#I’ll read any pairing at least once

[the-unabridged-version-of-myself]

No idea if anybody will see this but I need fic recs for the very specific trope where Person A works at a company and is a hard ass and their coworkers meet their significant other Person B who is the cheeriest and sweetest person you could meet and they have no idea how they got together

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 12: Fire In My Veins

Summary: Your heat begins. Luckily you have a good alpha to take care of you during your most vulnerable time. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, knotting, spanking (it’s like once), fluids so many fluids, heat cycles, mating cycles, lots of talk of breeding and mating, biting, brief mention of blood, this is gross y’all, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: It was quite the ordeal, this chapter, and it's come a long way from when I first wrote it between Sunday and Monday this week. It's pretty much just smut so enjoy!!

The smut starts after the first scene and goes to the end, so only read up to the first green line if you don’t want the smut. You’re not missing much, just Price biting the reader to claim her, but I’ll talk more about that in the next chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“You alright, love?” 

You look up from where you had been staring at the floor, suddenly pulled back into the real world by Gaz’s voice. He had been organizing the nutrient bars and electrolyte bottles in your room while you sat and dissociated to the sound of rustling paper bags. 

You stare at his furrowed brows and worried eyes for a moment before averting your gaze with a nod. “Yeah.” 

The carpet under your feet has never looked quite so interesting before.

Gaz moves to sit next to you on the bed, sinking down onto the mattress with a sigh. “Nervous?” 

You nod in response, clutching the strawberry pillow in your arms tighter against your chest. 

“You’ll be alright.” Gaz says, his hand warm as it presses against your back. “I’m gonna take good care of you, yeah? Both you and Price. I’ll be right outside that door, and I’ll be in and out too. Dr. Keller’s ready in case something happens, but I don’t think anything will.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close against him. “You’re in good hands.” 

“There’s no going back after this.” You say, leaning into his side. 

“No, I don’t think any of us would want to anyway.” He smiles down at your surprised face. “What? I thought that was obvious. We all want you as part of our pack. You are part of the pack already, at least in every way but officially. None of us would trade you for anything.”

Your eyes fill with tears at his words. You know it’s just the stress and the hormones and the impending heat that could start at any time, but his words reach some deep part of you that was worried that they were all faking, that they all actually hated you. His words calm you a bit, easing away that stress and fear that you’ve been carrying for the last almost six weeks. 

“Come now, none of that.” Gaz says, wiping the tear that trails down your cheek. “Can’t afford getting dehydrated now.” 

You can’t help but laugh, even though you know he’s right. You’ve had so much liquid over the last couple days you feel as though you might burst at any second. It was necessary, considering the amount of fluid you were about to lose. 

Gaz leans down, kissing all over your face. You giggle, falling back on your bed to try and escape, but he follows you, continuing to plant little kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Kyle!” You shriek, giggling as his kisses tickle your skin. 

He pauses, leaning up so you’re eye to eye, a grin on his face. “You called me Kyle.” 

“That is your name, isn’t it?” You say, blinking up at him. 

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You can call me Kyle as much as you’d like, love.” He says as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in place as you kiss him back. His arm snakes beneath you, pressing you tightly against his chest. He groans quietly into your lips, body taught against yours. You can feel every part of him, the muscles under his shirt, the strength of his thighs. Your head is spinning, and you know it’s mostly due to your impending heat. 

You let out a quiet whine as his lips leave yours, trailing down your neck to your shoulder. He leaves a scalding kiss over your scent gland, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin. 

“Can’t wait to see the mark,” He murmurs against your skin, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as your body begins to warm a little. “When Price claims you, makes you his.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe, a shudder running through your whole body. 

Kyle chuckles, sucking a mark on your collarbone. “You won’t be just his, though, huh? Gonna be ours.” 

You let out a whine at his words, your fingers trailing up the back of his neck. He lets out a quiet groan, his body shuddering as you tease the sensitive skin. You feel lightheaded and dizzy from the rapidly shifting hormones of your pre-heat. You’re very close to the start. Any day now you could wake in a sweat with an insatiable ache between your thighs. You're like a ticking time bomb, but neither of the demolition experts you now live with can disarm you. 

If only it could be so easy. 

Kyle presses one last kiss to your lips before he pulls back, smiling down at you. “You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.” 

You can’t help but believe him, especially with those big brown eyes staring down at you. 

It’s sweltering. A fire has started beneath your skin, flames licking your veins, your very cells scorching in the fiery inferno that has overtaken you. An arid desert has bloomed in your mouth, your tongue heavy and sticky. Sweat has slicked your skin, consciousness only bringing awareness to the dampness of your sheets and pajamas. 

It also brings awareness to the pain. 

There’s an intense ache between your legs, your pelvis cramping. Slick has coated your thighs, soaking through your pajama pants, the fabric clinging to your skin. It’s too much, the sensations of your pajamas and the weight of the blankets nearly driving you to insanity. You need to be bare. It’s too hot and the drag of the fabric across your skin makes you want to cry. 

Not to mention the intense need burning through you. 

The mattress protector crinkles as you shift on the bed, every movement taking an excess amount of energy as you attempt to tug your shirt off with fumbling fingers. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, your arms heavy and sluggish as you peel the fabric from your sticky skin, letting it fall to the floor. You lay there exhausted, body twitching as your temperature begins to spike. You blindly reach out, fingers trembling as they grasp at your phone. Your eyes are bleary as you blink rapidly at the too bright screen. You fumble with clumsy fingers on the screen, dialing the first number you see, not caring who it is.

“Hello?” 

You let out a quiet whine at the rough voice, thick with sleep. You can’t get your mouth to move, to form any words as you lay there pathetically, half undressed and soaked in sweat and slick. There’s an ache between your thighs, pulsing in time with your heart. Your free hand fumbles with your waistband, desperate to try and get your pants down, to remove the feeling of your underwear sticking to your slick folds. 

“Help.” You manage a single word, not even sure it was intelligible. You let out a frustrated whimper, your body not cooperating to lift your hips so you can pull down your pants. 

A moment of silence passes before you get a response. “Fuck, be right there, love.” 

The line clicks, and a moment later a door is opening down the hall. You’re silently grateful you hadn’t locked your door last night, as there was no way you would be able to get out of bed and make it across the floor. It opens just enough for the figure to slip in before he closes it, not wanting to let your scent freely flow down the hallway. 

The light of the lamp on your nightstand accosts your eyes as it’s turned on, making you squint. You don’t miss the way Kyle’s nose crinkles for a moment as he catches the sickly sweet, overwhelming aroma of your scent as it pours from your body. His hand is cool against your forehead as he brushes the stray strands of hair sticking to your skin back. Johnny had braided it last night at least to try and keep it out of the way. 

“Easy.” He says quietly, shushing you as you whimper in need. 

You let out a whine as Kyle pushes the blankets out of the way. You’re incapable of caring that you’re half naked in front of him for the first time, and he pays it no mind. You tug uselessly at your pajama pants again, letting out a frustrated whine as you fail to shimmy them down your legs again. Kyle bats your hands away, slipping his fingers under the waistband and tugging the pants down your legs. You sigh in relief as the fabric is pulled away from your skin, a shiver running through you as the cool air hits your slicked folds. 

Kyle gathers your clothes, adding them into the bag of things that would need to be washed as soon as your heat is over before he returns to your side. 

“I need you to drink something for me, then I’ll go get Price, alright?” He says, kneeling down next to the bed as he grabs the electrolyte drink from your nightstand. 

You flop against his chest as he slips an arm around you, helping prop you up. Your face presses into his neck, inhaling deeply. A whine of disappointment leaves your lips as you realize he’s not what you need, your omega dissatisfied with the scent of beta emanating from him. 

“I know.” He says, easing you away from his neck. “Just drink this first and then you can have your alpha.” 

“Alpha.” You whimper, leaning against Kyle’s chest. 

He helps you drink some of the sweet liquid, and you gulp it down, relieved as it eases some of the dryness in your mouth. He lets you drink half of the bottle before he pulls it away, setting it on the nightstand. 

“Good girl.” He praises you, helping you lay back down against your pillow. “I’ll go get Price. I’ll get your alpha.” 

You hum contently at the promise of what’s coming, your omega practically screaming for her alpha, for some relief. 

Kyle slips back out the door, your head buzzing as the intense arousal and need burning within you gets stronger. Your pussy is pulsing, slick dribbling out of you as the need to mate takes over. The primordial instinct to reproduce is strong, your omega clawing at your mind, screaming to be bred, screaming to be bred, to carry pups. You need your alpha. You need his knot. 

You roll onto your stomach, pressing your hips into the mattress. You need something, anything to ease the aching pulse in your body. You begin to rut against the sheets, dragging your clit against the rough fabric. You let out a quiet whine as the friction sends pleasure shooting through you, a slight relief from the pain of your intense arousal. 

The door opens, your head shooting up as the heavy scent of alpha washes over you. Your eyes dilate, a shudder traveling from your head to your toes as the familiar scent of damp earth laced with the musk of arousal invades your senses. You let out another whine as John approaches the bed, your hips still rutting desperately against the sheets. You look utterly ruined, wide eyed and sweat-slicked, panting like an animal in heat. 

You are an animal in heat. 

“Look at you.” John mumbles, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. He stands over you, watching the desperate movements of your hips for a moment. “Needy little thing.” He teases, setting his phone on your nightstand before tugging his shirt over his head. 

You watch as every inch of skin is revealed to you, lips parting as you take him in. The strength of his muscles, the softness of his stomach. You want to lick every inch of him. You want to roll around in his scent, cover yourself in his essence, mark every part of your body with him. 

You arch into his touch as he drags a hand down your back, rough fingers following the line of your spine. You press your ass into his hand as he passes over it, fingers tugging your thighs apart. He groans again as a wave of your thick, sweet scent washes over him. 

“Let me see you.” He growls, sweatpants hitting the floor. 

You hear him, but you’re too busy staring at him in awe. More slick slips out of you at the sight of his cock, red and angry and painfully hard already. You can almost swear it’s pulsing in time with your pussy. A harsh gasp is pulled from your throat as he brings his hand down across your ass, the sound of skin striking skin loud enough to pull you back to reality. 

“I said, present for your alpha.” He says, the rough rumble of his inner alpha coating the edges of his voice. 

You whimper in response, scrambling up onto your hands and knees like a good omega for him as he kneels on the bed behind you.  

“Good girl.” He rumbles, a pleased whine leaving your lips at his praise. 

You push back into his hands as he cups your ass, his hand smoothing over the burning spot on the cheek he’d slapped. You can’t feel the pain from it, far too lost in your heat-riddled brain to register anything but the need pulsing between your thighs and the alpha staring at your soaked pussy. Thumbs part your folds, slick dribbling onto the sheets as he stares at your pussy. 

“So fucking slick for me.” He groans, dragging a thumb along your slit. 

“For you alpha!” You gasp, pressing back harder against his hands. 

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he drags his thumb through your folds again, pressing the digit against your clit. Your gasp is broken by a whimper, your clit already sensitive from you humping against your bed like a needy pup. You bend your top half down, relaxing against the mattress as you grind back against his hand. He lets you, keeping his hand still as he lets you work yourself to pleasure on your own. 

“Please! Please!” You beg, mind going numb with pleasure as his thumb brushes your clit with every rock of your hips. Your legs are already shaking, body trembling as the pleasure starts to build and build, the promise of relief coming at the hands of your alpha. 

“Eager little thing,” He rumbles, his breath fanning across your folds. 

You moan as his tongue drags along your slit, tasting your slick. Your fingers sink into the sheets, holding on as his tongue prods your entrance, his mouth slurping at the slick dripping from you. It’s obscene, but either of you care, both of you too lost in your need. 

Your knees nearly give out, your pussy clenching around his tongue as he applies more pressure against your clit, drawing slow circles with his thumb. He’s groaning against you, the quiet sound rumbling deep in his chest. He’s losing his own sanity, his alpha taking over as your heat triggers his rut instincts. His alpha has to be screaming as much as your omega is to mate. 

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, washing over you with a power that almost makes you black out. Slick spills out of you as your pussy flutters, soaking John’s face and beard in your juices. He’s relentless, not giving you even a second as he continues to fuck you with his tongue as his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit. Your legs are shaking, eyes rolling as the pleasure continues to build. Despite your orgasm, it’s not enough. Your brain knows it and your body knows it. You need a knot before you’ll be able to relax, before the pain and the need fades enough for your brain to relax. 

Even then, it will only be for a moment. 

“Alpha!” You whine, pushing back against his face, seeking out more. 

John growls against your pussy, the sound vibrating into your very soul. You let out a whimper in response, clutching at the sheets desperately. He pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips. You wish you could see him, the way his face shines with your slick, his beard soaked with your release. He licks his lips, savoring every last taste of you he can get as he sinks his fingers into you. 

You clamp down around the thick digits, a groan leaving his lips as you squeeze around him. You’re desperate for another orgasm, another chance at relief from the blazing inferno under your skin, the painful need still pulsing in your pelvis. 

“Please, alpha!” You whine, bucking back against his hand. “Hurts.”

He shushes you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers. The wet squelch of your pussy is loud in the small room, obscene and depraved, but you cannot bring yourself to care who might be able to hear as another orgasm rushes through your body. You whine in pleasure as slick dribbles out around his fingers, forced out by the fluttering of your walls. You can’t stop, don’t stop, as you continue to rock back against him. He watches you, holding his hand still as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You’re still desperate for more, still needing the one thing he won’t give you yet. 

He pulls his fingers from you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Your pussy is still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, still trying to clench around nothing. John curses as he drags his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick and your release across the sensitive skin. 

“Tell me what you need.” He rasps, the edges of his voice harsh as his alpha begins to take over.

“Need your knot, alpha.” You whine, pushing your hips back, searching for anything that might offer some more relief. “Please.”

He lets out a pleased rumble, shifting behind you. You bite your lip in anticipation and excitement, your body twitching as his rough hands smooth over the skin of your hips. His touch is electric, amplified by the sensitivity brought on by your heat. You want to feel him against you, you want to feel him inside of you. You need him, every fiber of your being, every cell in your body reaching out to him, inviting him in. 

A quiet mewl escapes you as he drags the head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick on his hard length. Your entire body flutters in anticipation as he pushes against your entrance, meeting no resistance as he presses into you. Your body aids him, relaxing around him as it welcomes the intrusion. There’s no pain, no discomfort as he stretches you open, aided by the copious slick that still seeps out around his cock. You practically shudder in relief as you finally get what you want, what you need. 

Your alpha’s cock inside you. 

His grip is tight on your hips as he begins to move, rocking his own hips as he presses deeper into you. He shifts his legs around yours, pressing himself closer until he’s flush against your ass. You can feel him deep inside you, and you’re almost certain you could see it if you looked. You brace yourself against the bed, instinct taking over as you begin to move with him, rocking back to meet his thrusts. It’s lewd, the sound of skin slapping skin as he sets an almost frantic pace, sharp thrusts accentuating the wet squelch of your pussy around him, and the sound of his hips meeting your ass. 

His fingers dig into your hips almost to the point of pain, but you don’t care. You’re far too lost in your instincts, and the pleasure, to care much about anything. The hormones and endorphins block it out, only one thought on your mind, playing on repeat. 

Knot knot knot knot.

You moan loudly as Price ruts into you, not caring who might hear, or who can hear. Price moans and growls, the sweetness of your scent blocking out all thoughts except how much he needs to breed you, how much he needs to be a good alpha and take care of his omega. 

You just want to be a good omega for your alpha. 

You cum again with a cry, pussy fluttering around his cock as more slick dribbles out of you, soaking the sheets below you. John doesn’t stop, save for a slight falter of his thrusts as you squeeze around him tightly, your pussy trying to milk his own orgasm from him. Your body is shaking, his hands the only thing keeping your hips upright as more and more pleasure continues to build despite now three orgasms that have rocked through you. 

You need him to cum, you need him to fill you up with his knot. You need to feel the warmth of his seed inside you, the heaviness of it as it fills you. Drool begins to pool on the sheets below your face, adding to the mix of fluids soaked into your already damp sheets. John’s pace never falters, even as sweat begins to build on his brow, sliding down the sides of his face. You want to lick it, follow the trail of salty liquid as it falls down his neck and onto his chest. 

Sweat drips from your own skin as another orgasm begins to build. You can tell John is close too as his grip tightens on your hips, the pain registering just for a moment at the back of your mind. You’ll forget it by the time your heat ends, the momentary pull to awareness lost in the haze of mindless pleasure and a need to mate. 

“C’mon.” John growls, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck. “Give it to me.” 

You let out a whine, knowing what it is he wants, what it is you need as you push yourself back up onto shaking arms, the adrenaline the only thing giving you the strength to move. John moves your braids to the other side of your neck, his chest pressing against your back. It changes the angle of his thrusts as he grinds against you, the swelling at the base of his cock catching on your walls as he continues to thrust deeply into you. 

“Please,” You whimper, bearing your neck to him as he kisses along the line of your shoulder. “Please alpha. Wanna be yours.” You whimper, arching into him in an attempt to get closer as his teeth drag across your skin. 

“My good omega.” He growls, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin right next to your scent gland at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “My good girl. Gonna take my knot like a good omega? Let me fill you up with pups as I make you mine?” 

You let out a high pitched whine at his words, trying to press your neck closer to his mouth. “Please, alpha! Please! Wanna be a good omega!” 

He curses under his breath, his arm wrapping around your body to hold you up. His knot presses into you, stretching you open as it continues to swell until he’s locked inside you. You cum around his knot at the sensation of being filled so completely, his hips continuing to grind against you as he chases his own orgasm. 

You nearly black out as his teeth sink into your skin, the pinch lasting only for a second before pleasure rushes through you. You let out a loud, high-pitched sound as he claims you, marking you as his forever. Another, sudden orgasm slams into you, his arm holding you still as you try to writhe on his knot. He growls into your skin as he stills, hips jerking against your ass as he cums inside you. 

Your arms give out as he releases your shoulder, blood dripping onto the sheets below you. Your head is spinning as he drags his tongue across the raised skin, cleaning the mark he’s left on you. 

He shushes you as you let out little whimpers and whines, gently easing your body so you’re laying flat against the bed. “Easy, that’s my good girl.” He praises you, pressing gentle kisses against your neck. “My good omega. Take my knot so well.” 

Your vision slowly fades to darkness as exhaustion takes over, a small smile tugging at your lips from his praise. 

His eyes are dark and glazed as he stares up at you, mouth parted as he breathes heavily. Your head is thrown back, the sweetest little moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you bounce on his cock. His hands hold your hips, far too tight to be comfortable against your sweat-soaked skin as he guides your movements, but you offer no complaint. His thighs are soaked with your slick and a mix of fluids that seems to endlessly drip from you. Your own thighs are shaking around him, exhaustion prevalent in your sloppy movements. You’re close, eyes fluttering as your grip tightens on his shoulders. Your nails bite into his skin but he doesn’t care. He can’t feel much of anything but pleasure at the moment. 

He guides you through your orgasm as it rocks through you, your body shuddering around him. His hips press up against yours as he reaches his own end, spilling into you as his knot locks into place, connecting you two once again. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, nor does he care. All he wants is to be inside you, fucking his seed into you until you’re swollen with it. He stares down at where you’re connected for a moment, your pussy spread open around his knot.

He guides you against his chest as your body gives out, the haze of his instincts lifting just momentarily. His body aches, soreness settling in as his mind clears. You lick at his throat, tasting his sweat-slicked skin. Sweet little whimpers and whines leave your lips as you rest against him, completely boneless and at his mercy.

He reaches over to the nightstand, wrapping an arm around you to hold you still so he doesn’t tug on the knot as he grabs the bottle of electrolytes. He unscrews the cap, gently easing you back. You’re both still breathing heavily as he cradles the back of your head with one hand, helping you drink the electrolytes. You gulp it down even in your exhausted state, your body recognizing its need for sustenance. 

He drinks the rest after you finish, tossing the bottle onto the floor with the others. He picks up one of the nutrient bars, peeling the wrapper off before he begins to eat, feeding you bites of it as he does. You’re half asleep, chewing slowly as you rest against his chest, body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of another of what’s now a countless number of orgasms. 

He gives you the last little bit of the bar before he relaxes back against the headboard, keeping his arms wrapped tight around you. The skin on your shoulder is still angry and slightly swollen from his claiming bite. It doesn’t help that he’s sunk his teeth into that spot twice now since he first claimed you. 

He swells with pride upon seeing it, the proof that you’re now his, a warning to others not to mess with you. It’s a slight weight off his shoulders. He has to worry less about someone trying something. Some haughty, cocksure alpha getting it through his head that he wants what he can’t have, that he can just take what’s not his. A low growl rumbles through his chest at the thought. 

He shushes you as you stir in response to the warning growl, a purr rumbling through his chest as he eases you back into a relaxed state. His good little omega, his sweet little omega, taking his knot so well. 

You make a quiet noise as he twitches inside you, the feeling of being enveloped in your tight heat almost like heaven. He closes his eyes, calming his inner alpha. He knows you need to rest. You need a little break before you start up again, before your heat continues to ravage you. 

Before he continues to ravage you. 

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[wisteriaiswriting]

Okay, I read something about moths going kinda crazy during mating season. It's especially crazy for the males. Can I request Valentino smut with his favorite female porn star reader?

𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟

Words: 872

Warnings: GN!Reader | Smut [Eating out, rimming, fucking, degrading]

Valentino knew what was approaching, every year he tried to ignore it as no one was good enough to spend it with him. His mating season was a sensitive time, meaning a lot of things could go wrong.

But this year someone had caught his attention. It was you, one of his newer contracts on the scene, quickly becoming a fan favourite, and he sees why. So he makes the decision to have you help him.

Unluckily though you were pretty dense to his advancements, unsurprisingly due to the fact he was a moth and you weren’t. But still, at least you could acknowledge him.

***

Fuck.

Mating season had officially started, and it was hitting him hard.

“EVERYONE OUT!” His screaming shocked everyone, also sending them all rushing out. You were at the back of the group, wich let him grab your collar to pull you towards him.

“Not you babe,” As he spoke smoke swirled around you both, a lot more seeping out this time. “You get the honour of helping me tonight~”

Holding you as he started walking, turning into stumbling. The first time he hit a wall you were pulled to his chest. Soon enough he opened the doors to the nearest room, revealing it to be one of the bigger studios.

Passing the chairs and equipment to drop you on the bed, following by dropping onto his knees. Hands kneading your thighs, sliding up to your waist. His breathing became harsher during this, red smoke circling the area.

Sitting up before pulling you closer, fingers finding their way under the waistband of your pants and underwear. Staying still for a few seconds before pulling away, ripping both.. Quickly pulling them off, throwing them onto the floor somewhere.

“I’ll buy you better ones, just let me…” His words faded as he became less focused. More smoke was puffed out and into the room as his mouth opened, letting his tongue out.

Leaning closer to let it move along your thigh, quickly moving up. Although it couldn’t go much further due to your position. Arms wormed their way under your legs, using one pair of arms to hold you up.

Strong enough to not let you drop any lower than needed, which was up near his face. Allowing his tongue to get where it needed, leaving the area with a tingly feeling.

Not moving in immediately, instead running along the outside. Letting your muscles relax before he moved in, your tensing didn’t have any visual effect on him. Everything for him felt doubled, so even the slightest movement had him jolting.

So when your legs wrapped around over his shoulders, hands grasping at his hat. That seemed to flip a switch in his mind. One pair of arms reached up to remove your legs, while another hand pulled yours off.

Controlled yet dropping you onto the bed again, this time making you lay down. His hand on yours didn’t leave, instead intertwining them. With your legs, his hands had moved down to your ankles. Moving them onto his shoulders.

He had started huffing, even though more smoke left his mouth it stopped affecting you. Instead filling the room and leaving you unable to see him unless he was in your face, which you wouldn’t mind either way.

His fourth and open hand held his cock, making sure he has a smooth entrance. Which he did, once he was in he let you adjust. When you were good he picked up the pace instantly.

From just quick to slamming into you. His hands left your ankles to hold your waist, with how hard they were grabbing you would surely have bruises later. Only able to accept him.

He kept pounding until his glasses fell off, rushingly placing them onto your head. Even with his hand holding yours it didn’t stop you from moving at each thrust, never stopping him. Only going harder.

“That's what you like huh? Course it is you slut!” At these words he leaned forwards, taking a sniff at your collarbone. You smelled like him now, no one could ever confuse you for one of his other sluts, you’re his now.

Letting his teeth sink into your flesh after, not that you minded. He tasted your blood, which was almost sickeningly sweet for someone stuck in hell, especially stuck with him.

During this his pace never slowed or even stuttered. Causing both of you to get closer to your orgasms. At this point Valentino had lost almost all his focus.

The light above was soon shut out, due to his wings making an appearance. Which also revealed the button up underneath, giving you something to grab onto.

Hands reaching to grab bunches, in turn pulling him closer. Your nails, ones Valentino has you care for, threatened to rip the shirt. Although neither of you cared in the moment, he might later. But you didn’t care.

“There we go, cum for me Luz~” At his words you did, the air was filled with both of you huffing. You were trying to get air back into your lungs, while he looked down at you. Taking in this image.

Maybe he’ll start caring for mating seasons if you’ll stay with him.

***

Luz - Light

[hxltic]

i absolutely need suna x reader having secret sex while the miya twins are a room across🫣

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

You had no real attraction to Suna, but it was just one of those nights where your brothers came home after a game, bringing his friends along with him to celebrate, and to avoid sitting in their sweat, they had to shower. Thank god you took yours before the boys made it. Being the last to shower when the floor is wet and it’s steamy already is literally the worst shit ever.

The problem was, Suna never really came over; therefore, he had no real way to know which room was your brothers’.

He had specific instructions to shower and take some clothes from his room. Looking back on it, he should’ve asked which door it is, but strutting back with nothing but a towel on his waist is not an option. So, he resorts to opening every door until he finds what he would think is the room of his teammate. Or rather…either of them?

Instead, the knob twists as you’re fully bent over in your walk-in closet, digging through a basket of clean clothes for a t-shirt. Of course it had to be the second you wanted to change when he walked in, and not when you were comfortably reading in bed with a little light on earlier. There’s no bra on your chest now, just a pair of navy blue lace panties.

Hey! On the bright side: they could’ve been cotton with “kiss my ass” stamped on the back.

Your arms draw up in an effort to hide your chest when you hear the twist of the knob and the door come flying open. Key word is effort, because now your breasts are pressed up against each other, which Suna believes is ten times worse for you than the position he found you in. At least when you were bent over, he had to imagine whatever he couldn’t see.

“Holy— shit!” you exclaim, eyeing the man at your door that’s actively dripping water on your carpet. His hair is fallen and sticking to his face messily, just enough for you to spot his slim eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first.

It’s mainly just him blinking blankly at you while you panic, searching the room for literally anything to provide some decency, but once you render the clear lack of any emotion you currently possessed in his body, it calms your nerves a bit.

He’s seen a woman before. It doesn’t make him any less prone to being attracted to puffy lips and nipples only covered by an arm, but it somehow soothes you to know he won’t make a big deal out of it and maybe not even mention it to your siblings.

Eventually, you throw on the nearest shirt over your head and pull your hair through, dirty or clean, still with no pants to match.

You sigh deeply, “What is it Suna?” It comes out in an irritated grunt.

“You know my name.” His eyebrows raise with surprise, but not as high as the average person’s would.

“Yeah, I do. Is there a reason you’re still here?”

He presses on: “How do you know it? Do they talk about me a lot?”

Your head drops in your palm to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this right now,” he overhears your mumble.

“My bad, I was looking for Tsumu’s room but got jumpscared instead.”

Despite saying this, he still stands in the doorway— not with it cracked, but with it wide fucking open— and it’s then when creaks from the stairs clears the air between you two. He doesn’t move, but you quickly shove him over to peek around the corner, then drag him into your bedroom before whoever it is gets the wrong idea by the view from the hallway.

While you’re turned after throwing him mindlessly into your room, he readjusts the falling towel around his waist. What he said finally hits you a few moments too late.

“Jumpscared?! You? I’m in the comfort of my own room when you barge in with nothing on!” Your hands gesture up and down his body as you scold him. “And don’t talk about my body like that!” Only he doesn’t really look at your eyes. When you’re done, he finds your attention.

“It was really an accident, but I’ll stay until whoever goes back downstairs,” he shrugs. “And why does it smell like sex in here?”

Your cheeks redden. There was a reason you were looking for a change of clothes. “It doesn’t.”

“Yeah, it does.” He flops back onto the bed carelessly, dipping your comforter.

“Stop! You’re getting my sheets wet.” His body has only slightly dried, but with the full head of hair he has, it hasn’t dried at all. “Suna, get up.”

“They probably already are.”

He closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. His stature was not what you thought it’d be. He was tall and packed with muscle in his legs. You could tell that much by the pictures if you didn’t figure it out by the fact that when he’s sitting you’re still face to face, but on top of that, his abdomen was carved and his arms carried some weight too. Nothing compared to the sheer size of his thighs though; they had to be the size of your head. Just by photos he’s an average high school athlete, so it almost appears fake.

Unfortunately, as you were looking, his eyes had opened and he’d been watching you inspect him. Suna will always preach there are benefits to being as quiet as he is, like how he can pinpoint that your fingers come to pinch the edge of your shirt.

You clear your throat in hopes it will gather your thoughts too, then rectify his past statement. “They aren’t.”

“Right… like all the red tabs in this book are for nothing?” He reaches beside him to take it in his hands, then he flips through the pages quickly until he comes across one. “‘I run my fingers down her trembling thighs that yearn for my touch. You’ll take it like a—’”

Before he can finish what you remember is very unfortunately highlighted, you crawl over him to rip it out his hands and throw it. You chuck the literature nowhere in particular with embarrassment that can’t get any higher as he laughs, then you quickly retreat with a knee up on the edge of the bed. His laughter is a sweet sound. It makes sense why he’s friends with your brothers.

You don’t even notice you’re half-straddling him while you point your finger in his face. “What I read is none of your business.”

He spoke clearly and assertively when he read, and the last thing you need him figuring out was how bad your body desired he’d read the words to you again; he was already too observant.

“Of course. Forgive me for saying such vulgar things around my friend’s sister. She would never do such a thing.” Finally, he slowly sits up, which naturally makes you rise with him, so you place your hand on his shoulder to prevent from wobbling. Your thigh is beside his with your foot unstable on the floor. “She’s just so sweet and innocent, and definitely not up here alone reading book porn.”

Your breathing picks up at the proximity and the pressure of a question you can’t avoid. You search between both his eyes that do the same to you. He deserves a medal or something, because fuck— the shirt lifts just a little bit every time you fiddle with it and the lace sticks to your skin like glue. “I— uhm,” you stutter, removing your stability from his body and backing away from the bed.

Of course, to add to the fucking embarrassment, you stumble backward, but he reaches out to you. His hand firmly wraps around your wrist and the other is hooked behind your back when he jerks you back up to him. He only releases your wrist.

“Is that all you read?”

You shake your head. “I read regular romance and fantasy too.”

He nods, “Ah, I see. So you want the prince of a faraway land to twirl you around in his field of flowers saying how much he loves you, then you want him to make you beg to come?”

Your eyes shoot wide at the comment, only stretching the lazy smirk on his face.

“N-no,” you reply, even though that does sound extremely appealing.

“But you do want someone to ‘run their fingers down your trembling thighs’ though, right?”

To emphasize his point, he lets the knuckles of his hand trickle down the back of your thigh, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation shocks you and almost sends you forward. This can’t be happening. Actually, you pray it isn’t, so your eyelids slam shut.

This prompts his other hand to pinch either side of your jaw gently and drag your face to his. “Or lay you back and tell you to take it like a good girl.” His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, then back up, noting the state of disbelief your countenance holds. He flattens the hand that stops just under your ass.

You almost melt in his hold, and this he knows because of the long breath you took after his words. It’s easy to infer you’re fairly untouched by not only your responses but how receptive you were. It was you two, only about an inch from each other now, waiting to see who would make the next move and risk something far worse than just a growing attraction. The twins flash in your head as a beat passes and you swallow.

“Yes. But that has nothing to do with you.”

Suna shines a smile with his teeth. “Your thighs are rubbing together.”

You look him up and down. “So?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You don’t look him in the eyes, they drop to your pillows. Before you can separate the thighs in question that are only disconnected by his fingertips, he nudges you forward onto him, bringing your hands back to his shoulders. You’re completely straddling while attempting to keep your eyes locked on his when his entire torso is on display. He leans forward to speak just above a whisper in your ear as if this is a normal occurrence.

“I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” The cool of his breath tickles your neck, only worsening as he continues. “Why is that?”

You’re at a loss for words at first, but you suck it up, holding your own. “Nothing to do with you. Maybe I went too hard earlier.”

He wholeheartedly chuckles at this response. “So you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you were up here fucking yourself to your book?” His voice is an echo behind you since he’d decided to rest his chin comfortably on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah— I guess I do. It’s not like you didn’t come in here and figure it out yourself,” your eyes roll.

“Which part were you reading?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence. “She’d just decided to drop her toxic ex-boyfriend and his sister came to console her. The way she did it was kind of fucked up, and I think the slow burn is what made me look past it, but anyway— she brings her to a party, the boy she meets there happens to be the barista at the place she orders from every day, and he has a history with the main character’s ex. He hates him even though he’d gotten over it as years passed, but she really wants to get back at him, so they send an anonymous short video of them, um… together, and he gets really pissed off.”

Suna is quiet as he reviews what you just said. He admires your perception of the book and the passion to read. He goes, “You’re into that?” and then it’s your turn not to say anything, even with the amusement lacing his tone. You grow fidgety, and just when you don’t think any more words will be exchanged, he suddenly demands, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. What you just did.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as the silence grew longer. Just to see, you do it again.

“You’re grinding against me when you do that by the way.”

You giggle maliciously, continuing to go back and forth. It’s payback for teasing you the entire time. He comes to hold your hips still to prevent further movements, but in protest, you create an arch in your back to actually roll your hips down instead, ensuring he felt it.

“Okay, really, unless you want to move like that with my cock nine inches inside of you, I suggest you choose your battles now.”

You finally halt at the words because he was dead serious. He feels scratching along his shoulder blades at your fingers curling up in response, but not removing yourself. He still rests his head beside yours. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that too?”

So that’s how he ended up with his back to your headboard, head tipped up, looking at you through his pretty eyelashes as you wrap your hand around his slick length and reposition it to line up. You lower your body down, allowing your walls to open up for him. The stretch hurts only a little just because he’s so big.

You hadn’t kissed him the entire time, so he groans desperately when you wrap your fingers tightly around his neck and come close. He allows you to no matter how hard you squeeze.

This drives up your confidence with your pretty lace panties pushed to the side, making you raise to your feet.

“Shit,” he grabs ahold of your ankles between half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly dropped like he can’t believe what the fuck he’s seeing. “If Atsumu could see you now.”

The mention of your brother at all should turn you off, but it doesn’t. It only fuels you knowing that you’re actively riding his teammate. In fact, you must tighten around him, because he knows immediately.

“What? Does that turn you on? Fuckin’ slut.”

You whimper at the words, pressing your lips forward to his. You kiss him the best you can as he hungrily reciprocates.

The bed moves forcefully, but Suna knows the other guys are probably too busy downstairs to hear it, and whoever is in the other room may only potentially be a problem. So up and down you go, now slamming your ass against him and reddening his slightly tan, freckled skin.

“hhhmmm,” you whine, breathing shallow.

The brunette lets you go until your legs burn and you’re slowing pace. It’s driving him insane watching you chase your orgasm, using him like he was the perfect replacement for your fingers, in your own little world with your face twisted up in ecstasy and muscles straining. You were too stubborn to stop when he offered it to you, but he doesn’t mind. Not everyone has legs like his.

He instructs while inching his hips up the bed, “Fall back to your knees.” You do, and he grabs one wrist in each hand before digging his heels into the blanket and pounding up into you at a pace you don’t think you could ever meet. It’s rough and loud and you can feel his balls coming up to strike you from behind. Quite literally, it takes your breath away.

“fuck fuck fuck yes,” tendrils of your hair fall over your face when you lay your head down over his shoulder for stability. Aside from not being able to move, this is the best angle for the both of you. Your tits move over his face, which would allow him to suck and bite as he pleases while holding you still, and with the tilt of your body his fat tip reaches your most sensitive part.

You bounce over and over and he wishes he would have pulled your shirt up first. He’s grunting in your ear dangerously.

“Was this in your book too? Is this when he told her to take it like a good girl?”

You try to answer but it’s incomprehensible with the speed of his thrusts. “Again.”

“Y-yes,” you retry, finally getting something out. He’s satisfied with this, so he lets go of your wrists and pushes you upright, only slowing for the moment. This time, he wraps his fingers around your neck, just enough for you to breathe, while rolling his thumb across your revealed clit. The veins of his forearm show themselves and he peers up at you with a glare as if you were the most irritating thing to him.

How hard you were holding him is nothing compared to how hard he is holding you, and just that thought has your eyes threatening to fall closed.

“Then be a good. Fucking. Girl,” he punctuates each word with a harsh upwards cut of his hips, “and take it.”

“Oh God,” you connect your own weak hands around his, your mouth falling open with every moan that floats into the air. He holds your gaze with his threatening eyes, and if you tried to look anywhere but him, he’d pull you right back. “Suna, I’m coming,” you rush it out like there’s no stopping now. And honestly, you’re currently wishing you didn’t say it at all, because you know if he told you not to, your body would try its best to comply.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

Godammit.

Removing his finger from your nub, he moves the hand to meet the other at your throat. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, which you did, just to let him know that this would only make it worse. There’s a movement: you’re coming down on him yourself with the force of the thrust driving you up.

Your mouth creates the words, but they don’t come out. Suna knows anyway. “Please.”

“No.” And it’s as simple as that, because then he says, “Do you hear that?”

Of course you don’t, he just asked to see if you were sane enough to come back to your senses and focus your hearing. His tight hold on you is enough to leave a mark, but not enough to prevent your head from slowly shaking back and forth.

“On the other side of that wall is your brother. Both of them.” Your eyes shoot wide at the same time his thrusts calm down. He still continues, it’s just with a deep grind to prevent the hard slapping of skin, and he brings your forehead to his as he speaks to you. “Come now and both of us are in trouble.”

He has valid reasons to infer that it is specifically the twins, but he’s sure you don’t want to hear those right now. If it was up to him, you would have been throwing your head back and showing that arch he imagines you had before he intruded in on you changing, but holding it above your head like meat to a starving dog was fine too.

“Please let me come Rin, please. I’ll be quiet,” a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose ends your pleading, hoping it softens him up with the use of his first name.

And maybe it worked, because his eyebrows curl upwards with pity when he explains, “We both know you’re too vocal for that, princess. How about we try something else?”

You nod frantically, raising off his length and letting him lay down completely while you wait for directions. He gets situated by moving pillows out of the way. “Come here.”

You realize now the pity he expressed was fake. Swinging your leg over his waist, you begin to line yourself up.

“No. come here.”

You stare at him dumbfounded.

“Up here, towards me,” he ushers his hands. You scoot closer towards his chest with your hands on his pecs, not sure how much closer the two of you can get.

“My face, baby.”

Instead of getting angry with you, he kept his tone. It was little but it made you feel good. “Oh.”

You come to a hover over his lips, contemplating a lot and nothing at the same time, mainly if this man was really under you telling you to do what you’re doing.

“Sit.”

“Are you sure?” You clarify.

“Yes. Sit before I make you read your porn to me.” This brings your eyebrows in with a crease and you drop with no remorse on his lips. His face is smothered somewhere between his eyes. The only thing visible is his damp hair.

Unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of not being able to breathe.

You’re less than two minutes into absolutely grinding on his tongue, chasing the vibrations of his grunts and groans by tugging on his hair. Your other hand is covering your mouth.

Thankfully, because there’s a quick knock, and Osamu’s voice passes through the door. “Pizza’s here. You okay in there?”

You nod as if he can see you. You then realize he cannot.

Shakily, you call out “Yes.” The only way to not moan while Suna slides the muscle between your lips to taste all of your slick is by biting your lip. His fingers grip the fat of your thighs.

“Okay.” In the background there’s another voice, presumably your other brother. Finally, they become faint until you hear the stairs, and you allow yourself a little freedom.

“Rin,” you look down fully expecting to meet his eyes, but you can’t see him past your hair.

“Hmphh?”

“I’m close— can I?” On cue, he pushes in as far as his tongue can go inside your hole. He nods yes, simultaneously flattening it to lick all of you in one stripe before deliberately sucking your clit.

To muffle your sounds, your hand comes to cover your mouth once again and you’re somehow managing to prepare for your eyes squeezing shut at the same time as your muscles tensing. Suna can feel you dripping, literally this time.

this was kinda rushed

©️hxltic

[11vr1]

Been Away ⭒ Miles Morales

Synopsis › You were tired of his secrets and lies, so you did the one thing you promised you’d never do and walked away. But Miles Morales wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Inspo › “Been Away” - Brent Faiyaz

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, Angst, the tiniest bit of fluff, pet names, spanish, a microscopic amount of manipulation, toxicity, going back to your ex, stalking, harassment, mentions being mugged, mentions being stabbed, mentions the police

P.S. › I do my best work when I’m sleep deprived.

P.S.S. › Reading comments and reblogs really make my day, even if you’re telling me my commas suck. Requests are also open.

Y/n pulled down the sleeves of her crocheted sweater as she stepped out of the bodega, white plastic bag of chips and candy in hand. The sun was close to setting behind skyscrapers and plunging New York City into its usual state of terror. It was dangerous to be alone on the streets, but Y/n figured she’d be fine walking a few blocks to her friend’s place. She pushed through sidewalk traffic, passing others who were just as eager to be safe in their homes.

Her phone chimed with a text.

Unknown: Turn left.

She paused, looking up to scan her surroundings. There was nothing strange or out of place. Just stores closing up for the night and people minding their own business. Despite how normal everything seemed to be, Y/n knew better. She spared a glance at the alley to her left, immediately deciding against it and kept walking.

Another chime. She ignored it and the next. Stopping wasn’t worth possibly ending up on the eleven o’clock news. At least that’s what she told herself. The less rational part of her mind had a thought. In some ways more terrifying than being mugged.

Tucked away in her pocket, her phone rang. This time she checked. Unknown. Y/n scoffed, rejecting the call.

Unknown: One more chance.

Unknown: Take a left.

Unknown: I won’t ask again.

Her phone rang once more. With a long, begrudging sigh Y/n swiped to accept. “I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” she said, her eyes darting warily to the darkening street.

“Make a left, Y/n,” a deep distorted voice ordered from the other line. Her heart dropped. Maybe the irrational part of her brain wasn’t as off kilter as she thought. The call hung up like she didn’t need anymore convincing.

The yawning mouth of an alley stared back at her. She took a calming breath, inhaling the morning rain before stepping away from any potential witnesses. Her footsteps echoed in the eerie silence of the alley. Her skin heated in either fear or anticipation, she didn’t know. “I don’t have all night,” she spoke into the open air. “I will leave.” Y/n attempted to hide the tremble in her throat.

Her ringtone was shrill in the alley. She jumped. The bright smiling photo of her friend illuminated her face. She did not hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“Thank god! You’re still alive. Are you close?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, Ellie,” Y/n began to exit the alley. “The bodega line was long.” She rustled her haul of snacks.

“It’s getting dark. I can send my brother to meet you. Ya know he’s always had a bit of a thing for you and now that you’re single…” Ellie trailed off. Y/n could practically hear her smile.

She rolled her eyes, laughing nervously, “You don’t have to make him come get me. I’ll be—” She was cut off by her own scream ripping from her throat. A streak of darkness and neon flashed in front of her, swiping the phone from her hand. Her grocery bag tumbled to the concrete as she stumbled over her heels. Cold metal met her back. A well defined arm snaked around her waist, held her impossibly tight.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Her friend’s voice rose over the speakers.

The smooth phone screen pressed against her cheek. “Tell her you’re okay then hang up,” the same warped voice demanded in her ear.

Y/n felt her lips move before he ended the call. Some quick lie about a monstrous rat. Blood thrummed through her skull along with her ragged breaths.

“Let me go!” Y/n wrestling out of his grip with no resistance, finally turning around. She halted. Pixelated eyes narrowed at her. What had she been expecting? Was a mask better?

Getting slashed for the money in her wallet and being left for dead by a dumpster was starting to sound more appealing than her current situation.

Mechanic panels whirred and parted open. Rich, penetrating dark eyes took in every inch of the girl in front of him, peeling back layer after layer in that calculating glare Y/n knew all too well. “Hola, mami.”

She hoped to never hear that name fall from anyone’s lips. Much less his. Y/n allowed a selfish moment to let her gaze wander. His braids were fresh, obviously not her work. Fade clean. Jay’s untied. Bronze skin annoyingly flawless. He was the same, except for the faint bags decorating his eyes. His chuckle bounced off the brick walls, catching her. It was sobering.

“You have one minute, Morales. One minute before I run screaming and call the feds on your ass,” she crossed her arms.

“Morales?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Is that what we doin’ now?”

“Fifty.”

He circled her like the predator he was, each footstep deafening. “You look good, ma. Where you goin’ so late? It’s not safe.”

“You know where! You’ve been following me, remember? How long have you been doing that for? Just another secret, huh?” Y/n was on the verge of yelling, her initial fear replaced by pure rage. “You’re not even going to deny it.”

Miles dared a step forward. Y/n took two back. “You’re afraid of me.” Her lack of an answer was a shattering confirmation.

“I’m afraid of what you do, Miles,” she motioned to his suit, the spray painted insignia physically painful to see on his chest. The Prowler. She would have never fathomed the possibility if she hadn’t seen him in action herself. “You’re a criminal. You steal. You’ve killed people,” she choked trying to swallow back tears.

He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right! I don’t get it. You changed and I don’t understand why.” Her waterline welled. Three months of suppressed feelings threatened to rear their ugly heads when he was near. Because of him, of course.

It was ironic how much he made her feel, even now. Ellie, other friends, Y/n’s family never fully warmed up to Miles. He was unfeeling, nonchalant, closed off. They couldn’t see how a girl like her could fall for him and stay. At least that’s the promise she made.

“So did you. You walked away. Left me. What happened to our forever, Y/n?”

“You expected nothing to change? In what world would I not react or feel some typa way?” She tensed. Another wave of anger seared through her veins. How dare he turn this on her? “Oh wait,” her laugh was humorless. “I was never supposed to find out.”

“I have to do this. The world ain’t right and I need to protect the people I care about,” he placed a hand over his armor, over his chest. “I couldn’t do shit about my dad, but you…” He stalked closer. This time she didn’t back away.

Miles grasped her hand, placing it over his heart. She couldn’t face his intensity for too long, not without air. He wore the same musky cologne she gifted him for Christmas.“Mirame,” he tilted her delicate face towards him. “Mi corazón, I can keep you safe. You gotta let me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do.” His chiseled features twisted, barely able to utter the words. He finally closed the space between them, resting his forehead against hers.

“One minute,” Y/n whispered. It had been more than one minute.

Without separating, he slowly slipped her phone into her back pocket, letting his fingers linger by the waist of her jeans. “Call them. I’ll stay right here and you can end this. You’ll never have to see me again. Prometo, mi corazón.”

She should have listened when Ellie told her to stay away. Undeniably gorgeous, genius level intellect, sexy accent. There was always a catch, she said. She was right. But there was one drawback not even her best friend predicted.

Y/n pulled away. Suddenly the autumn air was too chilly through her sweater. She unlocked her phone. Typed 9-1-1. She looked up through her lashes at Miles as if he would melt into the shadows and escape. She didn’t expect sheer defeat to paint his face, unhidden behind his usual mask of indifference. Her thumb froze.

Miles Morales had Y/n entranced. He’d woven himself into her being, hollowed out a space in her soul just for him. Those titanium claws were in deep and she didn’t know if she had the strength to pry them out or wanted to.

Y/n pocketed her phone. She resigned to every emotion she harbored for the boy in front of her. She chose every wrong decision. “Go, Miles.”

His grin was smug. “Should I call you?”

“Don’t push it, Morales.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, dragged her into his warmth. “I’ll unblock you. Sound good?”

Miles angled his head. His smile stretched to his eyes, showing those rarely seen dimples. “Sí, mami. Whatever you want.”

[honeyedmiller]

Traditions | Joel Miller

pairing: husband!joel x wife!reader

rating: explicit. 18+ only.

warnings: husband!joel, joel is handsy af in this, no outbreak!joel, au where joel doesn’t have kids, mentions of christmas, tooth-rotting fluff bc joel and reader are just so in love, smut (body worship, unprotected piv, m oral receiving, riding, reader praises the fuck out of joel bc he deserves it, breeding kink), brief talk of having kids, no use of y/n.

a/n: sorry this was kinda poorly written. this wasn't revised, so apologies for any mistakes. hope you enjoy ~

word count: 4k

synopsis: you and joel make holiday traditions in your new home.

divider by the incredibly talented @saradika 🤎

The early December sun bled through the cream curtains of your bedroom, stirring you awake. You softly groaned at the world’s way of waking you up, pleading just five more minutes in your thoughts. Your eyes slowly peeled open as you took a deep breath, stretching your limbs to try and wake your tired body up. A couple of bones popped in the process, loosening up your post-sleep stiffness. 

An arm weighed heavy across your waist, and you turned your head to find your husband snoring lightly, still deep in his slumber. You smile softly as your eyes run over his features. He looked so peaceful while he slept, not a worry in the world etched within the lines of his face. 

You turned on your side so you were facing him, bringing your hand up to softly trace the features on his face. The alarm clock on his nightstand that you could barely see over his broad shoulders read 8:20. Normally, you two loved to sleep in at least one day during the weekend. You wish you could stay in this blissful little cocoon of warmth and sleepiness and content, all while being held by your husband. 

But, to your misfortune (and truthfully, to Joel’s too), you had errands you needed to run today–one of which included getting Christmas decorations for your house. You and Joel had moved into this new house during the summertime, so you needed to re-up on decorations as Christmas was nearing the corner. 

“Joel, honey, it’s time to wake up.” Your voice was soft, not wanting to startle him awake. His eyebrows quickly twitched as they threaded together. He groaned softly, refusing to open his eyes. 

“What time is it?” He mumbles, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand that now rested on his cheek. 

“Almost eight thirty, baby. We have to get up. We have errands to run today.” You reminded him, and he groaned again as he shook his head. 

“Five more minutes.” You softly chuckled at his response. You and him really were two peas in a pod. 

“Uh, uh, c’mon cowboy. Up n’ at ‘em.” Your hand travels down to his chest, patting it twice as you try to pull yourself away from him. 

Joel tugs you back and pulls you closer to him so your chest is flush against his, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You card your fingers through his hair gradually, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“I want to stay in bed as much as you do, but the sooner we get these errands done the sooner we can come back and relax.” You try to reason with him, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine. I guess I’ll get up.” 

“I’ll make breakfast after I shower so we won’t leave on empty stomachs.” You reassure him, knowing that your breakfast was the one thing he usually looked forward to on Saturday mornings. 

“Why make breakfast when I have a delicious meal riiight,” He pauses, flipping you on your back so he's hovering over you. He leans down and his lips brush your ear, the coarse hair of his mustache and stubble tickling your soft skin. “Here.” He whispers, kissing your neck as his hand travels down the curves of your body, dangerously close to the place you were most desperate for him. 

A whimper bubbled in your throat, but you shook your head and playfully smacked his arm. 

“Joel Miller, you’re a naughty man.” You laugh, and his face hovers above yours once more. 

“And you’re a naughtier woman,” He smirks, kissing you once. “Naughtiness deserves a punishment, hm?” 

“If naughtiness deserves punishment, does that mean I get to smack your cute ass too?” Mischief was written all over your features, but Joel’s brows turned downward. 

“Don’t even think about it, sweet girl, or I’ll deny you.” 

You quirk your brow at him. “Deny me of what, exactly?” 

“Me. My cock that you seem to fuckin’ love so much.” He shrugs, as if any part of this conversation was nonchalant. 

You decided to tease him further, seeing how far you’d get. “I hate to inform you, Mr. Miller, I do have some handy dandy trustee ‘ol vibrators stashed away that can do the job just fine.” 

He clenched his jaw at your words, rolling his eyes. “Ever the smart fuckin’ mouth on you, eh?” He chuckles, knowing you’d immediately fold for him and let him take care of you much better than your pink and purple toys can. 

“Isn’t that why you married me?” You can’t wipe the stupid grin off of your face as he buries his head into your neck. 

“Mm, one of the reasons,” He moves his hands up to your breasts underneath the shirt you were wearing, squeezing the soft flesh generously. “‘S okay darlin’. I know you only married me for my skills in the bedroom.” 

“Ah, ya got me there.” You throw your hands up in surrender, and Joel lets out a hearty laugh. He moves his hands from underneath your shirt up to your wrists, pinning them down to the bed as he leans down to kiss you. 

“You sure we can’t just stay in bed and y’know, let me put my amazing bedroom skills to use?” Joel juts his bottom lip out and pouts, and you can’t help but laugh at how persistent he was. 

“No, my love. We really do have to run these errands.” You run your hand through his brown curls, pushing yourself up to kiss him before wiggling out from under him. He collapses onto the bed with a groan, slowly making his way out from the array of your fluffy comforter, blankets, and pillows. 

He stands in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses your forehead. 

“Last person to reach the shower has to make a pot of coffee!” You giggle as you run to your master bathroom, Joel right on your heels. 

“I don’t think so, missy.” He wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, moving you behind him so he can reach the shower first. 

“Asshole!” You laugh, eyes squinted as you swat his arm. 

“Yeah, but you love me.” Joel winks at you and you roll your eyes, quirking a brow at him as he turns on the shower to a temperature comfortable for you both. 

“That I do, Mr. Miller. That I do.” 

-

Joel ended up making the pot of coffee anyhow after you both showered and got ready for the day. You gratefully thanked your loving husband as he poured both yours and his serving into two thermoses before you set out for the day. 

You had a game plan in your mind, because the quicker you got these errands done, the quicker you’d be able to change into sweats and watch a Christmas movie. First stop was getting gas. You offered Joel for you to pump the gas, but he refused and begrudgingly reminded you that as long as you were with him, you wouldn’t ever be touching a gas pump again. 

Next stop was the local bakery. You needed a restock on the fresh bread they baked, and every holiday season, they made pastries that were absolutely delectable. 

After you left the bakery, you needed to go to Target to get the majority of your Christmas decorations. You drove in a comfortable silence, Joel’s hand securely on your thigh as he drove. A soft country song was playing over the radio, and you looked out of the window to see many stores and houses already decorated for the holidays. You smiled at the sight, loving this time of year more than anything. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” Joel breaks the silence as he looks over at you when you reach a red light. You look at him, admiring his handsome features before leaning over the center console to kiss him. 

“Nothing in particular, baby. Can’t wait to decorate our house.” You smile at him, and he gives your thigh a soft squeeze. 

When you arrived at Target, it took everything in you to not run to the Christmas section to scour for the perfect decorations. Joel could sense your excitement, and he chuckled as he got a cart to give to you. Joel had to take bigger strides to keep up with how fast you were moving, but he couldn’t help but adore the excitement that overtook you. 

There were so many options for decorations, you didn’t even know where to start. You were examining some ornaments when Joel wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“See any you like?” He asks, turning his head to kiss your cheek. 

“Should we stick with the classic red ornaments? I think they’re so pretty, but multicolored ornaments would go good with our tree since we have the white lights around it.” 

Truthfully, Joel had no idea decorating for Christmas would be full of so many options. Before you moved into your house, you and Joel lived in an apartment that barely had room for a four foot tree. Now you had more than plenty of room for various decorations that were going to stay with you both for years and years to come, encapsulating new traditions within the four walls of your home. 

“Let’s do classic red. We can get multicolored ones next year.” Joel kisses your shoulder before standing up behind you, rubbing circles into your soft, sweater-covered waist. 

You nod in agreement, putting the ornaments in the cart. You pick up a few other things including an ornament that has two wedding rings interlinked with a ‘forever yours’ engraved at the bottom, Joel insisting it needs to be put up on the front of the tree. 

“So do I get to unwrap you as my present this year?” Joel’s lips brushed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You laugh at his joke, rolling your eyes. “Such a cheeseball, I swear.” You huff, and he holds his hands up. 

“What, I can’t admire my beautiful wife in some sexy lingerie then gladly take it off of her?” 

“I’ll let you if you buy it for me. Last time I bought a pretty set, you literally ripped it off of me. You’re a menace, Mr. Miller.” You give him a fake stern glare, reencountering your husband’s inability to be patient and take the pretty pink set you liked so much off of you. 

“Fine. Fair point. Maybe I’ll get you some for Christmas.” 

Joel slots his hand in yours and gives it a squeeze, and a soft smile curls onto your lips. 

“C’mon, let’s look at the trees.” 

-

“A little to the left.” You tell Joel as he hangs up some garland you found on your trip. He does as told, moving to the left before you stop him and tell him it’s perfect. He steps off the stepstool he was on, wrapping his arm around your waist as he observes his handiwork. 

It was five in the evening now, and Joel had just finished putting up the last of the decorations. Your living room basked in a soft yellow light, complimentary of the Christmas tree and the fireplace. 

You were in awe that your living room looked so festive and warm. Owning your own home with the love of your life was something you’ve always dreamed of, and decorating it for one of your favorite holidays had your heart feeling all fuzzy and warm. It was cliché and you knew it, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

You looked up at Joel with a proud smile. His dark eyes reflected the soft lights and the fire as he stared back at you, eyebrows creasing together. 

“What?” He chuckles, pulling you in closer. You grin as you rest your hands onto his solid chest, sliding them up until they intertwine at the back of his neck. 

“Just grateful I have such a hardworking, loving man.” You kiss him briefly, and his hands slide from your waist and down to your ass before you have a chance to pull away. He hums against your lips as he squeezes your pillowy flesh, causing you to gasp. He took that as the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, softly groaning as his hands started to roam furiously. A giggle bubbled in your throat, and he nearly whined when you pulled away from him. 

“So needy, Mr. Miller.” 

“You still owe me a chance to show you my neat bedroom skills, Mrs. Miller.” He retorts, recalling the conversation you had with him this morning. 

“Mm, that I do,” Your eyes glance down to the fireplace, tilting your head in curiosity. “Can we try a new location?” Your pleading eyes look into his as you bat your lashes, knowing Joel always gave in when you gave him that look. 

“And where would that place be?” 

You nod your head down next to the fireplace. “I think it’ll be romantic.” You shrug, and Joel laughs. 

“It does, baby, but you know my knees and back ain’t what they used to be.” 

“Who said you’d be doing the work?” You quirk a brow up at him, a sly smile curling onto your lips. Joel’s cock throbbed at the thought of his pretty little wife taking care of him. 

“Darlin’, are you sure? You don’t have to.” He shakes his head, knowing he gets off just on pleasuring you alone. 

“Can’t your wife show you how much she appreciates her hardworking man?” You take his hand and tug on it, grabbing two pillows from your couch before tossing them on the carpet near the fireplace. 

“Fuck, baby. ‘M so goddamn lucky.” Joel groans, kissing your temple. You pull him in for a kiss as you begin to unbutton his favorite flannel, sliding the worn material off of his broad shoulders. His skin was warm beneath your touch, so inviting and full of life. Home. 

Your nails lightly scratched down his soft torso. He was slightly insecure about his tummy, but you loved it. More of him for you to love. 

You begin to trail your kisses down his neck, nipping at his collarbone and chest as you fumble with his belt buckle. You get it undone, sliding the leather through the loops in his jeans and tossing it on the floor before undoing his button and zipper. He takes the liberty of shucking his jeans off himself, standing before you in nothing but his boxers. 

Your eyes roamed his body hungrily, licking your lips as you trailed your gaze back up to his. Joel’s breathing began to slightly quicken, getting too turned on for his own good just by your lustful stare. 

“So handsome,” You whisper. “Lay down for me, baby.” And he does. He situates himself so his head is propped up on a pillow, staring at you. 

“No fair that I’m nearly naked and you’re still fully dressed.” He playfully pouts, and you laugh. You easily discard your warm sweater over your head and let it pool to the floor with the rest of Joel’s clothes. Your pants follow suit so you’re just left in your bra and panties, and Joel’s dark eyes admire the sight before him. 

“C’mere baby.” He says, holding a hand out to you. Your hand slots in his and he tugs you down so you’re level with him. He grabs your hips and maneuvers you until you’re straddling his hips. 

The flames illuminate his face, softening his features in a way that makes you fall in love with him even more. 

Your gaze moves down to his plush lips before moving back up to his eyes, smiling in the slightest before moving down to kiss him again. One of his hands moves to cup the back of your neck, pushing you further into him to deepen the kiss. You moan softly and can’t help yourself when you slowly start to grind your hips into his, clothed clit catching his bulge just right. 

The whole thing is cathartic, wanting to prove to him how much you appreciate him and everything he does for you, though he already knows it. 

“I love you.” You mumble against his lips, and separate yourself from him to nose at his scruffy jawline to litter soft kisses among his jaw. You move down to his neck, licking a long stripe up a spot that drives him absolutely crazy. His hands grip your hips tighter, the cool metal of his wedding band pressing into your hot skin. 

“I love you–too, fuck, love you too, baby.” He can’t control the noises that fall from his throat as you suck onto his collarbone and chest in the slightest, tongue soothing over the areas you’ve bitten. 

You make your way down his torso, making sure to kiss his stomach a few times before looking up at him. 

“You’re so handsome, my love.” 

Your lips are back on his skin and Joel’s heart fucking flutters. You’re the only woman in the world that can make him feel so adored, so appreciated, so loved. Your praise always gets to him. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever find the right words to tell you what your words do to him. 

Your lips find purchase near his happy trail, poking your tongue out to lick his skin just before the waistline of his boxers. You grab the elastic band, tapping his hips gently. He lifts his hips for you and you easily slide the underwear off his body. He cradles your cheek for a few seconds, admiring how pretty you look. 

You look down at his weeping cock, pre cum bedaubed on his tip. You take his length gently in your hand, giving it a couple of tugs before moving your head down to kiss his thighs. It was rare when you had opportunities to worship Joel’s body like this, so you were going to take advantage of it. 

He only ever got to be soft and slow with your body, never giving himself the grace to allow you to do the same for him. He always made sure your pleasure came first, but tonight, and many more if the stubborn man would let you, his pleasure came first. You wanted to make him feel just as good as he makes you feel. 

You drag your lips up to the apex of his thigh, kissing his hot skin until you get to the base of his cock. You moved your lips to his tip, kissing it once before licking the pre cum off of him. He groaned softly, eyes falling closed. He tossed an arm over his eyes, trying his hardest not to cum just from your lips touching his throbbing cock. 

You gave him a few more slow tugs before licking the underside of his length, humming against him. You finally decided to stop being a little tease and took him into your mouth, inching down slowly until your nose met the tuft, dark curls at the base of his cock. 

He was heavy in your mouth, throbbing at the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. He cradled the back of your head with his other hand, signaling for you to move. You slid your mouth up his shaft, hollowing your cheeks as you worked your way to the top. His silky flesh slid easily against the flat of your tongue, working its way up and down his length to create a steady rhythm. 

You moan around him as you taste the salt of him on your tongue. You move one hand to brace his thigh and the other to gently toy with his balls, knowing that’s what drove him crazy. 

Throaty moans were elicited from your husband, hand tightening on the back of your head in the slightest. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, yeah, just like that mama. Right there.” You whine against his cock when he calls you that, something purely primal licking a flame into your core and up your spine. 

“You like when I call you that?” Joel chuckles, uncovering his eyes with his arm. He looks down at you as desire has completely taken over your expression, zeroed in on one thing only: making your husband cum. 

You furrow your brows as you look up at him, and he moves his hand from the back of your head to cradle under your jaw. He lifted your mouth off of him slowly, drool spilling from your bottom lip as it was still connected to his swollen tip. 

“Answer me, darlin’.” He tilts his head at you, and you shyly nod. 

“Yes.” You’re breathless, moving your mouth back down to his cock before he stops you. 

“Wanna fill you up. Ride me, baby.”

Your thighs clench at his words, the flame in your core burning hotter each second that passes. 

You discard your panties and straddle him once more, the heat from the fire keeping your body a comfortable temperature. 

Joel’s hands slide up your body and up your spine, goosebumps forming onto your skin at his expert touch. He easily unclasps your bra and tosses it to the side, moving his hands to the front to grab the pillowy flesh. 

You slide his tip against your dripping cunt a couple of times before slowly sinking down onto him, the fullness setting your body aflame. 

You moan as you toss your head back, and the feeling of Joel rolling your sensitive nipples between his thumb and index fingers have you keening for release. 

You start to grind your hips back and forth, building sweet friction before you settle your hands on his chest to move up and down. Joel’s hands move down to the curve of your ass, giving it a playful smack as he admires you bouncing on him. 

“Fuck, Joel, feel so good.” You cry, eyes screwing shut at the burning pleasure becoming harder to ward off. 

“Takin’ such good care of me, mama. ‘M gettin’ close.” He says, hands moving to settle onto your hips. You whine in response, moving down so your body is flush with his as you give him another searing, passionate kiss. 

“You deserve to be taken care of too, Joel. So grateful for you, my honey.” Your lips are next to his ear now, whispering praises to him like it was the last thing you’d ever do on this earth. 

“Fuckin’ love you. Everythin’ about you.” Joel’s voice is strained now, a tell that he was about to come undone. One of Joel’s hands moves down to rub at your clit furiously, desperate to send you over the edge. 

“I love you too—oh, fuck.” You cry, the internal flame finally engulfing your body as a whole. Your orgasm triggered Joel’s as your tight cunt squeezed him, and he held your hips steady to release everything he had into you. Your body convulsed a few times before finally settling down, laying on top of Joel. He wrapped one arm around the small of your back as the other hand traced patterns on your warm skin, kissing your head a few times before a deep chuckle rumbles within his throat. 

You lift your head to look at him. “What?” Your voice is timid again, too fucked out to be any octaves louder than the crackling flames of the fire. 

“One of these days ‘m gonna fuck a baby into you, Mrs. Miller. Then I’ll get to call you mama for real.” 

You tucked your face into his neck at his words, laughing softly. You and Joel have talked about kids before, but both agreed you’d want to buy a house first with a possibility of owning a dog too before having any. 

You kissed Joel’s neck once more before hovering your face over his, smiling down at him. “Until then, Mr. Miller, we’ll need to start our own traditions… just us two for now. Starting with fucking by the fireplace more often.” You laugh, and Joel shakes his head with a hearty chuckle as he flips you over so you’re underneath him. 

“That I can do, darlin’,” Joel looks at you with a knowing smirk. “Round two?” 

tags: @ilovepedro ; @party-hearses ; @nostalxgic ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis

[little-diable]

All to myself - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Prof and priest fics are without doubt my faves. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Another student tries to touch the reader, so Professor Riddle has to remind his TA that she is his, only his. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral(m), power play, profxta

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!TA!reader (1.8k words)

She felt his eyes on her, watching her every move as if he was worried about her doing something wrong, messing up his classroom. No matter what she did or touched, his eyes followed her around like a shadow. A shadow sewn to his boots, unable to escape her boss, the one whose every command she blindly followed. 

“I’ll expect your papers on my desk Friday afternoon, I won’t accept any tardiness.” Professor Riddle’s voice filled the room, instantly shutting up his chatting students. All eyes were drawn to his piercing ones, staring at the tall professor who acted like their god, the deity they’d have to worship. “If you have any further questions, find (y/n), she can help you.”

(Y/n)’s eyes snapped towards the professor, hands freezing midair. Not once had he addressed her like that in class and told his students that she could help them out, hidden in the dark corners of the room as if he was scared to share her with them. She couldn’t stop the heat from flushing through her, eyes forced back down to the book she had been combing through, highlighting the pages he had asked her to prepare. 

“I’ll see you next week.” With his last words echoing through the room, the students quickly rose to their feet, set on disappearing from the room and the professor they all feared. He watched them scurry out of the room, lips pulled into an almost satisfied smirk. 

“Did you find the pages, (y/n)?” He leaned against the desk, arms crossed in front of his chest, no longer caring about the handful of students who were still packing their things. She could only nod, unable to meet his eyes, not when she was reminded of the way he had touched her not even twelve hours ago, once again finding comfort in one another’s touch.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t about comfort for him, perhaps it was all about claiming her, about owning the young woman who had joined his class as a student last year and was now working for him as his teaching assistant. A power hierarchy she had always feared, not daring to overstep, at least not till he had made the first move, not giving her a way out. 

“Good, come to my office tonight so we can prepare for next week’s class.”

……

“Thank you so much for your help, (y/n).” A tight smile played on her lips, trying to keep her distance from the student who had found her a few minutes ago. She had been on her way to Professor Riddle’s office, carrying the books of his she had borrowed when the guy had forced her to a halt. He had instantly dropped his questions on her, smirking at the already annoyed woman. 

“Of course, now, if you excuse me, I need to find Professor Riddle.” She wanted to turn from him, wanting to disappear from the student who made her feel all too uncomfortable. But his hand darted out, fingers wrapped around her wrist to keep her close. Her breath hitched in her chest at the unwanted touch, eyes flickering from her wrist to his dark pupils. 

“Why the hurry, (y/n)? I think he can wait a few more minutes for you. Don’t you find it weird how he treats you? As if you’re some toy he owns.” Her throat felt tight, mouth too dry to reply, wanting to rip herself from the man’s grasp, though without any luck. The grasp he had on her wrist only got tighter, sure to leave marks she’d have to cover for the next days. 

“Let me go, please.” The student’s laugh was drowned out by the sound of fast-approaching steps, making a shadow appear behind (y/n)’s frame. Instantly the student let go of (y/n), trying to flee from the scene as Professor Riddle stared him down. Within seconds the professor had the guy pressed against the nearest wall, forcing a gasp from (y/n).

“If I ever catch you touching (y/n), even looking at her, I will end you. Do you hear me, Mister Kerry?” No reply left the student, unable to speak up, only able to quickly nod his head. The second the man let go of him, he fled from the scene, leaving (y/n) and the professor behind. 

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, with Professor Riddle turning towards (y/n), eyes focused on her already bruised wrist. With wide eyes she watched him carefully reach for her hand, momentarily studying her skin before he began to pull her down the hallway, straight to his office. Her heart was pounding, racing against her ribcage to try and warn the oblivious woman of the danger lying ahead. But there was no escaping, she was tied to him like a boat tied to the dock, rocking with the waves though kept in place by the tight rope. 

“How did you find me?” (Y/n)’s whispers filled his barely alight office, drawing a dangerous chuckle from the man, a sound so strong (y/n)’s body kept trembling, littered with goosebumps. 

“It’s not typical for you to be late, and I seem to find you no matter where you are. I don’t share what is mine, and especially not you.” His voice dripped with possessiveness, hand cupping her warm cheek before his lips crashed against hers, leaving the woman moaning. Within a few moments (y/n) was forced against his desk, caged between the expensive wooden craft and his tall frame. “You’re mine, mine alone, never forget that, pet.”

“I won’t. I am sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologising for, and yet it only felt right to do so. The words seemed to please the professor, studying her for another second or two before an almost teasing “Prove how sorry you are” left him. Without protesting, (y/n) dropped to her knees, glassy eyes staring up at the tall man, watching him free his already hard cock with skilled movements. 

(Y/n) parted her lips like she had done numerous times before, in this very position, for the brooding man only. He forced his cock into her mouth without another warning, finding enjoyment in her gasps, the surprise filling her eyes, the trembling of her hand. She was his pet, the one he had claimed the first time she had stepped into his office, forever his. 

“Atta, girl, such a perfect mouth.” Her hum left him groaning, ringed hand finding her hair as his head momentarily rolled back. Professor Riddle’s eyes fluttered close, enjoying the fast bobbing motion, the way her tongue took care of his ache just like he needed her to. If there was one thing (y/n) found pride in, it was satisfying the tall man, drawing these sounds from his mouth – sounds she’d think of whenever her thoughts started to wander. 

“C’mon, you can take a bit more, don’t hold back, pet.” (Y/n) struggled to take more, and yet she was set on following whatever he asked of her, trying to loosen her jaw. One tear after another spilt from her eyes, dripping down onto his expensive carpet, leaving yet another stain he’d never wipe away. She wasn’t used to hearing his praises, and yet whenever he did praise her, (y/n) hoped that her mind would never forget about these moments, cherishing every sound he made.

She felt his cock twitch in her mouth, staring up at the moaning man as her hands added more speed to their movements, pumping the parts her mouth couldn’t reach. If there was one thing she was set on, it was tasting his release, wanting him to leave his stain on her tongue before he fucked her, a wish the man wouldn’t fulfill today. He pulled away before he could give in, letting go of her hair, only to pull (y/n) to her feet. The professor manhandled her onto his table, front pushed against the cold wood as his hands pulled her trousers and panties down her legs.

“Such a messy whore for your professor, look at the way you’re dripping.” His dark chuckles left (y/n) impatiently moaning, hands clinging to the edge of the table, already preparing for the first of many ferocious thrusts. She heard him spit into his hand, once again lubing his cock up before he pushed into her from behind, drawing a moan from the both of them. 

He fucked her hard, fast, not caring about her need to adjust, or the pained whimpers leaving her. No, this was a lesson, a lesson crafted for her only, reminding the young woman that she was his, his only. No other man would ever manage to fuck her like this. No other man would ever manage to draw these sounds from her parted lips.

His toy, his pet, his woman. 

Curses left her whenever his cock managed to nudge the spot that left her seeing stars, squeezing her eyes shut to try and focus on the intimate moment, the need to feel his cock forcing her walls apart with every thrust, the ache he left behind between her legs. This wasn’t about taking their time, about cherishing one another’s closeness, this was solemnly to scratch that inch inside of them, fuelled by their possessiveness. 

“Please, oh please, professor.” A hum left the man, forcing one arm around her waist to rub her pulsing bundle, driving her closer and closer to the edge. “Please let me cum, oh god, please.” 

“Cum for me, pet. Let them hear who is fucking you, who is the only one allowed to touch you.” His name rolled off (y/n)’s tongue as she came, trying to prolong the moment for as long as possible. The professor kept snapping his hips, forcing his cock deeper and deeper, wanting to leave his stain on her walls, set on imprinting himself on her cunt. His dark, raspy moans left her gasping, feeling his hand tighten its grip on her flesh as he came inside of her, giving room to one last groan.

“You’re mine to touch, mine only, don’t you ever forget that, (y/n).”

[obsessedwithceleste]

The Stages of Grief

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

Prompt 5 of @thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge🫶🏽

Summary: They say that when you experience grief, you go through five stages. And after being partnered with Lorenzo Berkshire for your latest potions assignment, rest be assured, you were experiencing all five.

word count: 6.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Denial

“Oh you’re kidding,” you groan as you finally spot your name on the list of assigned pairings for your next potions assignment.

You loved potions; in fact it was one of your favorite classes at Hogwarts, despite its demanding course work. You ironically found its rigid, methodical nature to be quite relaxing as moving step by step through the different recipes seemed to practically be second nature. It was a rhythmic dance that you followed religiously, finding thrill in the ever changing contents of your cauldron.

What you did not love however, or who you did not love to be more precise, was Lorenzo Berkshire. Flirtatious, carefree, and devilishly handsome, you were fairly certain that that boy could chat up a corpse. Or he could if he or his friends ever bothered showing up to class. It’s not that you disliked the boy per se, but to allow him onto your sacred ground? Into your sanctuary? You’d rather not.

Yet, there his name was, scrawled neatly next to yours on the board. It was like the universe had it out for you. Or your professor more likely.

“Tell me I read it wrong,” you complain turning to Daphne who was sat beside you.

The two of you had made an unlikely pairing in second year herbology and been inseparable ever since.

The girl just rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh come on, he’s really not as bad as you make him out be,” she sighs, scribbling notes from the board onto her parchment.

“Maybe not to you, but you’ve known him your whole life,” you grumble.

Personally, you’d always found the boy to be a bit of a prick. He was a pretty boy and he knew it, giving him a rather inflated ego you thought.

“Yeah, so don’t you think I might know him a bit better and perhaps be a better judge of character?” She asks.

“Maybe the professor will let me work alone.”

“Oh honestly, y/n. Look, at least he’s in class today. You’ll be fine, promise. And if he annoys you, even a little, I’ll owl his mother,” Daphne replies, not even bothering to look up from her notes. She was used to your dramatics by now.

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down,” your professor calls out, moving to stand at the front of the room before you can complain any further. “This next assignment will take course over the span of the next month or so, as you will be expected to collect some of your ingredients outside of class. So. Who can tell me a little bit about what this next potion that we’re brewing is?”

Your hand shoots into the air as soon as the question leaves your professor’s lips.

“Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It doesn’t really create love though, but rather infatuation which makes it one of the most dangerous potions in the world,” you recite.

“Yes, yes! Very good, y/n! Five points!”

“Really if it’s so dangerous, I don’t see why they’re teaching a bunch of sixth years how to brew it,” Daphne mumbles to you under her breath.

You let out a snicker. She had a point.

You turn back to the front of the classroom, tuning back into the lesson as your professor begins scratching away on the chalkboard once more.

“The ingredients that you’ll need to gather are as follows. Two ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, and rose petals. You’ll have the next two weeks to gather your ingredients with your partners, so I suggest you begin,” your professor announces.

You feel your shoulders wilt at the thought of purposely seeking out Lorenzo, but you can already feel his eyes on you from across the room.

“Do you think if I ignore him long enough he’ll get the idea and just go away?” You whisper to your friend.

Daphne just rolls her eyes at you once more, shaking her head.

“Go,” she sighs, giving you a light shove in his direction before moving to join Theodore Nott at a different station.

With one last sigh of despair, you make your way over to the station where Enzo sits waiting for you, silently mourning your potions grade. And your mental and emotional stability.

“Mornin’ love,” he greets giving you a bright lopsided grin as you approach.

“Hi,” you respond dryly with a tight lipped smile.

“So, what’s our game plan going to be, darlin? I reckon we’ll want to get the hardest ingredients to come by first yeah?” He pushes on, ignoring your clear disinterest.

You nod your head in response.

“The peppermint, rose petals and thorns will be easy. We can get all of those in the greenhouse. The pearl dust- I assume we’ll need fresh pearls, we can probably get from the Black Lake.”

“Great. I think I have a moonstone in my ingredient collection. We can crush it down for the powdered moonstone,” Enzo offers.

You raise your brows at this. Moonstone wasn’t necessarily rare by any means, but you weren’t really expecting Enzo to offer up ingredients from his personal collection.

“That would work. We can also find them in the dark forest,” you reply.

“Nah, save us the hassle. Pretty girl like you doesn’t have any business in that musty old forest anyway,” he responds with a charming grin.

Ignoring his comment, you continue on to the last item on the list.

“I’m really not sure where we’re going to find those eggs. I don’t think we can find ashwinders on the school grounds, and they’re quite risky to breed.”

Enzo stares at you blankly.

“Remind me what an ashwinder is again love?” He says sheepishly.

“Magic serpent. Born from the embers of magic flames that are left to burn. You’re a Slytherin, shouldn’t you know all about snakes and such?”

“Yeah, let me recite to you the alphabetical list of all known magical serpent species that us Slytherins actually use as the password to our common room.”

You purse your lips at the boy’s obvious sarcasm.

“Fair enough. Still don’t know how we’ll get the eggs though.”

“I can see if we have any in our stores at the manor. Probably our best bet if we don’t want to risk burning down the school.” Enzo replies.

“Are you sure? We’re already using your moonstone,” you say, beginning to feel a bit bad about raiding the boy for supplies.

“It’s the least I can do really. I’m useless at potions, so least I can do is provide you with the ingredients that we need,” he says honestly with a light laugh.

“Well alright. Shall we meet up on Friday then to collect the pearls?” You ask, scribbling down your plans in your notebook.

“Sounds good, six o’clock? By the dock?”

You nod in agreement.

“Well alright then. See you then, love.” And with a grin and a cheeky wink thrown your way, Enzo is off.

At least he was pulling his weight in gathering ingredients you supposed.

Anger

“Y/n! Are you headed down to the docs?” Daphne asks slightly out of breath as she runs up to you from across the court yard.

“Yeah. Enzo tell you?”

Daphne nods her head in response as you two begin to make the short trek down to the lake.

“Hope you don’t mind if Theo and I join you?”

“Course not. Probably better that I’m not alone with Enzo by the lake anyway. Wouldn’t want him to try and drown me.” You say lightly, only slightly joking.

“Oh piss off. He’s a nice bloke once you get to know him.” Daphne laughs.

As the two of you arrive at the edge of the lake, you can already see Enzo, Theodore, and Mattheo splashing about in the water. Draco and Pansy are watching disdainfully from the shore.

You hadn’t realized this was going to be a whole party.

“Daph, please get these boys under control!” Pansy shouts when she sees the two of you approaching.

“I’m not their mum, they won’t listen to me,” Daphne replies dryly.

“Sure they will. Or at least Theo will, and the other two dimwits will follow whatever he does.” Pansy replies.

“Theodore!” Daphne shouts, turning to the three boys who were waist deep in the water by this point.

“Bella?” He calls back, visibly perking up at the sight of your friend.

You watch with amusement as Daphne points a finger at the boy and then again at the ground next to her. Theo slowly sulks over to the four of you, Mattheo and Enzo following in his wake.

“Really Theodore? You’re sopping wet,” Daphne sighs, only to be met with a sheepish grin.

“Hey love,” Enzo greets, prancing over to stand beside you.

It takes everything in you to focus anywhere but Enzo’s soaking wet shirt as it clung to his chest and abdomen like a second, very see-through skin. Bloody hell.

“Hi Enzo,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure we’ll even find pearls here? I thought pearls were from the ocean, and I don’t want to risk getting wet for nothing,” Draco says, eyeing the lake warily.

“Hogwarts a History says that fresh water pearls are common in the Black Lake,” you reply.

“What’s the difference?”

“Saltwater pearls are generally rarer, more expensive.” Pansy replies easily.

“Fresh water mussels can produce multiple pearls at a time, but oysters generally only produce a single pearl in their entire lifetime,” you explain.

“So how exactly are we going to collect these mussels?” Theo asks.

“Accio.” Daphne responds, as if it should’ve been obvious. Which it was.

Your now rather large group makes it way onto the dock, squinting into the murky water for any trace of mussels in the sand below.

Daphne finds the first one, and after that, they slowly start pouring in. Eventually, there’s a sort of system in place with you, Daphne, Pansy, and Draco scanning the dark waves for the elusive mussels, while Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo crack them open to retrieve the pearls.

It’s all going swimmingly until the boys begin to get rowdy once more, with Mattheo sending a small wave of water at Enzo when his back is turned. Daphne gives the boys several warning glares as the waves gradually grow larger, only for them to start up again the moment your backs are turned.

Eventually it turns into an all out water war between the three of them once more, and you scowl as you feel a splash of water hit your leg.

Could they not cause a ruckus for one afternoon? You thought bitterly as another mussel flew into your hand. You go to place it in the pile with the others when you feel a weight hit you like a ton of bricks. Then cold. Everything is cold as you feel yourself hit the water.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim once your head breaks the surface and you frantically wipe water from your eyes.

You look over to see Lorenzo in the water near you, a grin plastered across his face. His smile quickly fades however when he sees the pure murderous intent in your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” You shout, swimming over to him, and shoving him under the waves.

“Y/n! You can’t drown him!” Daphne yells from the dock.

“Watch me!”

“It was an accident, swear!” Enzo gasps when his head re-emerges once more.

With one last scream of rage, you make your way to land as Daphne runs to catch up with you.

“Seriously Daphne? What is wrong with him?” You rage as you storm up the hill back to the castle.

“I really don’t think he meant for you to get shoved into the lake. The boys can get pretty tunnel visioned,” Daphne offers as she follows behind.

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one who went for a swim,” you mutter between chattering teeth, the cold really beginning to sink in.

“Oh I’m not defending him. Not completely I mean. He was totally acting like a right git. The other boys too. I don’t blame you for being upset, I would be too. I’m just saying, maybe don’t be too hard on him? It was an accident after all, and he really did look sorry.”

When you only shrug in response, Daphne sighs.

“Look. Give him one last chance, and if you still think he’s the worst person on earth, at least exploit the fact that he really does feel bad, and milk it for all he’s worth. Okay?”

You let out a smile at this.

“Spoken like a true Slytherin, Daph.”

Bargaining

The following Monday when you take your seat next to Lorenzo in potions, he immediately turns his head, almost like he’s surprised you hadn’t demanded to be reassigned partners.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I really didn’t mean for you to end up in the lake, Theo just shoved me and I grabbed on the closest thing which happened to be you. I really am sorry,” he rambles, fiddling with the quill in his hand nervously.

“It’s okay. I know it was an accident, so let’s just move on, alright?” You say with a sigh.

Maybe if the both of you just moved on, this nightmare of a pairing would be over sooner.

“Really?” Lorenzo asks, his bright personality snapping back into place.

“Sure Enzo.”

“Excellent. Because I was able to get us these,” he says proudly, carefully pulling two little eggs and a medium sized moonstone out of his bag. “Oh, and the pearls.” He adds, placing the eggs, stone, and glass container filled with pearls on the table in front of you.

You eye the ingredients carefully before determining that they were in fact all up to standard.

“Perfect. I’ll begin crushing up the pearls, if you take care of the moonstone?” You say, already pouring the shiny orbs into your mortar and pestle.

The two of you work surprisingly well together for the rest of the class period, almost as if you’d been working together for years. It takes you by surprise how easy the brown haired boy is to work with. You hadn’t been expecting much, knowing that potions wasn’t Enzo’s strong suit. But he made up for it by making sure you never wanted for anything. Needed a vial for your pearl dust? It was in your hands before you even had to ask. A fire needed to be lit beneath the ashwinder eggs to keep them from spoiling? Enzo’s wand was pointed in their direction before you had the chance to open your mouth.

As class winds down and you go to make your exit, you feel a hand on your wrist.

“Y/n?” Enzo says, stopping you. You turn to look at the boy.

“Look uh, I know that you’re not my biggest fan, or at least that’s what I gathered from Daph,” he begins to ramble, scratching the back of his neck, “but, could we maybe like, just start over?”

You’re a bit skeptical at first, but seeing his nervous smile melts something in you. Being friendly couldn’t hurt, you reasoned. And it would certainly make working with the boy easier.

“Alright, Enzo, we can start over.”

“Wicked.” He says with a grin. “Don’t suppose you’d like to meet in the greenhouse later then to gather the rest of our ingredients? Promise I won’t drag Theo and Matt along this time.”

“Sounds lovely.”

The both of you agree to meet right after classes are released that day, and as you make your way down the cobblestone path to the greenhouse, you can’t seem to push the memories of wet hair and an infectious smile from your thoughts.

“Hi love!” Enzo calls out as soon as you push open the doors of the greenhouse. The boy is elbows deep in soil, pulling at the roots of a suspiciously pink colored plant.

“How’d you get here so fast?” you ask, glancing at the clock to see that classes had ended not even ten minutes ago.

“Herbology is my last class of the day,” he explains, brushing some of the dirt off his gloves.

“Ah. So you wanted to meet right after classes ended so you wouldn’t have to make the trek back out here?” You ask, fingertips brushing the soft petals of one of the many flowering plants growing within the greenhouse.

“Well, and I wanted to see you again sooner,” he replies with a shrug and a cheeky grin.

You roll you eyes as you feel your cheeks heat up, turning quickly and hoping he hadn’t seen.

“So where are the rose bushes?” You ask, looking around at the distinct lack of roses within the building.

Enzo gives a nervous chuckle. “About that. Apparently Professor Sprout didn’t think that the common rose was, ah, dangerous enough, for her plant collection,” Enzo says, gesturing towards the various plants, “so, uh, there are none. But! We can grow them pretty easily. It might take a week or two to grow a full bush to peak maturity, but it should be fine.”

You let out a sigh. Of course Hogwarts wouldn’t grow something as simple and common as a rose.

“Alright, well. Let’s begin I suppose.”

Enzo immediately perks up as he goes to fetch a large pot and a bag of soil and you begin to rifle through the cabinets to find rose seeds. After several minutes with no success, you feel a warm presence behind you as Enzo leans over your shoulder and plucks a packet off the top shelf.

“You certainly know your way around,” you murmur, looking up to find the boy’s face much closer than anticipated. You feel heat rise to your cheeks once more and you duck under is elbow, making your escape.

“Herbology is my best subject,” Enzo says, trailing behind you.

“Ah, so you’re the Slytherin version of Neville Longbottom then eh?” You say with a grin as you watch him fill the pot with soil.

Enzo grimaces, making a face.

“No, I’m much better looking,” he says with a smirk.

Bloody self-aware bastard.

It only takes a few minutes for Enzo to bury the seeds in the soil and place several incantations over the dirt before he looks up at you with a triumphant grin.

“All good to go,” he says happily. “Though we should probably check back in daily to refresh the enchantments and such.”

You nod your head at the boy.

Over the course of the next few days, Enzo uses your time spent together to pick your brain for any morsel of information he could get out of you. He really was determined to be your friend apparently.

“What’s your favorite plant?” He asks you on the third day of your little meetings.

You tilt your head a bit in consideration.

“No, no, wait, I bet I can guess. Is it peonies? Your perfume is peony scented right?” He asks.

“Yeah, it is. Peony and vanilla,” you say, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

“Knew it,” he says, looking rather self satisfied.

“And yours?” You ask, leaning against the table to look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“What’s your favorite flower? Or plant that is.”

Enzo pauses for a moment, eyes flickering around the greenhouse for a moment before landing on you.

“I like roses.”

“Really?” You say, scrunching your nose a bit.

“I’m a romantic, what can I say?”

“Gross. That’s so cliche.” You tease, a small smile gracing your face.

As the days go on, your time spent in the greenhouse becomes longer and longer as you and Lorenzo banter about the ridiculous questions he’d come up with. Did owls have knees? Which house would win in hand to hand combat? Were Theodore and Daphne secretly hooking up in the fifth floor prefect’s bathroom? (The answer was yes.)

You were shocked to find that, while still a bit of a prat, Enzo really was rather smart and witty. As the days went on, it became easier and easier to open up to the boy until the two of you were talking like old friends.

It happened slowly. You really didn’t even notice at first. But by the second week, you found yourself looking forward to your daily meetings, and found yourself thinking of the handsome brunette when he wasn’t around, and you caught yourself staring at the boy a bit too long after he’d already looked away.

Over the years of being friends with Daph, you’d often been forced into the proximity of the boy. Always noting the way he’d easily move from one witch to the next, his charm never seeming to fail him. You had been so determined to make sure that you would never be one of those witches. Just another tally on Lorenzo’s ever growing list of conquests.

But it had happened. The unimaginable. The impossible. You were falling for Lorenzo Berkshire. No, this simply wouldn’t do you thought to yourself as you made the familiar trek to the greenhouse.

Your mind raced as you thought of ways to stop this madness. Maybe if you went back to pushing the boy away. Or if you just ignored him. Yes. If you just shut him out, these feelings would go away.

Sarcasm

The next several days for Lorenzo were miserable. And that was putting it nicely.

“She hates me!” Enzo wailed dramatically, hanging upside down off the edge of his bed.

It had been three days since your terrifying revelation in the green house, and Enzo was very convinced that he was going insane.

He could still remember clearly the day that Daphne had introduced him to her new friend after one fateful day in herbology. You had been so wicked smart, and kind, and funny, and your smile had melted his heart. He was pretty sure he’d been in love with you ever since. But he was lucky if you even acknowledged his presence most days.

“Can you blame her? Didn’t you send a flock of peacocks after her when we were all visiting Draco’s last year?” Mattheo asks, squinting at his friend.

“I thought it’d be romantic! How was I supposed to know they weren’t friendly?”

“There’s also that time in third year, you knocked her off her broom playing quidditch.” Draco adds, scowling at the memory of Enzo harassing the birds on his family’s property.

“I caught her after!” Enzo protests.

“She still sprained her wrist.”

“Oh yea. And then you tried to give her a kiss as an apology, but ended up with a nice bruise on your jaw instead,” Mattheo laughs.

Lorenzo wasn't going to lie, that was a particular sore spot for him.

“And let’s of course not forget the most recent offense. Trying to drown her in the lake. Thank Salazar I wasn’t there for that scene.” Blaise mutters.

Enzo winces.

After the incident at the lake, Enzo was sure he was done for. The look of pure rage in your eyes had felt as though you had stomped on his heart, and then cruciod it for good measure. But then you had accepted his apology and even agreed to start things over. Enzo had felt the first real burst of hope after four pitiful years of pining.

Sure he’d made some missteps over the years. As his friends so graciously enjoyed reminding him, but he meant well!

The two of you had talked. Laughed. He’d even allowed his hand to brush up against yours a time or two, delighted when you didn’t flinch away.

And then, as if the switch had flipped, it was back how it had been before. Enzo felt like he had whiplash with the way you had turned right back around to treating him like a total stranger.

Theo eyed his roommate with concern.

“Bloody hell, he’s worse than you pining over Daphne,” Mattheo mutters, jabbing an elbow into Theo’s rib cage, earning him a sharp glare.

“I don’t understand! Things were going so well! She was actually talking to me and everything, and now it’s like I’m right back at square one,” Enzo sighs, ignoring his bickering roommates.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from us mate. You’re supposed to be the romantic one of the group. Though with your track record, I’m not sure why we’ve been taking your advice all these years. You’re a wreck.” Blaise says, matter of factly.

“You tried talking to Daph bout it?” Theo asks, not quite sure how to help his slightly delirious friend.

“Ask me about what?” Daphne asks, seemingly materializing in the doorway of the boys’ shared dormitory.

She makes her way into the room, face morphing into one of both concern and disgust as she takes in Enzo's distraught state.

Theo eyes his friend, as if to say “good luck mate.”

Dragging himself into an upright position, Enzo considers the girl in front of him. How had he not thought of it before? Y/n’s best friend had been at his disposal this entire time, and he’d never thought to simply ask her.

Lorenzo turns to look at Daphne.

“Daph?”

“Yes Enz?”

“Does y/n fancy anyone?” He asks, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as possible.

Daphne raises a brow.

“If you’re trying to subtly ask if I happened to know of her feelings towards you, you’re doing a lousy job."

Enzo pouts, sticking out his bottom lip and honestly looking quite pathetic.

"For Salazar's sake, what happened?" Daphne huffs, making herself comfortable on Theo's bed, much to his delight.

“Enzo is down bad. Obviously.” Mattheo states.

Daphne shoots the boy a glare, rolling her eyes at the curly haired boy.

"We've been working in the green house together, and I thought things were going so well. She was talking to me, and laughing and everything.” Enzo says, falling back into his bed dramatically.

“Well then what’s the problem? You like her I thought.” Daphne replies with an annoyed huff.

“That’s just it isn’t it? It wasn’t a problem. But then suddenly, a few days ago, she went completely cold again. Like the last couple weeks never happened." he laments.

Daphne opens her mouth. Then closes it, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. For the love of- she loved you. Truly she did. But you were going to be the end of her.

“I’ll take care of this.” She announces, promptly rising from the bed just as Theo was about to sneak an arm around her.

He glowers at Enzo who gives him an apologetic grin.

Daphne had been your best friend for years at this point, and most of the time, she was convinced that she knew you better than you knew yourself. She wasn't blind. Or dumb for that matter. She knew that there were some strong feelings between you and Enzo, though she had never really bothered to figure out if they were positive or negative. Clearly she should've and all of this could have been avoided she thought wistfully to herself. At least this explained the strange tension between the two of you as of late.

“Y/n.” Daphne huffs, sitting next to you on a bench in the court yard.

“Daph,” you greet, looking up from your book.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you fancy Lorenzo?” She asks, staring you dead in the eye.

You feel your mouth gape like a fish out of water.

“Right Daph. Like I’d ever fancy that peacock.” You reply, doing your best to appear disdainful.

“Don’t you get an attitude with me.” Daphne responds. She’d always been able to see right through you. “Enzo told me everything. The chatting. The giggling. The immediate turn around as if nothing had happened. Textbook case of realizing you like someone while being emotionally constipated!” Daphne announces.

“Shhh!” You hush your friend, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed the scene. “You know that being mean and sarcastic is my only defense mechanism!” You hiss.

“Oh honestly y/n. We both know you won't be able to use that excuse forever.” Daphne says with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides, he likes you too. Why do you think he’s always preening when you’re around. He’s trying to impress you, you dolt.”

“Fantastic. He’s only a prat when I’m around. How romantic,” you mutter.

“Well you certainly didn’t think he was being a prat when you were spending all that time in the green house together. Don’t think I didn’t notice you two disappearing for several hours. No one is spending that much time every day looking at flowers.”

“We were just talking,” you defend.

“Mmhm. And then you stopped talking because you got scared and now Enzo is a wreck.”

You feel a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant to hurt Enzo. You hadn’t thought that he actually might like you too.

“I’ll apologize tomorrow in class, I guess,” you mutter.

Daphne sighs.

“Look. I’m not saying that you have to date him, or even tell him you like him. But you’re both my friends, and I don’t like seeing either of you upset.”

“I know Daph. I’m just confused is all. I thought I hated him.”

“Well, I’ve always been told that the line between love and hate is fine.” Daphne replies.

Bloody hell, when had your friend become this philosophic?

“I’ll get it sorted tomorrow. Promise.” You tell her.

Daphne nods, giving you a comforting smile.

“Good. And word of advice. Drop the sarcasm, Enz might cry if you put him through anymore emotional whiplash.”

Acceptance

You sat nervously in the potions classroom having arrived close to fifteen minutes early as you couldn’t shake away your nerves. Glancing at the clock on the wall, your classmates should start filing in at any moment.

You’d finally managed to gather all the need ingredients for your potion, so today would be the day that you and Enzo would be able to brew your amortentia.

Your fingers twirled the stems of the roses you’d collected mindlessly as your thoughts buzzed between your conversation yesterday with Daphne, and the fluffy haired brunette boy that had taken up permanent residency in your every thought.

Remembering the silly game one of your roommates had played years ago, you began plucking the rose petals off of the stem, one by one. You were going to have to do it eventually anyway. He loves me, he loves me not, the phrase repeats in your mind.

“Look nervous,” A voice comments from behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts, you look up just in time to see Enzo take his seat beside you.

Clearing your throat, you give the boy a small smile.

“Just thinking about the potion. Not going to be an easy one to brew today, and I’d like to get a good mark,” you reply.

“Of course.” Enzo replies, a strained look on his face. “Wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time then.”

You open your mouth to reply, but close it again when no words come to mind. Instead, you opt to sweep your rose petals into a small pile and begin shaving off the rose thorns as Enzo wordlessly takes out the gold cauldron, lighting a fire beneath.

“So,” you say awkwardly, the deafening silence finally getting to you. “How bout that weather?”

You hear a clatter as Enzo drops pestle he was holding to look at you incredulously.

“I know some of my conversation attempts were bad, but that was downright criminal.” He says with a snort.

Unable to hold back your laughter, you let out a giggle. “Yeah, I’ll see myself to Azkaban for that one.”

And just like that, the two of you fall back into your comfortable rhythm of idle chatter, jokes, bickering as you work seamlessly together.

You can’t help but watch with silent admiration as Enzo dutifully stirs the cauldron, careful to keep even counter clockwise strokes. A few tendrils of soft brown hair fall in front of the boy’s face and he gently blows them to the side with an annoyed puff.

“Pearl dust?” He asks, reaching his hand out.

As you hand him the vial, your fingertips brush softly, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. The heat from the cauldron must be really getting to you.

“If you just want to add the powdered moonstone, we should be all done,” Enzo says after a moment, taking a step back to allow you to complete the final step.

Slowly, you approach the boiling cauldron, carefully sprinkling in your meticulously measured moonstone powder. You stir the concoction a bit longer until you see a familiar pearlescent sheen and swirling tendrils of steam.

“Think we’ve done it,” you say with a smile, looking over at your partner.

He grins back, joining you in leaning over the steaming cauldron.

“Well? What do you smell?” He asks cheekily.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“We both take a wiff? On three?” Enzo asks.

You nod in agreement, watching the swirling colors within the cauldron. They say that amortentia smells like the things you’re most attracted to, and you’d always been curious what scents the potion would elicit for you.

“One, two, three.”

You lean in, and immediately you’re hit with the earthy scent of fresh soil, a soft hint of rose, and something else- oh. Oh. You feel your eyes widen.

“Peony. And vanilla.” Enzo murmurs, head still hovering above the cauldron before he turns to look at you.

The moment your eyes meet, you both know.

“I need a moment,” you mumble, hurrying out of the classroom.

As you rush past Daphne’s table, you hear the girl run after you into the corridor.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Daphne asks as the two of you come to a stop in a small alcove that’s somewhat hidden behind one of the many large stone statues that decorate the halls.

“It’s Lorenzo. My potion- it smells like Lorenzo. Or, it smells like fresh soil, and roses, and that stupid expensive cologne that he always wears,” you gasp, out of breath.

“Oh? And what did he smell?”

“Me. My perfume. Peonies and vanilla.”

“Well, that’s good then isn’t it? That you both smelled each other? I know when we talked yesterday I said you don’t necessarily have to tell the boy you fancy him, but, if you both really like each other that much. What’s the harm?” Daphne tries to reason.

“I don’t know! I just didn’t realize I liked him that much and it freaked me out. And I’ve been icing him out these past couple days, so he’s probably so cross with me. But he’s been so nice today, I don’t know what to do Daph. I’m not good with feelings. I was never going to act on anything!”

“Is that why you did all that? Back there?” A voice asks. “And why you’ve been acting strange the past several days?”

The two of you whip around to see Enzo staring wide eyed at the both of you, mouth slightly agape.

“I think I’d best let the two of you sort this out,” Daphne says, slipping out of the alcove and back into the classroom.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t meant to hear any of that,” you start as Enzo wordlessly approaches.

“You like me?” He asks once he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. He looks genuinely surprised at the notion as he stares down at you intensely.

You nod slowly. “Smelled you in that bloody potion,” you mumble.

Enzo’s smile falls.

“Is it that bad? Liking me?” He asks, hurt written across his face.

“No! No it’s not! I just thought I didn’t like you- no, that’s not what I meant. I was surprised that I fancied you is all, and didn’t know what to do. Because we’ve know each other so long, and we haven’t necessarily always gotten along. And I didn’t really realize I liked you at first, and I got all freaked out and then I panicked, and-“

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” Enzo asks, interrupting your rambling.

You freeze, looking up at the boy in front of you.

“Yes please,” you murmur.

Without wasting another moment, Enzo’s lips meet yours with a hunger and passion you didn’t realize the boy had in him.

Any last trace of doubt or worry you had disappears as his soft lips move against yours, melting you into him like putty in his hands.

Right as you’re about to run out of air, you feel Enzo’s lips trail off to your cheek, placing gentle kisses as he trails down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“Enz,” you mumble softly as you feel the warm, sucking sensation against your skin in the crook of your neck.

“Shh,” he whispers, lips meeting yours once more.

You feel yourself getting lost in the sensation as he moves against you until Daphne’s voice brings you back to reality once more.

“Just so you’re both aware, we are still in class,” she calls from around the corner.

You feel your cheeks heat up as Enzo lets out a soft laugh above you.

“Rest assured love, we will be coming back to this later,” he says before placing a kiss on your forehead and leading you back into the classroom.

If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’ll take any excuse to write a cheesy amortentia fic🤪

Special thanks to @finalgirllx and @pizzaapeteer for editing and rvwing🫶🏽

[loveinhawkins]

Every so often, Eddie will get the bus to Starcourt Mall (because what else is there to do?) and watch the world go by.

It’s not like he’s above a cliché or two—maybe he wants to indulge in being a lone figure within the crowd. Maybe he just feels like wallowing in the aimlessness of it all, damn it.

This is where Wayne would point out that Eddie is exactly the opposite of aimless, what with how he’d stormed into the trailer last month, failed test results in hand and snarled, “Next year. I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em.”

But there’s a long time between now and the new school year starting, the summer stretching out before him like taffy. He’d tried to start his reading list early again, but that’s never done him much good; this time he’d gotten through one chapter of Moby-fucking-Dick before despairing.

So. People-watching at the mall it is.

It’s surprisingly not all that terrible an activity, apart from discovering which teachers are suddenly very passionate about jazzercise—a sight Eddie could’ve blissfully lived the rest of his life without seeing.

There’s also the confirmation that the Starcourt commercial he saw was not a vivid hallucination—that Scoops Ahoy is, in fact, real.

And so are the ridiculous sailor outfits.

Well, I’ll be damned, Eddie thinks.

Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are an incredibly unlikely duo. It’s like the universe abandoned all sense, spun a wheel and paired them up just for the fun of it.

When he joins the line for ice-cream, Eddie initially thinks he’ll find the whole thing laughable: seeing people forced to work together when usually the laws of the universe (and Hawkins High) would keep them as far apart as possible.

But then he discovers that the ice-cream parlor is packed, one hell of a bottleneck forming right up at the counter, where folks are waiting for a seemingly never-ending amount of floats to be poured.

It takes a while for Eddie to near the front of the line; enough time passes that he honestly feels kind of bad for even taking up a spot, for adding to the workload that has Robin shouting herself hoarse with every, “Next please!”

He strongly considers just leaving, but he hesitates for a moment too long, and unintentionally meets eyes with…

“Hi,” Steve says, pleasantly enough, if a little distracted as he prods at the soda machine. He smiles apologetically. “Be with you in a sec.”

Eddie almost wants to tell him you know it’s me, right? He doesn’t.

It’s not that he expects Steve to be mean, exactly; it’s just that he’s getting more than familiar with the whole post graduation routine. It’s like there’s a secret page in folks’ yearbooks, instructing them to look at anyone still attached to high school with either indifference or embarrassment—or both.

Steve must not have got the memo.

“Next!”

Robin beckons Eddie forward with a sweeping arm gesture, looks somewhere behind him and sighs in relief, puffing out her cheeks.

“Oh, thank God. You stopped the tide.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder; sure enough, he’s the last person left to order.

“Don’t think I’ve got that power, Buckley.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Eddie almost laughs. There was a rumour in his first attempt at senior year that he could curse people: it only came about because he ominously whispered some Pig Latin he’d once overheard Robin herself use during History, and Molly Pritchard crossed herself in horror.

“I’ll have a vanilla cup.”

“Ooh,” Robin says dryly, “adventurous.”

“Nothing wrong with a classic,” Eddie says.

Robin smirks as she rings him up. They don’t know each other that well, but there’s admittedly something nice in the distant familiarity they share; at the very least, she’s not gonna add to any potential awfulness when school starts again.

While Robin hands over his change, Steve is filling up a cup—Eddie would say he’s uncharacteristically quiet, except for the fact that he doesn’t actually know what truly is characteristic of Steve Harrington.

Plus he’s stuck on the fact that he only paid for one scoop, but the amount of ice-cream Steve manages to cram in is almost double that.

And he does this ridiculous little twirly thing with the scooper before he even reaches for the tray of vanilla.

Eddie tells himself he notices just because the move is so stupid; it’s definitely not because he’s noticing Steve’s hands in general. It’s just… eyes get drawn to movement. That’s all.

“Syrup?” Steve asks, nodding his head at the dispensers.

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Strawberry.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Oh, don’t do that, man. Get it with butterscotch.”

Robin’s eyes rise to the heavens, as if some longstanding argument has begun once again.

“And why should I do that, Harrington?” Eddie says.

“Because,” Steve says, like he’s patiently explaining that two plus two equals four, “butterscotch is better. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Robin parrots mockingly. She closes the register drawer and says, “I’m taking my break, Popeye. Try not to judge the customers too hard.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he hears Steve mutter under his breath as she leaves, “Seriously? You’re worse than me.”

His cup of ice-cream is under hostage, apparently. Steve still hasn’t pressed down on the damn syrup pump.

“This your usual sales technique?” Eddie says. “Browbeating the customers?”

“Only the lucky ones,” Steve returns mildly.

Eddie scoffs. “Fine. Gimme the damn butterscotch then.”

“Knew you’d come to your senses,” Steve says.

He hands the cup over without any more quips; just as he’s done with the syrup, a large family swoops in with multiple sundae orders.

Eddie eats the ice-cream while waiting for the bus back home. He grudgingly has to admit that the butterscotch isn’t bad.

But that’s not really what’s bugging him.

He has to know if it’s a fluke—if maybe, just maybe, Steve Harrington only deigned to talk to him because he was, like… delirious or something. Maybe the flood of demanding customers scrambled his brain.

Of course, when Eddie goes back to the mall, it’s purely to test his theory. Strictly observational—educational, even. Like… summer school. (Take that, O’Donnell.)

The bus drops them off a little bit before the mall actually opens, but they’re allowed inside anyway. Eddie inwardly cringes at the sight of grown adults tapping persistently on the windows of still closed stores. Jesus Christ, they’re worse than zombies.

Scoops Ahoy isn’t open yet either; Eddie’s soon witness to a very stressed looking Steve striding over to unlock the place.

He flits in and out of view for a while, taking mops round to the back, filling up the jars of toppings.

Eddie actually considers heading over to Waldenbooks to check if it’s open (it’s not like he’s coming here for one store in particular, obviously), but then he hears metal clacking against the tiles.

When he looks back at Scoops Ahoy, he spots a set of keys on the ground right at the entrance, Steve nowhere in sight.

Goddamn it. He’s gonna have to be a Good Samaritan. Ugh.

Eddie briefly looks up to the ceiling as if he can condemn the ways of the universe from here. Then he sighs, picks up the keys and steps into the store.

“Harrington, you dropped these—”

“Shit,” comes Steve’s voice from the back, followed by an almighty clatter.

Eddie hesitates before his curiosity inevitably wins out.

He goes behind the register, through the door and finds the aftermath of complete disaster: Steve standing in front of an entire vat of ice-cream that’s been dropped onto the floor. It’s splattered all up his legs, cookies and cream clinging to the hairs.

Holy shit, stop thinking about his leg hair, Eddie thinks.

Up until this point in time, he’d believed it was physically impossible to look anything other than comical in that stupid sailor outfit.

(Well. Almost.)

But right now Steve looks absolutely tragic. Like he’s a crew member on the Titanic levels of tragic, and he’s about to deliver the news that there’s simply no more lifeboats.

Steve meets Eddie’s gaze.

“That was limited edition,” he says pitifully.

They both look down at the floor.

“Well,” Eddie says. “It definitely is now. Still, uh, what’s the phrase? No use crying over spilled… ice-cream.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna cry over it,” Steve says. “I’m gonna scream.” For a moment he looks murderous. “Robin’s not coming in.”

“Is she sick?”

Steve snorts. “Sick my ass. No, she’s keeping The Hawk in business—gonna see a movie about an ice-cream parlor, something like that.”

“An ice-cream parlor,” Eddie echoes. “Um. Are you sure she didn’t just make it up?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s one of those foreign—never mind.”

He cuts himself off, lifts up one foot, as if he’s become aware of his predicament all over again.

“I was fine with her ditching, she can do whatever; it’s not like we have managers checking up on us. But I forgot a huge delivery was coming, and it’s Saturday so it’s gonna be crazy, so I’m not gonna have time to put all of it in the freezer or check the stock chart, so it’s all just gonna become fucking soup, Jesus, maybe I should just throw everything on the floor and—”

“I could help,” Eddie interrupts, because apparently a little alien has burrowed into his brain and now he just says things.

Steve stares at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Eddie says. He wishes his brain-invading alien an immediate death. “Bad idea, just—”

“No, I mean why would you do that? Dude, it’s not like I can pay you or—”

“I don’t really have plans,” Eddie says—oh great, the alien hasn’t died! “Uh, you can pay me with, like, a name tag?” What? Stop talking. “Like a souvenir?” Stop! “Oh sorry,” Steve says, as if on automatic pilot. He pulls at his shirt. “We don’t have—our names are stitched on.”

I was kidding about the name tag. Actually, maybe you should just murder me instead.

By some miracle, Eddie’s expression must somehow still look fairly normal because Steve continues, deadly serious, “Munson. Are you sure?”

This is the time to back out—

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Look, man, it’s no big deal. I can clean this up and—”

A bell starts ringing from the front, being struck over and over again in the most obnoxious way possible.

Something in Steve’s eyes flickers, a shift from panic into planning mode, and Eddie has the sudden bizarre feeling that this is what the basketball team saw whenever a crisis timeout was called.

“You sure you’re okay if I leave you back here?” Steve asks, and the gravity with which he says it threatens to send Eddie into hysterics—Christ, you’d think they were in the goddamn trenches.

“Think I’ll survive,” Eddie says. “I’m basically cleaning up, and putting everything into the freezer?”

Steve nods. “And, um, a stock check too, if that’s okay? There’s a chart pinned up, you just gotta count the flavours and put, like, tally marks next to—”

“Oh my God, not tally marks,” Eddie drawls. “The horror.”

Steve huffs. “I was just—”

The bell rings even more insistently.

“Uh, think you’re needed on the front line,” Eddie says.

He nearly chokes on his own spit when Steve turns to just march right on out there.

“Harrington, wait! Your—your legs,” he says weakly.

Steve has the audacity to look puzzled. “What about them?”

They’re very long.

Eddie gestures silently to the ice-cream on the floor, then attempts a vague hovering motion in the direction of Steve’s legs.

Steve’s eyes go wide in realisation. His cheeks turn slightly red. “Oh! Yeah, um, thanks. Um. I’ll just…”

He disappears into the world’s tiniest restroom, comes back free of cookies and cream before heading out to the front.

Well, Eddie thinks to the mop he finds, this is definitely a situation.

It’s not the worst way he’s spent a few hours, apart from having to listen to a Sailor’s Hornpipe on loop through the speakers (he briefly wonders how Robin and Steve stay sane). He cleans up, gets the rest of the delivery into the freezer, even jots down some tally marks, wonder of wonders.

Steve will occasionally slide back the shutters and pop his head in, passing over a soda.

“Employee perks,” he says, then has to hurriedly retreat to keep serving.

Eddie keeps waiting for the stiltedness to set in, but it seems Steve’s far too busy for there to be any awkwardness.

At midday the shutter slides back again and Steve says, “Hey, can you do me one last thing, and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again, I swear.”

“Harrington, you’ve technically never asked me for anything. Gimme the mission.”

Turns out the mission is just to use some employee only coupons at Burger King so Steve can take his lunch.

Eddie returns to Scoops Ahoy with two burgers to find that Steve’s strategically placed a pile of chairs and wet floor signs at the threshold to deter people from entering.

There’s also a hand-drawn sign on top of one of the chairs: Out for Lunch. Underneath, there’s a horrendously bad drawing of a ship on choppy waves.

Eddie tries very hard to not find it endearing.

He gives Steve a burger, hops onto the table in the back and starts eating his own.

A quarter of the way through, he realises that he could leave now—he’s done everything Steve’s asked, and Steve’s already said he can manage the remaining shift on his own now that the delivery’s been put away.

Huh. Well, he’s already gone to all the effort of sitting here…

Steve’s quiet for most of his lunch. Eddie doesn’t mind; he enjoys his free food, comes up with a half-baked campaign idea before discarding it, counts every tile in the room…

Looks over.

Steve’s sat with one leg hunched up to his chest, a book resting on his knee—the cover’s folded over the back as he reads, the spine broken. Eddie doesn’t know why on earth it’s attractive, but it is; he feels like some mooning middle schooler, entranced by the way their stupid crush eats spaghetti or some bullshit like that.

But then again, there’s always been an easy grace to Steve Harrington.

A beeping noise; Steve checks his wristwatch with a sigh.

“Ugh.”

He leaves the book on the table, at just the right angle for Eddie to read the title: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.

“Is it good?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I’m only a couple chapters in, so…” Steve shrugs. “Honestly, it’s the most I’ve read since starting high school.”

And Eddie gets that: the senior years he’s suffered through have left him each time with a brain like a wrung out sponge, not even having the energy for Tolkien.

God. At this rate he’s never gonna read for fun ever again.

His face must do something because Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, a little hesitant, “Hey, I’m sorry you never, uh… made it through, y’know? You—you were so close, man.” Eddie doesn’t bother wasting time on being pissed that Steve knows some of the details: ‘test results’ and ‘confidentiality’ don’t exactly go together in Hawkins High.

“Yeah, uh. Thanks. Here’s hoping third time’s the charm.”

Steve claps his shoulder. “You’ll do it, it was just tough this year. Like, I scraped through, trust me.”

Eddie snorts—he would literally kill to have a handful of Steve’s grades.

“Think my definition of ‘scraped through’ is different to yours.”

He helps Steve disassemble the mountain of chairs, and now it really is obvious that he could just leave; he only has to take a few steps, and then he’s out of there.

But he pauses.

The store is still empty.

Eddie shuffles back from the doorway. “Ice-cream for the road?”

Steve laughs. “Sure. Least I can do.”

He doesn’t ask Eddie what he wants, just serves a vanilla cup with butterscotch syrup.

Eddie suddenly feels himself fighting a smile. “Think you’ve got an agenda, man.”

“Nope. Just giving you the superior choice, Munson.”

Then Steve picks up an empty cup and pours more butterscotch into it, nothing else. He knocks it back like a shot. “Gross,” Eddie says.

Steve flashes him a syrup-streaked grin.

It’s so… juvenile.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they’re in a mall, Eddie would almost think that he’d gone back a few years, made an unexpected temporary friend that goofed off with him in the back of the class.

He finishes his ice-cream as more people flock to the counter; in what seems like no time at all, Steve’s ushering Eddie out, pulling down the security grille.

It feels a bit like a soap bubble has burst. Like the bell’s unexpectedly rung at the end of last period, in a class he was actually enjoying, against all odds.

Steve does say, quite sincerely, “Thanks, Munson. You didn’t have to… you really saved my ass.”

Eddie’s about to clumsily work his way through some reply about how it was nothing, but then they really do have to go, because some stern-faced security guard’s staring like he might vaporise them.

It’s just one day, Eddie thinks. A… what’s-it-called. An anomaly.

But he goes back to the mall the next afternoon. He doesn’t bother to make up an excuse even in his own head.

Scoops Ahoy is somehow even more packed this time—Steve’s serving up samples while Robin’s back at the register, and when she sees Eddie coming, she points at the vanilla, mouths, “The classic?”

He chuckles, nods. “How was your movie, Buckley?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she says serenely. “I was very sick.” She coughs delicately.

“Praying for your miraculous recovery.”

He gets vanilla with butterscotch syrup (just because Robin’s the closest to that particular dispenser, that’s all).

It’s so busy that once Robin’s finished at the register, she starts filling orders alongside Steve. When Eddie picks up his cup, they barely look at him, surrounded by other cups and plastic bowls laid out for ice-cream.

Figures. Eddie knows it’s not personal. Just. Soap bubble’s burst, and all that.

He’s almost out the store when he hears a whistle.

“Hey, Munson! Go long!”

“Fuck off, no,” Eddie says automatically, a response drilled into him from many a compulsory Phys Ed class.

But he turns, just in time to see Steve throw something at him. He catches it—it’s plastic, round—somehow manages to keep a hold of his ice-cream, too.

Steve gives a brief thumbs up, before he’s back to scooping. He still finds time to do that stupid twirl move again.

Once outside, Eddie opens up his hand. Snorts.

It’s a shitty white badge, chipped in several places. His name’s scrawled on it in red marker, a cartoony anchor in the upper right corner.

On the bus home, Eddie mulls over the thought of flicking through a couple chapters of The Hobbit, something like that. No pressure, no notes—no imagining the year ahead, a teacher looming over his shoulder. Just for fun.

There’s plenty of time.

He puts his souvenir in his pocket, takes another spoonful of ice-cream.

And he has to admit that butterscotch is pretty damn good.

[lainsshop]

Dates With Him ౨ৎ

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship n probably more..

A/N: Another long work of mine, hope you like it cause.. I don’t know. If you have more date ideas please tell me and I’ll make sure to put them here!

Oh, God, you probably already know what type of dates this man will suggest..

Well, of course, it’s gonna be classy, fancy and jazzy! This man only knows the classic type of dates, the “proper” way of taking your partner to dates, according to him that is.

Lots of dancing! It could be anywhere! He doesn’t care if people are watching you, he could just break their limbs if the people around y’all criticize you guys, especially if they judge you.

Even if you suck at dancing he will teach you! Don’t worries, what type of partner will he be if he didn’t. But if you do know how to dance then that’s even better! You two are stealing the dance floor in seconds, I promise you.

Fancy restaurants. Not the white fancy or the bright fancy ones, oh, nuh uh.. I’m talking about the ones with warm dim lights, brown; pearl white; gold n red color palate, good scented candles, soft jazz playing in the background or maybe a live group/solo playing, the finest servings, etc etc..

Yea, those type of restaurants that need a reservation and have a big ass price but don’t worry, Alastor will pay for everything even if you insist on paying too he would just-

“Nonsense, my dear! What kind of gentleman will I be if I let you pay?” You were gonna insist again but you knew he would still pay for it at the end so you gave up.

You just feel kinda guilty cause he pays for almost always pays for everything when you two go out to eat and even on things you want, he likes to spoil you..? You could say that but I don’t really know.

Jazz clubs! Oh, you two will always and when I say always I mean alwaysssss go to jazz clubs! Even before you became official, you two will always go to a jazz venue at least once a month. It became a tradition between you two at this point.

If you haven’t listen to jazz before, oh, you’re on a ride, this man will talk about it and probably even more genres of his era. He would recommend you one artist and then two and like ten and- you get the deal.

Book reading. Now there’s time where Alastor or you.. or both of you like to just stay indoors so sometimes you guys just stay at the hotels library and read. Just enjoying your guys presence, the fire crackling and the soft music in the background.

And when you get tired, he would absolutely read to you while you put your head on his shoulder. (He’s voice is so &;&:&: like it could put me to sleep, okay?😭)

Cooking or Baking. Well, I don’t know if Alastor knows how to bake but I will assume he does. He loves to cook or bake with you! It’s probably his top 3 favorite dates to do with you like.. you literally can do it at any hour, in the mornings, evenings, nights and even midnights like wow there.

If you don’t know how to bake or cook, oh, he would absolutely love to teach you. If it comes out wrong, he would def laugh a bit.. but don’t worries, it’s your first time after all, right? It takes times to learn something new!

© LAINSSHOP 2024

[outro-jo]

skz pushing you away

pairing: skz x reader

type: scenario

warnings: poor communication and relationship dynamics (serious red flags), angst?, idk of anything else

request: sorta

a/n: so the original concept presented was if w skz rejected your affections, it upset you and you left but as per usual i took ✨creative liberties✨ please read info before requesting

masterlist | info

——————————

chan- chris was the one that invited you to the studio but he didn’t realize just how stressed he was. you arrived with food and kisses but he immediately shrugged both off with a slight edge in his voice as he told you that he had to get this done. you maintained your peppy demeanor as you took a seat on the sofa and were happy just to scroll through you phone and be with him. felix has popped a head in to talk to chris but actually struck up a conversation with you as soon as he noticed you on the couch. more uptight than even he expected chris suddenly snapped. “look, i have to finish our fucking album in less than 48 hours! can you two take this somewhere else?!” you and felix stared at each other wide eyed for a minute before sheepishly following each other out of the room. the two of you kept talking like nothing happened. the pressure rarely gets to your boyfriend like this and while he does get upset at times, he’s never yelled at either of you like that. just this once, you both were willing to give him a pass. what you didn’t realize was how long you had been out there talking when chris suddenly ran out of the room. he almost fell over in relief when he saw the two of you still in the hallway. “oh, thank god you’re both here. i really need to apologize. i shouldn’t have snapped like that. it was awful of m—“ “chris, baby, we’re fine. i promise we’re not upset.” you reassured him. “yeah, mate, i know if it wasn’t for you this album wouldn’t be finished. no harm done. all good, cuz.” felix chimed in, hugging his hyung then you before saying his goodbyes. when you were alone again, chris caressed your cheek, stroking it with his thumb and rested his forehead on yours. “don’t ever let me speak to you like that again. wack me on the head real good, yeah?” he breathed out a chuckle. “oh, i won’t but i know you won’t do it again. gave you a good scare, huh?” you giggled at his reaction earlier. chris let out a laugh at himself and wrapped his arm around your shoulder to lead you back to the studio. “yeah, i really panicked there for a minute. i thought you’d really gone.” “nah, you can’t get rid of me. you can make it up to me with cuddles though.” you teased him. “oh, i absolutely will. just let me finish this up.” he nodded towards the set up. “take your time. i’ll be right here, love.”

lee know- your boyfriend was not someone to be messed with when he was angry and he was currently in one of the biggest arguments he’d ever had with one of the other members. the others were calling it nuclear and unfortunately none of them had given you a warning. when he came home, still fuming, you excitedly rushed up to him like you usually do, peppering his face with kisses until he threw you off. “god! i can’t have any fucking space!” minho snapped before storming back into the bedroom, leaving you teary eyed on the floor. never had you seen him like this and never had he treated you like that before. he loved your kisses, cuddles, and hugs even on his worst day. it left you confused and emotional to say the least. so you pulled on your jacket and shoes, leaving before he could come out, possibly hurting you again. if it’s space he wanted, it’s space he would get. you didn’t really know where you were going and you didn’t even grab your wallet or cell phone. tears blurred your vision as you walked around the city streets. by accident you’d grabbed your boyfriend’s jacket and when you reached into the pocket finding a little cash so you went into the convenience store to get yourself a snack to make yourself feel better. it was the least he could do after all and if he made a big deal about it, you can always pay him back. you took your treat and walked over to the playground nearby, enjoying it on the swing. the sky above you got darker and after some time you figured you should face the music at home. opening the door, you braced yourself for angry minho but were met with broken minho. he looked up at you from the couch, eyes glazed over with tears as he quickly got up, pulling you into his arms. “i’m sorry, baby. i’m so sorry.” he repeated over and over. your body was stiff against him in shock. “minho, what happened? what’s going on?” “i tried calling and texting you. i should have never done that to you.” he pulled back quickly, inspecting all over your body. “did i hurt you? do you have any bruises?” “probably my bum.” you pushed him off you and made your way to the couch. minho stood there dejected, shoulders slumping. “i probably deserved that” he mumbled. “yeah… a little.” you sighed, trying not to punish him too much. “babe, come talk to me. why were you so upset?” you pat the space on the sofa next to you. soon minho laid with his head in your lap telling you everything about the argument he’d had earlier and the two of you found a solution. he spent the rest of the night apologizing and making it up to you.

changbin- binnie was really bad at communicating.  lately he was overwhelmed with work and didn’t really know how to tell you that he was going on tour so he just kinda distanced himself. you noticed he was staying at the dorms more and when he was around he wasn’t as receptive to you affections as he usually was. at first you didn’t think much of it and to compensate for him pulling away, you started doing the most. you had food delivered to the dorms just to get a “thanks” text in return. you ordered the exercise equipment he was looking at online and all he did was kiss your temple. the final straw was when you actually went over to the dorms to cook them all dinner and watch a movie. changbin was feeling like absolute garbage by now for how you were treating him like a prince but he kept pushing you away. he was almost in tears and when the movie started, you happily cuddled into him, laying you head on his chest. he could have cracked right then, but instead he held it together and just moved you off him. the gesture was enough to have you snap… in front of everyone. “THAT’S IT SEO CHANGBIN! JUST TELL ME YOU DON’T LOVE ME! BREAK UP WITH ME, SCREAM AT ME, ANYTHING! ANYTHING IS BETTER THAN HAVE YOU DO THIS TO ME! I CAN’T DO IT ANYMORE!” once that was out of your system, you rushed from the dorm in tears. the boys all exchanged looks before checking on the group mate on the sofa. “i messed up.” he finally whispered as tears formed in his eyes. the boys gathered around him to love him as he finally broke down, chan offering encouragement and advice. you had rushed off without your things but it didn’t matter until you got to your apartment and couldn’t get in. so you sat outside the door and just cried. the gravity of what just happened hit changbin and he called you to try and fix things. your ringtone started playing. changbin grabbed your stuff scattered around the dorm and ran all the way to your apartment. he found you slumped against the door sound asleep from crying and it broke his heart. you woke up in his arms as he carried you to your bed. “binnie?” you asked groggily. “please don’t leave me. i have no right to ask that if you but i can’t lose you.” he whispered as his bottom lip trembled. “i thought you didn’t want to be with me.” you said confused. changbin held you close and finally told you what had been on his mind over the last few weeks. you promised not to leave him as long as he promised to never shut you out like that again. 

hyunjin- poor boy, he’s just been so overwhelmed lately. he’s had a lot of opportunities arise lately and a comeback and tour and while he’s excited about all of it, there’s just so much piling up. hyunjin is the type of person that little things he’ll make a big deal about, sometimes because it’s just funny and he has a reaction to it. however, the larger, deeper issues he internalizes mostly to do with him processing. it takes him a while for him to come to anyone unless he’s very close to them. early on in your relationship he would hardly talk to you about some of the bigger things in life bothering him and would opt to go to minho or chan just because he’s known them longer. since he’s internalizing so much it’s been harder for him to be more affectionate with you. he’s not thinking too well and he’s just finding ways to distract himself to cope, meaning he’s less receptive when you try to be affectionate with him. annoyingly for you, he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. when you come home from work that evening, you find him on the sofa mindlessly scrolling through his phone. you offer him a cheerful, loving greeting and only get a mumbled, half-hearted response in return. that didn’t even bother you, what did was when you joined him on the couch and cuddled into his side, hyunjin immediately got up and walked to the kitchen, letting you fall to the wayside. he didn’t even bother to look up from his phone. it hurt. the pain stung in your chest, knocking the wind out of your stomach and bringing tears to your eyes. without a word, you got up and put your shoes back on. just as quick as you finally got home after a long day of work you were once again out the door. you called one of your best friends and asked if they wanted to go somewhere to eat and talk. hearing the emotion in your voice they agreed and met you. they let you vent the whole time, letting you cry and offering you support. before you knew it, the two of you had been talking up until the restaurant was closing and decided it was time for you to part ways for the night. on your way back to the apartment you noticed that you had several missed calls and texts from hyunjin. still hurt by his actions, you decided not to look at any of the messages and just talk when you got home figuring it would be ok if he sweat a bit more. boy, were you wrong. upon entering the apartment again you were met with a distraught hyunjin crashing into you. “baby, i’m so sorry! i’m so glad you’re ok!” he cried into your shoulder. “hyunjin, wha—?” you were stunned and slowly reached a hand up to stroke the back of his head. guilt started to bubble up for making him worry so much. “i’m sorry, baby, i’ve just been so overwhelmed. i didn’t mean to push you away. please don’t leave me!” he begged as he sobbed. your heart ached in your chest at his pain. he’s been holding in so much and you didn’t really have any idea. “hyune… baby, i’m not going anywhere i promise. just please talk to me, yeah? i just wanna be there for you.” you tucked your chin into him and whispered softly before placing a kiss to his head. “c’mon, love, let’s get some rest.” you led him to the bedroom where he laid on your chest and shared everything he’d kept hidden in his mind. 

han- in his mind it was a joke. he was goofing off and playing around each time you leaned in for a kiss, pulling back or dodging him. jisung was a sucker for any form of attention he got from you but today he was just more in a playful mood. what you hadn’t talked about yet was how awful work had been. it was probably one of the worst days you’d had in a while and you were barely holding it together simply because you were with him at the dorms. you’d gotten the message at work and from that moment you’d been looking forward to just snuggling up in his arms and watching a movie together to forget how terrible your day had been. but jisung insisted on messing around just to be funny and making some of the guys laugh, well, some of them. felix has been noticing things from the kitchen and told jisung to cut it out but he didn’t listen, thinking his dongsaeng was just trying to ruin his fun. it was not longer fun for anyone when after he had done it one last time you got up, grabbed your shoes and bag, and stormed out of the dorms. the only one that saw your tears as you left was felix. “hyung… they were crying.” he said softly. jisung’s eyes went wide, “what?!? crying? i was just kidding around!” chan put a hand on the younger’s shoulder and tried to offer some perspective. “they did seem a little upset when they came in. do you know how their work day was?” he asked. “well, not really. when they texted they said they really could use a movie night. i was trying to keep things fun and make them laugh.” “they weren’t really laughing.” felix reminded him gently. after a few seconds of thought, jisung scrambled from his seat before running out the door. soon he was at your apartment, pounding on the door and begging to be let in. “baby, it’s me! please, i was so stupid! i’m so sorry! just let me in!” he pleaded. you cracked the door just enough. jisung could see your eyes were bloodshot and cheeks tear stained. “jisung, just go back to the dorms, ok. i had a really bad day and i’m just not in the mood.” “i’m sorry, baby. i wasn’t thinking.” he apologized again. you suddenly teared up again, “all i wanted to do was cuddle you.” jisung’s heart cracked. “awe, no, baby! you still can! can i hold you… please? just let me in.” you stared at him a minute, contemplating before you sighed in defeat and let him in. he gave you all the cuddles and kisses you wanted that night.

felix- you honestly didn’t think much of it. you were getting ready to go out and wanted just a little time with him but he was in the middle of a game and blew you off when you kissed him. this was really unlike felix but he’d had a rough day and he was really invested in the gameplay. so, you just rolled your eyes and kept getting ready. when you called out that you were leaving, he didn’t even hear a thing. with you being out at the club, you didn’t really check your phone that often, immersed with your friends and having a good time. by the time you had returned, giggling to yourself and stumbling through the door, you were met with something completely unexpected. felix slowly looked up at you, his cheeks stained with tears, his hair a mess from running his hands through it. “baby?” he whimpered out before attacking you in a hug. “oh, baby, i’m so sorry for ignoring you earlier! please don’t leave me!” he sobbed into your shoulder. needless to say your buzz was gone and comfort mode replaced it. “lixie, baby, i’m not upset. i just went out. i told you earlier i was going out.” you rubbed his back soothingly as he pulled away. “oh… you did, huh?” he suddenly felt embarrassed. “sorry, i panicked because i was a bit rude before and you weren’t answering your phone.” “it’s ok, love bug.” you pecked his lips. “let’s go to bed. i’m exhausted.” you led him back with you to the bedroom. “ok… can we cuddle?” felix asked, his big boba eyes pleading at you. “of course, cutie!”

seungmin- your boyfriend was not a fan of skinship, you’ve known this from the beginning. part of you was fine with it and would never want to make him uncomfortable or push his boundaries. however, you were just an affectionate person, it was in your nature. from the beginning you did your best to respect seungmin but it was getting harder and you started to feel less loved by him. one thing about seungmin is that he was observant and noticed every time he pushed you away, how your face would drop. he started to get insecure especially when he would see you around the other boys, especially felix, and cuddle them. he noticed how happy you were to have affection and started to worry that if he couldn’t get over it that he might lose you. at this point it was just instinct to deny you and when it happened this time you got up and left the bedroom. seungmin eventually heard the front door shut and began to panic. he raced from the bed, neglecting his shoes, phone, everything and stopped you at the elevator. your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you watched him catch his breath. “i’m sorry! don’t leave me! please!” he huffed out. “seungmin, i—“ “no, please! i know i’m a terrible boyfriend and i’m not good and hugging and stuff but i promise to be better just please stay with me.” tears began to form in his eyes. you sighed lovingly and stepped forward to kiss him softly. “babe, we’re out of milk. i’ll be back soon and we can talk more, ok? i love you, minnie.” you pushed the button on the elevator and seungmin stood back shocked as he watched the elevator doors shut. 

i.n- it was a total accident. he asked you to come out with his friends and you completely embarrassed him. you felt awful about it and apologized profusely but he was still pissed. jeongin felt like he was always the baby and always had to prove himself around everyone. it’s something that he’s worked really hard on improving and you’ve honestly helped with that, but he still has his moments where he still feels like the little kid in a group full of older boys. you unfortunately pushed that button tonight and you didn’t even mean to which led to an intense fight once you got home. it wasn’t even really a fight, jeongin just got really mad and you kept apologizing. you came forward and put a hand on his arm for him to throw you off. jeongin didn’t hurt you physically but it did hurt you emotionally. as you stood there staring at him in hurt and shock, he shook his head and went to your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind him. after a few minutes you decided to go to the person who could probably help you the most. you rushed out the door, calling to make sure you could even meet with him. “chris…” you whimpered into the phone and he could immediately tell. “hey! what’s wrong? are you ok? where’s i.n?” he asked concerned. “we got into a fight. i messed up, he was so upset. can i just come talk to you? please! i need some advice.” “yeah, i’m in the studio right now. just come on in.” you quickly made your way over. chan listened intently, not interrupting you as you got the whole story out in between tears. he did his best to comfort you and give you advice on how to handle jeongin, but really you both knew this was just something to ride out and learn from. suddenly, chris’s phone rang. “hey, jeongin… wait, slow down. slow down. they’re with me at the studio. yeah. ok… bye.” he hung up with the younger boy before addressing you. “he was worried about you. he should be here soon.” it wasn’t too longer after that jeongin burst through the door in tears. he fell to his knees in front of you and apologized, his head resting in your lap. you stroked his hair softly returning the apologies but got up, pulling him with you. the two of you said your goodbyes to chris and headed home to make up.

[jointherebellion215]

His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you. 

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.” 

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!” 

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it. 

A life with your love was within reach. 

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever. 

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no. 

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love. 

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it. 

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done. 

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face. 

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform. 

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth, 

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his. 

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

[wongyuuu]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4skP1tuO6F/?igsh=MTNtamg3ZmM1aDgxbw==

Can u plssss make a husband mingyu fic of his daughter absolutely hating his haircut go from long to extremely short causing him to sulk and hate his own hair then y/n having to comfort him😭😭 this video legit reminded me of this instantly idek how

i'm not supposed to be taking requests but this was just something that stuck to my mind ever since i read it. so here it is! i hope you like it! i'm also just in time for his birthday

when he cuts his hair

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: fluff word count: 769 warnings: slightly suggestive not proofread

You did your best to contain your smile, or at least tried to hide it, as your daughter cried into your shoulder, her small tears soaking your shirt and her hands balled into tiny fists in your hair. Under normal circumstances, you’d have taken her hand away but in that moment, it seemed like the only option to have her calm down. 

Your husband sat on the couch, the blanket you kept on the back of it wrapped around his head and shoulder, as his eyes were two full moons in his face. Mingyu was a mixture of laughter and unwashed tears as he watched your daughter cry into you. 

“I didn’t know” his voice came out in a whine, his hold on the blanket tightening “I thought it would be okay”

Mingyu had left the house that morning saying “I’m going to cut hair, I’ll be right back”. He had kept his hair longer for almost a year and it was probably one of your daughter’s favorite things about him — that and also the fact that Mingyu even existed. “Not only does she look like you the most but she also loves you the most” you’d half-heartily complain sometimes. 

It became some sort of routine, if she fell asleep with Mingyu around, she’d most definitely have her hand in his hair. Logically and rationally you knew that Hanna wouldn't like the new haircut, but you also didn’t think that it would be that much of a big deal. What you also didn’t expect was for Mingyu to come back with the shortest hair you have ever seen on him. 

You had known Mingyu for roughly twelve years and he always kept his hair on the longer side. While the sight was a fantastic one, Hanna didn’t seem to share the same idea. 

She ran to the door excitedly the second she heard the sound of keys on the lock to greet her dad. She had the biggest smile on her face and then it just disappeared as she took in her dad’s new look. Her small features contorted and her eyes filled with tears and she ran back to you, hiding behind your legs.

Like he usually did, Mingyu kneeled to welcome the hug that always came but this time there was none. 

You wished you had recorded the whole thing, the way Hanna started to scream her lungs out because “not daddy” and Mingyu was a few seconds away from crying. 

“Hanna” you cooed “you don’t want to say hi to daddy? He missed while he was away”

She shook her head.

“Not daddy,” she said again, the new tears coming down her face.

It took you a good hour to get her to settle down and sleep. Her body still shook with sobs when you put her in bed. 

Mingyu was in the living room, in the same exact position as before, the blanket still wrapped around his head. His eyes were sort of lost until he finally seemed to notice you were back. Once again his eyes were filled with tears. 

“Babe, no, it’s fine,” you said, approaching him. 

When you were close enough he pulled you to him, hands around your waist and his head resting on your stomach. Slowly you pulled the blanket away from him and ran your hand over his hair. There wasn't a lot to hold onto, there was barely any hair in between your fingers, just a little more at the top for a quiff.

“She hates me now,” he complained.

There were these moments when it was hard to tell who was actually the 2 year old and who was the grown man.

“She doesn't, she just needs to get used to it. You're her favorite person” you assure him “She's just surprised. When you left there was hair in your head”

Mingyu groaned at your laugh.

“I just wanted to try something different”

You held his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. Mingyu rested his chin on your stomach, beautiful dark eyes looking back at you.

“Do you like it, at least?”

You bit your lips, trying to keep yourself from saying that maybe you didn’t like it as much, that your favorite hair was that middle ground between short and longer. 

“You look younger” your words were slow, a little careful.

He groaned, pretending to cry, his arms getting even tighter around you. 

“Both of you hate it”

You bent forward and placed a kiss on his nose and then his lips until his pout was replaced by a smile. 

“At least there’s a little bit to hold on to”

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↣ masterlist

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

[badgerbl00d]

one piece boys getting jealous pt.2

☆ characters: law, shanks, kidd

☆ up next: making one piece boys considering fatherhood

☆ summary: what happens when you pair pirates, a pretty lady, and another man finding her attractive? jealousy! , suggestive content

☆ a/n: law fever is rotting my brain.. suggest characters for part three!

☆ part 1 here!

law

1.26k words

“Hopefully we can come up with something good,” Law explained, “Or this whole plan is going to fall apart pretty quickly.”

You gently pat his back as you walked with him, “You will, Captain.”

He smiled, appreciative of the gesture. 

You both stopped in front of an intricate hand-carved wooden door with a gorgeous brass handle. 

You both lightly laughed at the breathtaking beauty of the door.

The Straw Hats’ shipwright didn’t cut corners. 

“Nicest library entrance you’ve ever seen in your life or what?” you joked, opening the door. 

He laughed and you felt a strong hand on your back guiding you into the library on the Thousand Sunny. 

Sanji was in the library reading and stood up as soon as you walked in.

“Y/n!” 

You waved, walking over towards him.

Law begrudgingly followed. 

He didn’t dislike any of the straw hats, but he also didn’t have a fondness for the flirty cook who couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off you. 

“I was just about to start dinner,” he whispered, “Care for a drink?”

Law rolled his eyes. Was the whispering necessary when he was standing less than five feet away?

“Oh! I’d love to!”

Law sighed, “I’m gonna head to the meeting room, Y/n.”

“Okay,” you replied, “I’ll see you later then?”

He nodded, giving you a soft smile before turning to Sanji and excusing himself. 

The cook didn’t miss how his fists clenched at his sides on his way out.

“Ready for a drink?” Sanji asked you.

“Ready!”

He responded with some french expression and led you towards the kitchen with him. 

Once there you offered to help Sanji with cooking dinner and stationed yourself in front of the window. 

He took a few things out of the oven and you watched as he rubbed a lime wedge around the rim of a shot glass. 

What the hell is she doing?

Law watched you through the kitchen window, washing vegetables, holding a pretty drink, 

taking sips as you laughed at whatever unfunny thing the straw hat cook what saying.

He had brought you on board with him because he knew you liked their company but this wasn’t supposed to be some play date.  

It was a strategy meeting.

For him, at least. 

He lost track of what Luffy and Robin were saying as he watched the two of you through the window. 

Sanji placed an apron over you, gently tying the strings to fit you. Clearly looking down at your breasts. 

He looked up, making eye contact with Law, catching onto the glare the surgeon was giving him.

Law watched a subtle smile spread across the cook’s face.

Pervert.

He heard Luffy mention something or other, no doubt a useless strategy he would refute if he were thinking straight, but all he could imagine was if he were standing in Sanji’s place. 

He’d be making something different that’s for sure. 

Law knew you hated carrots, but he also knew you’d never complain about anything and felt his fists clench as he watched you politely wash the vegetables. 

He also knew you hated alcohol but watched you sip your drink anyway. 

You were too nice for your own good, and Law felt like he had the responsibility of making sure you weren’t taken advantage of. 

You washed the last of the vegetables and placed them in a bowl.

“Let me help with more,” you insisted, “I’m no chef but I could cut these.”

“Of course! As long as you don’t get hurt.”

You giggled, “Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse,” you jokingly gestured over toward the room Law was in. 

You started chopping away at some carrots, stopping when you realized yours were a lot less even than Sanji’s.

“Want some tips?” 

You nodded, slightly embarrassed. 

Sanji stood behind you.

You felt his chest against your back and he softly placed his hands on top of yours, showing you the correct motions to use when chopping.   

You stood still, letting Sanji’s arms wrap around you, his hands resting on top of yours, continuing your previous conversation.

Law looked up again and saw red. 

He knew the cook wasn’t stupid, and that you were probably appreciative of the attention he was giving you.

He broke the pencil in his hand and tensed his jaw.

He looked ready to explode and Luffy and Robin turned around to look at what had pissed him off. 

“Mugiwara-ya,” he started, his stomach twisting, “Tell your pervert of a cook to get his hands off my sniper.” 

Law was seething.

Luffy turned to look into the kitchen and laughed, “Don’t worry, Traffy! Sanji is always nice to women.”

Robin who had also turned to look and stood up, a sly smile spreading across her face as excused herself, making her way towards you and Sanji. 

Law’s nerves worsened, Shit, shit, shit. 

He knew Robin had most likely caught onto what his anger was about.

He didn’t need anyone else to know how he felt about you. 

It was difficult enough for him, and he’d rather cut off his hands than let you find out. 

He felt trapped.

Luffy was yapping nonstop, none of which he was registering. 

He could hear his heart pounding in his chest and felt sweat forming on his forehead.

This was going to ruin everything. He was awkward and non-sociable. He didn’t make you fancy drinks and wasn’t naturally romantic, and most importantly he was about one hundred percent certain you didn’t feel the same way. 

He felt nauseous as he watched Robin open the kitchen door and approach the two of you. 

He watched you and Sanji look up at him. 

His stomach dropped. 

You turned towards Robin, a concerned expression taking over your face, starting to put away what you were doing.

You approached the door, but Sanji stopped you.

He untied the apron he had placed on you and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, whispering something to you. 

That was it. 

Law stood up and slammed the door open, marching straight toward the kitchen.

Luffy followed in hot pursuit, confused. 

The kitchen door swung open and Law almost ran into you. 

“Blackleg,” Law started, “What exactly do you think you’re doing with her?”

“Cooking,” Sanji responded, playing innocent. 

“I’m sorry, Captain,” you started, a very shameful appearance on your face, “Robin told me.”

Law let out a short exhale, still glaring at Sanji.

Robin… what?

Law’s heart dropped and he looked at you, eyes slightly widened. 

“She told me that I should’ve been helping you strategize,” you explained, “I completely forgot that I had the blueprints and your notebook with me.”

Law exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose, flooding with relief, “Right- the, uh, the blueprints. Could you bring them?”

You nodded, turning towards Sanji, “Thanks for the drink! I appreciate you making it non-alcoholic for me!”

Law felt like his head might explode. 

Of course, he had made you a non-alcoholic drink. 

“Anytime, mon Coeur,” Sanji grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. 

“Room.”

You found yourself next to Law walking back towards the room he’d been in. 

“Don’t get distracted next time,” he scolded you.

You nodded, not saying anything. 

You felt Law take your hand in his, brushing off where you’d been kissed, before holding it. 

Your cheeks turned a violent shade of red. 

“Sanji, you ought to be more careful,” Robin said, making sure Law was still within earshot, “I never would've taken him as the jealous type!”

shanks

1.2k words

Shanks never got jealous. 

And if he was anything, he was confident. It was no secret that he had a woman waiting for him on every island and that he could have anyone he wanted. 

Except you. 

The newest addition to the crew and the most beautiful. 

He’d traveled the world, all four seas, and never once come across anything as gorgeous as you. 

Not a single thing compared to any part of you. 

Unfortunately, Beckman seemed to agree. 

He watched as the two of you sat and talked, sharing a bottle of wine, no less. 

Any progress he seemed to make with you, or any time you seemed to be reciprocating his affections, he’d find you and Benn together the next day. 

“I’m kind of hoping being at sea all the time will eventually get less nauseating,” you said. 

Benn laughed, “It will! The first time I set sail I was seasick for three weeks. Thought I’d never accommodate and was just about getting ready to hang up any hopes of being a pirate.”

“What changed?”

“Shanks helped, actually. Told me to try sucking on mints. Worked wonders.”

“Mints?”

“Yeah,” he explained, “Apparently they have a numbing effect which ends up canceling out nausea. He has them on hand all the time.” 

You took a sip of your wine, “Maybe I should ask him for some.”

“Just be careful with him,” Benn teased, “He can be a handful. Mind giving me a light?”

You leaned over towards him, holding your lighter to the cigarette between his lips. 

“Do you know where he is?” you said, standing up, downing the rest of the wine in your glass.

“Try his bedroom, he might still be sleeping. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being woken up by you though,” Benn said, a sly look spreading over his face. 

You’d have asked what he meant if nausea hadn’t already started to set back in. 

You knocked on his bedroom door lightly, trying to steady your breathing as you weren’t sure if you felt like fainting or throwing up.

“Um... Captain?” you called out, “I know it’s early but, uh, I was wondering if you had any mints?”

This was awkward. You should probably feel more comfortable talking to the man who invited you to be a part of his crew.

You waited by the door for a few minutes with no answer. 

You groaned and decided that you’d have a peek inside only to see if he was sleeping and if he was you’d.. well, you didn’t know.

It would probably be weird to go in and wake him. 

You took a deep breath in and slowly turned the handle, opening the door as little as possible to see if he was inside. 

“Whatcha lookin’ for, baby?”

A strong voice called out to you from the end of the hall.

You nearly passed out.

“Captain!! I was- I was just- Oh my God, I’m so sorry I know how this looks I was just looking for you because Beckman said that you might still be sleeping and I needed-”

Shanks held up a dismissive hand to cut you off. 

“Cute,” he said, looking at how your cheeks deepened in color, “But if you wanted some time in my bedroom with me you could always just ask.”

A flirty smile settled onto his face, and he wasn’t shy about holding eye contact. 

You averted your eyes to the floor and tried to explain again, “I need a mint. Benn said I could ask you for one since you carry them all the time.”

His smile faltered for a split second, “And what would you and Benn need a mint for?”

Your cheeks darkened even more and you felt embarrassment creeping up your neck and onto your face.

“Oh, n-no it’s nothing like that! I just-,” you paused not exactly wanting to admit to your captain that you got seasick very easily, an arguably bad trait for a pirate to have.

“Hm,” Shanks tossed you two mints with a wink, “Give him a high five for me.”

“It’s not like that!”

Your protests fell on deaf ears, as he was already on his way out. 

The rest of your day was calm. The sea seemed to have taken pity on you and the waves evened out after your first mint. 

You’d found a spot on the upper deck of the ship earlier in the week. A corner tucked behind the captain’s office, where the railing was wide enough to sit quite comfortably on and you got a nice view of the sunset. 

It was nice to have a serene little spot to yourself where you could enjoy the peace and quiet. You turned the corner, ready to relax, when you saw Shanks sat on your ledge.

“Came to find me sweetheart?”

“Sorry to intrude,” you started, “Didn’t know this was your spot.”

Shanks laughed, “It is directly behind my room you know.”

“Right, yeah.”

You awkwardly shuffled your feet.

“I get really seasick,” you said before you could think it through.

Shanks looked at you with amusement, though you could tell he didn’t really understand.

“That’s why I needed a mint. I got nauseous and felt faint and I asked Benn for help and he told me to ask you. Said you’d helped him with the same thing.”

An irritatingly sly smile spread across his face.

You bit your lip, not wanting to say anything, but clearly irritated at his enjoyment of the fact. 

“What the hell is that face supposed to mean?”

“Sweetheart, you just made my day,” he said. 

“Is that so?” You understood what was going on pretty clearly now.

He nodded, standing up and extending a hand toward you.

You hesitantly took it. 

He pulled you in towards him and placed a hand on your lower back, leaning you slightly backward and bringing his face to hover over yours. 

“How could I not be hurt that such a beautiful woman was showing no interest in me?”

“I assume that means me,” you teased.

“It does.”

“And what makes you think I’m interested now?”

“Well, aside from the fact that you have no protest to my current hand placement, you were very clearly interested in the prospect of joining me in the bedroom earlier-” 

A harsh slap to his arm cut the rest of that sentence off. 

He let out a loud, hearty laugh.

“You are very handsome, Captain,” you started.

“Please go on.”

“But I can’t say I’m terribly interested,” you said. 

“And why is that?”

“You know every man in this world has heard of your terrifying power. How strong and feared you are.”

His face was gleaming with pride. 

You laughed to yourself. He really thought he had you wrapped around his finger.

“But every woman? Every woman has heard of-”

“My muscles?”

“No.”

“Then surely, my devastatingly good looks?”

 “Also no.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“How quickly you leave the morning after.”

He stood still, completely silenced.

You leaned towards him, hovering your lips millimeters away from his.

“But I have to admit that I liked seeing you jealous.”

You gently pulled his hands from your waist, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Captain.”

kidd

1.1k words

Generally speaking, dealing with men was a daily occurrence you could do without. 

You were getting better at turning them down, and in your years of experience learned that the best course of action was to bat your eyes and appeal to them, maybe even adopt an apologetic tone, and softly say to them,

“I’m so sorry! I’m just not looking for anything right now.”

Telling them you had a boyfriend only encouraged them to try harder, being rude invited violence and the use of the word ‘bitch’, and ignoring them often led to all of the above. 

Of course, if you decided to tell them who your boyfriend was they’d probably leave you alone but it was probable that you’d be accused of lying and you hated having to use his name to be shown some respect or decency. 

Ideally, your boyfriend would never know. 

The only thing he didn’t seem to be able to control was his temper, and if there was one thing you didn’t want to deal with it was how unbearably possessive he got when he was upset. 

And since the majority of the time it was innocent flirting, you just brushed it off. 

You woke up and stretched yourself out on the bed, pulling the covers off of you and Kidd.

“There’s a farmer’s market in town today! Wanna come? I really want peaches and we don’t grow any here.” 

He groaned and rolled over on his side, facing away from you. 

You grabbed his bicep and placed kisses up and along his neck, your movement and eagerness urging him to wake up. 

“Please! You never go out with me,” you said, the tone of your voice pulling at a few of his heartstrings. 

“I can’t today.”

“You never can.”

You sat up and moved toward the edge of the bed. 

The pirate stayed in bed, silently. 

“I have… stuff to do, princess,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his embrace, you knew this was the closest you’d get to an apology. 

“Alright,” you said, “Well I’m gonna go now before it gets too hot out.” 

He begrudgingly let go of you, watching as you disappeared into your closet. 

He was in a worse mood than usual throughout the entirety of the day and spent his time huffing and puffing around. 

He felt guilty that he hadn’t given you the attention he knew you deserved and when he checked the clock and saw it was half past four in the afternoon and you still weren’t back he had to stop himself from breaking everything in the room. 

He contained the oncoming rampage as best he could and made his way toward the village. He walked through crowds of people and his irritation was nearing its peak when he saw you.

You had a basket full of different fruits and vegetables and jarred things and a few different wine bottles. It looked heavy and you were clearly struggling to carry it. 

He had half a mind to take some of the weight off with a string or two, but decided against it, his irritation getting the best of him. 

You made your way to another stall, selling flowers and before you could place your basket on the floor, a young man offered to carry it for you. 

He was smiling from ear to ear, and much to the captain’s disgust looked extremely eager to help you. 

You smiled back and accepted his offer, handing him the basket, which he happily held for you. 

At least she doesn’t have to carry it, he thought, his cheeks turning red with anger. 

But he stayed standing where he was and decided to watch the scene before him play out.

You grabbed a few different flower bouquets and turned to the boy to ask for his opinion, it seemed you liked the dark red carnations. 

He nodded and you reached into your pockets to grab a few coins. 

You laughed when your hand came out empty and began placing the flowers back.

Before you could the boy interjected and offer the vendor a few berries.  

Kidd’s body temperature reached a peak and he saw red. 

He violently pushed people out of his way, walking towards you, causing a scene as he yelled, “Oi! If you need money, I have some!!!”

Fuck.

You recognized his voice and turned around as though you’d just been caught in the middle of a murder.

“Kidd! I thought you were busy today-”

“Don’t,” he said, turning towards the boy, his metallic hand making its way toward his throat, “I suggest you hand me the basket and fuck off.”

Your cheeks were red with embarrassment and you offered an apologetic look to the boy, who looked ready to cry. 

You placed the flowers in your basket- the vendor readily waved any charge - and with Kidd’s hand firmly set on your waist, made your way back to the ship. 

“You know he was just being nice, right? And it’s your fault I needed help carrying the basket since you were busy doing ‘stuff’.” 

The air quotes you placed around stuff pissed him off. 

He stayed silent and you knew that he felt bad. 

But you didn’t really care, and you were pissed off. Not only had he caused a scene, but he had pretty much ensured that any other shopping you had planned for the day would have to be left unfinished. 

“And if you really want something to be upset about, you should probably know that I didn’t even pay for half of those things because when men see a pretty woman all on her own, they figure she needs some help and are always more than ready to offer it.”

The veins on Kidd’s forehead were popping out and he clamped his mouth shut. 

“But I get it! Playing poker and building legos with Killer all day is more important, so don’t get upset at me or the man actually offering to help me.”

You stormed off once you got to the ship and ignored him for the rest of the night. 

Heat and Wire laughed their asses off at their moping captain, and Killer went to have some tea with you later that night. 

When you went shoe shopping the following day, Kidd made sure he was by your side the entire time, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t get him to let go of your hand. 

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!journalist reader

summary: a lil joke thing i wanted to write because homeboy is bringing home the big bucks 🤭

warnings: just read 🫵🏽 this is a crack fic lol

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t take this all too seriously 😭 hope y’all enjoy plus who know i’ll actually make it into a thing 🧍🏽‍♀️

tags: @alika-4466 @purplelewlew @exotic-iris13 @arshiyuh @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @youre-sooooo-funny @louvrepool @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @httpsserene @motheroffae

-

Being an independent journalist in this sport wasn’t easy at all but only within the parameters of any paddock around the world as most journalists rarely agreed with you, being neutral about anything in f1 wasn’t your thing.

Speaking your mind as the race went on was what set you apart from the rest, along with your humour and your honesty towards drivers and team principals. Not to mention you were extremely biased, keeping your liking to three to five drivers but only one occupied your mind every time you think about him.

I think you know who I’m talking about.

Your support for Lewis goes back to 2015, discovering the sport and immediately wanting to put your journalism skills to the test, aiming for the f1 paddock to at least catch a glimpse of the most talked about driver. Quickly building up a blog and several other social media accounts, you got to telling the world your thoughts and feelings for every race and your supporters rooted for you to achieve your goal.

Having the opportunity to attend thee race in 2020 as a guest of F1, you arrived at the Turkish Grand Prix with your head held high and a dress so gorgeous that it sparked rumours between you and the driver you were writing about. Not to mention the hug he gave you when you first met in the Mercedes garage, praising and thanking you for the support over the years. He’s been watching you and your work. That made your heart so warm.

Then he won his 7th world championship, breaking all records and that day, he deemed you his lucky charm.

And since then, it’s been a work wife-work husband friendship between you two. Fans constantly shipping you too, the clips of your shared interviews at the media pen of the intense eye contact and even off-track sightings once in a while such as a quick lunch.

yourusername • 13 mins ago

The atmosphere in Australia was unlike anything you’ve ever seen in your career, the paddock was practically painted red, Ferrari red to be specific. Everyone eager for Lewis to arrive as his first season as a driver for the legendary team.

Deciding to subtly support him and his new team, you rocked maroon everything, not yet ready to fully embrace the extreme bright red. It just might be your new favourite colour, from your hair right down to the tips of your high heeled boots.

Whilst setting your camera equipment up (gracefully given to you by Ferrari themselves), you couldn’t help but reminisce back to the year before of when he told you he was leaving Mercedes, a single facetime call in the nighttime.

“You made me pause the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, this better be good.” You said, placing the popcorn bowl down on your coffee table. Giving him squinted eyes, he just smiled at you.

“Are you alone right now?” He asked and that set aback for a bit. “You tryna do something funny, Lewis? Because you’re in Monaco right now and I’m at my house.” You raised your eyebrow at him, hiding how nervous you were to even suggest that to him but thankfully, he took it as a joke.

“No no, I’ve got some big news and I wanted to tell you before it gets out.” He replied, seeing how you stood up and placed your phone on your kitchen counter to prepare for this. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s up?” You clasped your hands together, not prepared to hear what came out of his mouth next.

“I’m moving to Ferrari next year.”

“You’re lying.” And all he did was smile as he saw your face drop at this news. He shook his head and that woke you to run around your apartment screaming. Running back to your phone, he was still there but just laughing his lungs out.

“Give me the details right now or else I’ll fly there. I’m not playing, Lew.”

A small smile was plastered on your face as you racked through the memories of that night and till that day, you still couldn’t believe it even though it was right in front of you. The media pen became louder and louder as you continued to mic yourself up along with connecting the mic to the camera and you immediately knew who caused the stir.

He already had such an aura surrounding him so much so that you could feel him whenever he entered the room. You were aware he arrived earlier and most likely changed but seeing the official team shirt on him was odd but fitting.

Lewis had a simple routine whenever he got to the media pen: everyone else then you because his time with you could be lengthened and he was so damn grateful that it was a Thursday because it meant even more time just walking around the paddock pretending it’s an interview when really, you guys were just spending time together.

After all the drivers had their interviews with you, laughing as they walked away because of some joke you told or happy that you asked different questions than everyone else. The man of the hour strolled over to your section with a look in his eye that gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Do not give me that look, Lewis. It’s weird seeing you in that shirt.” You said as he leaned against the barricade, maintaining eye contact with you. “I’m just taking in the red on you, it’s your colour.” He smirked at the reaction from you, the slight shock from the tone of his voice.

There was always a tad bit of tension between the two of you, feeling that twinge of a spark whenever he merely touched you. As you worked with over the years, you wanted your crush on him to diminish because that would just be unprofessional but he did not seem to care. At all. Often being spotted at various places together that he claimed were just two friends hanging out but just one look from him could have you in the clouds of days.

“Uh..huh. Wanna get these questions done or you wanna keep staring?” You asked with sass, watching him tilt his head a little and maintaining eye contact. “We can go right ahead, Y/n.” Lewis replied and you knew this was going to be a long interview.

Several questions later with a bunch of tension that you were sure the viewers would catch, you discreetly turned the camera to ask one of your infamous unserious questions that you did with every driver and you were sure this one were to get a laugh out of Lewis.

Holding the little card in front of you, you grinned with your left eye closing slightly more than the other. “It’s one of my favourite parts of any interview, unserious question time.” You said. “How unserious are we speaking here?” He asked with the slightest grin on his face just admiring you do your job.

“Only if you promise to answer it.” You said, holding out your manicured pinkie finger and Lewis hooked his with yours, solidifying the promise. “Okay okay, the whole world was shocked on how much Ferrari wanted you so much so that they literally doubled your salary.” You started.

“It’s now sitting at a hundred million a year. My question to you is who you gonna share it with and will it be me?”

“If you’re being serious, then it can be you.” He smiled and in that moment, your stomach dropped.

“Carl Davidson, I’m not playing around. Are you being for real?” You asked, lowering your voice so that no one could hear a thing.

He leaned in a bit more to whisper his next answer. “As real as you meeting me later on for dinner.” Lewis faced you then winked, walking away with your face still in shock. After standing there for what felt like forever, you felt your phone vibrate with a text from the man himself.

lew <3

you look gorgeous in red btw

-

yourusername

liked by theestallion, f1wags and 43,747 others

yourusername “anything you want, princess” — lewis hamilton.

view comments

user give me your game card

user you’re eating the red wig DOWN

spinzbeatsinc oh for him to buy me a g wagon

yourusername you already have one???

user you gold digging bitch

user no ways 😭

user not you using him for his money

user think about it, what is he gonna do with so much??

fan she got the chance and she took it, i gotta respect it

user i hope this is a hard launch because i’ve been shipping these two for YEARS

user me too!!

lewishamilton just say the word 🫡

yourusername 🤭🤭🤭🤭

saint’s team radio (again) 🎀: hope you all enjoyed! again, this is like a crack fic lol. there’s so many stories that’ll be released soon i’m excited 🥹 okay bye!