. And now? Now you toy with him, making him feel like the crazy one. And one thing’s for sure.

He is not crazy.

You barely have a foot up one stair when you’re pulled back, and before you know it, pushed down to sit on the step, the Australian kneeled down in front of you. You breath hitches, eyes as wide as cherry pies. His brows are drawn in softly, a pink tint dusting his ears like some shy teen. 

“Maybe not—but everything is about you.”

You always knew you’d get him, and you knew exactly how you’d do it. You’d plant the seed and have him come running to you. It always works. I mean, it’s how you got Lando, after all. 

But Lando was a want. Oscar is a need.

With his knees still glued onto the ground, the brunette leans down and kisses your ankle, laying his lips flat as you gasp softly, feeling the familiar bracelet dig into your skin. 

“Tell me you think about me too,” he whispers pathetically—fragile. Another kiss, this time up your calf. “What do I have to do in order to get you to say it?” 

“You’re insane,” you mumble, orbs stuck on the top of his head, shaggy hair hanging loosely before he looks up at you, past his lashes. Butterflies erupt. 

Up your thigh, he licks you, tasting your lotion, but he doesn’t seem to mind the bitter taste. “Come on—I want you.” He sucks, forming a purple bruise. “Don’t you want me, too?”

You do. You fucking crave every piece of him. But you can’t let him know that. And you really do try your best to fight him off, but as soon as he starts curling his fist around your small dress, you’re just as good as gone. 

A tiny moan rings through the air, then a pant follows. He’s barely even touched you and he’s already knocked the air straight from your lungs. 

“I d-do, Oscar.” Whine. “I do want you.”

And just like that—he’s taken whatever power you were claiming onto—back.

Letting go of your dress, he chuckles, enjoying your out of breath state, and standing, making you feel small as you blink, confused as to why he stopped.

Dark eyes glint sinisterly as he kicks your open legs together, not too hard, but still enough to make you jolt with surprise, leaning your elbows up against the step, brows furrowed. 

A beat. “You really are a pretty little thing.”

And with that, he walks away, leaving you to feel abandoned.

-

It’s a brutal game of tug-of-war. One where both of your guys’ hands are burning from trying not to be the first to let go.

The first to admit defeat.

Though, it seems like the days grow longer, your dresses fall shorter, and his mind is hazier. All of which is making it more difficult to keep a distance. That is, until Lily FaceTimes Oscar.

“I need you to buy some flowers.”

Mid-bite, his teeth push down on his apple, eyes glued on her. He pulls away, drying his mouth with the back of his hand. “Won’t they dry out before the party?”

She shakes her head, highlighting what looks to be a set of notes. “That's why you're going to get carnations. They last longer.”

“Is that so?” he entertains, smiling gently when she bites down on her marker, brows furrowed as she reads her piece of paper. Throwing away what's left of his fruit, he hums. “Alright, I’ll take care of it tomorrow, don't worry.”

“Oh no, tomorrow won’t work. You have to do it today.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because she's only available today. She's going dress shopping tomorrow.”

He doesn't even have to ask who she is because he already knows. Shaking his head adamantly, the Australian rejects her idea before it even has a chance to lift off the ground. “I could do it myself,” he snaps, his usually tranquilent voice coming out a bit harsher than intended. And it’s not like him. He never, ever, speaks to Lily this way. So, obviously, it surprises her, a wounded expression mapping out immediately. 

And she could have been mad. She really could have been mad—but she wasn’t. “Is everything okay?” she asks carefully, as if walking on eggshells. It makes him feel like shit. “What's wrong, Oscar?”

“I…” His tongue goes numb. The vivid image of you looking at him, like you hold him in the palm of your hand, comes through. And he doesn’t completely hate it, not right away. But once the British girl hums softly through the phone, he’s ashamed. “I just wish you were here. I miss you.”

A beat, then: I love you.

You had not been the biggest fan of going floral shopping with Oscar, either. Quite frankly, you didn't think being with him for hours on end was a good idea. At least, here in the house, you could escape, but out in the open, your chances were ironically not that good. Where would you run off to if you depended on him for a ride back?

Yet, you found yourself saying yes, and you didn’t know why. You had no clue why you felt the need to help her out. You had no clue why you felt a certain way towards her all of sudden. 

You had no clue when Lily Zneimer—the girl you're supposed to hate—was someone you saw as a friend.

It was a tough pill to swallow, because on one hand, you were still attracted to her boyfriend. But on the other hand, you suddenly had self-control. You didn't want to ruin their relationship anymore. You didn't want to lose her amity. 

You were trying to be better.

“Ready?”

Looking up from your book, you nod. “Let me just go grab my sunglasses.”

As he watches you run upstairs, he feels something—different. From your end, that is. As if something has shifted. But he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because before he knows it, you’re back. 

The car is quiet and his music can barely even be heard, but nothing is far more awkward than the tension between you two. It’s suffocating, so much so, you roll down the window. He makes a noise, making you tilt your head to look at him. He’s frowning. “It’s a hundred degree’s out, roll it back up. I can turn on the AC.”

You don’t utter a single word, just follow his instructions. He finds that weird. See, usually, you’d be doing something to get him hot and bothered, but these days you seem to be playing it safe. If anything, he should be thankful. He should be glad that you’ve left him alone for whatever reason. 

But now he wants in on your game.

“How’d you meet Lando?”

“Don’t. We don’t have to talk.”

He ignores you. “I met Lily in school. She was in the class next to mine and I used to think she was the most beautiful girl in the world.” His mind panics as soon as he realizes what he’s just said, but you don’t seem to have done the same. A cough. “How’d you meet Lando?”

Seeing as he probably wasn’t going to let this go unless you answer his question, you sigh, twisting your body and adjusting yourself to have a good view of him. Like this, you can count every mole on his skin if you really wanted to, but you don’t. “I never really met Lando, per se. I just always…knew him, I guess.” His brows furrowed and you chuckle. “We grew up as neighbors.”

“You did?” he asks, brows jumping up with shock. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip. “He was my sister’s boyfriend for two years.” This shouldn’t surprise him. Coming to a red light, he turns to look at you, fighting the urge to show any kind of reaction, he doesn’t want to scare you off. You look away, wincing. “I knew what I was ruining the moment he and I started talking behind her back, and I did it anyway.” 

“So…they were still dating?”

Nod. “She caught us locked up in the bathroom. There really wasn’t any explanation to that.” Green flashes as you point numbly and he steps on the gas once again. “And you know what? I didn’t even feel all that bad, and you want to know why?”

“Why?” 

“Because I got what I wanted.”

I love knowing that I can get away with it—get what I want, that is.

Your words from nights ago replay inside his overly crowded mind, making it pound like a sore thumb. His lips open, but he has nothing to say, and it appears you’re done talking, too. Or so he thought. 

“Oscar…” you whisper. “I can’t taint another relationship.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw slacked. You don’t want him anymore. You want nothing to do with him. Shouldn’t he be pleased? Shouldn’t he be ecstatic that your diabolical plan has expired? One you never admitted to, but still. 

So then why does he feel let down?

“Lily is great,” you continue, eyes closed as you nod gingerly. “She’s the best, and she deserves the friend she thinks she has.”

“Except you two aren’t friends.”

You blink. “Wh-wha—yes we are. What are you talking about?”

He grits his teeth. “You two aren’t friends. You could never be.”

This gets a rise out of you. Straightening your back, your brows pinch together with offense. “And why not?”

“Because.”

“Because?” You scoff, not impressed by his bland response. “We can’t be friends simply ‘because’?”

Switching lanes, he huffs, spotting pink carnations in his rear view mirror. You had chosen those on Lily’s behalf. He didn’t really care at the moment, but now he wishes you had gone with white. What were you two arguing about again? 

Spotting the familiar blue house, he lets out a breath, pulling into the driveway, quickly putting the car in park, and turning off the ignition. This almost makes you back down because suddenly his sole focus is on you, not the road. 

“You’re on my mind.”

Oh. Biting down onto your bottom lip, you shake your head. “I’m n—”

“Yes,” he says, firmly, reaching for your hands and pulling them up to his mouth, kissing them over and over. “You are and you know it.”

“Oscar, no…” you let out, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens. A crazed look colors his irises as his chest rises fast, up and down, as if he’s close to hyperventilating. Bewildered, your lips turn to a downward spiral. “You don’t know what you’re saying—”

“Yes, I do!” he yelps, voice cracking as you stare with shock. “You did this to me, you got in my head on purpose!”

“I didn’t do anything!” you squeal, frightened by his tone. “Did I tell you that I wanted you?”

“You implied it,” he defends rapidly, pleading with eyes for you to show any signs of recollection. “What changed?”

“I already told you,” you snap, this time using all your power to yank your hands back. “I don’t want to be this way anymore. I can’t.”

Silence. 

Slow breaths explore the car as he stares blankly. “That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t fair?” you hiss, aiming a glare. 

Oscar shakes his head, flinging his door open and hopping out, leaving you dumbfounded as you watch him go. Unbuckling yourself, you make a beeline for him, barely even reaching him as you tug on his shirt, making him turn back with a dark look in his eyes. Your heart nearly flat lines from how scared you are of him from this point of view. 

“What isn’t fair, huh?” you ask, trying to sound brave, but there’s a slight tremble in your voice. 

Glowering down on you, the Australian’s lips form a slow smile, almost in a sinister way. Mocking, too. He chuckles to himself. “You like to have your own fun, don’t you?” Your shoulders drop, taking a clumsy step back, but he takes a dominating one forward. “Yeah…you do. You get to knead your fingers into someone’s brain until all they can think about is you, and once they do, you’re out.” Pause. “It’s no longer fun.”

“That’s not—” You let out a shaky breath, wincing at his accuracy.  “Where are you going with this?”

Oscar shrugs, broad shoulders going up before falling sourly. “I’m gonna do the same.”

You freeze, stomach twisting with trepidation. “Huh?”

He nods, clicking his tongue. “How come you only get to have your fun?” He leans down, coming eye level with you, and narrowing his gaze until you see his iris dilate. Something about that sends a shiver down your spine. “Why can’t I do the same, too?”

Taking a step back, he makes sure to send a sly smile, the kind that lets you see he has a hidden dimple. He sighs as he steps into the house, forcing you to watch him go with a smug reaction and leaving you with a poor one. Last minute, he turns around, inclining against the doorframe, making him appear larger than the world. 

Oscar squints teasingly. 

“I’m going to have you begging me to fuck you.”

-

There was a moment in the past week where you nearly fell for it—almost. 

It happened one morning, and all he had done was walk into the house, all big and sweaty. He had just come back from a run.

“Excuse me,” he says, reaching over to grab a glass from the cabinet, intending to pour himself a bit of water. A certain warmth radiates off him and you feel it cling onto you immediately, pushing you towards him. You physically have to stop yourself. 

Pursing your lips, you move, allowing him to easily grab what he needs. Without a single thank you, he hums, the cool water tasting heavenly. The way his Adam’s Apple juts up and down makes you want to scream, looking away as rub your eyes fiercely. He smiles, setting the glass down. “I need your opinion on something.”

“What is it?” you ask, still not looking. Maybe you should leave to go buy your dress for the party. Time is running out, and you have nothing. Though, at this point, you didn't want to be here anymore. 

“It's about Lily’s graduation gift. Should I get her a necklace with her birthstone, or—” 

An ankle bracelet with my number on it?

Immediately, you turn to face him, cheekbones beet red and a slight twitch in your eyes, those that are now dark and looming. Satisfaction plays a role in his features as he stares innocently. “I was leaning towards the ankle bracelet. I really do think you and Lando are onto something.”

“What’s your game?” you ask, bitterness evident in your tone. Your question takes him back to when he was the one asking it. To you. Neat brows furrow with anticipation.

The brunette shrugs. “I don't have one. I'm just here to have fun.” He smirks. “It's summer—isn't it?”

This is all a bad case of deja vu, one you don't find appealing. How dare he ask you something like this with a dirty smile on his face? The look is just the right amount of disgusting, and the right amount of intriguing. 

He was getting to you.

Clicking your tongue, you roll your eyes. “Whatever your plan is—stop it.” Pointing a finger, you shake your head firmly. “Because it's not going to work on me.”

“It’s not?” he asks, closing the gap and towering over you dangerously so. He sees the way your breathing becomes a tad bit irregular, letting him know that this was working, no matter how much you denied it. “Because you’re a better friend now? Because you got one taste of loyalty and now you've decided to be loyal to yourself?” A large hand reaches for your chin, forcing your head to tilt back and look up at him. And you hate how handsome he is in an infuriating moment like this. “People don't change overnight. I doubt you'd be the first.”

Old habits die hard, but over time, and he's right. You're still the same avaricious girl as yesterday. 

Pushing his thumb against the corner of your lips, you instinctively open your mouth, making room. A soft smile tugs at his own lips as his eyes admire your lipstick coating his finger. Slowly, he eases the digit in, feeling your wet tongue hug it. And then, suck.

“Fuck,” he groans beneath his shaggy breath, brown orbs not wanting to miss a single second of this. Humming, your vibrations send a chill down his spine, finding it harder to not bend you over amd just fuck you into oblivion. But no—he had to hear you say it. 

Pink tongue laps around his thumb, doe eyes blinking prettily, lashes fluttering like butterflies. Instant jealousy enters the room as his mind begins to race with the fact that Lando has probably had you like this millions of times. He pushes down on your tongue, making you whine and bite down. And he doesn't even flinch.

“Tell me you want me…” His brows knit with need. “The same way I want you. Please, just—say it.”

Without warning, you bite down hard, this time getting a reaction out of him as he grunts with pain, and you push him away harshly until his back pounds against the nearest wall, letting out a loud thud. 

“Let me tell you one thing, Oscar,” you start, strolling over to him like a fallen angel. Today you wear a white dress, clung to your body like a glove, allowing him to see every curve of yours, in return, making his palms sweat. You grin, reaching him. “You won't ever see me begging for anyone—especially you.” His stomach drops. “No matter how much I want this to happen, too.”

Are you willing to get down on your knees and supplicate?

The answer is an obvious one for him: yes. He’d spend hours at your feet if that meant having you, for even just a second. Normally, he isn't this submissive, nor this desperate, but it seems like only you bring this side out of him. He doesn't entirely hate it.

“Ye—”

Ring! Ring!

Sighing, you walk up to your phone that sits on the nearest counter, and pick it up. “Hi, baby,” you greet sweetly. “How’s Adam?”

Ring! Ring!

Digging into his back pocket, he curses, picking up. “Hello, darling,” he says warmly, making you flicker your gaze over at him with accusation. “How’s everything going?”

Turns out, Adam’s bone wasn't actually broken and Lily had aced her exams. She ended up telling Oscar the truth, to which he was surprised she had kept it hidden from him for so long, but was far more surprised when she told him that you knew. Long story short, by some twist of fate, they’ll be back in the next couple of days. They land on the same day, so they’ll save the Australian the hassle and just drive in together. 

“See you in a couple of days. Alright. Bye,” you say, rubbing your temples. 

Oscar looks up, chewing the inside of his cheek before letting go. “I’ll see you, then. Fly safe.”

A moment passes by. “Did she tell you—”

“That they’re flying in together? Yeah. They were both in London, after all. It makes sense.”

“Sure,” you mumble, brushing a strand of hair away. “They land Wednesday, then?”

“Correct,” he says, nodding along. It’s already Monday, so that was…soon. 

Too soon.

“I should probably start fixing up the arrangements,” you announce. “Lily asked me a couple of days ago, but I haven't gotten around to it. I just pray they haven't died yet.”

“They haven't,” he states, making you curl a brow. He smiles sheepishly. “Carnations last longer. Lily said so.”

“Of course,” you say, grinding your teeth. “Lily said so, so it must be true.”

Nothing more, nothing less. You just walk towards the flowers, and feel the irritation paint your silhouette, because as expected, Lily was right—like always. 

Thing is, Oscar has come to learn your behavior. The way you tell a lie, the way you tell the truth. He's learned your body language, and right now, he can tell one thing for sure.

You never stopped hating Lily.

He smiles.

And that makes him happy. Because he knows this isn't over yet.

-

By Tuesday, the entire setup is ready. The flowers sit beautifully at every table, and the lights hang nicely around the trees. The sound of the lake singing is your only reminder that you could use a break. And apparently, it was also Oscar’s.

“The event decorators just left. But you did an excellent job with the florals,” he adds last minute.

A hum. “I tried my best.”

The dock creaks. The frog's ribbit. The crickets harmonize. And you two are too close to one another. Your shoulders brush, making you flinch and for him to cough awkwardly. “Despite everything, I had fun having you around. A summer well spent, don't you think?”

With a deadpan expression, you turn to look at him, making him laugh, and the corners of your lips fight back a smile. You haven't heard him laugh in so long, you come to realize. In all sincerity, that is. “It was alright,” you respond, shrugging it off as if nothing. “But yeah. I had fun, too.”

Fun teasing each other. Fun trying to get each other to crack. But fun, nonetheless.

And he thinks: if not now, when? You don't know at what moment he catches you off guard, but he does, because in a single second, he's kissing with urgency. Like he's never kissed anyone before and he was making sure to get it right. And it was more than right. Heat pools in between your legs as you try your best to keep up with him, but the taste of cheap beer makes you get high on life. Since when is he much of a drinker?

Since you.

The good thing is that the entrance back to the house isn't that far, so your guys’ tumble is pretty successful. Though, you don't make it to either’ bedroom, but rather the couch, where a bunch of disposables lay. Lily had them shipped a couple days ago. Says she wants as many pictures as possible, savor the memories for a lifetime.

Without any precaution, he wipes his arms across the cushion, sending the cameras to crash against the floor and throwing you onto the couch, smiling once you squeal with excitement. All except one camera—but neither of you notice that yet.

Your soft hair lays around you like a halo, making him wonder if he’s gone straight to heaven. You gesture him to come in closer, and he’s quick to obey, diving for your neck. You giggle, a lazy hand finding its way into his locks. “No marks,” you pant, squirming as he licks a line down your throat before going up towards your lips. 

“No marks,” he confirms. “On your neck.”

You pause momentarily, disattaching your mouth from his. “No marks anywhere.” He grins, nodding just because. You frown. “I’m serious, Oscar.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. “Sure.”

Then, he’s on his knees, kissing your ankle like that one time on the stairs, except now, he’s taking it nice and slow. Steady. Your mind grows dizzy as he grazes his fingers gently down your skin. It sends goosebumps, seeing him like this. So…submissive.

“I never wanted you,” he whispers as he presses his pink lips onto your left ankle this time. He hums. “You were just another girl to me. My teammate’s girlfriend—that’s it.” Another kiss. “You never crossed my mind, not even once.”

And now…

Making his way up, he kisses in between your thighs, nuzzling into your warmth. You let out a weak moan, chest rising raggedly. Playing with his earlobe, you massage it gently as you try your best not to ruin this moment. Though it seems like nothing could. Not when he’s devoted to it already. And so were you.

Feeling a slight burn, you furrow your brows as you spot him sucking gently against your inner thighs. You squirm, pushing his head away as he keeps his position. “I said no marks.”

And you actually feel his smile start to spread against your skin.

“He won’t see these, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Another suck, this time harder. “Well…unless you want him to. Then that’s your decision.” Looking past his lashes, he bites down on the flesh, making you flinch. “So what? Are you gonna let him see how someone else has fucked you while he was gone?”

Pulling your panties to the side, he dips his tongue into your pussy, making your hips fly off the couch, and for him to push them back down, holding you in place. Sloppily, he kisses it—practically making out—and groans like a madman with the way you taste. Your sweet nectar makes his cock grow hard instantaneously, and he can’t help but grind against the edge of the cushion where your legs hang. 

“Holy.” Whine. “Fucking.” Moan. “Shit.” Groan.

Twisting with an obscene amount of pleasure, you tangle a shaky hand through his hair, ignoring how soft it feels. The need to run away and stay is a confusing pattern, but as soon as he adds a finger, curling it just the right amount, you let out a high pitched moan. 

Just like that, Oscar, just like t-that. 

Adding another digit, he picks up the pace of his tongue, drawing figure eights as the knot in your stomach burns brutally. You feel a white cloud surface over your eyes as they close, screwed shut as if that might help you last longer. But he knows what your body needs, and that itself was an alarming thing to realize. 

With one last mewl, you finish all over his tongue as he licks you clean, not wasting a single drop. And the way you taste—makes him not want to go back to not knowing. With a smile filled with bliss, and that familiar afterglow, you giggle, nose scrunching like a bunny as your cheeks remain as red as a rose. The sight alone makes him struggle to comprehend that this is most likely a one time thing, and not something he’ll be able to relieve whenever he wants. 

At the end of the day—you're not his.

But he can still reminisce about this moment from time to time.

Mid-giggle, a flash goes through as you come to a stop. Oscar grins, shaking the green disposable, showing it off. “Beautiful. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Your breath hitches, his words tugging at your heart strings. You haven't experienced something like that in so long. Shaking your head, you push your dress down, climbing off the couch and pushing him to sit. “I like to play fair.” Sliding down to your wobbly knees, you shoot a gentle smirk, something that makes his cock grow painfully harder. “Let me take care of you, Oscar.”

Undoing his belt, you hurriedly unzip his jeans, fighting the urge to take him completely. You don’t, though. No, you first kiss the tip, making him groan, feeling as if pushing you head down is a good idea. Then, you suck at a comfortable speed, like a baby sucking their thumb, and watch past your lashes how his chest begins to rise slowly. 

“You’re huge,” you hum, pecking it. “How am I gonna fit you into my small mouth?” 

Moaning, the brunette drags a hand over his tired expression, faking a smile. “You’re saying you can’t?”

You suck harder, still treating it like a lollipop. Licking his tip like a kitten licks their bowl clean. It’s starting to cut his patience thin. “I can figure it out…”

I’ve done it with Lando. How much harder can this be?

That’s it. Pushing the back of your head, he forces you to deepthroat him, keeping you in place as you drool on either side of his lap, soft gurgles coming through. You try to push off him, but it seems like that makes him shove you down twice as hard.

“Something to say, baby?” he pants under his breath, raising a brow. “What was that?”

Slapping his thigh, tapping out, you find yourself being pulled off of him, dragged onto his lap as in one swift movement, he pushes your panties to the side once again and thrusts his thick cock deep inside of you. So much happens so fast that you barely have a chance to adjust to his girth. 

“Does Lando make you feel half as much as I make you feel?”

He’s not talking about sex. It hasn’t been about sex for a while now. 

Moaning, you bounce up and down, your hair hanging like a curtain as you give your best to keep up with him and his rhythm. But he practically controls you, snapping his hips up with anger. At least, that’s what it feels like. 

“Does he make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh against his ear as you clutch an arm around his shoulder, keeping as steady as possible. “He does.”

But you make me feel better. 

The sound of your praise does something to him, something inexplicable. And while he can’t quite put a name to it, he does know that you’re telling the truth. You had to be. 

Again, pulling you off his swollen cock, he flips you around, having you use him as a chair as he squeezes his girth into your tight pussy, strong arms looping under your legs and spreading them open as he abuses your cunt, feeling your head fall back as you gasp. 

“F-fuck,” you shriek, head bopping with each thrust, and your throat growing dry. “Fuck me—fuck me.”

“I’m trying,” he chuckles, continuing as you try your best to understand how he was able to learn that he knew how to do all this. “Look at you. Just…look at you.”

There comes a time of life where someone is meant for you, and you’ll find your way to each other, no matter what. He’d like to think that it’s true. Sure. It is. But have you ever thought that maybe it’s not? 

Maybe the person you think you’re supposed to be with is busy thinking the same thing as you? Living a full life with someone else who isn’t their soulmate? Romantically, that is. 

Lando and Lily. They’re both place holders. They’re nice, yeah, and they’re amazing, too—but that’s about it.

You hold his entire destiny. 

He just wants to live by it. 

But the way he has you—it’s temporary. And nothing good ever lasts forever. But God, he really fucking wishes it did. 

Close, he hears you whisper, followed by a squeal as he holds your legs up higher, still fucking you in the same position. So, so close. 

“Not. Yet.”

Hauling you off, you’re quick to whine, feeling empty as he spreads you onto the couch, admiring your glistening lips. He presses a thumb down against your bud, feeling the pulse that enlightens him to smile. You copy him, toying with your dress. 

“Should I—”

“Keep it,” he says firmly. A beat. “Please. Keep it.”

When you nod, your hair only gets tangled against the cushion, but that’s the least of your worries. You frown. “You haven’t cum yet…”

“I will, don’t worry.” Silence. Pushing this thumb inside, you squirm, wincing slightly as your eyes remain on him, waiting for his next move. “Open.”

Opening your legs wider, he chuckles, shaking his head. Your mouth. You gulp, then open wide as he hums, bringing his wet finger into your mouth, making you taste yourselves. And normally, you’d be grossed out. God, you don’t let Lando even do this, but something about Oscar makes you feel okay. That, and like a pathetic freak. 

“Good, no?” It’s an awkward thing to ask, you can’t help but blush against his digit, lashes fluttering. The Australian tsks, pressing his large finger against your tongue as your eyes grow wide. “Right?”

In a heartbeat, you nod because it just felt like the right thing to do. Satisfied, he smiles, taking another photo of this beautiful sight. Your eyes are round and full of life, and slightly teary, and that’s what he likes to see. 

Retracting his thumb, he smirks. He makes room for both of you on this small couch, towering over you and he starts raising both your legs over your shoulders. Your stomach twists. 

“I wanna see it when I fuck you.”

With your dresses scrunched up, and his cock cutting you in half, you both moan in sync as the wet sounds echo through the hall of the empty house. And this wouldn’t have happened—probably ever—if you hadn’t accepted their invitation to spend the summer in North fucking Carolina. 

The number four dangles, and not only is the sounder a reminder that it’s there, but he can spot it from his peripheral vision every time he pounds into you a little harder. And he should be jealous—God knows that’s true—but surprisingly, he’s not. 

Because he’s heard the way Lando fucks you. And nothing—nothing—compares to now. 

It feels as if he’s practiced moves like this for a lifetime. As if he were to promise you that this could all work out, then you’d believe him.

You really would.

A sloppy thrust. “I never wanted you to begin with,” he grunts, screwing his eyes shut as your body reacts to his harsh confession. “I saw you with Lando, and I felt absolutely nothing. I had Lily to focus on. But God—what have you done to me?”

His tip seems to find your g-spot as you cry out, withering around. “I was taught to respect others. To respect what’s theirs. Whether that be a journal, or a remote control car, it didn’t matter. But you do,” he confesses, watching as you continue to whimper, probably not catching any of this anymore. “You did this to me…”

You filled me with greed.

Grabbing your ankles, he lurches them over his left shoulder as he continues to pound into your tight cunt, hearing you gasp before erupting into a string of moans. 

“Now, everything he has, I want.” You whine. “I’m going after his Championship.” You whine louder, eyes opening as you watch a bead of sweat roll down his nose. “I’m going after his team.” 

Oscar chuckles darkly. “And I’d love to say that I’m going after you, but hey…looks like I already have you.”

And just like that, the pit in your stomach bursts as you two clash against one another, your orgasms riding out together as your legs finally fall, but not before he makes sure to press a gentle kiss. 

A flash. 

“Really?” you ask, glaring. 

“Stick your tongue out.”

Without any questions, where you lay, you open your mouth, watching as he stands up to tower over you, jerking his cock one last time as his drops of cum fall against your tongue, white and thick. 

Your eyes flicker with excitement as he makes sure to take a picture. If he can’t have you later, or probably ever again, then he’ll make sure that he gets an angle of you that only he could ever dream of years down the line. 

Pulling his pants back up, he makes sure to clean you up before making you sit, him only a few inches away, but honestly, it feels like miles. All of a sudden, he’s distant, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does. 

Biting down onto your wobbly lip, you comb your fingers through your hair—you’re doing your own after care. 

“I know things with us won't ever be the same, but…” You wince. “Please don’t treat Lando any differently. He sees you as a brother.”

He flinches because he knows it's true. Of course it is, everybody knows it. Oscar nods in agreement. “Only if you promise to stop hating Lily.”

You snort. “Sure. Sounds fair.”

The sound of tires is what ultimately gets your two to spring up, rushing towards the window as you look onto the driveway. Laughing, you first see Lily, then Lando, then you frantically twist your heels to face the Australian who remains with a blank expression, clearly not expecting them. 

“They were supposed to be here tomorrow, you said!” you hiss, rubbing your temples. “What the fuck?”

“They must’ve upgraded their tickets to get here sooner,” he shoots back, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He grimaces. “Hurry! Help me pick up the disposables from the floor!”

“Right!” you screech, running toward the living room as you fall onto your knees, picking up the cameras and tossing them back onto the couch. Oscar does the same, but with his eyes stuck in the door, waiting for a knock. 

Knock! Knock!

Freezing, you two look at each other, as if debating whether to make a run for it together or not. Though, as soon as you hear Lando call out for you, you’re sure you have no chance. Taking one last glance at the pile of cameras, you huff, skipping towards the door, fixing your knot up hair as best as possible. 

“Hey!” you greet, nearly over exaggerating, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he beams, grinning from ear to ear. Lando pecks your lips, lingering for a moment, making your heart drop. Because he can’t know—can he? Distancing himself, he wears a subtle frown, sort of there, sort of not, so you’re quick to smile. “I’m so happy you’re back.” You turn to face Lily, who’s stayed in the background, letting you have your moment. “That you’re both back.”

“It's nice seeing you, too,” she says before her eyes wander to a place behind you. Suddenly, her eyes twinkle as she grins at Oscar who comes closer with lips drawn into a firm line. “Look who just woke up from a nap.” Kissing his cheek swiftly, she tippy toes, fixing his messy hair into a neat comb over. “You look as if you got into some kind of bar fight.”

“Yeah,” Lando hums, looking over at you with dark eyes. “It sort of does…”

“We were fixing the outside tables—”

“We were fixing the floral arrangements—”

Lily and Lando quirk a glance at each other, then back towards you and Oscar whose faces are flushed. Oscar coughs, scratching the back of his neck. “Why don’t you guys come and check it out?”

“Yes, please!” Lily squeals, already making her way out the door, the Australian not that far behind. 

Sighing, you go on to follow as well, but there’s this hold on your wrist that just won’t let go. You spin, staring at Lando who clenches his jaw.

“Did you fuck him?”

You flinch. “No—I didn’t.”

Blue eyes fill with warning as he nods, silently thinking to himself before rubbing his chin harshly. “Don’t lie to me. I know what you’re capable of.”

This physically makes you feel sick, ashamed that he knows you for being a lying cheater. “You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, wishing to take it back as soon as it comes out. He raises a brow, clearly surprised. You gulp. “You’re capable of doing the same thing as me, aren’t you? Isn’t that why we’re together?”

“We’re together because I love you.”

“Yeah, well, I love you, too. I’ve literally given up the relationship I had with my sister—for you.” Taking his hands into yours, you knit your brows together softly, and just like that, he melts. “I love you, Lando. There's no need for anyone else.”

Looking past the clear window, Oscar stares at you and the Brit, who share a hug, taking occasional loving pecks as if nothing else matters. 

As if his feelings aren't worth anything. 

“I love it,” Lily says, ripping his gaze from getting hurt any further. Because that’s what this has all led to —him getting hurt. She grins happily, making her way closer. “I really appreciate you two working on this together, it all looks so wonderful.”

Guilt makes his tongue trip as he tries to say something, but when all fails, he settles with a warm smile, pulling her against his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I’d do anything for you, Lily Zneimer.”

With your head resting on Lando’s shoulders, you look out to where the couple stand, in the same embrace. This makes your eyes sting, which is silly because—why do you feel so invalidated? 

Despite being so far apart, you and Oscar are still able to connect, looking at each other with a certain yearning. This is not what this was supposed to be. The Australian would have never dreamt of any other girl that wasn’t Lily, so what happened? 

“I love you,” Lando mumbles, securing his hold on you.

“I love you,” Lily mumbles, face pressed against his heart, feeling it thump fiercely. 

You spare Oscar a smile, and Oscar spares you the same. And neither of you two can bring yourselves to lie.

So, instead, neither of you say it back.

-

It all comes crashing down on you one Sunday morning. 

By now, Lily has graduated, summer is over, and you’re back in Monaco. And for some reason, Lando offered to help get Lily’s picture’s developed. He knew a guy who’d get him a nice discount, apparently. Film is expensive as it is, so of course the British girl accepted. 

You’re sitting outside on the balcony. It’s windy today, and you should probably go back inside, but the ocean looks particularly blue today, so you decide to stay. 

Curling yourself tighter with your blanket, you sigh, staring numbly, mind racing. Because this is a daily occurrence now. 

All. You. Think. About. Is. Him.

Him and his obnoxious smile. Him and his warm brown eyes. Him and his chuckle that sounds dry to everyone else, but lively to you. 

Just…him.

And without a doubt, Lando has figured out that something was wrong with you, but he never asked questions.

Until now.

“Hey,” he says, plopping down next to you, pressing his lips against your temple quickly before smiling. “Have you been here all day?”

You blush, shivering by the sudden breeze. “If I say no, would you believe me?”

“Yes,” he admits, clicking his tongue. “Because apparently I believe almost everything you have to say.”

Including your lies. 

You hear him, but his voice is muffled by now with all that you’re feeling. He handed you an envelope, and you first opened it with curiosity, then with dread and shame when you realized what was inside.

The film.

You’re laughing, eyes shut with delight. 

Your lips are wrapped around his thumb.

Around his cock, too.

Drops of cum lay flat on your tongue.

One where his head is beneath your dress.

One of his hands wrapped around your ankles, a certain number four glimmering.

All of this, and more.

Licking your lips repeatedly, you sit up, staring at him with an open mouth. “Lando—”

“I’m not mad.”

You blink.

He shrugs, taking the pictures, making you want to snatch them back and figure out what to do with them yourself. How could you and Oscar forget to set this one aside?

He can tell that you’re mortified, so he sends a reassuring smile, but it does no good. “I’m not, alright? I’m just…disappointed.” His reaction is confusing, he can tell what you’re thinking. Why is he so okay with this? “I’m not the biggest fan of you lying to me, but whatever, it’s fine.”

“And sure, I should be furious that you two went behind my back, and maybe I am—but I’m willing to let it go because I love you.” The blue eyed boy pecks your lips, you still frozen with shock. He chuckles. “This is what I get, right? This is my karma? For sleeping with you while I was still dating your sister?”

When you still don’t say anything, he nods to himself, as if this is all making sense to him, and only him. “Must be.” A beat. “I forgive you.”

“What about him?” you squeak, scared of his response.

Lando clenches his jaw before breaking into a helpless smile. “He doesn’t have to know, I know. This will just remain between you and I—just like always. He doesn’t have to know. Lily doesn’t have to know.”

You hold yourself from crying because in a way, he’s right. Out of everyone, Lily Zneimer doesn’t deserve any of this. She has been nothing but good to you, and you’re embarrassed to notice now that you ruined a perfectly good friendship. And while she may have no clue, you do, and that’s enough for you to probably wince every time you look at her from now on.

“Just don’t do it again. M’kay?”

Rubbing his thumb against your lips, it’s almost like he’s waiting for something, but when you don’t seem to do whatever he was thinking, his eyes darken, and he gets up with a bitter smile. 

He takes the pictures with him and you don’t know what for.

But you don’t dare ask a single question.

It’s just you. Your thoughts.

And Oscar.

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[whosashan]

Hiii! I’m sorry I couldn’t find if you were open for requests or not so if you don’t take any at this moment please ignore this.

I really love your style of writing and I was wondering about how lads boys would react if MC asked them if they are in love with her or who she was in the past life. I know with Caleb and Zayne it can be tricky but I was thinking that maybe Zayne remembered his past or like MC suddenly remembered everything? That’s just an idea I had in my mind.

Anyways like I said please ignore this request if you don’t take any at this moment or you don’t like that idea!

Have a nice day❤️

WHO DO YOU LOVE?

pt. 2

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Doubt coils around your spine, relentless and unshaken, until the question slips free—do they love the person before them now, or the ghost of who you once were?

A/N: Hi there, thank you for your request. You didn't specify whether you'd prefer it to be more fluff or angst, so I did a little bit of both. Enjoy!

For a while now, an insidious question has gnawed at the recesses of your mind. Perhaps it stems from deep-seated insecurities, a relentless curiosity, or something more profound and unsettling.

Since uncovering the intricate tapestry of your past with your lover, a disquieting thought has taken root: are you merely a stand-in for someone who no longer exists? The paradox is maddening—you find yourself envious of a former self. The notion pierces your heart with a sharp, unyielding pain, knowing that there was once another—ironically, another version of you—who preceded you. That person was, undeniably, their one true love.

You grapple with the tormenting thought: are you genuinely the one he loves now, or are you simply a surrogate, a shadow of the past?

Xavier

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, shadows flickering against the walls, casting elongated shapes that danced with every shift of the flames. The air was warm, thick with the scent of wax and faint traces of Xavier’s smell - something so uniquely him.

He laid across the couch, head resting on your thighs, his platinum hair spilling like silk over your lap. Your fingers moved through the strands absentmindedly, tracing over his scalp in slow, rhythmic motions, just the way you knew he liked. His breathing was steady, his body relaxed, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt peaceful. Intimate. Safe.

But your thoughts refused to be still.

You wondered—had he been like this with her too? Had she tangled her fingers in his hair just as you did now? Had she peppered his cheeks with soft kisses, stolen those rare, beautiful laughs that you cherished so much?

The thought shouldn’t sting. It was you, after all. The past version of you, the one whose fate had already been entwined with his long before you even remembered him. And yet, there was a weight in your chest, something heavy, something bitter—regret? Uncertainty? You should have been grateful. It was you. It had always been you. But still, the question gnawed at you.

How different was she?

Did her smile tilt the same way? Did she struggle to keep her hair neat, no matter how much effort she put into it? When she laughed, did her cheeks lift high enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes?

The flickering candlelight traced soft golden hues over Xavier’s face, his lashes casting delicate shadows against his cheekbones. His beauty was almost inhuman, sculpted and refined, made even softer by the haze of drowsiness settling over him. He was close to sleep, lulled by your touch. Maybe it was cruel to ask now, to shatter this moment of quiet serenity.

But you couldn’t stop yourself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to gather the courage that had been slipping through your fingers. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

"What was she like?"

The silence stretched.

You thought, for a moment, that he had already fallen asleep, that your question would go unanswered. Relief and disappointment tangled together in your chest, neither strong enough to win over the other.

Then, his voice, soft yet weighted.

"Who are you asking about?"

His head shifted slightly, his dark lashes fluttering open just enough for blue eyes to meet yours. There was exhaustion in them, slight confusion, as if you had pulled him from the edge of sleep. Your fingers stilled in his hair, and he let out a quiet, displeased groan at the loss of comfort.

"Her. I mean… me. The past me." The words felt clumsy, uncertain. How were you even supposed to ask something like this?

Xavier’s brows knit together for a second, a flicker of thought crossing his face before his expression settled back into something unreadable.

"You were the same person you are now." His reply was immediate, almost dismissive, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But that wasn’t enough.

"I want you to be more specific." Your voice was barely above a breath, but there was something desperate beneath it.

He exhaled, fingers idly drawing slow, deliberate circles on your thigh, as if the motion would somehow ease whatever storm was brewing inside you.

"She was… eccentric," he finally said, his voice quiet, thoughtful. A pause. A hesitation. "Always stubborn. Always insistent. Never knowing when to give up." A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Not that much different from you now."

You scoffed, more out of reflex than humor. "Should I feel insulted?" you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

But then, as quickly as the moment of levity had come, it was gone again. The question that had been clawing at your ribs threatened to spill from your lips.

And then—

"Did you love her more?"

It barely came out, the words fragile, splintering even as they left you. Your entire body tensed.

Xavier’s hand stilled against your thigh. For the first time, something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe even hurt. Slowly, he lifted his head, pushing himself up until he was finally at eye level with you. His gaze studied you intently, tracing every furrow of your brow, every small tension in your lips.

And then, gently—so, so gently—he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent warmth curling through your chest. He was close now, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, his warmth wrapping around you like a quiet promise.

"I would love every form of you the same." His voice was steady, unwavering. "For me, you will always be the one. Whether it’s the you from before, the you now, or the you in another lifetime. It doesn’t matter if you were human, a fairy, or even a worm."

A small, teasing smirk curled his lips at the end, a deliberate attempt to ease the tension, to coax a reaction from you. And it worked—heat crept up your neck, settling in your cheeks, and despite everything, you felt the ghost of a flustered pout forming on your lips.

Xavier leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to the tip of your nose, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze once more.

"Never doubt yourself again, hm?"

And then, without waiting for an answer, he pulled you into his arms, tucking you against his chest, your face fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck. His embrace was warm, steady, grounding. The kind of touch that made all your doubts seem small, insignificant.

Because even if your question hadn’t been answered completely, even if some part of you still ached for something more—there was one thing you were certain of.

He never made you feel like she was better. He never made you feel like you had to compete with your own past.

For Xavier, it was always you.

Zayne

The only sound in the dimly lit room was the rhythmic clicking of keyboard keys, an almost hypnotic cadence breaking through the thick silence. The golden glow of Zayne’s desk lamp illuminated the contours of his sharp features, casting long shadows over his workspace. He sat with his usual meticulous posture, his frame effortlessly composed, exuding an air of quiet authority even in something as mundane as working. The reflection of his laptop screen glimmered faintly against his glasses, obscuring the rich hazel depths of his eyes.

Across the room, you lounged on the couch, your body half-sunk into the plush cushions, a book resting open in your lap. Despite the separate worlds you were both immersed in, there was a comfort in just existing beside him—his presence was grounding, a constant anchor in a sea of uncertainties.

Your gaze trailed over the words printed on the page. A romance novel—one that struck too close to home. It told the story of a man who spent lifetimes searching for his lover, chasing fragments of them across time, waiting for fate to intertwine them once more.

“Is it really me you love? Or the person—the people—I used to be?”

The line cut through you like glass, burrowing itself deep into the pit of your stomach.

Your fingers hesitated over the page as your eyes flickered toward Zayne. He remained at his desk, seemingly lost in his work, his expression unreadable. His dark hair fell slightly over his face, a few strands brushing against the thin frames of his glasses. Even when exhausted, he looked composed—controlled.

It was foolish, perhaps, to ask. You knew how he hated to be interrupted when he was deep in thought, yet you also knew yourself. If you didn’t speak now, the words would fester, gnawing at you like a wound left untreated.

"Zayne."

His name left your lips barely above a murmur, but he heard you. He always did.

His fingers stilled over the keyboard, his posture shifting as he leaned back into his chair slightly. He turned to you, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his jawline.

"Yes, love?" His voice was deep, slightly hoarse from disuse, carrying with it a subtle weight of exhaustion.

You hesitated. Just for a moment.

Sensing it, Zayne pushed his laptop aside and stood, his movements slow, deliberate. Without a word, he made his way toward you, his presence a steady force as he settled beside you on the couch. Lifting your legs with ease, he draped them over his lap, his fingers resting absentmindedly against your ankle. His warmth bled into you, solid and grounding.

Encouraged by the gesture, you swallowed and forced yourself to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind for far too long.

"What was my past self like?"

His brows lifted slightly, his fingers pausing their absentminded movements. "That’s a rather unexpected question," he murmured, adjusting his glasses—a telltale sign of nervousness, though he would never admit it. "What’s brought this on?"

You frowned. "Don’t change the subject."

A subtle exhale left him, barely audible, but you caught it. You knew him well enough to recognize when he was trying to sidestep something.

"I don't remember everything." His voice was measured, but there was a slight tightness to it. "Fragments, maybe. Fleeting pieces that don’t quite form a complete picture. But from what I do recall…" He trailed off, adjusting his glasses again before continuing.

"She wasn’t so different from you now." His tone was contemplative, as if choosing his words carefully. "Determined. Unyielding. Always knew what she wanted and wouldn’t rest until she got it." A small pause. "Much like you."

Your lips pressed into a thin line. That answer—it wasn’t enough.

"Did you love her more?" The words came out before you could stop them.

This time, his reaction was immediate. His entire body tensed, his fingers tightening just slightly against your leg—not enough to hurt, but enough for you to notice.

His eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his expression before it smoothed into something composed once more.

"As far as I’m concerned, she is you. Every version of you—past, present, future—exists within the same soul, deeply ingrained in me. To compare them would be a fruitless endeavor. There has never been a question of more or less—there is only you."

His voice was even, unwavering, but there was a weight to his words, something deeper lying beneath them. A certainty so absolute that you almost felt ridiculous for asking.

Still, a part of you felt… silly. Jealous over yourself. How insecure could you be?

But it wasn’t insecurity, was it? It was the cruel weight of uncertainty, the knowledge that there were pieces of yourself you might never truly remember. And that truth would always linger, like a ghost in the back of your mind.

Zayne, ever perceptive, seemed to sense the turmoil playing behind your eyes. He lifted his hand, his fingers trailing up your arm before settling against your own, giving it a light squeeze. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a grounding gesture.

A smirk—barely there, but unmistakable—tugged at the corner of your lips as you met his gaze. "Is that so? Then tell me more."

Zayne let out a soft, resigned sigh, shaking his head just slightly. But even as he feigned reluctance, there was the unmistakable ghost of a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

And somehow, even if your question wasn’t entirely answered, even if you knew the uncertainty would return again someday—right now, his presence was enough.

Rafayel

Laughter filled the dimly lit bedroom, loud and breathless, bouncing off the walls as you squirmed beneath Rafayel’s relentless assault. His fingers moved with precision, ghosting over your sides, tracing over sensitive spots he had long since memorized. Your body arched in protest, hands weakly attempting to shove him away, but he was stronger, faster—his lips curled in amusement as he watched you crumble beneath his touch.

"Alright, it's enough!" You gasped between helpless giggles, trying—failing—to inject authority into your voice. The demand might have carried weight if not for the way laughter cracked through it, rendering it powerless.

Still, Rafayel, ever the merciful tormentor, finally relented. With a low chuckle, he slowed his movements, his hands instead settling on your waist, fingers splayed lazily over your hips as if he had all the time in the world. Then, in a gesture as disarming as it was tender, he leaned in, pressing playful kisses across your cheeks, your nose, the corners of your lips—each one stealing the remnants of your breath.

Your smile only widened, cheeks flushed a warm pink.

When you finally opened your eyes, he was already watching you, his usual mischief softened by something more dangerous—something deeper. His dark hair framed his face in perfect disarray, stray strands falling over his forehead, and his striking blue-pink eyes shimmered with something unreadable.

"You're killing me, cutie." His voice was honeyed, teasing, yet laced with a quiet reverence. "From all that laughing, I figured you loved my fingers on you. Should I take that as a request?"

A flick to his forehead wiped the smirk off his lips.

He gasped dramatically, cradling the spot as if you had mortally wounded him. "Now, you need to kiss it better!" His pout was exaggerated, his dramatic flair in full effect, yet beneath the playful act was a calculated charm—one that had always made him so dangerously captivating.

Rolling your eyes, you indulged him, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. The faint imprint of your lipstick lingered, and you smirked to yourself, deciding to keep that detail to yourself. It suited him, after all.

Rafayel hummed in satisfaction, but then his expression shifted. "That’s slightlyyy better." A pause. "Now, how about we order some seafood?" His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, his tone lighthearted.

And yet—your stomach dropped.

Your expression faltered, barely perceptible, but Rafayel caught it instantly. His head tilted slightly, amusement fading into mild confusion. "What is it? Wasn't it your favorite?"

Your blood ran cold.

"I told you—multiple times—I hate seafood." Your voice was steady, but the weight behind it was anything but. It wasn’t the mistake itself that stung—it was the realization that followed.

It was her favorite.

The realization came like a blade, cutting through you mercilessly. The past you—the before you—the version of yourself that had lived and loved Rafayel long before your memories had been wiped away.

You weren’t her. You weren’t the one he had fallen for first.

The air in the room felt heavier now, thick with unspoken words.

Rafayel’s face fell. His usual mask of arrogance slipped, replaced by something fleeting—regret, guilt, self-reproach. He cursed himself under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Ah—sorry… we'll get Chinese, yeah?" His voice, usually so smooth, so effortless, now carried an edge of uncertainty. He was scrambling. He knew he had messed up.

But the damage had already been done.

Because you finally saw it—the cracks in his reassurances. The way his stories about her had painted a picture you could never quite step into. She had been different. More confident. More cunning. More effortlessly herself.

More like the version of you that you always wished to be.

Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you turned away from him. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Not now.

"Cutie…" His voice dropped to a murmur, gentle, coaxing. You felt his fingers ghost toward your cheek, but you recoiled before he could touch you.

That reaction made something shift in him.

The softness vanished, replaced by something colder. His jaw tensed, his lips parting slightly in what could have been a plea—but he hesitated.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat.

"Did you love her more, Rafayel?"

The words cut through the silence like a blade. There was no teasing lilt in your voice, no room for him to twist the moment into something playful. No. This time, you weren’t giving him an escape.

His body went rigid, his lips parting slightly as if the sheer audacity of the question had momentarily stolen his breath. Then, panic flickered in his eyes—just for a second.

"What?—Of course not!" The words left him too quickly, too forcefully. "I mean, god, you're the same person." His voice was rough, desperate, but the way he said it—like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you—made your stomach churn.

"Liar."

A whisper. Sharp. Accusing.

You pushed yourself up, slipping from his grasp, but Rafayel moved fast, his fingers catching your wrist before you could step away. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to make you halt.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." Your voice wavered, but your resolve did not. "I can't—I don't want to talk to you right now."

He tensed. "Y/N, don’t do this—"

"I need time." You exhaled, voice gentler now, but firm. "We’ll talk when I’m ready."

You didn’t wait for his reply.

The moment you slipped from his grasp, the warmth of his touch faded, replaced by the chilling weight of distance. And as you walked toward the door, you felt his gaze burning into your back.

But he didn’t chase you.

Not this time.

And as the door shut behind you, leaving Rafayel alone on his vast, king-sized bed, you both knew—

This wasn’t the end of the conversation.

Not even close.

Sylus

The silk sheets pooled beneath you as you sat on Sylus' bed, the fabric smooth against your skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in golden hues, casting long shadows as you rummaged through the bags at your feet—your most recent indulgence. Or rather, his indulgence.

"You didn’t have to buy all this for me, you know," you murmured without looking up, fingers brushing over the expensive fabrics, the scent of luxury still clinging to them.

Across from you, Sylus leaned against the grand headboard, his arms lazily crossed, an amused smirk playing at his lips. His crimson eyes glimmered under the dim light, ever watchful, ever knowing.

"And yet, somehow, I still managed to," he mused, his voice a smooth melody laced with amusement. "Truly tragic, how I remain cursed with wealth and the urge to spoil you."

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

"Why don’t you give me a fashion show, sweetie?" he suggested, tilting his head slightly.

Your excitement sparked instantly. You barely spared him a glance before gathering the bags and rushing into the bathroom, the sound of his low chuckle following you as you disappeared behind the door.

As you sifted through the clothes, something caught your eye—a dress you didn’t remember picking out. The color was… odd. Not bad, necessarily, but definitely not something you would have chosen for yourself. It washed you out in a way that felt unnatural, like a version of you that wasn’t quite right.

Sylus.

You sighed, shaking your head with a fond smile. He had excellent taste; he’d picked out dresses for you before—ones that flattered your figure, ones that made you feel effortlessly beautiful. But this? This felt like it belonged to someone else.

Still, you slipped it on. It’s always nice to try something new, you reasoned. And besides, you could always return it.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you straightened your posture, putting on your best model walk as you sauntered toward him with a small, playful smile.

Sylus’ gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate.

"You look ravishing," he murmured, his deep voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. He pushed off the headboard and closed the space between you in an instant, his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm and intoxicating.

"You think?" you asked, though your gaze drifted downward again, fingers idly smoothing over the fabric.

"That’s a rather interesting choice, boss." The nickname was teasing, but there was a layer of curiosity beneath it. "I don’t think I like this color on me, but if you do… I suppose I’ll wear it anyway."

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"Nonsense," he dismissed easily. "You’ve always looked stunning in this color. Or any color, for that matter, kitten."

Something in your chest twisted.

Your brows knitted together slightly as you peered up at him. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe he meant nothing by it. And yet—

"I’ve never worn this color before, though." You chuckled, keeping your tone light, masking the unease settling at the edges of your mind.

Sylus said nothing at first. A beat of silence stretched between you, but his grip didn’t falter. His expression remained unreadable, except for the slight glint of something in his crimson eyes—something calculated.

You knew this game. You knew how he played.

He was refined, meticulous with his words, carefully measured in everything he did. Sylus didn’t make mistakes.

And yet, you had caught one.

He loved you. That, you never doubted. His devotion was absolute, unwavering. But there was always this—this lingering ghost of someone else. A woman you had once been. A woman you no longer remembered. A woman you weren’t even sure you were.

And yet, she still lived here. In his mind. In his stories. In his memories of you.

"I can practically hear your mind working." His voice was smooth, but there was a quiet edge to it. "Speak."

You hesitated. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want to pick at something that might unravel everything.

"You seem to like reminiscing about the past," you finally said, keeping your voice even, careful.

His eyes darkened slightly.

"Of course," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Why wouldn’t I? The moments I’ve spent with the one I love should not be forgotten."

Your chest tightened.

He didn’t see it the way you did. To him, the past and the present were intertwined, threads of the same existence. But to you? The past felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

"Is that so?" Your lips curved into a wry smile, though the bitterness in your voice was barely concealed. "Then tell me, Sylus—who do you love more? Her or me?"

It was meant to sound like a joke. A playful jab. But the moment the words left your lips, the room shifted. His grip on your waist tightened, his body going still. His expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"What kind of question is that, kitten?" His voice remained steady, but there was something underneath it now—something more careful.

"It doesn’t matter if it’s the past or the present I’m thinking about—it’s always you on my mind."

But it didn’t feel like it.

Not in the way that mattered.

You swallowed, the months of quiet insecurities bubbling up, spilling over before you could stop them. "I don’t want you to think about her," you admitted, voice quieter now but no less firm. "It’s in the past—the past I don’t even remember."

A beat of silence.

For the first time that night, Sylus looked genuinely caught off guard. His expression wavered for the briefest moment before something else took its place—something softer.

"…I apologize." His voice, always so effortlessly poised, now carried an unfamiliar weight. "I never meant to make you feel that way, sweetheart. I won’t mention it again."

And yet—right now, it wasn’t enough.

"I need a moment for myself." The words left you before you could think them through.

You turned, ready to step away, but his fingers curled around your wrist—not tight, not forceful, just there.

"I won’t stop you," he murmured. "Take all the time you need." His hand lifted, brushing against your cheek, his touch warm, careful. You refused to meet his gaze, afraid of the emotions that might spill over if you did.

"But know that —when you’re ready, I’ll be right here."

A pause. Then, softer—so tender it nearly broke you—

"I love you."

And then, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head before letting you go.

And just like that, you slipped away from him.

Out of the room, out of his reach, out into the night, letting the wind carry you as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions inside you.

You weren’t sure how long it would take. An hour, a day, a month.

But Sylus—he would wait.

He always did.

Caleb

A/N: For Caleb, I decided to twist it a little and instead make it about your future self. Hope that's alright!

It was always easy to be carefree with Caleb nearby.

He made the world feel manageable—as if no matter what went wrong, he would be there, steady as ever, grounding you with nothing more than a glance. You hated how much you depended on him, how much you needed him, but he made it feel so natural, so right.

And even now, as you perched on the kitchen counter, watching the way his muscled back flexed with each movement, the rhythmic sound of his knife against the cutting board filling the space between you, you thought—maybe this is it. Maybe this is all I need.

Your gaze lingered. It was the only sight you ever wanted to see.

Caleb, as if sensing your attention, let out a low chuckle. "I can feel you staring, pipsqueak." He turned his head slightly, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"

Your heart stuttered. No matter how much he changed over the years, that grin—that teasing, infuriating grin—never did.

"You're a terrible chef," you huffed, crossing your arms. "I’ve been waiting for my dish for, what? An hour now?"

He snorted. "Fifteen minutes, actually."

"Felt longer."

"Impatient as ever." He shook his head, flipping something onto a plate with practiced ease.

You chuckled softly, but the warmth in your chest flickered, cooling as a shadow of uncertainty crept into your mind. You hated thinking about the future. The unpredictability of it, the way it loomed, stretching out like an abyss, no matter how tightly you tried to hold onto the present.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Caleb moving until his presence was right there. His hand shot out, pinching your cheek.

"Finally got your attention, pips." His voice was teasing, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

You groaned, swatting his hand away as he set your plate aside. His violet eyes—always so sharp, so unnervingly aware—locked onto yours.

"What's going on in that little head of yours, hmm?" He leaned in slightly, voice still playful, but now edged with something serious.

You hesitated.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid to ask. But the words clawed at your throat, relentless.

"I was just thinking..." you mumbled, staring down at your dangling feet.

"Rare sight." He smirked.

You shot him a glare and shoved at his chest, earning a low chuckle.

"Shut up." You exhaled, fingers tightening around the hem of your shirt. Then, before you could lose your nerve— "Caleb, do you see me in your future?"

The teasing glint in his eyes faded instantly.

For the first time in the conversation, his smirk disappeared, replaced by something unreadable. He stared at you, brow furrowing slightly, as if trying to figure out why the hell you’d ask something so ridiculous.

Then—without hesitation— "You’re the only thing I’m certain about in my future."

Your breath hitched.

"It’s you, by my side, exploiting me as your personal slave." His lips quirked up, but you knew him too well. The humor was a shield, a flimsy attempt to soften the truth beneath it.

And the truth was—Caleb didn’t make promises easily. He was a liar, through and through. You knew that. Hell, he was probably the biggest liar you’d ever met.

But right now?

There was no lie in his voice. No hesitation in his certainty.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel so terrifying.

But doubt was a cruel thing. It never let go easily.

"But what if I’m not the same?" you murmured, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your shirt.

Caleb scoffed, ruffling your hair with a tenderness that contradicted the smug grin on his face.

"Then I’ll adapt to whatever version of you I get." His voice was soft, but his grip—his presence—was solid.

Your throat tightened as warmth bloomed in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, breathing him in.

"Even if I become the worst version of myself?" you teased, tilting your head slightly.

Caleb hummed, amused. "If that’s the case, I’ll just make sure I become the best version of myself." He leaned in, voice dropping to something lower, something that sent a shiver down your spine. "And if your worst self turns out to be particularly sadistic, well..." His lips barely brushed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I’ll make sure to satisfy your cravings, baby"

Heat coiled in your stomach. You barely had a second to react before he pulled back, pressing a finger to your lips just as you tried to close the distance.

"Ah-ah. Eat first, pips."

You groaned. "You’re impossible."

He chuckled, eyes glinting with something dark, something possessive. Something that promised—no matter what version of yourself you became, he would always be there.

With Caleb, there was only one certainty in life—

You would always have someone who loved you unconditionally.

[misstycloud]

[Yandere.Rich man x ballerina reader]

(I don’t actually know much about ballet so forgive me if things are incorrect!)

—————

Rich. Yandere who was pestered by his friend and his wife to join them at the opera house and enjoy a performance. The couple had asked him numerous times before but he’d always declined. He was a workaholic and didn’t have any other commitments, so there was no need to break his routine. Although he would never admit it to anyone- he barely does to himself- he often find himself imagining a different life; one where he had a wife to welcome him home every evening. Perhaps a few children too. There was no sound besides himself and the staff in his home, it would be so very nice to hear the noise of running feet and happy chatter echo through the empty halls.

Rich. Yandere who is lonely above all else. His family is dead and he has next to no friends- the only one he has is married and devote all his time to keep him company. He knows that he doesn’t have the best track-record of being the kindest person in the world, and he might not be the friendliest or the most out-going, still, doesn’t he deserve some love too?

Rich. Yandere who eventually give into his friends demand and goes with them to the opera. As they took their seats- the expensive and best ones, of course- his friends wife babble on about her favourite dancer. They were regulars there and had seen many performances. He simply sighed and leaned back into his seat, waiting for the show to begin. He could only hope that it’ll be somewhat enjoyable since he doesn’t like wasting his time.

Rich. Yandere who was prepared for it to be a dreadful 3 hours, rubbing his eyes and suffering from lack of blood-flow in his legs. Oh how wrong he was. Instantly his gaze zoomed into you as soon as you stepped forward from behind the curtain. You were so beautiful and you moved your body gracefully to the music. It was magical. While he knew close to nothing about ballet, he knew that the point of it were for the women to look like they’re floating, and it’s exactly what you were doing.

Rich. Yandere who is instantly enamoured with you. As someone who’s never felt love this was all a brand new experience for him. He asked his friend and his wife if they knew who you were, since they frequent the opera so much. And turns out the wife did know who you were; you were her favourite after all. Rich. Yandere was never close with her or particularly liked her even, but he had to give it to her: she has excellent taste in performers.

Rich. Yandere who starts looking up information regarding you. It’s be your name, age, background, family, where you went to school and where you live. Everything. He also begins donating a lot of money to the opera house. In a short amount of time he’s become their nr.1 funder. The managers and owners are ecstatic at the news! They ask why he’s so generous and he simply answers that he loves culture and thinks it’s important it doesn’t disappear. Then, they wonder if there is anything they can do for him return, to which he smiles in response.

“Well, I do suppose there is one dancer I would be delighted to meet in person.”

Rich. Yandere who you feel uncomfortable around. He is so strange. You were just a normal ballerina, a dancer, no better or worse than anyone before your time. That’s why you can’t fathom the interest this wealthy man has taken in you. You two came form completely different worlds! But what can you do when your bosses not-so-gently urge you to see this man alone? You dont have any other skills and can’t apply to another job if you get fired.

Rich. Yandere who is determined to make you fall for him the way he has fallen for you. He’ll take care of you, love you and protect you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. He will do anything for his love.

“Don’t be scared, just keep on dancing, my little dancer.”

[lemonlover1110]

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 3] Innocence

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Pairing: Knight!Toji Fushiguro x Princess!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Smut, Virginity Loss, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Nipple Play

Story Summary: This is what'll get Toji killed... But how can he reject her when she looks up at him with such beautiful eyes? A man that's been to war won't be killed by the edge of a sword but rather the lips of a woman.

He shouldn’t lay a finger on her, but he’ll do anything that she asks him to. She’s his princess, he has to follow her every word.

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You didn’t plan things out this far. You’re very visibly zoned out at the dinner table, trying to figure out your next move. Embarrassment consumes you as you think about your reaction to his words. You couldn’t have done anything else…? You had to run away and shut the door of your room in his face.

“Are you okay, love?” You’re knocked out of the trance by your father, who’s been trying to speak with you but gone ignored. Usually, he’d lecture you about your lack of manners, but this behavior isn’t normal from you.

“I’m okay.” You give him a sheepish smile, taking a small bite of your food. Nothing is appetizing right now, but it’d be weird if you didn’t attempt to eat anything. 

“How was your piano lesson?” He asks, and you nod. Your brain is too preoccupied to form a proper sentence, all you can do is nod. Luckily, he won’t push the matter, he simply moves on. There’s no point in pressing the matter when he knows you won’t speak.

You’re playing around with the food, unable to stomach anything. What will you tell him? Are you sure you want to do this? Sure, last night you were determined to do it but you’re thinking more clearly now.

You’re determined to turn Toji down, but then his name comes up. 

“You’ll meet your prince soon, aren’t you excited?” Your father asks, and then the nerves consume you all over again. Insecurity settles in once again, and you rise from your seat.

“May I be dismissed?” You completely dismiss the question, and his brows come together. He can only assume it’s nerves, which he isn’t completely wrong about. Simply, he imagines the situation in a completely different manner.

“You may.” He answers, and you nearly dart out of the dining room. You’re walking fast enough to avoid being followed by your knight, alas, it’s to no advantage. Toji is quickly called over and ordered to follow after you. 

“Princess!” You hear, and you feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest. He’s running to catch up to you. You don’t stop for him even though it would be nice to him, but then again, when have you ever been nice to Toji?

It isn’t until you’re at your bedroom where he’s finally fully catched up. Toji doesn’t like to run after you, but he has no other option when you’re running away.

“Why didn’t you eat the strawberry shortcake?” Toji asks, watching as you catch your breath. That’s where you differ, he’s not even breaking a sweat. He wasn’t even running at his full capacity.

“I’m not hungry.” You trip over your words, very clearly nervous. This isn’t the reaction Toji expected when he said what he said, but perhaps he should’ve expected it. You clearly don’t know what you’re doing.

“Look, your highness. I take back what I said, it was out of place.” He says, and you feel your face get unreasonably warm. You don’t even know what you want. Last night you wanted to have sex with him, he rejected you and that was that– Sure, you were acting like a complete and total brat about it, but you didn’t expect him to change his mind. Toji is too headstrong to change his mind.

You want to tell him it’s fine and to move on, but then you remember what awaits you. How embarrassing would it be for everyone to run their mouth about their queen… how her king goes to anyone else to satiate his hunger. How they do now, except the situation is worse because you can’t escape.

“Toji.” You swallow the lump in your throat as you look at him. Butterflies fill your stomach as you study every feature of his face. It’s a good thing he’s handsome.

“Yes, princess?” He raises his eyebrows, and you pause for a moment. You bite down your lip, looking him up and down. So sex is when the man–

“When can we do it?” You end up asking, knowing that if you overthink, you’ll never get out of your comfort zone.

“It?” He plays dumb, not wanting to outright say it.

“When can we have…” You lower your voice, “sex?” 

“We can…” It’s warm out, but Toji shouldn’t start to burn up. It’s a good thing that he can suppress any trace of emotion. You wouldn’t be able to tell that a single thought runs through his head.

Toji knows the castle better than anyone. He knows when it’s guarded the most and when it isn’t as crowded. He knows who’s on shift, and who’s off. Yet, none of that information runs through his mind when he’s thinking of what to answer. 

It’s surprising, but you get through your day normally. You’re able to carry out your usual routine with Toji as if nothing else were happening. The bickering doesn’t stop, and you carry on as usual.

You’re not as affected… But Toji– Toji isn’t one to freak out nor feel nervous about anything. This shouldn’t be nerve-wracking, but Toji feels odd. Maybe because he knows that one wrong move will end it all.

Well it’s not entirely about the risk. The risk absolutely plays a big part in how he feels, but also you come to his mind. He’s taking your virginity. He’s taking your innocence. You’ll completely view your romantic life differently after it, at least he thinks you will.

Toji watches the guard that’s outside your door at this time. A complete fool that can’t do the job as well as Toji; the idiot is falling asleep for fuck’s sake. But maybe it’s a good thing tonight. Toji can suppress his footsteps and walk by unnoticed, but he’s not taking the risk. The fear of getting caught gets the best of him. 

He’s debating whether he wants to enter your room or not, but it’s too late to back down now. He knows that you’re waiting for him, and he doesn’t want to let you down. He just has to be wise about his timing.

As Toji stares at the door, he thinks that maybe it was easier to sneak in through your window. Sure, your room is on the third floor but he can climb in through your balcony. He’s climbed harder surfaces; however, none are as guarded as the castle. 

Toji would wait for the guard to use the restroom, but that won’t happen for a while. Toji bites his tongue as he looks around. His best bet is making some sort of noise to lure the man away. There’s a shine that catches his eye, and Toji’s gaze lands on his signet ring.

A sigh leaves his lips before he takes it off. It’s just some jewelry that he’ll claim is lost, and get a replacement later on. He throws it, the loud noise drawing the guard’s attention. Such a small ring draws so much attention. During the day you wouldn’t hear it, but it’s the loudest possible noise in the castle at night.

Toji can blend in with the shadows, pressing against the wall as the guard walks over to the source of the noise. When the man is far enough, Toji seizes the opportunity to enter your room. He’s never been this quiet in his life, but he executed the plan flawlessly.

He lets out a deep breath when his back is pressed against your door, not realizing he had been holding his breath. He’s staring up at the ceiling, thanking a higher being for being on his side this time. Toji has gotten stabbed near his heart before, but somehow, someway, this is worse than the moment where he was fighting for his life. 

Maybe because back then he had no reason to live. But right now, he has– What is he even thinking? He’s safe. He made it to your room. He’s in your room. 

Fuck, he’s in your room.

“Toji?” You softly call out to him, and his eyes finally land on you. His jaw clenches as he slowly looks down on you. You’re wearing a white lace nightgown that makes you look so… Soft. You’re looking at him so innocently, slowly stepping towards him. 

“Princess.” He responds, feeling the air in the room suddenly get thicker. The most stressful part isn’t even over. Your hands go to his chest, the thin cloth of his tank top being the only thing that stands in the middle. Whenever Toji is around you, he’s wearing his heavy uniform, but tonight he’s more relaxed.

“So how do we… Start?” You sound so innocent that he wants to step out of the room and act as if nothing ever happened. Toji’s large hand goes to the back of your head, making eye contact with you.

Your pupils dilate as you’re forced to look directly at him. You feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest, knowing what’s to come… Though you aren’t too sure what happens next. 

“Princess, have you had your first kiss?” His eyes slowly move down to your lips. You shake your head, and Toji bites down his lip. You haven’t even had your first kiss, he shouldn’t do this.

“Will you be my first kiss, Toji?” Your voice is so sweet, how could he ever reject you? It’s the first time you’re this nice to him, dare he say. His hands cup your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as hesitance takes over him.

He came ready to do worse, a kiss shouldn’t work him up. He can only mutter, “I’m sorry I’m not someone better,” before leaning down, meeting your soft lips. It’s so sweet, contradictory to what he’s here for tonight. 

He can’t believe he’s actually doing this. Intimacy, especially sex has become a second nature to him, something he doesn’t think twice about— So why does he feel so weird about a kiss? Maybe it’s because your lips are so sweet and soft… Or maybe it’s because you’re so helplessly copying him, unsure of what to do.

“Are you sure this is what you want, princess?” Toji can’t help but ask as he pulls away from your lips. This is it… Once he starts he won’t be able to stop himself.

“Have sex with me, Toji.” You grab his hand, trying to bring him to your bed. You don’t seem to understand that you’ve lost all control the moment you spoke.

“Oh!” You yelp when he picks you off your feet, carrying you to your bed. His lips meet yours again, except that it isn’t as sweet as the first time. His tongue enters your mouth, pressing against your own and you attempt to mimic him.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” He pulls away to warn you, gently putting you down on the bed. You nod in response, and Toji takes a deep breath, looking down at you. He almost feels like he’s the one that’s about to lose his virginity with how nervous he’s feeling.

Having sex with a princess? Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine this. He’s full of himself, he knows he can get just about any woman he wants, but not his princess.

“We need a towel.” Toji takes a step back, and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“What for?” You ask, and he lets out a chuckle. Some blood, and other stuff. Before he can even answer, you proceed to tell him, “Just get the sheets dirty.”

“And get Hanako to interrogate you?” Toji responds, and you chuckle. The shyness and nerves going away, your usual cockiness settling in for the moment.

“Who do you think I am, Toji? You really think she’s in a place to ask me too many questions?” You reply, and he ends up rolling his eyes. There you are.

“Don’t complain if I make a mess then.” He says, hands going to your knees and spreading your legs. That’s the moment your cockiness fades away again. Toji’s fingertips glide down the soft fabric of your nightgown before he lifts it up.

His breath gets caught up in his chest again when he finally gets to see your cute little panties. He’s seen you less than dressed before, but not in this type of situation. He can’t help but mindlessly stare at you. 

“Do you need help?” You respond, lifting up your nightgown before he can even respond. His eyes go wide, realizing that you’re naked in front of him. He ogles your breasts before he leans down. He kisses your lips again, and your hands go to the back of his head, pulling him closer.

His hot fingertips move down your torso, making their way to your panties. He begins to play with the waistband of your panties, making you squeeze your legs together. Toji ends up pulling away, wet lips kissing down your neck until they reach your breasts.

“What are you–” You begin as his tongue circles around your nipple, the unusual sensation bringing you pleasure. He wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks, and you bite down your lip. He told you that you have to be quiet, so you won’t make a single noise.

He looks up at you, watching your brows come together in the middle as you try your best to be quiet. Perhaps he should teach you that a man does enjoy hearing those little mewls of pleasure, but he can’t risk it tonight. 

Toji unlatches, kissing your body. Each kiss gets lower. Riskier. You feel the butterflies slowly consume you, squeezing your legs harder with each kiss. He finally stops when your panties get in the way.

“Have you ever touched yourself here?” Toji raises his head, fingers circling over your clothed pussy. He knows the answer, but he just wants to hear it come from your lips.

“No.” You answer, and he fights back a smirk. The nervousness fades away when he forgets about titles and formalities. Right now he’s just a man, and you’re just a woman.

“I’ll make you feel so good.” He responds as he takes off your panties. Toji spreads your legs apart, eyes glistening at the sight of your bare cunt. You’re already dripping wet, and he hasn’t even done anything.

“What are you going to do?” You ask, and before you can utter another word, he dips his head down. His lips kiss your pussy before his tongue runs through the folds of your pussy before it focuses on your clit. You know that this isn’t what he’s supposed to do, but you’re not stopping him. Not while he makes you feel good.

He flicks his tongue just right, making you shut your eyes as a breathless moan escapes your lips. Now you understand why he told you to be quiet. You squeeze his head as pleasure flows through your body.

“Go back.” You whine, when his tongue moves down, teasing the entrance of your cunt. He does the opposite, asserting his control as he lifts his head. He doesn’t leave you unattended though, his thumb playing with your clit.

“Does that feel good? Do you like it?” There’s a hint of mischief in his voice, satisfied that he’s taken away your source of pleasure. 

“Toji, please go back. Use your mouth.” It’s rare for you to use a word like that, and he’s finally gotten to hear it. It’d be rude of him to not dip his head down between your legs again, allowing himself to indulge again.

You taste so sweet on his tongue, a taste that will be hard for him to forget. It’s a good thing he gets to enjoy it all night long– And he doubts this will be the only time you’ll meet under these premises.

You feel as he runs two fingers through your folds, getting them wet with your own slick before they press your entrance. Your hand slaps your mouth shut when he pushes one of his thick fingers inside of you. It feels weird… It’s odd, but you don’t hate the feeling. 

He adds a second finger, slowly moving them in and out of your pussy. The uncomfortable feeling dims, pleasure settling in. It’s stronger than before, the feeling of his mouth and fingers heightening the feeling. 

“Toji.” You whisper, your body acting on its own. Your legs squeeze around him, back arching as an unfamiliar feeling builds up. It gets the best of you, and you’re moaning. It should be a matter of concern, where Toji should stop and shush you, but the way you moan his name is music to his ears. He can’t stop himself, not now.

The pressure snaps inside of you, and your body quivers. That’s when Toji takes his fingers out of you, rising from between your legs. His thumb swipes over his lips, cleaning your juices from them before he pecks your lips.

“I’ve never seen you this sweaty, princess.” He points out while you pant to catch your breath. You avoid looking at his eyes, a sudden shame washing over you. He knows that feeling better than you do, so he won’t say anything about it. “Is this where you want to stop?”

“No.” You finally look at him, your body burning up. “I want the real thing.”

“Eating you out wasn’t the real thing, huh?” Toji chuckles as he lifts his tank top. The shame quickly goes out the door when your eyes fall on his well-sculpted body. He has the same physique of a Greek god, except his body is covered in countless scars. 

Toji is not of your class, he’s had to fight for his survival… Would it be imprudent to say that you like them?

“You haven’t… You know…” You can’t say the words outright, and it humors him. And to think that tomorrow you’ll be your cocky little self.

“What, princess? I haven’t come? Is that what you meant to say?” He whispers in your ear, and you want to bury your face in the bed out of embarrassment. It’s hard to hide now. 

“Toji…” Your hands go to his bare chest, falling on top of his fast beating heart. You look into his eyes, pure smugness gleaming in them. “I’ll make your life miserable tomorrow if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“Isn’t that what you do every day?” He teases while his hands go to the waistband of his pants. You sit up, biting down your lip as he lowers his pants so painfully slowly. You try to suppress any emotion when you finally see it. 

“Will that–” You swallow a lump in your throat as Toji spreads your legs wide open again. Toji knows the question, and he can’t give you a verbal answer, he can just show you how it’ll fit just perfectly.

He spits on his hand before giving his cock a quick stroke. You feel your heart about to beat out of your chest– As if his mouth wasn’t down there a couple of minutes ago. 

“It usually hurts your first time.” He warns you as he runs the tip of his dick through your cunt. You nod, bracing yourself for anything. Just by the look of it you know it won’t be easy. “Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Okay.” You nod, hands going to his biceps as you wait for him. Your nails dig into his skin as he slowly pushes himself inside of you. You hold your breath, certainly more uncomfortable than before. His fingers were nothing compared to this. 

Toji’s eyes remain on your face, trying to decipher what you’re feeling. He sees your eyes get watery, watching as a tear slips from your face. He’ll stop in a heartbeat if he sees that it’s too much for you to handle. He doesn’t bottom out, instead he stops and asks, “Are you okay, princess? Do you need me to st–”

“You can move.” You assure him, his hands going to your hips before he gives slow, gentle thrusts. He’s too focused on you to notice how good you’re feeling. He’d curse you for how good you feel around him, so maybe it’s a good thing that he’s too focused on you.

“Does it hurt?” He’s asking. Never in his life has he been this caring, especially during sex, but the circumstances are vastly different this time. You bite down your lip and shake your head. It’s uncomfortable, but the more he moves the better it feels.

“It’s good.” You reassure him, hands going up to wipe the tears that escaped. His hand goes up to cup your face, thumb caressing your cheek. 

“Hmm? It feels good? You like it?” He asks, trying to regulate his movements. He’ll keep things nice and slow. You nod in response. He stares at you, admiring every feature of your face. Yeah… He’s really doing this. He’s fucking his princess.

“Toji…” You begin as you look into his eyes, and you feel the tears brim in your own. You don’t know what feeling it is that consumes you, but you can’t stop it. You’re doing something you wanted, and yet you’re about to cry. You can’t even explain it, and you hate it.

Maybe it’s because you rushed it and did it out of desperation. Maybe it’s because this is supposed to be an emotional milestone that you can’t revert– You can’t explain it. You just know it isn’t because Toji isn’t the right person. He’s the man you trust the most, how is he not the right person?

“Can you… stop?”

He pulls out, and he watches as an influx of tears begin to stream down your face. Toji freezes, unsure of what to do next. Should be… Apologize? He isn’t the type to apologize but he feels like he’s done something wrong and he has to apologize for it. It certainly takes him by surprise when you curl up and begin to apologize.

“I’m sorry– I–” You begin, and he watches in shock. He bites down his lip before he lays down beside you, throwing his arm over you.

“I can leave.” He tells you as your hand goes to his arm, and you attempt to bring him closer.

“Will you just hold me?” You ask through sniffles, and he hums in response, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You repeat again, “I’m sorry.”

“What for? You were amazing.” He responds. “Tonight is all about you, princess. It always is.”

“You didn’t even get to–” You begin but he cuts you off before you can finish the sentence. 

“You know it’s not every night you get to share a bed with a princess, and I’ve had the great honor to do so.” He replies. “My beautiful amazing princess sharing a bed with a peasant? I’m truly the luckiest man alive.”

“Shut up.” He manages to make you chuckle, meaning he’s accomplished his goal. You wipe the tears before commenting, “I must look so pathetic right now.”

“You know I’ve cried after sex before too.” He reveals, and your curiosity is piqued. He doesn’t have to ask to know. It’s a little personal, and something that he would never share, but nothing gets more personal than this– Not to even mention that he’s doing everything in his power to make you feel better. “It was my first time with the best woman in the world, and I just couldn’t stop the tears.”

“I’m certainly not crying because you’re the best man in the world.” You comment, and he smirks. There you are.

“I’m just a dumb peasant, right?” He asks, and you hum in response. He chuckles before pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder. You’ll be just fine in a few minutes.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 14

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 13 | Series Masterlist | Part 15

Chapter Word Count: Over 5k

Chapter Summary: The manager of The Red Room gives you a little advice regarding your situation with Bucky.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, backstory, reference to stalking, hopelessness. inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! I realize some of this may feel like filler, but it's happening for a reason. Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Ray kept a close but respectable distance as he took you to his car. It was similar to the vehicle he drove Bucky around in, but a slightly different shade of black that wasn’t as flashy. You should've spotted it sooner, but you weren’t exactly looking for it, were you?

“Have you just been driving around following me all day?” you asked once you were in the car.

“I followed you on foot, too. I’m good at blending in,” he said, giving you a sideways glance as he buckled up and made sure you were buckled up, too. There was no boasting in his statement, just truth. “It wouldn't surprise me if I’m the one asked to stay nearby when you join your friends on Saturday.”

“But perhaps if she really does want to go and you’re unable to accompany her, boss, someone could discreetly keep an eye on her.”

With his looks and massive build, he shouldn’t be able to blend in so easily. How many people paid that close attention to their surroundings though? You hadn’t before. You needed to be on guard more. And what was that going to do to your stress levels?

At least it would be Ray watching if he was asked and not one of Bucky’s other friends.

“Well, I hope watching me drink wine doesn't bore you,” you said, glancing out the window as he drove off, watching the cars and people go by. “How did you get so good at what you do?”

“Making sure you're safe doesn't bore me,” he said. Ironic considering his boss put you in danger. “And I think that’s a story for another time.”

Ray said he had been working for Bucky for a few years. You wondered just how they met. There had to be a story there. “Do you ever think about walking away from it?” you asked curiously, bringing your gaze back to him while he kept his eyes on the road. “I mean, you have a life outside of this, right?”

Did he have family? Friends? A loved one? He had to have a hobby at least. Something.

He tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Do you think one simply walks away?”

“No, I guess not,” you replied. It was unlikely that you would ever escape, but you didn’t know how it was for people who willingly ran in circles with men like Bucky. You still had a lot to learn. “But I’d like to think there’s hope for you if that’s what you want.”

“I appreciate the hope and I don’t want you to lose that,” he said, sparing you a sad glance. “But you should place it elsewhere.”

Where exactly would you place that hope when Bucky continued to infect everything in your life?

You nodded once, feeling a bit sad for him, too. He just seemed different from the others Bucky surrounded himself with. “Sorry for the questions.”

“Don't apologize,” he said, tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s nice that you care enough to ask.”

You smiled to yourself, content to sit in silence after that. Grabbing your phone from your bag, you aimlessly scrolled through your messages and stopped at Bucky’s name. There were no new messages, but would he send something at the stroke of midnight? And if he was in a mood without you around and Ray eventually told him that Zemo introduced himself to you, what would he do?

“We’re here,” Ray said after a minute, parking his car in front of a tall, sleek building and getting out. He held up a hand to stop the valet from opening the door for you, opting to help you out himself. “This way.”

The sleek theme continued as you went into the lobby and you understood why it was called The Red Room. The color was everywhere, balanced out by a mix of black and gray and soft lighting. The nearby sofa and chairs looked high-quality, as did the art. It appeared to be an oasis of luxury and a place for a well deserved break.

You stopped Ray before you got to the desk. “How much is a room? I get paid tomorrow, but…” You had some money in savings you could transfer over to cover what was surely an expensive cost.

“You haven't checked your account today, have you?”

Taking out your phone with a furrowed brow, you quickly logged into your bank account. An embarrassing squeak came out when you saw the amount, your eyes wide as you looked between your phone and Ray. That had to be some sort of mistake. There was no way…

Bucky.

“He put money in my account?” you whispered, double checking the amount to make sure your eyes weren't deceiving you. Why did he do that? “I can't…”

“He did and he won't take it back if you try,” Ray confirmed. “Regardless of how much you now have, if my boss found out that I suggested you stay here and made you pay he’d have my head.”

“Well, what’s the point of having this money then?” you pressed.

Not that you intended to use it. Spending even a dime of it would likely encourage Bucky to give you more. Or was it a test to see if you would spend it? Would he know if you did?

Maybe, just maybe, you could get Addison and Brady a nice wedding gift.

“To make sure you're taken care of in every possible way,” he said, gesturing to you to move forward.

“Welcome to The Red Room,” a woman in a black dress smiled, Ingrid from the name on her tag. “Do you have a reservation?”

“We do not,” Ray said, sliding a card over. “And I’ll need to speak with Natalia regarding a room, please.”

“Natalia?” Ingrid’s smile didn’t slip, but a hardened look took over her eyes and you suddenly felt uncomfortable. “I’m afraid that’s-”

“It’s fine, Ingrid. I’ll be happy to take care of them.” A redhead in a similar black dress walked over, her heels echoing on the marble floor. She carried herself with grace and power and looked like she could snap your neck without breaking a sweat. So did Ingrid for that matter. “Why don’t you go on break?”

“Of course.” Ingrid’s smile was back on her face. “Enjoy your stay,” she added, gliding away.

“Raymond. Good to see you,” Natalia said, her voice warm as he gave her a nod. “You’ll have to excuse Ingrid. She gets a little protective when anyone asks for Natalia. You know you're one of the only men around who still calls me that.”

“It’s your name, is it not?” he asked, though her tag read Natasha.

“Indeed it is. Maybe one day you’ll call me Natasha,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at you. You didn’t think she was judging you, but you still felt a little self conscious under her gaze. “I wasn't supposed to meet you until later. I also expected Bucky to be with you when that happened.”

You held your breath before you remembered that Ray said the manager had worked with Bucky before. “So you know who I am,” you said. For Bucky to preach about your safety, a lot of people were aware of who you were. “Does everyone know who I am?”

The corner of her lip quirked up. “Not everyone,” she said, turning her attention to Ray. “Why is she here early? Did something happen?”

“She needs a place to stay for the night and she’s not to be disturbed. That includes my boss.”

She raised an eyebrow again. “Understood. I’ll give her suite 213 and put you just across the hall.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard before she slid the card back to Ray. “Follow me.”

“Isn’t a suite a bit much?” you asked. And for Ray to pay for that, you had to pay him back somehow.

She paused to stare at you. “All of the rooms here are nice, but the suites are a bit more spacious. It’ll give you room to breathe while you relax,” she gently spoke. “You look like you could use some rest.”

Did she know the extent of what you had gone through? You weren’t claustrophobic but with Bucky smothering you, breathing and rest didn’t come to you as easily. “I appreciate that,” you said. A spacious area would feel nice.

She nodded, pressing the elevator button. “You’re also welcome to book anything in the spa at no charge and whatever you’d like from the restaurant or room service menu is on the house.”

You gaped at her. “So because I’m Bucky’s girl, you’ll just give me these things for free?” you asked, noticing that she stood on one side of you and Ray on the other. “I mean, I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but there’s no need for the special treatment.”

Everyone so far in Bucky’s circle fawned over you. But what had you done to earn anything? Nothing. All you did was catch the eye of a powerful man.

“Nothing in life is free. There’s a price for everything,” she said above a whisper. “And I know you’re not ungrateful. You’re just not used to it.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it since you grew up with the belief that you had to work for what you were given. “You asked why I was here early. When exactly was I supposed to meet you?”

“Not to spoil the surprise, but Bucky booked a dinner reservation and our best suite for a romantic evening.” She gave Ray a glance, who didn’t look too pleased. “I think he plans to tell you the day of, if I had to guess.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, a shiver running through your body. You weren't an idiot. If Bucky booked a suite for the two of you, he’d expect you to sleep with him.

“I thought you were good at keeping secrets, Natalia,” Ray uttered.

“I’m very good at keeping secrets that are actually worth keeping, Raymond,” she retorted.

“I’m glad you told me,” you said. In her defense, you asked a question and she gave you an almost direct answer. “Besides, it’s just another thing to add to the list of ‘surprises’ for today. Bucky having Ray follow me. Meeting Zemo.”

“Zemo?” She didn’t give anything away, but she gave Ray another look. This guy didn’t seem to have a lot of fans. “You met Zemo? When?”

“He introduced himself to me at the park just before we came here,” you replied.

She pursed her lips when the elevator door opened. “I can’t wait to hear how Bucky responds to that.”

Your stomach sank. You saw what he did to John after he insulted you. Zemo likely wouldn’t fare much better, but he also seemed to be a bigger player in whatever went on in the city.

“Will you let me do a sweep before she goes in?” Ray asked before Natasha could open the door.

“No one has been in this room and no one knew you were coming here, but I know you'll be chewed out if you don’t,” she said, stepping aside for him.

“You’re not planning to bug the place, are you, Ray?” You didn’t want to think he would, but you had to ask.

He didn’t look offended by the question. If anything, he seemed to understand your concern. “This is meant to be a safe haven for the rest of the day. I won’t take that from you,” he promised, shutting the door behind him. It was nice to have him somewhat on your side, even in the smallest capacity.

The hall was eerily quiet as you stood alone with the redhead. Your gaze darted back and forth, expecting Bucky to waltz in and tell you that this wasn’t a haven at all. That he’d drag you to the suite bed and do whatever he pleased.

“I’ve been told you have a kind heart,” Natasha said, bringing your attention back to her. “That’s good for Bucky.”

“Is it?” you asked, looking down the hall again.

“Relax,” she urged. “You don’t have to feel nervous here. You’re safe.”

“You work with Bucky, so I’m naturally going to feel nervous and suspicious,” you said. You wouldn’t apologize for that. “How much do you know about me?”

“A man named Jake who does security and surveillance works for both Bucky and I. When Bucky needed him for an extended period of time, I was naturally curious as to why. He gave me just enough pieces to put the puzzle together.”

“So you know I’m trapped,” you said. She had to know it wasn’t a consensual relationship.

“More or less,” she said.

“And let me guess. This Jake guy specializes in bugs and listening devices?”

“Hmm. So you know about the bugs,” she said. Bucky was all too proud to share that when you asked. “Jake does specialize in those and you might meet him at some point. If and when you do, don't blame him for doing his job, please. Not everyone gets to choose their line of work.”

“Well, I wish he would’ve stopped him,” you said. You could blame this guy, but it wouldn't do you any good. Like Natasha said, he may not have had a choice.

“If it’s any consolation, he wasn’t pleased when he realized he was helping bug an innocent person's place, but he has a sister and niece to consider,” she said, giving you a hard stare when you opened your mouth. “And before you ask because I know you’ll ask, I can’t help you.”

You tried not to get upset at her immediate denial to help. “May I ask why not?”

She sighed, toying with the delicate gold necklace around her neck. You wondered if the arrow charm was symbolic. “The women who work here… We didn’t exactly have the best upbringing and we didn’t have much freedom, even as adults. Including my sister,” she explained, a haunted look taking over her eyes momentarily. “But Bucky stepped in some time ago and helped us. Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to open this place or give us normal life. I’ll be forever in his debt for that.”

“He helped you?” you asked. Marc mentioned that he donated to the local hospital and charities, but this was something else. Was this a normal hotel or some kind of refuge?

“He did. When he isn't doing bad things, he actually does some good,” she answered, still toying with her necklace. “In all the time I’ve known him, there have only been two things I’ve ever heard him say he wants and you’re one of them. If I help take you away from him, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“So you won’t help me, but it’s really more like you can’t,” you guessed. She was essentially in Bucky’s pocket and had to think of the women under her employment and her sister. She couldn’t put them in danger. “No one will help me.”

“Barnes isn’t the kind of man you win a fight against. It’s better for most to stay on his good side than to be his enemy,” she said, putting a hand on your shoulder when you hung your head. “Hey. I’m not telling you to just lay over and accept your new relationship for what it is, but I don’t want you to be surprised when people keep telling you ‘no’ when you ask for help.”

“Everyone just looks the other way and that isn’t…” You bit your lip to keep from screaming.

“It isn’t fair. I know,” she whispered. Her sympathy didn't make you feel better. “I won’t make excuses for him because what he has done is awful, but he isn’t entirely evil. He’s… flawed. We all are.”

Would Bucky be so flawed if people didn’t enable him or look the other way? “Do you think I’ll get used to belonging to him? I keep fighting it, but…” Doors kept getting slammed in your face in terms of help and that hope continued to fade. Was it time to accept the inevitable?

She considered your question. “I can’t say if you’ll get used to it, but there’s a careful balance between embracing a circumstance while maintaining your own boundaries. You need to find that.”

“But I have no boundaries thanks to Bucky,” you argued. He took them away.

“Maybe not now, but you could get some back down the line. He isn’t a man most people win fights against, but he’s still just a man. Use what you know about him and sway him. You have a little more power than you think.”

You thought back to the club when Jax flirted with you. Bucky worked himself up, but your touch and soft demeanor helped calm him down. “I guess I could try,” you said. It seemed easy enough, but he was so good at swinging things in his favor that you had a hard time believing you had a chance.

“And it isn’t much, but I can offer you a space here to use on occasion if you need time away from him. I know you don’t believe he’ll let you use it, but I think you can convince him and you deserve a safe haven,” she said, smiling a little when she handed you a card. “I could even have one of the girls teach you some self defense if you’re interested in any lessons.”

You turned the card over. There was only a phone number listed and a black widow spider. “I appreciate the offer, Natasha,” you said, tucking it in your bag. It wasn’t freedom, but it was something. And whatever Natasha’s full story was, your heart went out to her. “Can I ask what the second thing is?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said Bucky has only wanted two things in the time you’ve known him and I’m one of them. What’s the other thing?”

She shook her head. “That’s for him to tell you.”

Ray came out of the room a moment later. “All clear. Not that I expected anything less from you and your staff, Natalia,” he said. It earned him a small smile as she passed his room card over. “I’ll be just across the hall if you need me.”

“And you can ask for me personally if you call the desk,” Natasha added.

“I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine,” you said honestly. As long as Bucky didn't show up. “I’ll just order some wine and food, curl up in bed, and finish reading my book.” You didn’t need much else.

“Are you sure?” Ray asked.

“I’m sure,” you smiled softly. He had done enough by bringing you there. “Thank you both.”

They each gave you a sympathetic gaze as you stepped inside and shut the door behind you. The red, black, and gray theme continued in the tastefully designed suite. It was the nicest hotel room you had ever been in. Too nice for someone like you.

Setting your bag down and removing your shoes, you went right to the bedroom with your phone and book. The large bed looked comfortable and inviting. Sighing as you stretched out, you stared at the ceiling and tried to reflect on what had recently transpired.

Natasha. She couldn't directly help you and she had her reasons, but she might be a good ally. She was at least in the camp that you deserved some sense of freedom and offered you a small form of sanctuary. It was better than nothing.

Ray, you still couldn't figure him out. Like Natasha, he wouldn't directly help you. Bucky said he was loyal and didn't let emotions cloud him. He seemed to care to an extent though.

You froze when a message popped up on your phone. It wasn't from Bucky though. It was from your coworker, Kate.

“Hey, girl! You know Clark? Pretty blue eyes. Super hot. He stopped in and asked when your next shift was.”

Your stomach twisted in knots. Why was he asking? “Hey. What did you tell him?”

Kate messaged back quickly and your stomach twisted up more. “Told him you’d be in tomorrow and he looked happy until Mrs. Crandle announced that you have a boyfriend?! Girl, WHAT?! I need all the details!”

You groaned and hid your face in the pillow. Mrs. Crandle meant no harm, but this was the last thing you needed. Maybe Clark wouldn't come around after hearing that. “I’ll tell you about it during our next shift together.”

You didn't look at your phone for the rest of the afternoon. Instead, you lost yourself in the pages of the book and only took a break to order a drink and meal from the room service menu. And true to Natasha’s word, no one disturbed you. The food was left outside of the door once ready. Natasha even had a nice pair of pajamas sent up for you.

It was a quiet and relaxing rest of the day.

But as the sun went down and you got ready for bed, you held up your left hand and looked at your bare ring finger. A shuddering breath left your lungs as you imagined a ring around your finger. How happy your friends would be that you found love. How happy Bucky would be to have you tied to him forever.

Glancing at the empty side of the bed after your delicious meal, you wondered how it was going to be sleeping next to Bucky. Was he a cuddler or would he want his own space? Would he hog the covers? You would find out soon enough, wouldn't you?

But for today, he left you alone. He kept his promise. Yes, he sent Ray to watch you, but he hadn't shown up or reached out. He actually gave you some space instead of smothering you. And with you in the suite, he didn't have eyes on you.

Who knows? Maybe his mood improved and he had a good day without you. One could only hope.

“Good night, Bucky,” you whispered, closing your eyes and getting the sleep you craved.

A loud knock on the door woke you. Slowly opening your eyes with a groan, you wondered what time it was. Your body alarm clock said it was too early. Stretching, you made your way to the door and stopped when you heard raised voices outside.

“Get the hell out of my way, Natasha.”

You gasped when you heard Bucky’s voice, the quick anger rushing through you making you clench your fists. God, you knew it. You knew he’d show up.

“Don't make me put you on your ass, Barnes.” Natasha didn't sound afraid at all. What was it like to not have fear? “I’ll repeat myself in case you didn't hear me the first time: My instructions were that she wasn't to be disturbed and that includes you. So unless you're checking in, I suggest you leave. The fact that you’re even on this floor after I promised no one would bother her-”

“He was up here to speak with me,” Ray cut in.

“And I did. Now I need to see her,” Bucky said, the desperation in his voice making your heart ache.

“Boss, it’s two in the morning.”

“Exactly. You need to let her sleep. It’s the least you could do,” Natasha urged.

“I promised her the day to herself, but that day is up and I have to see that she’s okay,” Bucky argued. You were lucky he didn't knock on your door at 12:01. “I just need to see her with my own eyes.”

The bugs at your place would've given him access to whatever he wanted, but he didn't have that in the suite. It was probably driving him crazy. He sure as hell sounded out of sorts.

“Wow, an entire day. How generous.” You almost laughed at Natasha’s snark. It was appreciated. “Is this about Zemo? I know he saw her at the park, but he hasn’t been around here. We both know I’d never allow him to set foot in the door without a very good reason.”

“I still need to deal with him and he’ll be lucky if I don’t kill him with my bare hands,” Bucky growled, making you tense up.

“You have enough blood on your hands, but what’s one more body?” Natasha asked, the conversation reminding you once again that Bucky was a killer. “Look, I’m not going to disturb her and neither should you.”

“Natasha-”

“No. You played this wrong, Barnes. You could've chosen a compassionate route of courting her and eased her into this, but you intimidated her from the start and made it so she won’t ever be free of you. Maybe you're more like your father than-”

The sound of something colliding with the nearby wall made you jump back from the door, your heart thudding. It took a moment to get your bearings before you threw the door open to make sure Natasha was okay. The redhead, Ray, and Bucky all looked toward you and no one had a single mark on them. The wall beside the door, however, had a fist sized hole.

“Kotyonok,” Bucky smiled the second he saw you. He looked like he hadn't slept much. Good. Now he knew how it felt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not having it in you to scream, cry, or anything else. “And did you just punch a hole in the wall?”

He chuckled sheepishly, brushing off his gloved hand. “Yeah, I did that.”

He was unbelievable.

“I’m so sorry he woke you,” Natasha said, putting out an arm to stop Bucky when he stepped forward. “Back up, Barnes. You’ve seen for yourself that she’s fine.”

“Yep. I’m fine.” You gestured to yourself and yawned. “Can I please go back to sleep?”

“Can I come in for just a minute?” Bucky asked, a touch of guilt in his eyes when you narrowed yours. He was pushing his luck when all you wanted to do was go back to bed. “Please?”

“Apologize to Natasha for damaging her property,” you demanded. He had no right to do that.

“I’m sorry, Natasha,” he sincerely stated.

Natasha’s mouth parted before her cool expression took over again. “Thankfully no one else was on this floor, so you hopefully didn't disturb anyone else.”

Bucky's eyes were still on you, full of longing. “May I please come in?”

You mulled over it. Technically he still kept his promise and let you be for a day. You could be angry later that he showed up so early. For now, you needed sleep.

“Come in,” you said, surprising everyone, yourself included. “It’s fine,” you assured Natasha and Ray.

The redhead nodded after a moment and lowered her arm, but the bodyguard shot his boss a subtle glare. “You know I'll have to bill you for the damage,” Natasha told Bucky.

“I know,” he said. He could afford it.

“Thank you, Ray. Natasha. I hope you both get some rest, too,” you said, letting Bucky into the suite and shutting the door.

Bucky let out a breath as he looked you over, but didn't move any closer when you backed up. Of course he had to invade what was meant to be your haven for the night. Strangely, you weren't as nervous as usual to have him so close. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you mumbled, crossing your arms when he slipped his jacket off. “You really couldn't wait until after sunrise to see me?”

“I’m sorry. I was up late at the club and Ray said you were here and… I missed you,” he explained, his expression soft.

It was kind of nice to be missed. “I’m sure you did,” you yawned again. “King of the loopholes,” you added under your breath.

He ran a gloved hand through his hair. “And I’m sorry about Zemo. I should've known he would-”

You shook your head quickly. “Nope. Not having this talk when I'm still sleepy,” you said, heading toward the bedroom. It was too heavy of a discussion to have in the middle of the night. “Take your shoes off. We both know you aren't leaving.”

He looked surprised all over again when you looked back at him. “You’re letting me stay?” he asked, a smile on his face like you handed him a gift. “You aren't telling me to leave?”

“Stay or go, up to you, but I'm going back to sleep,” you said, curling up on the bed. “And if you sleep next to me, don't you dare let your hands wander.”

“And you’re letting me lay with you,” he said, the mattress dipping beside you. “You’re being very agreeable.”

“You’re lucky I’m choosing to be nice instead of kicking your ass or letting Natasha kick your ass for disturbing me and my sleep,” you said, tensing up when he spooned you, his arm wrapped tight around you and his breath warm against your neck. “We have some things to talk about when I wake up.”

Ray following you. Zemo. Natasha’s offer. Bucky’s mom. Your relationship.

“We can talk about whatever you want,” he whispered, nuzzling you gently as your eyes shut. “Did you miss me yesterday?”

“No,” you mumbled.

Your reply didn't stop him from chuckling. “Not even a little bit?”

You sighed. “If I say ‘yes’, will you let me sleep?”

“I will,” he answered.

“I missed you a little,” you said, snuggling further into the pillow. He placed his hand over yours and you blamed your tiredness for why you didn't tense up again. “Now sleep.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, but didn't push any further, thankfully. “Thank you for letting me hold you.”

Your heart clenched. He sounded so happy just to be around you, just to be in your space. You were his everything.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled, drifting off not long after.

Your last thought before you fell asleep was that you hoped Bucky would behave himself.

Lovelies, I think we all knew Bucky would show up the first chance he had. What do we think of Natasha? Is she being truthful that she can't help or is she biding her time? Will Bucky behave? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[emmyrosee]

His foot taps anxiously against the floor of the flower shop, eyes glazing over the beautiful bouquets and vibrant colors that splash under the fluorescent lights that crackle above his head. The smell of so many flowers is getting into his head, powdery and sweet, but the nausea brewing inside of him is not budging.

He messed up. He knows that.

He also knows he relies on the bet that you’ll accept flowers every time he messes up, which while seldom, happens more than he still would like.

You deserve the utmost love and respect. And he can’t stand that sometimes, he feels like he can’t give it to you and has to hope flowers will be enough for your trust again, like a bandaid on a scraped knee.

After this, he’ll run to the bakery for a pastry, wrapped in a little box, waiting for you to enjoy it-

What is he thinking, countless gifts won’t make up for it, for all he’s done. You’ll never forgive him, each bouquet and each slice of cake when he messes up surely is only driving you away, and he cards a hand through his blonde hair as he has a small, teeny freak out in front of the display.

He looks to the old man next to him who easily picks out a bouquet of assorted flowers with a predominantly purple color story. The old man sniffs them, and smiles, before sighing happily. He turns to Atsumu with small nod, “think she’ll like ‘em?”

Atsumu tenses up before offering the old man a small chuckle, “sure is one of the prettiest bouquets in here,” he encourages, and the man hums as he looks around the boquete for any imperfections in the petals. “She’ll be lucky to have them from ya, yessir.”

The man smiles, “no, son; I’m lucky to have her.” He sighs dreamily, “there isn’t enough bouquets in the world to show her how much she means to me.”

Atsumu freezes. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, a lump forms into his throat at the man’s words. He tries to swallow it thickly, keep his emotions at bay before he wails to this strange man about all the ways he’s hurt you over the years and how always, he’s never been able to fully forgive himself despite you assuring that you do.

This argument would be no different.

Atsumu nods his head in understanding, “I think you might be in the same boat as me,” he says, wondering if this man too, is making up for a mistake he made. If this man is trying to repent, and the first way to do it is to bring her flowers, a symbol of a love he’s determined to keep blooming, keep alive, keep beautiful.

But maybe, just maybe, he’s not relying on the fact that flowers are an apology, perhaps they’re being purchased just because, just to make you smile.

Perhaps Atsumu should start doing that for you. Just something nice.

Something to look forward to.

The man chuckles once more; it’s raspy, like perchance he’s one to indulge in a cigarette when the craving arises, but it’s comforting, and for the first time in hours, Atsumu feels a little more at ease.

“At least we’re in the boat, my friend,” the man says. Atsumu swallows thickly once more, but he flashes the man a comforted smile.

“You’re right. We sure are, sir.”

The man bows at the blonde, “you take care of yourself,” he says simply, before coolly turning to make his way to the registers. Atsumu looks back at the boquetes and grabs one that reminds him of you; bright and pristine, like bubbles on a warm day, a warm blanket at night. Like the movie you can repeat by heart by now, but he’ll still watch with you like it’s the first time.

He smiles, sniffles and blinks the sting in his waterline, thrilled to be in the boat with you.

[andersunmenschlich]

Reminds me of a miscommunication last week at work.

I do overnight stocking in a local grocery. I'd just wheeled a precariously stacked U-boat (this thing, not a military craft) into a far aisle, and looked back to see a much younger coworker nearly lose a bunch of stuff off another U-boat.

There was a shopping cart in his way: he'd tried to swerve around it and a section of the stack on his boat had begun to topple.

As I came up, he rebalanced everything—good as it ever was, which wasn't very. I pulled the cart out of his way, but he didn't move. "We'd better take some of this stuff of the top before I move it," he said.

He was directly in front of the aisle that stuff went into, so I started pulling product off the top of the cart and moving it into the aisle.

The kid (who still wasn't helping) shouted at me.

"No!" he said, as though I were deliberately doing a thing different from what he'd specifically asked for. "Put it in the cart!"

I raised an eyebrow.

He looked slightly embarrassed, but still seemed to be wondering why I would move product into the aisle instead of into the aisle-occluding cart. I didn't have time to untangle the situation—the delivery truck had been late, and we had only a short while to get everything on shelves before the store opened—but the puzzle keeps coming back to me.

I am autistic. Perhaps he "said" where he wanted his boxes with his eyebrows or something. All I know is that he certainly didn't say it with his words.

Me and my boyfriend grew up with very different styles of communication. I learned early that if someone asks you a question, you should quickly assess what the asker actually wants to know, and answer with that information, so you won't bore them with stuff they don't care about or annoy them by telling them things that they'd already know. And the problem with the way you were raised is that you always kind of assume that everyone looks and thinks about things the same way you do.

As mentioned earlier, my boyfriend and his family are not like that. He does not start to troubleshoot for the most likely "real" question behind the general one being asked. The first assumption is what goes, and if those tracks don't lead anywhere, that's too bad because there's no such thing as the second most likely option. I've had to learn how to ask more specific and less open-ended questions, because he isn't accustomed to the kind of most-logical-option leaps as I've grown up with.

His father is not autistic, but he does work in IT. I frequently need to remind myself that he does not hate me. If I ask him a question that can be interpreted in two different ways, it's best to assume he didn't pick up on the one I meant. So if I ask a question but get a different answer than I expected, his thought process is "you asked me a question, therefore I answer this question", and not "this question can be interpreted two different ways, one of which is practical for the time being and a sensible thing to ask in this situation, and the other one is a fucking stupid question. I will answer the stupid question because I've concluded that you are fucking stupid."

[felibrary]

synopsis: they say the ‘eyes are windows to the soul’. anyone who glances at phainon would immediately notice—the chrysos heir's cerulean gaze is solely fixated on you, starstruck and overflowing with love."

wordcount: 0.5k | content & warnings: gn!reader, tooth rotting fluff, phainon is head over heels, phainon tries cringe flirting methods gone wrong, b99 ref the ones who get it get it ; drabble

author's note: hey hoes guess who's back. 1) was at the psych ward 2) had purple hair 3) now have turquoise hair 4) fake ginger guy and i had a fight but now we're talking again..kind of

being loved means feeling safe. 

there isn’t a moment where PHAINON takes his eyes off you. he always ensures that you’re safe because who knows what dangers will strike—putting you at risk would be the least thing he’d want. 

whether that’s ensuring you get home safely, making sure you take care of yourself and aren’t neglecting your needs, affirming you whenever you feel sullen—you name it. phainon is always willing to take care of you. 

those actions are enough to make anyone falter, but for you, it’s the small things that matter. the little and what others would consider trivial gestures that make your heart race.

—

“phainon, is everything alright?” 

you throw him a worried glance as he hasn’t said anything for the past minutes, which is beyond usual for the chrysos heir. on any other occasion, he’d talk your ear off, and you’d happily listen as you nod along, but this time, he’s entirely quiet.

he, on the other hand, doesn’t seem worried in the slightest; no, on the contrary, he looks rather amused. “yes, why’d you think otherwise?” he places his chin in the palm of his hand and leans into it.

“you've been staring at me for the past minute, and i’m concerned,” you inform him while trying to study his expression—in vain, you might want to mention.

phainon chuckles, and his cerulean eyes that were surveying you take shape into crescent moons. “nothing, really. just admiring how nice you look and how lucky i am to have you.” he opens his eyes, and you can only scrutinize the way his white eyelashes flutter. 

if you wouldn’t know otherwise, you’d think phainon’s eyes were jewels the way they glimmer and gleam as they softly look at you.

—

“did you just try the triangle method on me?”

you exclaim in disbelief, as if you couldn’t believe that your boyfriend has seriously tried to swoon you by using some silly technique. when he called out your name and didn’t say anything, simply staring at you, you thought that at first, perhaps phainon was just frozen in place.

but to think that his cerulean eyes would then wander from one of yours eyes to another, eventually down to your lips and back to your eyes, would lead his eyes to glisten with something similar to mischief and…—

“oh god, please don’t tell me you just licked your lips,” you groan irritatedly.

at the mention that phainon seemed to jolt. “whaaaat?? ho…” the chrysos heir tries to play it off, by innocently looking away, but the smile that crinkled at the corners of his lips told another story.

“wanted to kiss me so bad that you tried chapping your lips by licking them, seriously?” you remark sarcastically, not expecting anything out of it.

“‘wanted to kiss me so bad’ title of your sextape,” phainon whispers in a silly voice, trying to imitate yours in the process.  “phainon!” you lightly slap him on the shoulder, cracking a smile while doing so. 

“can i still get the kiss, though?” 

it’s not the way he says it because his eyes say more than enough. those blue eyes of his were going to be the death of you at some point—you just know it.

end note: well, actually, he was just pleading like a puppy who had been kicked out by his owner, begging to be taken back

this is dedicated to the og phainon fucker who posted 10 insta stories with the same picture of phainon and different songs: @azullumi (who would've thought...) ANYWAY azul my beloved sweetheart, i cherish you more than anyone. i think especially in those times, the periods where i struggle and suffer in misery for various reasons, i remember that i have friends who care about me, and that most importantly includes you. yes, indeed, love is supposed to feel safe and whenever I'm with you i feel safe. your words are like raindrops dribbling down my skin and cleansing me from all the impurities and harms i have inflicted. you're so much more than just an online friend to me, you're my platonic soulmate and my comfort person. it's been a year since we've known each other now and that's actually so surreal, don't you think? love you lots xx

�� FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Loving Arms (4)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part IV: Changes must be made

|| Loving Arms Masterlist ||

A/N: There were so many ways that I wanted this chapter to go, but I think this was as good as I was going to get it. Please leave a comment and let me know what y'all thought. 😊

BTW: I have tagged everyone that asked, but some weren't working for some reason

For quite some time, Aegon was used to being harshly woken in the morning and dragged to different lessons or things that he absolutely despised attending because it was the expectation. Curtains would be pulled open quickly, further bothering his morning as light would seep into his eyes and making his head pound with pulsing pain from drinking quite a bit the night before.

His mother, grandfather, or perhaps the septa would harshly pull him from his bed, tell him off for his previous behavior and that he was shaming not just himself, but his family by his actions. It was all things that he had heard and experienced more times than he could count.

A routine that he had lived for so many years that he had lost track at what point did it begin.

So it was certainly a complete shock to wake up slowly one morning, the soft feeling of someone playing with his hair was what had stirred his sleep addled mind. His room was still fairly dark, the curtains had not been drawn and there were no servants or other attendants milling about his room. His bleary eyes slowly focused in to see that his lovely muña was the only one in the room.

"Did you sleep well, sweet boy?" she asked softly while combing her fingers through his hair. "I figured that we might try a different way of going about your morning since I heard that you imbibed quite a bit."

She sat on the edge of his bed and had such a tender look of affection as she stared at him that it overwhelmed Aegon to see it. Instead of answering, he hid his face in her skirts and gripped the fabric of her dress between his hands. Kneading the material in his hands and whimpering softly.

There was no reproach from his sweet muña and she shushed him softly, petting his tangled locks.

"Oh Aegon," she whispered. "I am sure that your head hurts, but we must start the day. There is quite a bit that must be done."

He snuggled into her lap and peeked an eye to look at her, "Must I?"

She laughed gently, "Yes, you must."

She turned to the side table by his bed and carefully picked up the teapot that was placed there by the servants to pour some tea into his teacup. "Here, sit up a little."

Begrudgingly Aegon sat up against the headboard of his bed and pushed back his hair away from his face, rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion.

"I made sure to add a bit of honey to your tea this time," she smiled. "I thought a bit of sweetness would be a nice way to start the day before we break fast."

"Thank you," he whispered. He took his light purple teacup with gentle care and blew softly on the steaming liquid, humming in delight when he managed a small sip. "It tastes better, thank you muña."

"You are welcome," she said as she picked up her own teacup and drank her tea silently beside him.

It was quiet.

Aegon wasn't used to soft mornings like this one.

To hear the distant clatter of life outside the walls of the Keep.

The gentle birdsong as they also greeted a new day.

The quiet hums of his muña, whose smile hadn't left despite the fact that he wasn't even ready for his lessons.

Even with his hesitance to become too comfortable, Aegon hoped that he could more mornings like this one.

"Muña?" he called out softly. "It is not that I don't appreciate this change of pace, but what stirred all of this?"

"I heard amongst the grapevine that your mornings were quite the chaotic events" she said gently. "That it was quite the spectacle to be present when the eldest prince was put in his place or so I had heard."

His face burned in shame and he looked at the dregs left at the bottom of his cup. Because even though he appeared aloof and uncaring to others, it was humiliating to go through it.

He just didn't know how to change what he was doing, when every day felt like a burden.

When his limbs felt like lead, his head would hurt from all the letters that would swim on the page, and as if his heart would pound out of his chest as nothing that his tutors said made any sense to him.

"It seemed to me," she said quietly and carefully lifted his chin to look her in the eye. "It seemed that everyone around you had failed to help you. Or was I mistaken?"

Tears pooled in his lavender eyes and shook his head, swallowing the lump that was stuck in his throat.

"I know there will be quite a bit of backlash, but I have relieved all of your current tutors from service and have sent word to a few that we will see if they fare any better" she said. "Would that be alright with you? Trying things a little differently?"

He quickly but carefully set his teacup beside him, practically leaping into her lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His sobs wracked his body and made it difficult to speak.

"H - how? H - how is it that y - you can s - see ME?!" he cried. "H - how? When my own m -mother cannot?"

She only held him tighter and rubbed his back softly, "Because I know what it is like to go through life never being seen by those we cry out to the most."

He could only cry.

And she held him in her arms for quite some time, letting him cry even when his nose ran and stained her dress. It took a long time until his breaths merely shuddered as the last of his tears dried and he let himself be held.

Slowly he sat up and wiped at his nose, "I think that I would like a bath now."

"I will have someone come up and draw the water for you," she said wiping his stray tears away. "I have someone that I need to speak with soon, go and look for your siblings. Spend some time together, I have made the arrangements so that you are not interrupted."

With that she leisurely stood up and brushed her skirts from any wrinkles. He sat back on his bed and watched her.

"Where will you be going, muña? May we come along?"

"No Aegon, it is probably best that you and your siblings not come with me today. I do not think it would be appropriate for you all to witness me stir up more trouble than is necessary."

"Trouble?" he tilted his head confused.

"Heaps of trouble and hopefully I will not need any help getting out of it" she laughed. "But knowing my big mouth, there will be times that I cross the line."

"I don't know if I like where this will go" he said. "Please take care, muña."

"I will do my best, Aegon" she said. "But do not worry and I will be back as soon as I am able."

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

"My lady, I must tell you once again that the King does not wish to have any visitors at this time," the guard said with his gaze forward.

"And I will tell YOU again Ser, that if you do not tell the King that I wish to speak to him about an urgent matter, that you are stripped of your post and tongue" she smiled.

The guard trembled in his place but remained firm in keeping his gaze forward.

"My lady, please -"

"What seems to be going on here?"

Their gazes darted to King Viserys standing by his partially opened door, he looked between them expectantly.

"Good brother, how lovely to see you" she said with a saccharine smile. "I was telling this kind ser that I needed a word with you, but it seems that you were preocuppied."

"Nonsense, I have time to speak with my good sister. Come in (Y/N), don't dawdle by the door."

Walking by the guard, she curtsied sarcastically and followed Viserys into the room, only to stand by the door itself as her gaze looked over the massively detailed city that he was constructing.

"This is.... quite the project that you have here, Viserys."

"I have been making it for a long time, I would hope that it looks impressive for all the effort that I put into it" he chuckled, while working on another portion of the city. "But tell me, what brought you here that needed you to threaten that poor young man?"

"I will be blunt Viserys, were you in a drunken stupor when you agreed that Aegon and Halaena should be married? This kingdom follows the faith of the Seven and despite the brutish ways of your ancestors, they should not be married."

His expression hardened and he stopped what he was doing.

"Your Father and Alicent made quite a few points and I saw no harm in them," he said. "If you have any qualms bring it up to either of them."

"But you are King," she stated. "A decision like this cannot be made without your say, so yes there is a few things that you could do to make sure that this marriage doesn't happen."

"We must all do things that are our duty even if we are not fond of them, I am sure that with time they will find it agreeable" he waved it off.

"And you are the speaker of such things?" she scoffed. "Here you hide away from your own children and wife, it is hypocritical to say that they will one day find it agreeable when you can't stand to be in their presence."

"That isn't true!"

"Then explain it to me Viserys! You say that we must all do things that we are not fond of and because of duty, but those children are suffering because of it!" she yelled. "You wanted an heir! Now you have plenty and cannot even spare them a moment of your time or care!"

"My children want for nothing! They are princes and princess of this realm, they have never gone hungry and more things than they could ever want!" he argued. "In time they will learn to grin and bear it, because there are others that would love to be in their place!"

"With parents like theirs, it is punishment enough!"

"Silence! You have said enough!"

"No Viserys, I haven't!" she rushed forward and stood toe to toe with the man. "If I must forfeit my life here, I will do all in my power to ensure that those children have someone fight on their behalf!"

Viserys was practically shaking in anger, but her eyes had a look in them that made the man turn away. "See yourself out, (Y/N)."

"No."

He looked at her in disbelief, "No?"

"No" she echoed. "Until you concede, I will not."

"I am King, I could have you thrown in a cell for this insolence!"

"All I see is a weak man, there is no King here."

It was unnerving how she stared at him, Viserys was used to grown men trembling at his word and groveling for forgiveness at his feet. People pleading that he would find mercy in his heart for them and not following through with his threats.

Yet his good sister refused to back down

His legs shook as he sat down and tried to keep his gaze on her.

"What would you have me do? I have already agreed."

"Allow me to find good matches for the children and that I may have say in what must be done for them" she said simply.

"That is asking for too much, (Y/N)."

"Oh it is merely the start, Viserys."

"What else is there?" he asked.

"We will have many more things to discuss," she smiled. "I hope you are comfortable because changes must be made."

[i-really-like-phrogs]

Do you see the vision?

Trophy wife Claire this, supermodel Claire that, I think an older Claire would be a snippy CEO who wears a hot pink suit like Elle Woods.

[pomefioredove]

Hey Dove~

I was reading through the different headcannons and the mute reader really caught my attention. Could you possibly do the Vice Wardens (including Ruggie cuz he's basically second in command anyway) with Yuu that has a speech impediment? Basically they stutter/stumble on words, get them mixed up, pronounces them wrong, and maybe forgets certain words. And obviously with new arcana and magical words (and the weird ahh names some of these characters have) they can get pretty frusterated or embarressed.

You always have such good headcannons!! Feel free to throw in any other characters that you like to the mix as well!!

OH this hits close to home too. I stutter and mispronounce things when I do speak, so I'm using that for reference

twst x mute reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ reader with a speech impediment

summary: as described type of post: headcanons characters: trey, ruggie, jade, jamil, rook, lilia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu

see, I don't think Trey would say anything about it

he's not one to criticize strangeness

that would be rude, first of all

second of all, there's no such thing as "normal" at NRC

(even so, some people may point it out, but he's not one of them)

he doesn't have any trouble understanding you, either

he grew up with younger siblings who pronounced owl as "awa" and kitty as "shishi" until they were six

he's certainly patient

and he knows how to use context

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

honestly? Ruggie didn't even... notice?

for a while, he just thought you talked fast

he knows how it goes; you get excited or nervous or whatever, and you end up stumbling all over yourself

no biggie

then one day you come up to him all sad and teary, apologizing for a speech impediment he didn't even know you had, and he's like...

...oh! no!

of course he's not annoyed!

Ruggie's an adaptive guy, after all. when he wants something, he'll bend backwards for it

you think a little stuttering is gonna stop him from being friends with you?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

much like Trey, Jade doesn't say anything

he just watches you talk

and smiles

like this -> :)

it's not that he's particularly concerned about being rude, he's just...

observing

humans are such fascinating creatures, he thinks

he learns all of your quirks just by listening to you

which words you have trouble with, which ones you mix up and forget, which consonants you stumble over...

he teaches himself your language

and he becomes a sort of translator for you

any time someone is rude to you, he'll come out of nowhere and tell them everything you said in the exact order you said it

weird, but nice

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

to put it plainly, Jamil has bigger problems

whether or not he can understand you doesn't really matter to him

it's not his job to worry over you

then, you come to him asking for help, and...

...well, he's flattered

he can't deny he likes that you come to him for guidance before anyone else

because of this, (and because he had to learn how to control his own tongue when he was little), he takes pity on you

whether your goal is to work on your speech, or to simply feel less anxiety about it, he's there

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

is it cliche to say that Rook already knows exactly what you're thinking?

perhaps, but it's true

he's mastered the art of observation

he can read your thoughts in your expression, your body language, even the slightest twitch in your lips gives you away

he just knows

you don't have to be a good speaker, or a speaker at all, to communicate with Rook

(and he can do all the talking for you if you'd like, he'd probably enjoy that)

and, of course, he is of the opinion that there is beauty in everything

you don't need to be perfectly clear and concise for him to like you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, I can't guarantee that Lilia won't tease a little

only in good fun, of course

and only if you respond in kind

but he does find it rather cute when you mispronounce something, or mix up your words

he won't correct you or interrupt you, either

he'll step in to help if you're really struggling, of course, but he thinks of you as capable

he does remind you to take breathers when you're getting too anxious about it, though

he cares <3

[mothinkling]

TOUCHSTARVED X CURLY-HAIRED!GN!READER (HC)

Summary: HC on each of the Touch starved LI with a GN!reader that has curly, wavy hair and all the pain that can come along with it.

TW: None, ya freak.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent, by the way.

KURAS; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

♡ His own hair appears to be quite wavy, and I wouldn't be surprised if he had a few curls himself in the back of that long beautiful, scrumptious, perfect--

♡ But that doesn't necessarily mean he'd be the best equipped to deal with it, he's connected to his own body; but he simply doesn't feel the same sensations as a human would.

♡ He'd like to brush your hair, but I'd expect a couple snags on the comb.

♡ If you can deal with that, you'll be rewarded with the soft, curious eyes he'll send your way as his long fingers brush through each curl and strands with upmost gentleness.

♡ "I must confess that I'm not experienced in dealing with more cosmetic difficulties, but I'll do my best to lend any expertise."

♡ One saving grace would be his access to many oils and different herbs that could be used as moisturizers and anti-frizz serums.

♡ He'd prattle about scalp health while gently rubbing them onto your curls, observing them like fascinating test subjects.

♡ He might wonder why you don't simply cut your hair if it causes so much difficulty, but he'll keep that to himself to respect your autonomy.

♡ We love a respectful king.

VERE; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

♡ The beauty queen himself, his obsession with his own appearance would actually lend quite well to your issues.

♡ His hair is naturally quite straight, leaving him in the position to be quite teasing whenever your hair frizzes up.

♡ ''Rats nest? mm, quite a bold choice, my dear."

♡ But once he realizes it's out of your control/you might not have the proper equipment to deal with it, he'll ease up a bit.

♡ Oils and moistures will be lying around in abundance when it comes to him, but that isn't to say he'll actually let you use them.

♡ At least at first, enough wheedling and growing closer and perhaps he'll let you get your sticky fingers onto his abudance.

♡ And if you ask real nice, perhaps he'll even apply it himself.

♡ He'd act incredibly put out when he sees you struggling with a comb, as if the very sight itself is causing him physical pain.

♡ His voice would be faux annoyed, but his hands would be gentle as he took both the comb and a section of your hair, gently using the comb and started parting the locks.

♡ Since he brushes his own tail almost religiously, he's well aware of the pain that can come from tugging on strands.

♡ That wouldn't stop him from being an asshole about it, of course, he'd be happy to pull back your hair in warning if you say anything he doesn't like.

♡ You know he'd buy you a silk bonnet, I'd be surprised if he didn't have one of his own lying around somewhere in his room, he appreciates the finer things in life.

♡ And you, my dear, are the finest luxury this desolate city could ever provide.

MHIN; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

♡ They don't like their own hair being touched, something that's a major point in any sort of relationship you might have with them.

♡ In a way, they sort of project their own boundaries onto other people; they don't like their hair being touched so they don't touch yours either.

♡ Your mess of hair is your problem to deal with. smh so rude.

♡ They don't see how brushing fingers through locks or gently scratching at your partners scalp can be appealing in any way, ever use to pain as they are.

♡ The first time it'd be brought up would be them chastising you for the amount of frizz or curls in your face, in their eyes it's a battle disadvantage.

♡ They'd think it's unnecessary but wouldn't bother telling you to cut it; it isn't their business, and if it hinders you, that's your problem.

♡ They're far from wealthy themself; they don't exactly have access to any products- and with their own hair being so straight, they never had a need.

♡ But as your relationship and trust grows, they are more likely to ease up on their vehement distrust.

♡ Imagine carding your fingers through their feathers, when they're at their lowest point; they still trust you enough to let you brush your fingers through the delicate feathers, giving them the pleasure they've been deprived of for so long.

♡ Ahem, they might consider brushing your hair after that, only if you ask oh-so-nicely.

LEANDER; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

♡ Lost puppy when it comes to your hair, all he knows is that he finds it beautiful.

♡ I wouldn't trust that man to deal with your curls at all, it isn't for a lack of him wanting to; he'd likely have been the one to ask in the first place, eager to brush his hands over your hair.

♡ He's a bit too.. inventive, even if he has access to oils and moistures to deal with any sort of frizz or dryness, that doesn't mean he'd simply settle for that.

♡ He wants to take care of you he wants to be the only one to care for you and if that means getting a little creative when combing through your locks, he's far from put out.

♡ ''Who needs treatments when you have the magic touch, beautiful?"

♡ For your own sake it's better to simply do it yourself, less you want coconut oil that gives your hair sentience.

♡ Oh but how he'd try so hard when combing through your hair, if you manage to hide the winces and hisses as it snags on the comb every five minutes, you'll get to feel the reverence in every touch.

♡ And if you catch him keeping a couple of loose strands for himself, no you didn't. :)

♡ It gets quite hot at the Wet-Wick, especially when it's abuzz with activity on a late night; if you're anything like me, that means frizzyness.

♡ He'd find the look quite adorable actually, ruffling your hair to make it worse as his tired eyes drag over the fuzzy strands.

♡ He'd be upset if you cut it, removing any part of your perfect being would make him pout like a small child, wheedling you on why you'd remove such a sexy part of yourself?

♡ 10/10 curls enthusiast.

AIS; 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

♡ He loves to wrap a small curl around his finger while he's speaking to you, lowering his voice all teasingly as he tugs gently enough to not cause you pain, but for a shiver to run down your spine.

♡ I don't make the rules, sorry. :/

♡ Theres bound to be plenty of people within the hivemind who have curly hair, enough to let him tap into the knowledge.

♡ But that won't stop him from being a snarky little shit about it, feigning confusion that could've been convincing if it wasn't for the shit-eating grin on those lips of his.

♡ Don't let him comb through your hair if your heart can't handle the adrenaline of near missed 'accidents'.

♡ "What do you mean, 'don't tug', sparrow? thought you liked it when I pulled your pretty little hair."

♡ Yeah you should wear a bonnet at night unless you want to wake up to his fingers weaved throughout your hair, stopping you from leaving the bed and him without feeling the sting of being pulled back.

♡ If it's too much of a hassle, he would question why you simply didn't cut it; not that he doesn't find it sexy, but he doesn't care whether or not you have floor length curls or a bald head.

♡ He isn't in the habit of keeping many products around, not really feeling the need for himself, and soulless don't exactly have any sort of fur--

♡ --But he will get them for you, he's nothing if not a gentleman, he'll tell you as he jokingly applies it to your head like a vet would apply a flea treatment.

♡ He's an asshole, but he loves some beautiful hair more than the next guy, so don't bother looking over there.

[guksfairy]

CAREFREE | JJK

how Jeon Jungkook of BTS and L/N Y/N of STRLIGHT fell in love <3

wc: 3.3k

warnings: none

notes: y/n is a member of STRLIGHT which has five members but they’re not mentioned much, y/n is under Wonijin Entertainment and JK is under Hybe, JK is head over heels for y/n, slight angst if you squint

Enjoy !

The first time you locked eyes with Jeon Jungkook was in the hallway of the Wonijin Entertainment building. He had been at your company for the sole purpose of filming content with his good friend and your senior, Eunwoo.

It wasn’t unusual for idols to visit other idols in your company but this one surprised you.

You’d just finished dance practice with your group, STRLIGHT, slightly sweaty, tired, and just a bit irritated.

You were scheduled for a comeback soon meaning you had to learn new choreography. A couple steps were a bit difficult to perfect, your members could more than agree, so it’s safe to say you weren’t feeling the happiest.

Taking sips from your water bottle, you suddenly felt a push against your shoulder. Someone bumped into you. Someone that smelled…really nice.

“Sorry,” a voice murmured and you look up to see him. Jungkook. Like time was no longer existent, you felt frozen for a good second.

Jungkook’s eyes were wide with a sincere apology and all you could think about was about how you were standing in front of *the* Jeon Jungkook. One of the world’s most famous man who went viral for simply drinking water or even breathing! Holy shit.

He wore an oversized hoodie and sweats. It takes you a moment to realize you’ve just been staring at him when you reply, “It’s okay.”

You expect him to walk away afterwards but he doesn’t. He stays put and stares at you for a moment longer like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“You’re Y/N right?” he asks and it’s like a bulb turned on above his head.

You’re taken back, “You know who I am?” you ask with a giggle and think about how lame of a response that was.

He smiles, “Yeah you were that idol that went viral last year on Inkigayo for covering ‘Fake Love’. You performed my role,” he explains like it’s something he has memorized. Like he thinks about it often. He does.

He remembers first hearing about it but not giving it much of a thought. A lot of idols cover their songs but for some reason people *really* fell in love with your version. Perhaps it was the way you were expressive with your dancing or your more than amazing vocals. You caught the eye of many around the world, including Jungkook.

Maybe he watched your fancam of the performance once a day for a whole month.

With a flushed face you say, “Yeah…that was me,” with your confirmation he replied, “You were amazing,” his lips curled with a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean you had the expressions down and everything,” you smile and thank him for his praise. He says something about having to go because of his schedule but you can barely hear through the loud thumps of your heart.

He soon walks away and you’re stood staring at his back while your heart does a little dance that doesn’t stop for the rest of the day.

The next time you see Jungkook isn’t for about another 2 months. It’s not on purpose obviously. You’re from two different companies and the only time you would ever see him again would be at social events like today.

BTS had just finished their performance and your group was next. You were finally having your comeback stage after months of practice and perfecting every detail. Safe to say you were more than excited for this.

You and your members watch the cleaning staff as they broom up the confetti that was set off during BTS’ performance.

Enseo is the first to notice.

“BTS members,” she says quickly and in a low voice so only the five of you were able to hear. You watch as the 7 idols walk in your direction, most likely back to their room.

They walk by and you all greet each other politely, you stand the last in line and Jungkook notices you in an instant

“Y/N,” like a deer in headlight you smile at him, “Break a leg out there. I’ll be watching and cheering for you,” he says and pats the top of your head before walking away and catching up to the rest of his members. You have no time to respond and you’re once again faced with the same image of his back.

Your leader is the first to say anything, “I’m sorry since when are you buddies with Jeon Jungkook?” Hana asks and you giggle.

“I’ve only spoken to him once,” you admit and they scoff.

“It looked like you guys were best friends with the way he was looking at you,” Enseo says and the rest nod in agreement.

“Just please be careful. You know how protective his fans can get,” Hans says and you nod before your group is given the cue to go on stage and get ready to perform. You try not to think about how Jungkook is probably watching.

The third time you meet Jungkook it’s you who spots him first.

STRLIGHT was to appear on Knowing Bros, a huge opportunity for your group who was growing in popularity quickly.

You had all been aware that idols from another groups would be joining you guys as guests but weren’t given much information after that.

Even Siyoon who likes to ask a million questions to be well informed about situations didn’t know who would be starring along with you.

Turns out, it would be Jimin and Jungkook.

You’re stood at the end of the line, having your makeup touched up before cameras first start rolling when you spot him. He looks handsome, of course he does, as he walks towards the front of the class in a school uniform.

Your eyes meet and a smile is put on both of your faces at the same time. You don’t notice but he walks a bit quicker to stand next to you.

“I didn’t know it was you guys we would be doing this episode with,” he simply says and you nod.

“Yeah we weren’t aware of it either,” he nods in acknowledgment and you greet Jimin as well who smiles at you like he knows something you don’t. Your members all greet the two idols as well who were more than excited to share the stage with well known stars.

The filming starts shortly after with a couple games played here and there. Jokes thrown left and right. Jungkook’s subtle eyes finding you as often as he could without making it seem so obvious for the cameras.

He knows there would be compilations if he had given you the amount of attention he really wanted to give you.

And when the episode is coming to an end and you crack a joke that makes the entire set laugh he finds himself feeling the urge to spend more time with you.

Third time seeing you in person and he’s hooked.

Filming wraps and your group is the first to say their goodbyes. The staff hand you flowers and thank you for joining them. Shortly after Jimin and Jungkook appear in front of you five.

“That was a fun episode. You guys are truly entertaining. I hope you guys have nothing but success,” Jimin starts and you all thank him.

“Yeah I hope the world loves and supports you guys. You’re all going to make it far in this industry I know it,” Jungkook adds and once again you all thank him before your manager is leading you all backstage to remove make up and such.

Jungkook grabs your arm before you have a chance to follow the rest of the first.

“Didn’t know you were so funny,” he quickly says.

“I’m full of surprises,” you playfully reply and he smiles, “Oh yeah?” you nod and your manager calls you to hurry.

You look at him once more before waving and catching up to your group. This time it’s Jungkook staring at you and wishing he had a bit more time.

The first ever time Jungkook and you speak outside of work is through your Instagram DM’s.

You had posted a blurry picture of you and Mittens, your soft black cat, and posted it to your story.

Within 5 minutes you had received a DM from Jungkook.

You found it a bit silly considering he didn’t follow anyone but his group members. You don’t call him out for him stalking your page.

@jk: ur cat looks like she doesn’t approve of anyone

@ynofficial: she doesn’t lol 😭

@jk: do u think she would approve of me?

@ynofficial: perhaps

@ynofficial: she gets intimidated by attractive people :P

@jk: you should meet my dog

@jk: he loves pretty girls

You laugh and heart his message but don’t reply. Too shy to, you place your phone on your couch and allow your warm emotions to travel throughout your entire body

The messages became an everyday thing. Suddenly you were messaging during practice, after performances, in the car when you were being taken back to your dorm.

After a while you had exchanged numbers and those messages became phone calls.

Some would last a few minutes just to check in while others would last hours. Usually after you were both finished with your individual schedules.

You found that Jungkook was easy to talk to. He was funny, observant, and vulnerable in a way you’d never expected to see. He asked questions that were genuine and not just to fill the empty noise, “Are you getting enough rest these days?” or sometimes, “Do you ever feel exhausted or like this is all too much?”

And you told him everything you wouldn’t tell others. Things your family or best friends didn’t even know. Things about your idol life or personal life, like how you hated airports and the way everyone surrounded you like you weren’t even a human. Phone cameras left and right. You talked to him about the pressure of always holding a perfect image. How lonely the dorms would feel sometimes after a day that was more than loud. You once mentioned how you missed the version of yourself that you were pre-debut.

You told him stories about how carefree you used to be and in return he told you stories he’d never spoken publicly about.

“No way!”

“Yeah we got in trouble with our manager almost immediately,”

“Well yeah what do you expect when you and Jimin escape your hotel in the middle of the night in a foreign country because you guys wanted snacks,” you say and he laughs.

On days when he would be a little bit more busy than usual, and didn’t have time to call, you he would send you voice notes instead of texts. His voice was low and a bit raspy, raw. Intimate, in a way that only private recordings could be. You played those a little too many times.

One night, when you and your members were in the middle or working out, your phone was loud when it dinged with a special ringtone. One you had set just for him.

The members paid you no mind as they were all in their own world just trying to get their workout done with.

You stand up mid-workout and grab your phone that had been in your bag.

He had sent you a selfie. His hoodie was on, messy hair barely shown, dark circles under his eyes. Nothing else. No follow up message. No silly gif.

So you do the same.

Your hair is just as messy, if not more, and you’re sweating but could care less.

A quick snap and you send the image his way. He responds within a couple seconds.

jk <3: you look pretty

Your heart skips a beat but you don’t reply. Simply stare at message a little longer and go back to your workout.

Your members mentally question the big smile on your face as you somehow finish your workout before them.

The first “date”, if you could even call it a date, was a drive at midnight. He had picked you up wearing a black mask and a dark brown bucket hat. You simply wore a hoodie, sweats, and a mask.

After the initial greeting you two don’t speak, simply listened to the soft and constant hum of the city that passes you by. The low bass of the playlist he had made was low but still very much present.

He finally speaks up with, “Have you ever wanted to just…disappear?” his eyes are still on the road but you could tell there was a lot on his mind.

“Most days,” you softly answer.

“Sometimes I think about moving somewhere really cold. Not as crowded as Seoul. I’d grow a long beard and open a ramen shop,” he says and you can’t help but sniffle a little laugh.

“You’d last two weeks max. You’d miss the stage too much, wouldn’t you?” you say and watch him nod.

“Yeah, hate that I love it so much sometimes,” you get it.

He parks near the Han River, safe distance away from the few people that are there, and you both just sit there watching the water shimmer in the moonlight.

You don’t say anything. You don’t ask him what’s on his mind and he doesn’t either. You come to realize he most likely just didn’t want to be alone tonight. He wanted your company.

You find yourself thinking about others things that aren’t about fans, concerts, headlines, or cameras. Other things like how you missed your parents and would probably go and visit them this weekend if you have time, or how Enseo’s birthday was coming up so you wanted to buy her a charm bracelet, or even the man sitting next to you.

“You make it easier,” he turns to look at you, actually look at you, as he says these words.

Your words feel trapped until you clear your throat, “You make it feel…real,”

He hesitates for a moment as his eyes glace at your hand that rests on your thigh. With gentle movements he reaches over and takes your hand in his. You let him.

It wasn’t easy. But nothing is ever easy when you’re internationally famous and have eyes on you everywhere you go. Every action you take is photographed and recorded.

The both of you were as careful as you could be. Discreet. Meeting in quiet corners, always watching out for anyone that could be near.

Sure, there were a couple of close calls. Dispatch here and there, fans noticing you guys interact more, and even your respected members were starting to question where you disappear to. But you’ve been lucky. Neither one of you slipping and getting caught. At least not yet.

You recall once after an award show where Jungkook had walked past you on stage. The hundreds of cameras everywhere not even crossing his mind for a single second. His fingers brush against yours for half a second.

Perhaps no one noticed. But you had. And of course, so had he.

Later that night, when you’re in the company car with the girls he sends you a message.

jk <3: couldn’t help it

jk <3: wanted to be near you even for a second

But of course this wasn’t a fairytale. It wasn’t all soft moments and stolen glances.

There were heavy conversations too.

“Do you even want this?” you didn’t mean to snap at him so suddenly after a particular risky near-miss.

“Of course I do! I’ve never wanted anything more,” he doesn’t raise his voice but his tone is stern, “but we can’t be so reckless my love,” a nickname that always made you feel warm inside.

“I’m tired of hiding Koo,”

“You think I’m not?” he answers, “This is our reality, Y/N. I can’t risk my career and more importantly I can’t risk yours,” he explains.

You turn away from him just slightly so as to not tear up when you look at him, “Maybe…maybe we’re just pretending like this could actually wor-”

He stops you before you could finish your sentence and grabs your hand gently, turning you towards him, “I’m not pretending,”

You allow a single tear to fall and in an instant he grabs the back your hear to pull you into his chest. Sometimes you hated how vulnerable you were in front of him, but he made you feel so safe every single time.

“I swear to you we’ll make this work,” he whispers, “I’ll do everything even if it kills me,” his soft kiss on the crown of your head imprints his words into your heart.

A couple more months had passed. You had celebrated your 100 days together on an out of city getaway. Each telling your company it was an urgent family emergency.

You had gotten better at pretending during the day when the cameras were on and the flashes almost blinded. You both smile during interviews, laughed with your group members, and performed like your hearts weren’t already tied to someone you weren’t even allowed to love.

But at night, when the lights were off, the makeup was gone, and the city was sleeping, you’d lie in bed thinking about. him. Scrolling through your exchanged messages, listening to his cute motivational voice notes, wondering how something that felt so right could be so wrong.

He’d call you just half past 2 in the morning to tell you he had just gotten home and how much he loved you. Sometimes you couldn’t hold back to temptation. As soon as Jungkook was done with his schedule and would get dropped off, he’d make his way to his car immediately and pick you up from your dorm.

You’d both then spend the night talking, laughing, and making out ever chance you wanted to.

You’d shower together and wash all the stress of the day away then get into his nice warm bed wearing the matching pajamas he had purchased early in the week.

One night, after your group had just your their first Daesang, you had stepped outside to take a breath and pinch yourself to make sure this was real. He had followed you a minute or two afterwards, softly calling your name behind you.

Holding out his hand, you ran to him, not caring if there was someone nearby. He kissed your knuckles and had given you a peck.

“Congratulations, pretty girl. You more than deserved it,” he says and you embrace him in a warm hug.

You stood in the empty hallway of the building. The soft lights adding to the warm ambience. He was holding you tightly before leaning back to look at you.

“You did amazing my love,” he brushed your cheeks with his thumb as he takes in your makeup that was done for your performance.

“You watched?”

“Of course I did. My gorgeous, gorgeous girlfriend performs her latest comeback and you expect me not to watch?” he teases and you smile, looking up at him.

“We’re gonna get caught,” your eyes wander the empty hallway but there was little to no sense of urgency in your voice.

“So? Let them catch us,” he whispers, “I wouldn’t mind being caught being romantic with the prettiest idol,” his face so close to yours you can barely feel his lips.

“So sappy,” you smile and he laughs.

“Just for you,” he closes the gap and kisses you like the world is going to disappear. For the first time in a very long time, you felt carefree.

[yamsfrecklvs]

my boyfriend is a… vampire? ✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ

vampire! gojo x fem! reader / warnings: nothing much except typical vampire- ish topics, mentions of blood, religious-ish themes - this is a bit corny, i tried to make it equal parts comical and interesting and it’s just self indulgent :) enjoy

your boyfriend satoru has always been a bit… quirky, to say the least.

naturally, you never really paid much mind to it. you love him, and you do with all his quirks and his nerdy little habits, you love the way he treats you and the way he makes you laugh. and oh, he’s just so pretty. too pretty, perhaps - truly, a sight for sore eyes.

yours had been love at first sight, and you both knew that very well. from the moment you met his sapphire gaze, you knew you were done for, and so did he, because never had he found someone quite as bewitching as you in his whole - long, long - life.

but as the months passed, you begun to notice that although yes, your adorable goofy handsome boyfriend was nothing short of unusual, some things about him were downright… off.

and now that you’re actually thinking about it, maybe you should have realized sooner.

it all began when you invited him over at dinner at yours, and he ate, well… nothing. he only munched on the smallest bit of dessert that you’d prepared for him, and yes, he had mentioned having a sweet tooth, but you would have never thought that he would just come over and discard all the hard work you’d put into making a meal for him. after confronting him about it, he apologized, telling you that no, it was not about you! he was simply really sick that day, and ‘his stomach hurt’. since then, he’d only bought food for you, and almost never spent time with you during meals. looking back at it, when have you ever seen him eat?

the answer was, well, never.

the second thing about him was, by far, the strangest. he refused to touch you if you were wearing silver. of course, he always loved it when you dolled yourself up for him: how could he ever resist his pretty girlfriend, especially while adorned like the goddess you are? but even then, if you had any kind of jewellery on, he would always ask you the same question.

“babe, what material is that?”

if you ever said silver, he’d immediately urge you to take everything off with some dumb excuse, like ‘you don’t need that, you’re already pretty as you are!’ or, ‘oh, baby, you shouldn’t wear that cheap shit, take it off. it’s on me, i know i should have bought you nicer jewellery. how about a nice white gold, hm?’

given the fact that, in the end, he had actually bought you white gold jewellery, you’d brushed it off as some weird ‘rich people’ habit. that was, until one day.

satoru hadn’t really taken a good look at your hands. you were wearing a silver ring, and when you’d taken his hand, he’d immediately let go of it, almost jolting away from you. looking up at him, mortified, you’d asked him what was up with him. he’d played it off as nothing, but you, knowing him, had intercepted something different about his gaze, a slight twitch of his brow, an imperceptible quiver of his lip. was it pain? you didn’t know anymore.

oh, and then there were his utterly absurd sleeping habits. satoru was almost never up in the mornings, and you’d rarely ever seen him earlier than sundown. still, you two would sometimes hang out in the mornings, but it would always shocked you when he’d nonchalantly admit that no, he hadn’t gotten any sleep. and yet, there he was, as fresh as a rose. at first, it simply pissed you off: just how unfair had been nature, giving him all the grace and the beauty in the world without leaving any of it for other foolish, insignificant mortals? but then, you ended up just finding it strange.

of course, the fact that he always refused to visit any churches with you was weird. he constantly refused to step foot on holy grounds, no matter how much you begged him to come see the beautiful architecture with you. at your request, he’d always pout and say:

“baby, do you want me to, what, die in there?”

at first, you thought he was joking. now you realize that, perhaps, he wasn’t.

plus, satoru was no good at eluding your suspects, either - whenever you’d rave to him about any movie even remotely related to vampirism, he’d always laugh in your face, his most frequent sentence being:

“oh, sweet girl, those things are not realistic at all.”

the fact that he always said realistic and not real was beginning to make you tick.

you often stopped to think about another thing - the way he looked at you.

sometimes, usually in the quiet of the night, or in dull, sticky, dimlit evenings, you noticed the way his eyes would linger on you: half-closed, his long lashes casting a pretty shadow on his soft cheeks, his lips in a thin line, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. there was always, always something in his gaze, a kind of flicker that sometimes only lasted for a split second, a glimpse of an emotion you could never quite figure out. at first, you thought it was desire. you could always tell when he wanted you, but no - this was different. it almost looked like hunger. he was eating you alive with that cheshire cat grin of his, and it was so intense that it sometimes verged on the grotesque. still, in those moments, you could constantly feel like something was troubling him, a flash of shame in his cerulean irises, a hint of embarrassment.

and now, the sudden realization that your loving boyfriend satoru might not be who - or better, what - you think he is, comes at you in the corniest, most cliché way ever.

you’re watching twilight. and there, right there, it hits you for the slightest of seconds, right in the middle of that one cringeworthy scene of bella googling about edward’s weird strength, speed and the cold touch of his hands. hysterical, you laugh at yourself for even remotely thinking about it.

your boyfriend is a… vampire? nonsense. you’re a big girl, you think, you should stop believing in things that would come straight out of a teenager’s mind. get a grip.

and, momentarily, you do get a grip. until a few days later.

you and satoru are simply strolling around the city, until a gorgeous antique shop comes in your field of vision. like the spoiled girlfriend you are, you immediately drag him inside, strolling around the lovely, almost-organized clutter of the aisles, satoru’s hand in your back pocket as to not lose sight of you and because he would die for those brief, little moments of casual intimacy with you. as you’re walking, with satoru happily chatting your ear off and highly distracted by the obscene amount of pretty things around him, you catch your reflection in a mirror.

your heart drops when you notice that you’re the only person you see in it.

alarmed, you whip your head towards your boyfriend just to see him standing right next to you, his cold hand still in the back pocket of your jeans. you quickly side eye the mirror again, convinced that yes, you’re surely going mad, but the reflection proves you right once again. as you walk right past it, you can’t see him, and yet he’s right there with you. weirdly enough, you don’t feel as sick as you thought you would - no, you’re excited. to avoid him getting suspicious, you continue your day as if nothing happened. better to ponder at home - which you do, your head spinning with questions right after you set foot into your house.

you’d seen satoru’s reflection many times. so why on earth was that mirror different? were you really driving yourself crazy or were you simply a little too observant for your own good?

desperate and on a strange adrenaline rush, you turn to your computer in pure twilight fashion to look up the dumbest question you could’ve harbored.

‘why can’t vampires see their reflection?’

it’s childish, you think - at least, you do until you read the answer. then, everything aligns, like the blow of a time bomb, like an eclipse.

‘mirrors backed with silver burn a vampire’s reflection’

it all just makes sense - the mirror in the antique shop was made with silver. they don’t make mirrors like those anymore. you’re not crazy. or are you?

of course not, you tell yourself.

still, you think that you might just actually be unstable and that no, this is not real, and you’ve just made it up, and you find yourself spiraling until the only possible answer presents itself to you. you’ll ask him. either you’ll make a fool out of yourself and you two will get to have a good laugh together, or you’ll finally get the answer you need.

naturally, satoru doesn’t have have an inkling of your suspicions. in fact, he hopes you don’t notice anything. he hopes you don’t see that, sometimes, when he looks at you, he can just feel how alive you are, how your blood runs warm and wild and vibrant into your veins, how the flush in your cheeks makes him want to touch you all over, feel your warmth, your humanness. your mortality enthrals him, from the beat of your heart to the flutter of your eyes as you fall asleep next to him. his isn’t a gaze of hunger - at least, not the kind you think. it’s more visceral and desperate than what he would feel for a prey. it’s a new kind of vulnerability for him, a new feeling, and it’s deep and it’s new and it tastes saccharine sweet.

he wants you, he needs you. he is hungry for you.

that, perhaps, is a danger to him more than to you.

@yamsfrecklvs

ash’s note: this is barely proofread and just something silly i wrote to pass the time but i had sm fun writing it!!! should i make this some kind of series or

[halfbloodfics]

Gentle dom! snape headcanons

Hi im procastinating the number of requests in my inboxes so until I get around to them, have another headcanon post to tie you over.

warnings: NSFW, smutty, minors DNI, mentions of kinks

I've written quite a bit of sub!snape fics that now I'm starting to miss dom!snape.

I'd like to preface this by saying that these are obviously just headcanons. Personally, I think severus is likely very sexually reserved, due to both trauma and honestly, isolation. I don't see him as being this overtly sexual person, as everything within him from canon, in books and the movies, shows him as very conservative and reserved. His clothing, his skills in occlumency, his facial expressions... everything about himself is very, reserved and controlled.

So I find that important to preface this by saying, that anything specifically kinky, especially dominant, would take a lot of time and patience coming from sev. I think at first, sex would definitely be more gentle, passionate, loving thing, if not a tad bit submissive.

However after awhile, once he becomes more comfortable, I can see him beginning to get more confident with his sexuality and more sure in the fac that you really want him. I can see his nerves slowly fading away into that kind of repressed longing and desire that he's denied himself for so long. I can also see him enjoying this because his whole life, he was so powerless. I mean, constantly being used as a pawn in a game that was bigger than him, obeying a different master.. I think it would be nice to be the one with the control for once.

Also this is specifically for gentle dom! snape, so there will be another one for hard dom! snape. Anyways enough yappin, here are the headcanons.

~

The first time he doms

I need to write a fic on this tbh, but I imagine it starts off by him relising how much you actually need him

The concept of you, needing him; of someone needing him that way, craving him?? Insane. he craves it. he wants it. he wants to hear it. see it.

I think something would have to happen for him to really realise this, either you admitting that you've masterbated to him... or maybe even him accidentaly catching you in the act.. Picturing/seeing you touching yourself, you wishing it was him, moaning his name, drives him wild

Something switches in him, where as before he might be flustered, embarassed, even ashamed. now he simply stands there.. watching, still... until he moves approaches

Then I imagine he's asking you if you were thinking about him.. and then specifically what you were thinking of...

And then he gives you exactly what you were asking for.. Or tells you to keep going while he watches

Once he's more comfortable... here are my headcanons about

Kissing

When he's in a dom mode, making it just does something to him. I mean in general, any sort of touch does something to him; but french kissing, hearing you moan into the kiss?? Gripping the back of your head?? Your throat?? That man kisses you like he's drowning.

Kinks

Names: I think, as a gentle dom, he wouldn't like to be called any names other than his name. I think the big part for him, is that much needed ego boost that you need HIM

I think he's very big on you saying his name, making you say it again and again, asking you who you belong to, who's making you feel that good, etc

Speed? I think it's usually a steady pace, depending on the day and what you need/want. I don't think he's afraid of going fast or rough, but not slapping, choking, or heavy degrading.

Bondage: I think he would however, be into being on top of you, pinning you down with his body in some way. Restraining you, with himself. Perhaps sometimes, using something to tie you up or tie your hands behind your back, but for the most part I imagine he likes using his hands, holding your wrists behind your back, pinning them above your head, beside your head, pinning your hips down to stop you from squirming, that sorta thang

Praise: especially as gentle dom, he loves to praise you. I don't imagine he's very vocal, but I do imagine he talks you through it. Praising you as you take him, as you orgasm. I don't think as a gentle dom, he would be interested in degrading you

Begging: slight begging, I think he more so wants to take care of you as a gentle dom, make you feel good. I think he'd find it attractive, once again as an ego and control thing, that you're begging for him, but I think he'd give in quite easily as a gentle dom

Idk what this is called but instructing you how to masterbate? Him sitting on the edge of the bed, or standing across the room... Telling you exactly how fast to go, how many fingers to use, how to touch yourself etc.

Positions

Missionary: gentle dom sev LOVES missionary and you can't convince me otherwise. He still gets all the fun parts of being dom, being on top of you, being able to pin you down, but he also gets to see ALL of you.. Your reactions, your body, your eyes

Doggy: I think this is more for hard dom snape tbh, which is a whole other post of its own. But I really, truly think he'd love this one. Pinning your shoulders down, leaning over you, taking you from the back... Or pinning your wrists behind your back while he yk.. Gripping your chin, whispering praise in your ear.. Yeah

Spooning: I also think he's like this one, especially as a gentle dom, cause it's still dominant for him, but you also both get to be comfy and in bed. And he gets to wrap his arms around you, hold you. It's romantic, dominant, gentle, all in one

Oral: As a gentle dom, I can see him liking recieving oral more than him being a switch. I still think he prefers to give, but I imagine that he likes to have you on your knees, his hand in your hair, just gently guiding your movements, praising you the entire time

Misc

Clothing: I think he loves being clothed while you're naked, not only does it make him more comfortable, he also gets to see all of you and it kinda adds to the power vibe. However, seeing you in any type of slightly revealing clothing does something to him. Even if it's just a little tight, or if your shirt is a little low.. He's spent his entire life ruling with an iron fist over his emotions and now somehow its crumbling all because of a damn scoop neck t-shirt. Mans could fight voldemort but not the power of tiddies. Also really loves nightgowns.

Moans: He loves hearing you. any type of sounds at all, even the slightest gasp to you crying out for him. It makes him want to hear more. especially if you're moaning his name. I don't imagine he moans much, more so small grunts and groans

He's a boob guy. For sure. That's it.

Aftercare: He is very, set on aftercare. Always. Especially after he has been dom. Even if he hasn't been rough, he knows aftercare is important. Brings you water, makes sure you drink it. Makes sure you use the washroom after. Holds you, praises you.

And i think thats it, for now, though I'll probably come up with more eventually.

Cheerio

xx