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light-yaers · 1 year

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Take Care: Chapter One

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

Word Count: 13k+

Chapter One

“Thank you so much for accepting me,” you said, stepping into Shannon Hart’s office, Head of Applications at Richmond university. “I’ve been so looking forward to finally getting into publishing and writing.”

Shannon gestured for you to sit opposite her. You dropped yourself down into the swivel chair facing her desk, as she cleared her throat and adjusted her sleeves. You stared at her thoughtfully, taking in the slight twitch of her brow and the vein popping out on her forehead.

“Are you okay, Shannon?” You frowned.

She intertwined her fingers and placed them on the desktop before her. “We’ve asked you here today to let you know, with great regret, that your placement at Pluto Press has been… mixed up.”

“Mixed up?”

“Royally.” Shannon stared you down.

“Royally how?” You leaned forward, all decorum going out the window immediately.

“Our paperwork was sorted wrong. It’s an internal admin error, one that’s– frankly– deeply embarrassing–”

“Just tell me what the deal is, okay, Shannon?” you said, trying not to yell at her to just say it.

Shannon cleared her throat again. “You weren’t the name that we sent to the Pluto Press administration. Which means… well, it means–”

You smacked your hand upon her desk, making her flinch. “I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of God, spit it out.”

“Your placement at Pluto Press was filled by someone else.”

You squinted at her. “Someone else?”

“Yes.”

“But, I can still get a spot, right?” you asked.

“Regrettably not.”

“Not?”

Shannon nodded. “Not.”

You toyed between the urge to scream at the ceiling, or round-house kick the woman sat in front of you. Both seemed appealing, both seemed necessary, but instead you did nothing. You sat like a rock before her, ignoring the upbeat dump-dump of your heart beneath your ribcage. You weren’t an angry person, no, but this was the closest you’d been to booking into a rage room.

“So… you’re saying, I won’t be an intern at Pluto Press starting next week?” you said, trying to comprehend it fully yourself.

“Correct.” Shannon stayed frozen.

“So…” You leant forward, fully, leaning down on your arms and looking Shannon directly in the face. She gulped anxiously, with nerves, and for good reason. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Shannon?”

“Ah, well.” Shannon squeaked out. Sweat dotted her brow and as quickly leaned back in her chair. “This is what I wanted to discuss. Your options.”

“My options,” you repeated.

“Of which there are a few. One, you could defer the year and be ensured a space on this masters next year, with your original placement at Pluto Press–”

“Fuck no,” you said immediately. “Listen, Shannon. I’ve put off this masters for four fucking years. I’m not waiting another year. I mean, I’ve already moved to Richmond. I’ve taken out my student loans. So, abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Shannon’s eyebrow twitched intensely. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” she whispered. “So, your second option.”

“How many options are there?”

“...Two.”

“So, this is my final option?”

“If you don’t wish to drop out completely, yes.” Shannon was a stone-cold fox, you could tell. As much as her eyebrow twitched and her brow glistened, she was certainly blunt and to the point. It was something you could admire, despite the want to storm out of her office.

“So, my final option is?”

Shannon leaned forward again, strongly. “There is one other placement available for this course. They’re new, and we were originally going to try them out with a student who wished to be a sports journalist, but…”

“But?”

“He changed his mind about the course and went into the fried chicken industry, instead.” You squinted at her quizzically. Shannon’s face stayed as still as a gargoyle. “It’s a social placement. You do Instagram uploads, copywriting, player profiles and articles, things like that.”

“Player profiles? For what?”

“Football.”

“Football?”

“AFC Richmond, to be exact.”

The day had gone from bad to worse within a matter of seconds. Not only had you been wrongfully pushed out of your publishing placement, but now your only option was to work for a fucking football team. Football had been something that went over your head from the start. If it wasn’t the fact that boys from the school football team, when you were twelve, laughed at you incessantly, then it was the visuals of grown men clutching their knees and whining on a pitch that made you hate it completely. Football was not your thing. Football wouldn’t allow you to publish your first novel.

You widened your eyes. “A fucking football team?”

Shannon winced, and it was like a layer shed off her in an instant. “Can I be utterly transparent with you?”

“Please.”

“I know it’s shit,” she said bluntly. You let out a huff in agreement. “But, you still have the opportunity to network. Big name footballers have connections, as does Rebecca Welton, the club owner. You’ll still have all the access to publishing opportunities that you’d get through Pluto Press, just… in a slightly unorthodox way. Your coursework will be slightly changed, and the term structures will be different to match up with the league, but.” Shannon shrugged. “This is still something worth doing. You can write on the side, too. And who doesn’t want to be around some attractive footballers?”

“Me,” you said plainly.

“Scratch that last part, then,” Shannon replied. For the first time since entering her office, she attempted to smile at you. It was almost frightening to look at.

So, it was fuck all. You had no choice. You’d moved into your flat two days before, a tube ride away from Pluto Press, and coincidentally a walk away from the Dogtrack. There was no way you were backing out now, not when you’d been deferring your application for years. This was a time where you had inspiration, motivation, and wanted to succeed. You had to strike while the iron was hot, even if that meant dealing with footballers, of all fucking people.

As much as you’d batted away Shannon’s comment about them, you had already heard of a few players that Richmond. Jamie Tartt was well-known, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought he was fit when you’d seen him on his girlfriends’ socials a while back. They were a different breed, though, so entirely excluded from the world that you existed in; far away from the stoicism of footballers and their swinging dicks that fell into one too many vaginas. You didn’t want to be another working woman in the background, especially in an industry that you knew fuck all about. But– this was the best option. It still got you the same opportunities, still gave you the time to write and work on your own novel.

You inhaled sharply and sighed deeply. Shannon stayed put, eyeing you up as she pursed her lips.

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll do it.”

You had less than a week to prepare. Not in terms of your masters or education, but mentally. You were thrusting yourself into the proverbial belly of the beast, a football club full of men who, most likely, smelled really fucking bad. You made a list in your head– Febreeze was right at the top. It wasn’t just about the uncertainty and horror of it all, it was also something that transcended that. What if they didn’t like you? What if this entire experiment went drastically wrong? You knew fuck all about football, and would be surrounded by those whose literal entire lives revolved around the sport.

You felt like an imposter more than anything. More than the rage of the fuck up. More than the fear of things going wrong with your degree. You were an imposter, entering into a world that wasn’t your own, being handed opportunities that others would die for.

That’s all that went through your head as you stood outside AFC Richmond, just off Nelson Road. It looked like a typical football ground from the outside– a green and vibrant field directly to the right, where someone on an industrial mower was cutting the grass. The car park was full of expensive vehicles; Lambos, Jags, Martins. As you focused your breathing, a hulking pitch black Jeep came careening around the corner. You flinched as the driver parked it in one of the top spots, next to a bright green monstrosity, so low to the ground that your knees felt weak just looking at it.

The driver side door of the Jeep burst open, and a man, dressed exactly like his fucking car, jumped out. His jeans were black, his t-shirt black, his leather jacket– black. Atop his head sat a close cut mop of black hair, and his beard was trimmed to absolute perfection, almost to the point of robotism. It was, you guessed it, black.

You stared at him with a mixture of confusion and utter amazement. Was this the Grim Reaper, come to take you away for your sins and tell you your life was all but over? He looked back at you with an indifferent sort of stare, one that penetrated deep into your chest and made you want to violently throw up, or run away immediately.

As he approached the double doored entrance, his back to you, he stopped suddenly. He turned around slowly and laid his dark eyes upon you. “You a fan?” he asked.

“What?” you stuttered out, taken aback by the deepness of his voice. There was a scratch to it, one that resembled a growl. Was this man actually real? He came across as some kind of mythical creature that represented a bad omen, or someone gruff enough to mend the goalposts with his bare hands.

“Meet and greets only happen after games,” he continued. Your face soured with amusement.

“I’m not here for a bloody meet and greet,” you let out. “Do I look like a football fan?” you added quickly, suddenly afraid that you looked like the kind of person to wait outside football stadiums, just to see players.

He shrugged. “I don’t fucking know.”

You took a step forward. “I’m here to see Rebecca Welton, actually. I just…” You glanced around the car park, trying to find the right words to say that you’d been afraid to go inside. “I just didn’t know whether to wait outside or not.”

He followed your eye movements, looking around at the cars alongside you. “Well, she doesn’t seem to have an office in the car park, does she,” he stated. You let out a small huff, embarrassed.

“No, I guess not.” You looked into his eyes, tracing the outline of his stoic face. He was sort of… soft around the edges. If that was even possible. “Do you know where her office is?”

“Do I look like a fucking tour guide?” he said bluntly, and you flinched backwards. Your expression dropped, replaced with something other than the tinge of softness you had before. This guy was an arsehole. An utter arsehole, wearing leather and too tight jeans. When it rained, you bet droplets trickled off him in grey washes, picking up the black dye off his stupid fucking clothes.

“Well,” you said, regarding him. “No, not a tour guide. Maybe the caretaker?”

He raised his brows. “The fucking caretaker?”

“Yeah.” You squinted at him. “I can picture you mowing some grass, fixing some posts, DIY and all that.”

He shuffled on his spot. “Who the fuck are you?”

You crossed your arms. “Someone who’s trying to find Rebecca Welton’s office. And you are?”

“Not the fucking caretaker,” he said, before he turned on his heels and headed to the door.

“Hey, wait!” you yelled. “Hold on!” You rushed towards the door, flashing him a vaguely apologetic stare, but you didn’t dare say one outloud. He didn’t deserve one.

He peered down at you, letting out a literal growl. You backed up slightly, looking at him in absolute awe. “Did you just growl at me?”

“I growl at everyone,” he said.

“Has anyone ever told you that’s a bit weird?”

“All the time. I don’t fucking care,” he said bluntly.

You shrugged. “Fair enough.”

A moment of awkwardly comfortable silence followed. He continued to peer down at you, flicking his eyes across your own, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate you. It didn’t work, not after you’d got under his skin by mistaking him for the caretaker. You raised your brows at him silently, pleading with him to just fucking tell you where to go. You understood that they probably didn’t have many mid-twenties girls around the club, but the least he could do was help, just this once.

He rolled his eyes quickly. “All the way down the corridor, up the stairs. Her office is right there.”

He pulled open the door, reluctantly standing to the side for you to go first. You smiled. “Thank you!” you exclaimed. You rushed inside, fast-walking down the corridor until you found the set of steps up to Rebecca’s office.

He stayed back, peering at you as you went on your way. Before he turned to head down the stairs, he found himself subtly smiling at the scene that played out priorly. You had guts, that’s what he gauged. You had guts and you weren’t afraid to use them.

Rebecca Welton was the most intimidating, yet beautiful, woman you’d ever laid eyes upon. As you sat opposite her in her office, cup of tea in her grasp and hand moving through the air as she talked, you couldn’t take your eyes off the alarming look on her face. She was glowing, talking smartly and confidently, while you all but cowered before her like another male suitor.

“Did you catch any of that?” she asked abruptly, bringing you back into the room. You’d heard nothing, not when you’d been looking at the almost perfect way her face moved when she spoke.

You widened your eyes. “Yes. All of it. In perfect detail.”

“Great.” She stood up quickly, downing the remaining contents of her teacup. “I’ll introduce you to the team. Come on,” she said, rounding her desk.

You scrambled up from your seat and followed her immediately. Her shoes clicked upon the floor dramatically, as you made your way down the stairs and back through the corridor you came from. She took you down another set of stairs to the lower portion of the stadium. You passed multiple offices, and a gym, before she whisked you past a few back rooms.

“Locker room here.” She pointed to her left as you passed. You stuck your head around the corner quickly, taking in a wave of red and blue. “Manager’s office,” she added from a bit further up. “Beyond that is the kit room, and physio on the right.” Rebecca stopped in the corridor suddenly, making you gasp. She let out a breath, before turning on her heels and heading back down the way you both came.

You followed her without question, clutching onto your tote bag for dear life as she whisked you through the grounds. Her legs were too long to keep up with fully, so you were forced to partially jog behind her every few seconds.

“Um, Rebecca?” you asked.

“Hmm.”

“Do I get an office space?”

She stopped again, next to the gym. “Of course,” she said, peering down at you. “It’s there.” She pointed to the right, further away from the gym. A small room is all you saw, devoid of windows, with nothing more than a desk sat in the partial darkness. “I’m sure you can make it… homely.”

“Yes,” you said, smiling up at her from fear. Now wasn’t the time to be criticising your workplace amenities. Maybe when you’d paid your dues, or done a good job, could you ask for something more.

Besides, Rebecca seemed incredibly eager to be done with this tour. She hadn’t exactly been enthralled at your arrival, nor did she seem keen to talk to you for longer than she had to. You’d heard things about her before– a cheating husband, enough money to buy a skyscraper in Dubai, probably. You did your best to keep up with her, avoiding personal questions and trying to retain everything she told you.

The two of you turned the corner, headed for a long corridor, with daylight streaming in at the end. This was obviously the tunnel where players entered onto the pitch. You’d never stepped foot in a stadium of any kind, let alone been on the under-layers like the players themselves. As the both of you made your way to the doors, you imagined what it would be like for them– anticipation, nerves. You’d be shitting yourself, probably.

“I’ll take you to the team, now,” Rebecca explained. “Do you like football?”

“No,” you said immediately. From the look on her face, she wasn’t mad. Maybe this was as good a time as any to explain that you knew fuck all about all this, and actually didn’t want it.

Rebecca peered back at you. “Not at all?”

You sighed. “I know nothing about football, if I’m being honest. I’m a writer, not a sportswoman. I don’t care for sweaty men, or their reasons for fighting one another on a field. I’ll do my job, that I can assure you Ms. Welton, but I won’t deny that I couldn’t give a shit about this game.”

Rebecca slowed her speed, letting you catch up with her. Her quizzical expression quickly turned into a triumphant smile. “Fantastic,” she said. She was being genuine, and you had no idea why. “Well, come on!” she exclaimed, as the two of you burst through the double doors and onto the pitch.

The players bundled up and down the pitch with speed, kicking about a ball as they were split into two teams. You watched them for a few moments, following their movements as they scrambled up and down, kicking the ball between them, until someone finally went for a shot– he got it, but no one seemed happy about it. That was number nine, Jamie Tartt.

“I was wide open!” number twenty-four exclaimed.

“Well, so was I. So, I went for it. Sue me,” Tartt replied, in his staunch Mancunian accent. He stuck out his tongue like a schoolboy as he walked away, leaving number twenty-four with a sour expression on his face. He was comforted by a few others, telling him to brush it off.

You and Rebecca approached the coaches. “Coach Lasso,” Rebecca began, prompting the men to turn around. “This here is our new placement from Richmond university. The one I told you about last week.”

A man with the largest moustache you’d ever seen regarded you. “Oh, yes! I remember now. Welcome!” he said happily, shaking your hand abruptly. You shuffled your falling tote bag back onto your arm, smiling at him awkwardly as he kept shaking your hand.

“Great to be here,” you muttered.

“Call me Ted. You and I are both newbies, you know. Same as Coach here,” Ted said, gesturing to a man beside him. He wore mirrored glasses and crossed his arms intimidatingly. He said nothing, only sent you a nod in hello. “So, what brought you to us, huh? Got a love for football? Got a burning Tobey Maguire for the beautiful game?”

Tobey Maguire?

You looked to the other coach for help. “Burning desire,” he said bluntly.

“I’m trying out my own version of Cockney rhyming slang. Tobey Maguire, desire. Sylvester Stallone, the phone. So far it’s all actors, but we’re getting somewhere.” Ted peered down at you with a cartoonish smile. He was like no one you’d ever met before, someone so overly happy that you could hardly believe it.

“You’re doing… great,” you let out, from lack of what else to say. “But, well– I don’t know a lot about football, but–”

“You and me both, sister,” Ted interrupted.

You laughed awkwardly. “But, I’m happy to be here, and excited for the next year.” A lie, but one that needed to be said. You weren’t here to fuck up this club, or get overly buddy-buddy with its players. You were going to do your job, get your degree and use it afterwards. That was the goal, but during that, you had no Tobey Maguire to upset the team or the management.

Ted and his second in command, Coach Beard, turned around to the pitch. You stood next to Rebecca, who stood next to them, looking out at the players like they were being judged for the next season of So, you think you can dance?

Ted blew on his whistle shrilly. “Gather around, boys!” he yelled. The men obeyed, halting play as they all gathered before their new coaches, with some of them looking more than exhausted.

You couldn’t imagine the physical damage all of them went through, or how fit they had to actually be. You could hardly reach a level six in your bleep test at school, let alone be able to sprint up and down a pitch for two forty-five minute halves.

“Where’s Roy?” Ted asked, prompting one player to appear through the hubbub. When you met his eye, you almost choked on air. It was the guy, the not caretaker. The one that growled at you not an hour ago. “Ah, there he is. Listen up fellas! This little lady here is the placement from Richmond college–”

“Uni!” one of the players yelled.

Ted shot him a wide-eyed look. “God, you call college something different, too? Anyway, yes. Richmond uni. She’ll be doing a few things around here for us. Not PR, but keeping up with player profiles on the website, small updates, and all that jazz about the season coming up, maybe an article or two.”

As Ted spoke, you forced yourself to look anywhere but at number six– Roy Kent. He was staring you down like you’d done something ungodly, like you’d burned down his house or kicked his dog. His stance was one that you’d never seen either, like he was constantly on high alert and ready to strike a punch if needed.

“This here is Roy Kent, the captain of the team.” Ted gestured to Roy. He growled at you. You frowned at him. “You’ll be working with Roy for the next week on player profiles–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Roy stepped forward. I’ve told you all before, I don’t get involved in PR or website shit,” Roy spoke up. “Get one of the other lads to do it.”

“It’s just for the time being, Roy. Just until she gets acquainted with the grounds.” Ted tried. “As much as I’m happy not to have you in front of a camera– believe me, that’s up to you– as a captain, and as your coach, I’m asking you to do this for the newest member of the Richmond family. Okay?”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All you wanted was to start and not stop for a year, so time could go faster. All you wanted was twenty pairs of eyes to stop looking you up and down like something shiny and brand-new.

Roy’s fists balled tightly, until his knuckles went white. “Fine.”

You let out a long breath. “Great,” you muttered. Roy’s eyes found your face, and you looked at him with no effort to be nice. You and he both knew that this was going to be long and annoying. It was better to get it out in the first place than to keep it all in for a year.

After meeting the team, you headed to your shoebox of an office. You had the day to set it up and make your own, before things kicked off. Ted and Beard were still running coaching for the rest of the day, so you were effectively on the lower floor by yourself. You set up your office, popped down your laptop and made a new folder in your documents. You went through your upcoming assignments, and started planning for what you could do. Rebecca gave you the various passwords for the social accounts, which you started filing through to get a sense of what they posted.

It was all the type of shit that your mum would like on Facebook. Brilliant.

If this was what you had to do to get to where you wanted, then so be it. It would all be worth it when you had connections and a network around you. That was the goal.

You opened your ongoing novel on your computer and scanned the pages. This was the endgame; to get the baby published. It was fiction, not once mentioning any sport, but it was all you wanted. Years of delay had led you here, so you had to embrace it while you had the chance to. Downtime was something that you’d have an abundance of, which was another perk, you supposed.

By four in the afternoon, the players tickled back inside. They passed your office with subtle curiosity, peering around the corner as you sat at your desk, filing through emails and starting on a subtle plan for your first assignment, due in at the end of the week. As soon as you’d got the courage up to grab Roy for a quick chat, you could get started.

When the players began filing out of the locker room to head home, you packed up your own belongings. You passed a few of them in the corridor, smiling sweetly and saying subtle hellos as you made your way through, until you almost slammed into one of them.

“Oof!” you exclaimed before him; it was number twenty-four, the one you’d seen before on the pitch.

Gently, he held you steady by your shoulders to stop you falling. “My apologies,” he said kindly.

“Don’t worry. I’m still getting used to this place.”

“It can be a lot to begin with, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it very soon,” he reassured you. You smiled up at him, before he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam Obisanya. It’s nice to meet you properly.”

You took his hand. “You too. I’m excited to get to know you all.”

“Well, if you want, come and join us later this week. It’s Isaac’s birthday, so we’re all going out to celebrate.”

“Oh,” you said bashfully. “I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s fine, bruv,” another player turned the corner from the locker room. Isaac McAdoo. “Come along. The more the merrier, you get me.”

Player Colin Hughes appeared in the doorway after him. “Definitely. Come and join in on the fun.”

“Especially before the season starts next weekend,” Isaac added. “Gotta get our freak on while we still can.”

McAdoo and Hughes left together, and you got the sense that they were two players who had a long history of friendship. You turned back to Sam and shot him a smile. “Count me in, then,” you said.

“Brilliant. I’ll put it in our group chat,” Sam said sweetly, before he made his leave.

You turned to the locker room, pleasantly surprised at how that had all gone. If all of the guys were like that, then you’d have no issue with them whatsoever. But, then came Roy. You entered the locker room hesitantly, scooting out of the way as other players said their goodbyes for the day. To the right was the manager’s office, where Ted and Beard still sat at their desks. Directly opposite the door, however, was exactly who you wanted.

You approached Roy, as he pulled on a pair of shoes, and cleared your throat. He looked up at you slowly, resting a hand on his thigh as he lazily skittered his eyes across you.

“So, you’re definitely not the caretaker,” you said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“The last lawn I mowed was my grandad’s when I was nine,” he replied bluntly.

“Noted. I can put that in your player profile, if you wanted.” Sarcasm fell from your mouth, but you got the sense that Roy didn’t appreciate it. He growled, going back to doing up his laces. “I just wanted to talk to you about that, actually. About what Ted said.”

“If you think I’m going to gab with you about the team for the next week then you’re a lot dumber than I gave you credit for in the car park,” he said plainly.

You waved at him in dismissal quickly. “No, no, that’s what I meant. I really don’t need you to do that,” you said transparently. Roy looked up at you with interest, waiting for you to continue. You let out a sigh. “I’m not going to pretend that all this is a dream come true for me, the same way that you won’t pretend it’s something you give a fuck about helping me with. I can go around the players on my own, don’t worry.”

Roy finished tying his laces, before he stood. He towered over you, but the intimidation he’d displayed priorly was starting to wear off. You got a sense that he was just like this, all of the time. You’d read a few articles about him earlier, about his start at Sunderland and his triumphant years at Chelsea, before he moved to AFC Richmond. Roy Kent seemed like a player entrenched with respect. He was one of the greats, that’s what every article had said. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were intrigued to see it all for yourself.

“Fair enough,” he finally agreed.

You let out an innate sigh of relief. “Great. Thank you,” you said, before you turned and headed for the door. Before you left, however, you stopped abruptly. The locker room was empty now, bar the coaches in the other office. It was just the two of you, and you had a nagging feeling within your gut. “You can tell, can’t you?” you asked.

You turned back to Roy. “Tell what?” he replied.

“That I don’t want to be here.”

“You were stood outside the building this morning like you were walking to your fucking death,” he said. “Of course, I could fucking tell.”

“Just double checking,” you muttered, subtly embarrassed.

“Why are you here then? If you don’t want to be,” he asked, grabbing his bag from the bench. He stood to full height again and took a few steps toward you. It was only then that you realised he was assuming for you to both walk out the building together.

You stepped out of the locker room, falling into step next to Roy in the corridor. “The university fucked up. This was the only placement they had left,” you admitted.

“That’s fucking shit.” Roy’s candour was something you were growing to appreciate, almost. “So, you don’t like football?”

“I don’t know a single thing about it, besides it being people kicking a ball on a field.”

Roy let out a long, low whistle. “Fucking hell. No wonder you didn’t want to come inside.”

As the two of you emerged into the car park, you felt lighter than you had all day. Roy headed to his Jeep, and you stayed a few paces back. “It’s not… ideal.”

“That’s an overly nice way to put it,” he said, looking back at you. “And it’s a fucking lie. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You shrugged. “I want to publish my book. This is a way to make it happen.”

“Fair enough,” Roy said, jumping into his Jeep. He rolled the window down and switched on the engine. “Just don’t fucking include me in it, alright?”

You scoffed. “You think I want to write about you? Don’t flatter yourself, Captain.”

Roy winced. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, before he put his car in gear and sped out of the car park. He left you without a second glance, turning onto the street and careening down the road as fast as he could, just to get away from you.

You found yourself walking home with a strange sense of peace. Yes, the situation wasn’t in your favour. Yes, you’d already fucked up and called the team captain the caretaker before you’d even stepped foot in the club, but things didn’t feel bad. The boys were nice, the coaches were welcoming, and even Rebecca Welton didn’t give a shit that you knew nothing. Things were slotting into place faster than you expected, but you were happy about it. As you made your way through Richmond, back to your flat, you realised that you didn’t feel awful. You felt almost happy, content, ready to take on the remainder of your first week and bosh out your first piece of coursework.

You spent the evening on Google, looking up the history of the Dogtrack, of AFC Richmond, of their star players. You learned that Jamie Tartt was on loan from Manchester City for a season, which made things all the more interesting when it came to his sportsmanship with the rest of the current team. You watched old game highlights, not understanding a single thing they were doing on screen. You gave up after a few hours of them kicking a ball around, too tired from the prior stress of last week to stay awake any longer.

The next morning, you got to work. You made an announcement to the locker room, while the guys pulled on their shin pads and football boots. “Over the next few days, I kindly ask that you all fill in a small worksheet for me. A bit about your backgrounds, your current positions, your birthdays, even. It’s for the updated player profiles on the website, and I’m on a deadline, so please do this as soon as you can!” you explained.

Sam was the first to hand his in, doing it almost immediately after you made your announcement. He dropped it into the small basket on your desk before he headed out to training, shooting you and a small smile as he left you at your desk. Soon after, McAdoo, Hughes, Bumbercatch and Zoreaux followed suit. You had enough information to start.

By the end of the day, you had almost half of the profiles written. You’d expected the workload to be more, or something intensely focused on football plays, but this was piss. You’d definitely be done by the Sunday deadline, just a few days away.

As the days flew by, you got better at approaching players on their own. You made yourself known and didn’t pester (unless they needed it), just reminded them of the task at hand. Isaac's birthday celebrations loomed ever closer, which meant the guys were in a boisterous and excitable mood for the final half of the week. They would play games in the locker room after training, laugh in the gym during work out hours, and pass by your office, waving at you with chuckles on their lips.

By Thursday, you’d cornered Jamie after training.

“Come on, man. It’s not hard to do. I just need it done by tomorrow, so I can write them all up for Sunday, is all,” you pleaded with him.

He took off his football shirt swiftly, making you roll your eyes. “I don’t have the time this evening. Got a prior arrangement, you get me.”

“I really don’t care about your prior arrangement, Jamie. I need this done. It’ll take you two fucking minutes, literally.”

“Sorry, love,” he said, and the patronising tone in his voice was one that you couldn’t stand. You were older than him by a few years, yet he was acting so inherently high and mighty. “I can’t change what evening I get waxed or the lady gets upset.”

“Waxed?” You grimaced.

Suddenly, a shrill high-pitched voice rounded the corner into the locker room. “Alright, boys!” it yelled, and when you turned around, you almost collapsed to the floor. Keeley fucking Jones stood in the middle of the locker room, beaming at all the boys with a genuine smile, and wearing an outfit that you’d never think would work on paper, but it absolutely worked in practice; on her.

You froze where you were, as she peered around the room and met Jamie’s face. “Ready to go, babe?” she asked, before she caught your eye. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders in greeting. “Who’s this?”

Jamie shrugged on a new shirt, packing some of his belongings. “New social person, or somethin’.”

“Social placement,” you corrected him, looking only at Keeley. “Sorry to stare, it’s just… you’re Keeley Jones, aren’t you?”

“The one and only!” she exclaimed. “You’re a newbie, are you? Welcome to Richmond.” She leant towards you warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder in greeting. “Now, I’ve gotta get this one here to his waxing appointment.”

“Oh, sure,” you muttered, peering back at Jamie and trying not to imagine exactly what needed waxing. It was almost traumatising. “Before you go, take this, though,” you added, before you handed her one of your worksheets to her. “I really need him to fill this out by tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry,” Keeley said, folding it neatly and putting it in her bag. “I’ll make sure he gets it done.” She winked at you, making you blush.

The final lads trickled out of the locker rooms, while you reminded each of them to get the worksheet done. A few picked up a new copy, others nodded at you in agreement, but Roy Kent– he didn’t so much as growl as he passed you for the door.

You followed him immediately, rushing down the hallway to meet him.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment or something?” you asked. He growled in response. You scoffed. “You definitely are.”

“Excuse me if I’m not used to nagging uni students getting on my back,” he replied.

“It’s been years since I stopped being a uni student, Roy. I’m in bed by ten thirty every night, I’ll have you know.”

“A boring, nagging uni student, then.”

“Ouch,” you muttered, feeling a slight sting, but you weren’t going to let him phase you. “Have you done the worksheet yet?” you asked. He let out another growl, to which you peered up at him with a blunt expression. “Please, just get it done by tomorrow.”

“Only if you piss off and leave me alone.”

You stopped in the hallway abruptly. “Done and done,” you said from behind him. He kept walking towards the car park, looking back when he realised you weren’t doing it just for show.

You walked back down the hallway, the way you came, as you went for a different exit. Roy stopped walking without your knowledge, furrowing his brows at you as you turned a corner and disappeared. He readjusted his grip on his gym bag, sighing out of his nose.

“Fucks sake,” he whispered harshly, before he entered the car park, door slamming behind him with an echo.

You woke in the morning feeling anxious. It wasn’t just because today would be the first time you socialised with the lads outside the club, but today was the last, easy day that you had to get the remaining worksheets. Your deadline was in two days, and you wouldn’t see the players after today for the entire weekend. It was crunch time, and as much as you wanted Roy and Jamie to be easy and mouldable, you expected the absolute opposite.

Your anxiety dimmed when you arrived in the morning to a full tray of completed worksheets in your office. All but one had been filled out and left for you– and by no surprise, Roy Kent was the last.

“Fucks sake,” you muttered under your breath. You hoisted yourself from your chair and made your way out the office, headed for the locker room. There was a certain confidence in your walk, reserved only for when you were at the end of your tether.

Roy was a grown man. Was he really incapable of filling out a simple worksheet? It drove you insane that he was one of those people who intentionally didn’t do something, even when he’d been explicitly asked to multiple times. Like a child who did the opposite of what their parents said, or when your mum tells you to do something that you were planning on doing yourself, but now don’t want to because she asked you herself.

As you approached the locker room, you let out a whining “Roy!” loud enough that everyone could hear you. You turned into the room, flickering your eyes across the players.

Roy wasn’t there. “Where the fuck is he?” you asked Isaac.

Isaac shrugged. “Think he’s already out on the pitch.”

You made your way out to the pitch, filling the hallways with the same whine that you’d released previously. If this was what it resorted to, then so be it. If you had to make Roy hate you even more just to do this damn worksheet, then you’d fucking do it.

Ted turned to you as you stormed onto the pitch. “Howdy!” he exclaimed. “Jeesh, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? I did that once, too, when I first moved here and slept on the opposite side of the bed. It was crazy, like the universe was all mixed up and upside down. I almost threw up.”

“Where the hell is Roy?” you asked, ignoring him as you looked out to the pitch. The boys were milled around, waiting for the others to come out so they could start warming up properly.

“Well, he’s right–” Ted began, pointing out to the field. He shimmied his finger around, like a cat obsessed with a laser pointer, before he dropped his hand in defeat. “He was right there before.”

“He’s avoiding me,” you let out with a scoff. “This is fucking unbelievable. He’s a literal child.”

“Hey now,” Ted said. “When I see him, I’ll send him to your office, okay?”

You nodded, pissed off beyond comprehension. “Okay.”

The day went by too quickly, but you managed to get all the other profiles written. Not once did Roy come to your office, and when the guys came back in at the end of training, he was nowhere to be seen. You approached Colin, who said that he’d been right behind him, last he’d seen. That was the same as Sam, as Isaac, as the rest.

Roy Kent’s back up career should have been a magician’s glamorous fucking assistant with how much he’d been able to disappear without a fucking trace.

“That’s it. I’m going to kill him,” you said, leaned against the locker room frame as the guys got themselves ready for the evening.

Sam turned to you reassuringly. “He might come tonight, who knows?”

“I can give you his number, if you want?” Isaac suggested. “Can track him down and make him pay, and that.”

You smiled. “Please do. I don’t care if I have to call him twelve times, I’ll fucking do it.”

“Why do you need it done so badly anyway?” Jamie chimed in, shaking out his football shirt.

You copied Roy’s number into your phone from Isaac’s, sighing as you looked back to the room. The boys stared at you expectantly. “You guys know how this placement is for my masters degree, right? Which means I have certain assignments and coursework to get done. This is my first one, and I need all the players to participate, or it’ll be a big, fat fail.”

“Oh shit,” Isaac said. “So, you get graded for this?” You nodded sullenly. Isaac puffed out his chest abruptly. “Listen here, boys! Any of you see Roy, you get him to fill out this fucking sheet, kapeesh?”

You smiled, feeling bashful. “Thanks, Isaac.”

“No problem, girl. Now, turn that frown upside down. We’re getting drunk tonight!”

The locker room erupted into cheers. Jamie sprayed far too much Lynx in the air, and Colin almost cracked his head open as he jumped up and down on a bench, but even you couldn’t deny the atmosphere was electric. They were all good in their own ways, just some were a lot harder to let their walls down.

As the guys filed out of the room, you peered over at Roy’s cubby. Gently, you walked over and placed an unfilled sheet on his shelf. You stuck a small post-it to the paper– do this for me and i’ll never come to you for anything else.

You left the locker room in silence, trying not to worry too much about having incomplete work for your deadline. You had Roy’s number now, anyway, so even if it was something small over text you were certain you could get something. A crumb, maybe. You didn’t panic, not yet. Panicking would be for the Saturday scaries, and the remainder of your Sunday. Panicking wasn’t for now, as you followed the boys out to the car park and piled into the front seat of Sam’s car. A convoy of you left for Isaac’s house, before you all hit up the club later in the evening.

By the time the sun had set, your legs were jelloid from dancing, and your abs were coming in from laughing. You’d gabbed with Keeley for hours at the house, and were still gabbing now on the way to the club.

“What is it with Roy? I just don’t get it,” you asked.

“What, you mean his rugged good looks, or the fact he’s emotionally constipated to the max?” Keeley replied, and you let out a scoff.

“Definitely emotional constipation. He’s not that hot,” you let out. Keeley’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, please. I know you don’t like him, but you have to admit that he’s gorgeous.”

“I won’t admit that, because all he’s been to me is ugly.” You stuck out your chin stubbornly.

Keeley smiled deviously. “Call him.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”

“Just call him. As soon as you get him on the phone, he can’t avoid you. And if he does, he’s a real arsehole. This is for your degree, for fucks sake.”

“I don’t think he knows that,” you said timidly.

“Then tell him! Yell it at him! Get him to do it.” She urged you, and you had no choice.

As the guys strolled forward towards the club, you and Keeley found yourself leant against a wall in a quiet corner. You found Roy’s number in your phone and dialled before you could chicken out. You tried not to vomit when it rang, and with each dial sound you were close to calling it a day.

After five or so rings, he actually picked up. “Who the fuck is it?” he asked, his voice gravelly over the line.

“Roy!” you and Keeley let out in sync, both equally surprised that he’d actually answered.

“Yeah. Who the hell is this?”

“Roy.” You took over, letting out a shaking breath. “It’s–”

He sighed, cutting you off. “I know who it is, now. I swear to God, if you’re asking me about that fucking sheet again, I’ll blow my top.”

All of your fear dissipated. It turned into immediate rage. “Oh, you fucking arse, Roy Kent,” you let out harshly. “I asked you to do this one thing, something that’s important, and you chose to avoid me all day instead.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you!” he yelled back. “I was busy, and I didn’t need you breathing down my fucking neck even more!”

“Oh, fuck you!” you screamed. “Just fucking get it done– please!”

“Why do you even fucking need it?” he asked, booming his voice over the line. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to control yourself.

“I need it for my d–”

“Know what, I don’t actually care,” he cut you off. “I don’t fucking get involved in club PR shit.”

“This isn’t just for the club, Roy–” you pleaded angrily, but he wouldn’t listen.

“The other guys do, but I don’t. I don’t want the fucking marketing collaborations, the articles, the profiles, whatever the fuck else your job actually is. I’m too old to fucking deal with this shit.”

“Are you fucking serious?” you exploded. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re a professional footballer, Roy. This is part of the fucking job!”

“Good-fucking-bye,” he said.

“Hey, wa–!” you yelled, but the line went dead before you could get another word in. You called back, but the line went to voicemail immediately. You assumed he’d blocked your number. “I’m going to– I’m going to fucking–”

“Use your words, babe,” Keeley said, trying to calm you down. Soon, though, your anger turned to tears. Your eyes started watering, and you sniffed back snot. Keeley quickly wrapped her arms around you. “Hey now, hey, come on,” she crooned sweetly. “It’ll be okay.”

“My first assignment and I’ve already fucked up. It’ll be docked at 40% for being incomplete,” you explained. Keeley pulled back, looking at you softly.

“I’m sorry, babe. Can you tell them he was being an arse?”

“I don’t know. They might not believe me.”

“It’s Roy Kent. Everyone knows he’s a prick.” Keeley gently brushed a few strands of hair behind your ears. “Come on. Let’s have some fun and try to forget about this tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” You sniffed, breathing out to try and expel the anxiety from your stomach. “I need a drink,” you said.

Keeley twisted her arm in yours. The two of you walked down the street together, with Keeley cracking jokes to cheer you up. “I think you need more than one drink, to be honest,” she whittled on, and you allowed yourself to relax. Just for the evening, just for then.

When you got home, you sent Roy a drunk text. It was short and to the point, and when you woke up, you didn’t have a reply. You weren’t expecting one, not after that phone call. You read over the text, over and over, imagining what Roy must feel like.

This was for my degree, my first assignment is due on Sunday. It’ll be incomplete without you.

You didn’t even know if he’d read it, but you were past the point of trying. You’d done all you could, and still he’d denied you. This was on him, not you.

Roy spent his Friday evening in anguish. Sat at his dining table with a beer, he got out a crumpled version of your worksheet from his gym bag. He looked over the questions he’d already answered– his birthday, his prior positions through the years, but the one question that made him want to rage was still unanswered: What do you want from your career in the future?

The future for Roy was different to that of McAdoo, and Tartt, and Obisanya. Roy Kent’s future was up and coming, and he knew it wouldn’t involve running around a pitch anymore. Seeing that question hadn’t just made him upset, it had ruined his entire week. So, he’d avoided you like the plague, he’d spent every night doing the same thing; trying to fucking answer it and getting nowhere.

So, he’d decided to say fuck it, and not do it at all. After he’d hung up on you that night, his anger at you quickly turned to guilt. On Monday, he’d apologise and hand it in, just without that question answered. But for now, he wanted to sit in silence, read the latest Dan Brown novel he had, and drink beer until he fell asleep on the sofa.

Roy turned off his phone for the rest of the weekend.

You slept with yours the entire weekend, but still got no reply from Roy. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was an entitled arse, but you knew it’d be useless. Roy Kent obviously didn’t give a shit about you, so why would he care about your insults? You spent your Sunday compiling the profiles that you had already, putting them together to make something coherent. On the front page, you had to specify that one player had not completed the task, which would be your downfall. When you submitted your assignment, you slammed your laptop shut and immediately went to bed. You didn’t want to stay up thinking about it, or think about the email that you’d have in your inbox tomorrow, saying how it would be docked at 40% for being incomplete.

You slept like shit, but still you rose on Monday morning. The walk to Nelson Road was particularly bleak, with black clouds bustling over Richmond and rain on the forecast for the next few days. The atmosphere at the stadium was tense, too, what with the first game of the season being that weekend. The boys were all conserving their energy, all working hard. When you arrived at your office, you flicked on the light– a crumpled worksheet lay on your desk.

The name at the top– Roy Kent.

He’d done the majority, but crossed out the final question. You wondered if he’d done that as an apology, or as an attempt to piss you off further. You’d texted him about your deadline, told him that it was on Sunday. Had he not even opened your message? You picked up his sheet and read it through, trying to keep at bay the anger that you felt in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t meant it to be, but this was cruel. He’d given you enough to make a decent profile, but a day late. It came across like he was laughing in your face.

Quickly, before you lost your nerve, you picked up the worksheet and booked it to the locker room. You stormed down the corridor, turning into the room strongly. You didn’t look at anyone else, just eyes forward, and latched upon the number six at the top of Roy’s blue cubby opposite the door. The boys stopped talking, going utterly silent at your arrival.

Roy turned to you, shooting you a quizzical look. He peered down at the worksheet in your hands, then back up at your blunt and glassy-eyed expression.

“What?” he asked plainly.

You responded by thrusting the worksheet into his chest. He grabbed hold of it, not expecting an altercation this early in the morning. You stepped back, exhaling from your nose, looking at him with such disappointment, before you left them to it.

Roy looked at the worksheet in his hands, utterly confused as to why you gave it back after trying so hard to get it in the first place. He glanced around the room, taking in the pursed lip expressions of his teammates.

“What the fuck just happened?” he asked them, booming.

“Her deadline was yesterday, bruv,” Isaac said. Tension descended over the room.

“Deadline for what?” Roy asked.

“Her degree, Roy. This was her first assignment,” Sam added.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Roy said, furrowing his brows.

“She tried to tell you, man,” Colin joined in. “On the phone with Keeley.”

“And in a text.” Jamie pointed to Colin, before looking at Roy. “Keeley told me that she sent you a message that evening, explaining why she needed it.”

“Got docked at 40%, innit,” Isaac added, pulling up his socks.

Roy’s eyes found a spot on the wall and zoned out in realisation. He’d turned his phone off all weekend. “Fuuuuuuuck,” he breathed out.

As much as Roy wanted to be left alone, he wasn’t cruel. If he’d known it was for your degree, he would have grown the fuck up and handed it in sooner. Now, as you sat at your desk and read over the reply from your professor, probably over and over again, he felt awful. It’d only been a week, and he knew you didn’t even want to be doing this specific placement. He felt like an arsehole, a real, fucking arsehole.

At training, he could hardly focus. The thought of you, sat at your desk, pissed off, upset, writing another Instagram caption or article that you couldn’t give a shit about, made him angry at himself. Roy had never gone to uni, or done a masters. From the age of nine, he’d been destined to be a professional footballer. He’d got lucky, alongside working hard for the entirety of his career. He knew you also worked hard, just from the fact you put yourself in a shit position to get what you wanted. That took guts, even Roy could admit that.

When he missed another assist during training, his third miss for the day, he stomped his feet on the pitch and let out a loud, “Fuck this!”

Roy pulled off his bib, throwing it at Nate, the kit man, before he stormed off the pitch. His boots clattered against the concrete floor as he skidded his way through the stadium, all the way to your office. He didn’t knock, but instead bombarded his way inside.

You let out a small gasp at his arrival, but stayed sat down, glued to your spot.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me it was for your degree?” he boomed. “I would have fucking handed it over sooner if you had.”

“Why would that make any difference?” you said, keeping your voice steady.

“Because it’s not just for the club, it’s for something you’re working towards.”

“So, you’re saying, if it was only for the club and not myself too, you wouldn’t have done it at all?”

“Fuck no. I don’t do PR shit,” he said bluntly.

“Even if it was my job to do it? Even though it was something you had a responsibility to contribute towards?” you said, raising your brows at him. “That’s no fucking better, Roy.”

“I just–” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to fuck this up for you, that’s what I mean.”

“It is what it is.” You shuffled some papers on your desk, rearranging your notebooks just to keep yourself busy.

“Isaac told me you’d get a bad mark,” Roy said.

“Isaac is right,” you confirmed.

“Well, now I feel like an arsehole.” Roy breathed in deeply, and exhaled sharply.

“You were an arsehole, Roy,” you said immediately, strongly. “But, it’s done now. This was the only assignment I had that included the whole team, anyway. So, from now on, I’ll be sure to stay far far away from you.”

Roy short-circuited for a moment. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, he balled his fists, he shuffled on the spot. He looked like a robot that had lemonade poured on his circuit. His jaw clenched, and you watched in awe at the sheer skill he used to tense his body in such a way.

“Roy?” you asked, concerned.

“Fucks sake!” he exploded, before he left your office immediately. You got up from your desk and zoomed to the door, watching him walk away from the field and to the locker room instead, muttering to himself all the same.

You didn’t see him for the remainder of the day. You bumped into Ted on your way out the stadium, to which he shot you a perked brow look. You let out a long sigh, followed by a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Well, what a day,” you said.

“You could say that again,” he agreed. “The first match is on the horizon, and our captain walked out mid practice session.”

You winced. “Sorry about that,” you apologised.

“Oh, please, it’s not your fault,” Ted reassured you. “Gotta say, it’s not the first time a player has abandoned us halfway through the day, but at least it was today instead of on Saturday.”

“Wait” You stopped in the corridor, right before the doors to the car park. “He didn’t come back afterwards?”

Ted squinted at you. “You didn’t know? He flew off into the wind like one of the Wicked Witch of the East’s monkey henchmen. One second he was yelling obscenities on the pitch, and the next he’d driven off in his Jeep.”

You let out a stuttered breath, trying to compute Ted’s words. Roy had vanished after storming into your office, and no one knew where the fuck he’d disappeared to. It didn’t make sense, and you didn’t think this ordeal would mean that much to him in the aftermath. You weren’t trying to beat him up after what he’d done, as much as it had hurt you and pissed you off about your mark. This was odd, though, and incredibly out of character for Richmond’s captain.

“Weird,” you let out.

“Really weird,” Ted repeated. “But, who are we to question a football star?”

You squinted at him. “Isn’t that your job?”

Ted shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

You walked home, stunned into silence, trying to figure out what was actually going through Roy’s skull. You were half-tempted to text him, but you still didn’t know if he’d blocked you or not. You almost wanted to reassure him that it was fine, even though he was the one that fucked up your assignment. It was odd how that worked, wasn’t it? How those who had been done wrong felt the need to check in after the wrongdoer realised their actions. You had no reason to tell Roy it was fine, but you still wanted to. If his outburst had told you anything, it was that he felt bad about it all. That was good, you supposed. That meant he wasn’t as emotionally constipated as you’d thought.

Roy ignored you for the next three days. It was blindingly obvious to everyone at the club, even including Rebecca, who you met with for lunch on Thursday in her office.

“I think he feels bad,” you explained.

“I suspect he does. That’s no reason to be behaving like a child.” She ate a mouthful of salad.

“I suppose not… but other than that, it’s all going very well!”

Her face soured. “Oh?”

“I’ve given the Instagram captions a revamp, and I’m in the process of updating the website, too. I had this idea to do articles about the employees and why they wanted to get involved with AFC Richmond, and their passions outside of work, too–”

“That all sounds very interesting,” Rebecca cut you off. “But, unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend.”

“Oh,” you said, as she stood up. You followed suit, picking up your salad and juggling the rest of your lunch in your arms. “Well, this was really nice!” you said, as she started herding you out of her office. “Maybe we should do this again–?”

“Maybe,” Rebecca said. “Bye bye, now!”

You stood outside her closed door. It almost touched your nose from where she’d slammed it, your arms full of your belongings. You let out a sigh, and headed back down the stairs to your office sullenly. You found that what you missed the most out of everything– not the sunlight, or the decor– was having a woman work friend. You felt almost isolated being one of the only women who worked in the building. It was lonely sometimes.

You shuffled your belongings back into your bag on the walk down. You passed the gym as you approached your office and took a peek through the window. On the treadmill, facing the corridor by your office, was Roy. He read a book as he did an incline walk, reading the words thoughtfully, before he turned the page.

Suddenly, he looked up and caught your eye. You flinched, but stayed frozen in your spot. Roy’s face flattened into an unreadable expression. You gulped away the shock, and instead raised your hand and waved at him awkwardly.

Without warning, Roy fell off the treadmill. You gasped immediately, letting out a “Roy?!” as you dropped your bag to the floor and made your way to the gym.

You careened through the door and peered at the floor. Roy was there, crumpled, book thrown under a weight bench on the other side of the gym. “Are you alright?” you asked quickly, offering him your hand.

The other boys stopped what they were doing to witness the scene. Not one of them helped Roy up themselves, but instead waited for you to rush to his aid. It was beyond odd. Roy couldn’t even meet your eye, let alone take your hand.

You frowned at him, hurt. “Roy,” you tried again. “You know you can look at me, right?”

“I’m fine,” he croaked, and forced himself to look up and meet your gaze. “Just tripped.” Knees clicking, he got himself up off the floor. That’s when he caught your eye properly, frowning sullenly. You’d never seen him don such an expression, let alone this close.

You stepped back a little, confused as hell. You looked around the room at the others, their silence descending upon the entire stadium floor, not just the gym. They were all acting strange, making you feel like you were on the outside of an inside joke that they all knew well.

You scoffed, annoyed, as you reversed towards the door. “Okay,” you let out. “You’re all acting so fucking strange this week.” You reached the door frame, and went to leave, but stopped. You looked back at them all, before your gaze landed on Roy strongly. “I don’t like it.”

You left, walked back to your office, and shut the door with a bang.

Roy turned to the guys in the gym, still catching his breath from before. The guys looked at him like he was wounded, almost, and not just from the abrupt fall. Roy breathed out deeply, taking in their pitying faces.

“Stop fucking looking at me, alright!” he burst.

“Sorry, Roy,” Isaac said first, followed by some mutters from the others.

“I’m not some fucking baby bird that’s fallen out a fucking tree, alright?”

“Then why are you acting like one?” Jamie said suddenly. He sauntered forwards, and the rest of the team held their breath. “What, am I wrong? You haven’t said two words to her in days, not since you went AWOL on us earlier this week.” There were nods of agreement, some shrugs of confusion. “Where did you even go, like? You just took off.”

The yeah’s of agreement are what made Roy lose it. Everyone wanted to know where he’d gone, why he’d left, but he hadn’t been able to get it out since he’d done it on Monday.

“I went to her fucking uni!” he bellowed over their mutterings. “I went to her uni and spoke with her fucking lecturer, and said how much of a fucking arse I was.” The room went utterly silent. Roy looked to the floor. “That’s why I haven’t said a fucking word, because I don’t know if I made it better, or if I fucked it up even more.”

Roy balled his fists. He’d been feeling ashamed since Monday, more than he’d expected to feel. Guilt was his least favourite thing to feel, even though he often faked being unbothered.

Colin took an abrupt step forward, snapping the tension. “That’s fucking badass.”

Roy sent a confused arch of his brow at the Welshman. “Really?”

“Hell yeah, that’s badass. That’s a proper grand gesture, boyo. One that shows how bad you truly feel about it all,” Colin reassured him. The lads nodded in approval, sealing the deal that Roy had done the right thing. “She doesn’t know?”

Roy shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything. I don’t know if anything’s come of it.”

“Tell her tomorrow,” Sam spoke up. “Tell her tomorrow and I assure you, she will be okay about it all. I do not get the sense that she holds a grudge, you know? She is a kind person.” More hums of agreement filtered around the room. “Also, you cannot do it today. Not after that display on the treadmill,” Sam added, wincing.

“True,” Roy agreed reluctantly.

Isaac approached his captain then, placing a huge but reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She’ll forgive you, bruv. I’m sure of it.”

Roy nodded. “Thanks, Isaac.”

You locked yourself in your office for the remainder of the day. It was too odd out there, both on Roy’s and the guys’ part. You had no idea what had them acting so off-puttingly, but you wanted no fucking part of it. You dived into work, completing a plan for a new article on the website, before writing your novel for the rest of the day. Shannon Hart had been right– you had so much spare time to write that you already felt like an author already. You were on the clock while tapping away, getting paid for writing your book already, it seemed.

Near the end of the day, an email was pinged into your inbox from your lecturer. You had the jitters every time you received an email from him now, after reading what he had to say about your incomplete first assignment. You’d come to accept the 40% outcome over the past few days, but it still stung. You didn’t want to be considered a failure in your course, especially when you’d only just started.

You opened it up nervously, skimming the contents quickly until you realised it was nothing bad– in fact, it was something very good. “Shut the fuck up…” you let out, trailing off as you read it properly.

An impromptu visitor graced the halls of the Richmond university faculty building on Monday in the form of Mr. Roy Kent, number six and Captain at AFC Richmond. He had a lot to say about you, and about your recent assignment, most notably that he’d ‘massively fucked up’ and was a ‘gigantic arsehole’.

He explained everything about why you submitted your work incomplete, and assured us you were not to blame. I’ve taken this into consideration, and have remarked your work today on my own time. When before you were capped at 40/100, I have remarked your work at 87/100; a grade A1.

Congratulations. You must be doing something right for those footballers.

“Shut the fuck up!” you screeched, jumping up from your desk at lightspeed.

You could hardly believe it. This was what Roy had done on Monday, after he’d left training for the day? He’d gone and knocked on the door of your fucking lecturer, not leaving until they understood that he’d messed up the assignment for you. This was immense, and not at all what you’d been expecting. That explained Roy’s aversion to you over the past few days, and the abrupt fall in the gym today.

You let out a shocked cackle. It reverberated around the walls of your square office, bouncing back into your ears and only making you laugh more. This was hilarious– a footballer such as Roy Kent taking it upon himself to do something so rash was incredibly comical. But, it also warmed your heart. He’d felt so bad that he’d taken matters into his own hands.

This was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, if you thought about it too hard. This was a grand gesture, a proper apology, if you’d ever seen one. It made you smile like the fucking sun in the sky.

Roy left the stadium after everyone else, taking extra care after his fall in the gym. He’d scraped his knee up pretty bad, and even gone to the resident first aider for a knee brace to make sure he was fine before the first match of the season that Saturday. He made his way out, entering into the car park. He was expecting his lone Jeep to be there, but was surprised to find you leaning against the hood. Your arms were crossed, bag on your shoulder, as you looked out at the setting sun over the green grass of the Dogtrack. He slowed to a stroll, tightening his grip on the straps of his gym bag. You turned your gaze and met his eye, shooting him a knowing look.

“Working overtime?” you asked. It was a redundant question. You had a look in your eye that Roy could sense from a mile off– you knew.

“Just making up for lost time at the start of the week,” he replied, coming to stand opposite you.

You stood up straight, and peered up at him. “Ah, yes. I heard you disappeared on Monday.”

“Did you now?” he said. “Who said that?”

You shrugged, stalling to get the point. You were enjoying the silent amusement between you. Both of you knew what was up, but you had to admit you liked the subtle tension. “Just Ted.”

“Oh,” Roy said, his tone the slightest bit sunken.

“And my lecturer, actually,” you said finally. “He emailed me an hour ago to tell me that you popped in for a visit the other day.”

“Really?” Roy faked confusion.

“Mhm.” You tried not to laugh. “He remarked my assignment. I got an A.”

Just like that, all the stress and tension in Roy’s chest dissipated. It flew into the sky and was caught by the breeze instantly. You smiled at him knowingly, regarding him thoughtfully. He shuffled on his spot awkwardly, looking out towards the setting sun on the horizon, over the pitch.

“That’s great,” he let out genuinely.

You stepped forward. “You didn’t have to do that, Roy.”

He snapped his stare on you. “Yes, I fucking did. I was an arsehole.”

You shrugged, scuffing the ground with your shoe. “You were an arsehole, yeah. But arsehole’s don’t go to my fucking uni and ask my lecturer to remark an assignment.” You scoffed.

“It was the least I could do,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that you didn’t think he’d been capable of. Roy Kent left you with more question marks the more you spoke to him, but you liked a mystery.

“Well, thank you,” you said, peering up at him sweetly. There was a section of yourself that was different, softer, sweeter, reserved only for those rare moments where people fully exposed themselves to you. Their true intention, their true selves. This was one of those moments. “Really. Thank you, Roy.”

He nodded at you, not knowing what to add. The sun cast an orange glow over the car park, reflecting off his Jeep vibrantly. It looked like the car itself was bright orange, so different from the black paint that stuck out like a sore thumb, usually. His car was so big and bulking, the same as the man that stood before you. But you knew that wasn’t all he was, not after what he’d done for you.

“Heading home?” he asked, changing the subject.

You nodded. “I’m exhausted.”

He scoffed. “You and me both.”

“How are you feeling about Saturday? The Arsenal game?”

Roy shook his head. “Let’s not even go there today,” he said, and you immediately backed off. You knew it was a lot of the team, having both a new management team, in the form of Ted and Beard, on top of someone new skulking around the building– you.

“It’ll be the first football game I’ve ever gone to, you know?” you added.

Roy perked his brow at you. “You really know fuck all about football, don’t you?”

You scoffed abruptly. “Fuck all indeed.”

The smallest smile graced Roy’s face, and you found yourself savouring it. You didn’t want to jinx it, but after almost two weeks of headbutting, you wanted to believe it was over. Perhaps, you and Roy would coexist happily now. Without the meanness, or the miscommunication, or all of the inbetween. In terms of the team, you’d done well with the crew and the boys, bar Roy and Rebecca, but things were looking up.

You felt content again, like you could actually do this after all.

“Need a ride?” Roy asked suddenly.

“Oh,” you let out, looking back at his Jeep. The orange was fading from its reflection. “Sure, I could use a lift.”

“Hop in,” Roy said, as he made his way around to the driver’s side.

He shoved his bag into the backseat, as you opened the passenger side door and jumped in. You slammed it behind you, getting comfortable, as Roy jumped into the driver’s seat next to you. There was a comfortable silence that settled over the car, as the two of you buckled yourselves in. Roy turned on the engine, and the radio turned on harshly, blasting you with an 80s song far too loudly.

You both flinched back, wincing, and Roy clicked a button quickly, turning off the sound. “Fucking hell,” he said. “I think Heart are trying to deafen us.”

You let out a chuckle. “I’ll listen to 80s music over the charts any day.”

Roy perked his brows at you, putting the car in reverse. “Good on you.” He reversed out of the car park and turned onto the main road.

You didn’t talk much, just small talk here and there. It felt oddly intimate being driven home by Roy Kent, but you tried not to let it rattle you. Acquaintanceships always started off patchy, with neither wanting to step over a line, until something resembling friendship ended up shining through. You told yourself that, maybe, a few months down the line, it would be normal for you to catch a lift home with Roy in the week.

You directed him to your street, pointing at your door with a smile. Roy pulled up to the curb, cutting off his engine as you unbuckled your seatbelt. You weren’t expecting him to fully kill the engine, but you didn’t pay it any mind. You jumped out of the car onto the road and rushed onto the pavement, peering up into his, now open, window.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said with a smile.

“It’s fine. I live just around the corner, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you live in one of those big fuck off houses down the street,” you said, pointing down the end of your road. To the left beyond was an array of giant houses, all with blossom trees outside and large gates guarding them. They were gorgeous, huge and expensive.

Roy squinted at you. “I’m a professional footballer. Of course, I fucking do.”

You huffed in amusement. You were about to say I can’t wait to see it in person one day, but stopped yourself short. Was that a weird thing to say, even to a colleague? You bit on your tongue instead and stepped back towards the steps that lead to your door. There was something unsaid in the air, mostly from Roy. You got the sense he wanted to say something more, as his fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel.

Instead, you sighed. “See you tomorrow,” you settled on.

Roy inhaled deeply, and raised his hand in goodbye. “See you.”

His window ascended and he started the engine again. He sped off down the road, before he took an abrupt left at the end and disappeared from view. You let yourself into your building and stepped into the hallway. You sighed once more, contentedly, before you closed the door on another interesting day at AFC Richmond.

CHAPTER TWO

#roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent #ted lasso #brett goldstein #ff #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #enemies to friends to lovers #angst and fluff #lightyaers #ao3 #wattpad #archive of our own #writeblr #jamie tartt

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 11 months

Note

hello! it's the same person who requested "relax, angel" and i want to let you know that it was so goddamn good! i absolutely adored reading it and it is almost exactly as i imagined it. i wanted to come to you with another sub!larissa idea, if you're interested. i had the idea of larissa coming home after a long day at work and she's too tired to do anything else but to be a good girl for the reader. larissa being just so desperate to please her mommy and make her feel good, and in return, her mommy making her feel good as well? i was thinking a lot of praise and, of course, larissa being called a good girl and maybe the reader being called mommy? and with some really sweet aftercare at the end? I'm sorry if this seems too similar to the one i requested before, but i'd love to see a lighter side to a similar (but not the exact same) scenario. thanks! x

Hey there, anon! I’m so glad you enjoyed Relax, Angel 💕 I love a lighter side to Larissa as well. I changed it a bit from her not going home, but I hope you enjoy!

Even the Boss Needs a Break ~Sub!Larissa Weems xFem!Elemental Teachers Aid!Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fluff, eating out, kissing, praise kink, mommy kink, more implied smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You sighed, slouching in your corner chair, as the last class of the day filed out of the classroom. Your professor dismissed you for the weekend of course including all of the paperwork. With a wave of your hand, all the papers fluttered into your bag.

Being an Elemental, specifically a Wind Elemental, came in handy on a Friday evening when you were tired out from the week. And as a teachers aid, you certainly had your deal of work cut out for yourself….

With a huff, you stood up and grabbed your things, leaving the classroom for the weekend. With clacking heels, you walked across the school, over to your girlfriend’s office. You knocked on the large oak door with a plaque next to it that read ‘Principal Weems’, and you heard a muted “Come in…”.

You entered the elegant office, quietly closing the door behind you, and you were met with a quick glance in your direction and a small smile from Larissa.

“Hello there, Dearest…” the blonde hummed.

“Hello to you as well...!” you quipped back, “Happy Friday!”

Larissa face flashed in brightening a bit at your enthusiasm and she hummed in response, but didn’t look up this time. Her brows merely quirked at something she was typing at her computer. You whisked over to your girlfriend’s desk, placing your hand on the top of her laptop.

“Hey. Is everything alright?” you asked with gentle care, as Larissa had frozen in her seat.

A single tear fell from Larissa eye and ran down her face, and her lip trembled slightly…

“Oh my love…” you comforted the blonde, immediately closing the laptop and coming around the desk to comfort her.

Larissa sniffled, trying desperately to stifle her emotions, and she was quick to wipe her tears away, “I have a lot of work to do…” she huffed.

“I know, love… I know…” you hummed, “How about I go grab some take out, hmmm?”

“Ok…” Larissa shakily agreed, her voice faltering.

“I’ll go to that Italian place you like…?” you murmured into her ear as you embraced her from behind.

Larissa nodded, “That would be nice… Thank you, darling…” she whispered.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a bit. Call me if you need anything, K?”

Larissa silently nodded. At that, you have her a kiss on the neck, grabbed your bag, and whisked off into town. You arrived at the Italian place and placed your order with ease. Now you were just sitting in the restaurants waiting for your food while your mind laid with Larissa…

You hated seeing her like this. All worn out and exhausted…

Once you had acquired the food, you whisked back up to the school and into your girlfriend’s office. Larissa smiled lightly at your arrival, but quickly diverted her attention back to her work.

“Uh uh…” you tutted the blonde, “Come on, work away. You need to eat”

You place the takeout in the middle of her desk, and Larissa looked up at you with an insistent yet wary look in her eyes, but you met her gaze with stronger insistence. She gave in with a sigh and shut her laptop.

The two of you then sat down and ate your take out, and began to gently probe Larissa about her day. She let out a sigh of frustration and began to tell you all of what she had on her mind.

~~~

An hour later, all the food was gone and Larissa had pulled a few pins from her hair and leaned into her chair from all the stress. At this sight, a thought struck you…

You walked back behind Larissa again, wrapping your arms around her and whispered, “Would you like me to be in charge tonight, love…?”

The implication in your tone was apparent that you were offering Larissa a way into her subspace. She silently nodded in response.

“Words, love…” you gently reminded her.

“Yes please…” Larissa whimpered.

“You want mommy to take care of you?” You purred, shifting your tone and beginning to pepper the blondes neck with light kisses.

“Yes mommy please…” Larissa breathily mewled, “wanna be good for you… wanna make you feel good…”

“Such a good girl…” you praised, sucking on her supple skin and leaving a bruise in your wake, eliciting a breathy moan from the blonde’s lips.

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom…?” You purred.

“Yes please, mommy…” Larissa sighed out in delight.

You helped the blonde out of her chair and she followed you as you guided her by the hand to her attached private quarters. You closed the door behind her and then began slowly undressing the blonde goddess.

You made sure to kiss and mark any available skin. You wanted Larissa to know truly how beautiful she was. Larissa squirmed underneath your touch. Her hands snuck to your blouse and tugged on it lightly. You chuckled lightly at the blondes non-verbal neediness.

“Use your words, sweet girl…” you husked, attaching your hot mouth to one of Larissa’s perked up buds.

“OhHhhH God…!” Larissa moaned out, arching her back into your touch.

“Fuck… want your clothes off, mommy… wanna make you feel good…” she mewled.

You let go of her nipple with a pop! And looked up at the stunning blonde. You smiled caringly at her, blushing at how much she wanted to make you feel good.

“Alright, sweet girl…” you purred, caressing her cheek, “go lay on the bed, and mommy will meet you there shortly…”

“Yes mommy…” Larissa immediately responded and practically jumped on the bed.

You quickly stripped your clothes off and joined the blonde, crawling on top of her.

“Be a good girl and let mommy sit on your face, hmmmm…?” You purred, nipping at her ear.

Shivers went through Larissa’s spine.

“Yes mommy… please mommy…” she breathily mewled in response, squirming underneath you.

At that, Larissa was quick to help you straddle her face. She held your hips as her tongue slipped ran through your folds. You shuddered and grabbed onto the head board for support. Then her skilled tongue slipped into your cunt, and you damn near came right there…

“Fuck, that’s it’s…!!” You moaned out, grinding your cunt against the blondes face, “Right there, sweet girl—!”

You rode out your orgasm with bliss on Larissa’s skilled tongue, crying out her name in the process. You slowly came down from your high with the help of Larissa’s tongue, leaving you straddling the blonde.

“Why don’t we go home for the weekend, and then Mommy can treat her good girl like a true princess…?” You cooed.

Larissa eagerly nodded with a face full of your cum. You connected your lips to hers, moaning at the taste of yourself.

When you pulled away, Larissa breathlessly panted, “Ughhhh Yes please mommy…!!”

You then got up and went to bathroom to grab a warm washcloth. You came back and lovingly cleaned up your lovers face and your own thighs. You helped each other get dressed. You peppered the blonde with kisses along the way, slowing the process of putting her dress on, which made Larissa giggle.

And then you were both on your way out for the night.

~~~

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harlequin-hangout · 1 year

Text

The Winter Storm: Part 2

Series Master List | Bucky Barnes Master List

Part 1 | Part 3

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Warnings: minor alcohol use, guns, violence, ⚠️Intimidation⚠️, screaming, extremely minor Self deprecation, smut, let me know if I missed anything

Contains: Angst, fluff, Anger, temper, abuse depending on your trauma, mildly extreme injuries, sexual tension thicker than America's Ass

Word Count: 4.5k

Dividers are made by me! Want some for yourself? Send me an ask!

I do not nor will I ever give permission for my writing to be copied, pasted, reposted to other sites, or edited in any way shape or form. Seriously, just don’t.

Summary: You've been taken to a safe house, though you aren't sure where. With impending danger looming over you day in and day out, is there enough time to learn to defend yourself? Who are the moles inside of Pierce Enterprises? Why does your heart skip a beat every time Mr. Barnes walks by? . . . The Avalache has fallen and the Winter Storm is here. Are you prepared?

For Christmas, you went missing. Not that you had anyone around to really miss you; your life had revolved around work for the past eight months, and your family lived across the country. You didn’t talk to them much, so they probably didn’t even realize you were gone. Mr. Barnes had taken you upstate to a remote cabin. It was cozy, not at all what you expected from a Mafia boss and Fixer, but it was nice. A Fixer. You still hadn’t wrapped your head around that completely. In a span of less than 72 hours you had come in contact with two of the three leaders of White Watch, then betrayed one of them. You should be dead. You should be imprisoned in some basement or chained to a chair in some dark room never to see the light of day again. The Fixer was the most important member of any criminal organization. When someone or something became a problem or threatened to cause a mess the Fixer was sent out to clean it up. Violently, remorselessly, and without witnesses. Cold, calculating, and absolutely ruthless. And the most infamous Fixer in the country slept in the room next door.

It was only a little after five in the morning, but you couldn’t sleep. This week had been way too much for you to handle and it was taking a toll on your ability to sleep. Mr. Barnes would be awake in a couple hours, and you knew that meant more training. You had a love/hate relationship with training. On one hand, being that close to Mr. Barnes was something that you’d come to find exhilarating. You’d always had a thing for dangerous men, and he was extremely easy on the eyes. Every time he taught you a takedown or an evasive technique you could feel his muscles tensing beneath the white t-shirt he wore. You did your best not to let your eyes linger on a specific area of his black sweatpants, but the smirk on his face every time he caught you told you that he didn’t mind. Hell, if you didn’t know better, then you’d think he outright enjoyed the attention. You’d only met the man a week ago, and you were little more than a charge. Why did that sting to think about? You shook your head, trying to erase the thought from your brain, and jumped when you heard the front door open. Mr. Barnes was still asleep in the other room, you had heard him talking in his sleep when you got out of bed. To your knowledge, no one else knew where this place was. The door latches quietly, and you hear the click of the lock. You press yourself back into the window nook, attempting to hide yourself in the shadows of the corner. Mr. Barnes had insisted you start carrying a knife, but you’d left it on your bedside table.

“Of all the fucking days to be stupid and careless,” you thought to yourself. You heard heavy footsteps on the wooden floor as a shadowed figure made its way through the dark towards Mr. Barnes’s room. You were absolutely frozen. What could you do? You had no idea if this person was a friend or here to kill someone. . . To kill you. As soon as the figure stepped into the short hallway that would obscure you from his view, you silently creep to the front door and grab the crowbar used for knocking icicles off of the cabin’s roof. Silently thanking yourself for not putting on slippers, you follow the shadow to the hallway. You raise the crowbar, mentally preparing yourself as much as possible to try and bash someone’s head in. In one swift motion the man flings the door open and–

“RISE AND SHINE, BUCK, IT’S FIELD TRIP DAY– Jesus fucking Christ!” The man jumps back suddenly, the relieved squeak you made finally alerting him to your presence. You yelp, drop the crowbar, and scramble backwards. Your chest heaves as Mr. Barnes groans and a pillow hits the stranger squarely in the back of the head.”

“Five more minutes, Rogers. Ain’t you got any respect for a man’s sleep?”

“Your little guest there not only managed to sneak up on me, but almost took a crowbar to my back. Want to fill me in there?” Barnes’s friend took a couple steps forward extending his hand to help you up. Hesitantly, you took it. His grip was strong, and his pull even stronger. He hauled you to your feet as though you weighed nothing.

“Name’s Steve Rogers. Most people call me either Rogers or Cap. What’s your name, Hon?”

“Y/N,” you answered, your voice trembling a little because of the adrenaline in your system.

“You really know how to pick ‘em, Buck. This one has some bite to her, and she’s a dime. When did you start managing to pull quality dames?” Mr. Barnes’s voice was gravelly, still dripping with the memory of the sleep that had just been so unceremoniously ripped away from him.

“What, like you could pull better? Didn’t you have to beg the eight you saw at the Gala just to get her phone number?” As Mr. Barnes stepped out of the room, you could see a satisfied grin plastered on his face. His messy brown hair framed his strong jawline, and – oh god, he was shirtless. You weren’t prepared for how the sweatpants rose low on his hips and accentuated that V-line . . . Barnes’s expression turned smug as he once again caught you staring, but said nothing as he turned his attention to Rogers. “She’s the one Widow should have mentioned to you. Pierce’s Civilian pawn. He’s getting reckless again, and he doesn’t care who he hurts.”

“Buck, Widow hasn’t checked in since before the Gala.” Concern creased the faces of both men, and the room somehow grew colder. “Tell me everything that’s happened.”

As the men made their way to the kitchen table both Mr. Barnes and Rogers sent several texts. Probably about this Widow person. You silently hoped they were okay. Mr. Barnes filled Rogers in on the events of the past week, and you started making coffee. You needed something to do to keep your mind even, plus it gave you an excuse to stay in the kitchen and attempt to get a read on the newcomer.

“So he just threw her at you?” Rogers inquired.

“Like he was doing her a favor, yeah. Didn’t even give her any information about what she was getting into.” They were definitely close. Old friends or old colleagues? Possibly both. They were too familiar to be just co workers. . . Is that what you call two mobsters? Co-workers? The smell of coffee began to fill the air.

“Would either of you like some?” You interrupted the silence following Barnes’s last statement.

“Yeah! Thanks, Y/N. Got any sugar?” Rogers responded warmly. You grabbed a mug and the sugar substitute that Mr. Barnes kept for coffee.

“There you go, Mr. Rogers. Mr. Barnes, do you want any?” Rogers laughed. A rich, genuine sound that you didn;t expect to hear in a mob safe house so far away from civilization.

“Mr. Rogers is a little too formal for my taste, Hon. Just Rogers, or Steve if that’s easier for you.” He glanced over at Mr. Barnes, his face one of absolute mischief. “I thought you said you weren’t involved, Mr. Barnes.” You feel your face go bright red, realizing immediately what Steve was implying. Even through the embarrassment, you had to admit it. Mr. Barnes was a top, and that was hot as hell.

“We’ve been living together for a week, Doll, and because of training,” he emphasized the word, shooting a subtle glare in Steve’s direction, “we’ve been pretty close to each other. Call me Bucky, not Mr. Barnes. Coffee would be great.” You pour a mug, placing it in front of him. You already knew he liked to pretend he liked his coffee black, but always slipped in some cinnamon when he thought you weren’t looking. You added some while Steve was distracted and placed the mug in front of Bucky. You turned, but not before you saw his smile. People had never really cared for him in small ways, that much he’d admitted to. Tends to happen when you’re one of the country’s most feared Fixers. You turn back to your coffee pot, hiding your grin in your mug.

“There’s one thing that still confuses me,” Steve said in between sips. “If you weren’t involved with Pierce’s drug business, then why didn’t he just tell you the report would be corrected and move on?”

“Well . . . best I can tell, he thought someone had sent me. He didn’t figure out that I was clueless until he’d already said too much. I’ve always been good at reading people, and he took notice. I guess he figured he could use that. I didn’t know anything until I got in the car, and even then just that I was supposed to “analyze a new player” or something like that, because he doesn’t like unknowns.”

“Why didn’t you run?”

“Because he locked her in a room with him, alone, then threatened to make her disappear if she didn’t comply.” Bucky fielded the question for you, his tone serious as the grave. Steve’s whole demeanor changed. Gone was the happy friend pushing Bucky’s buttons. Instead, his eyes hardened and he felt colder than ice as he uttered the words

“Don’t disappoint me.” You dropped your mug. It all made sense. You could feel your heart rate increase, and you fought the pit in your stomach.

“You’re Avalanche.” You felt the sound resonate in your vocal cords. You heard the words, but you couldn’t fathom that you’d been the one to speak them. The final member of the Triumvirate was sitting right in front of you. And you’d tried to beat him with a crowbar.

Steve’s attention turned to you, his face still cold. He says nothing, but raises an eyebrow.

“How do you figure that, Honey?” The question somehow sounded like a threat.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky assured him. “I’m the one who told her about White Watch and the Triumvirate. She needed to know the kind of man Pierce is. The part about me, too. I mentioned Avalanche, but only briefly and with no detail.” Rogers’s icy nature subsided, however his brow was now knit with confusion.

“Then how did she . . .”

“I told you, she’s good.” Bucky stated as Steve’s expression morphed from confused to impressed.

“Damn, that is good. Walk me through how you got there?”

“Sure, just don’t take it personally?” You made your way to the kitchen table, taking the chair next to Bucky.

“Why would I take it personally, Y/N?” Your eyes glaze over a little as you begin to mentally run through your observations. When it comes to this, you’re in your element. Your brain is almost like a computer, and you begin analyzing your collected data.

“You know where the cabin is. I don’t even know that, Bucky put me under the moment we got in the cat at Stark’s Gala. Not only do you know where it is, you have a key, door was locked. Out of the three doors, you knew which one wasn’t dead bolted or blocked with something besides just the lock. You made a point of locking said door behind you. I’ve been up for a while and didn’t see or hear you, which means you’re familiar with the area. The moment you stepped foot in the cabin, you didn’t sneak. Your footsteps were loud enough that I’m surprised Bucky slept through it. The Winter Soldier is one of, if not THE most, feared Fixers in the country, possibly the world. You willingly kicked his door open while he was sleeping. I’d bet money he keeps a weapon close enough to wherever he’s sleeping. You addressed him extremely informally, and his response was to throw a pillow at his head. That kind of familiarity only comes from friendship, and friends aren’t easy to come across in your line of work. Bucky held me at gunpoint for flirting with him.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, Doll,” Bucky pouted.

“You were talking about someone named Widow not checking in. That means you work in coordination. That was part of Avalanche’s job. You’re at least familiar with Mr. Pierce. I know he’s the Wolf. But the one thing that really clued me in? ‘Don’t disappoint me.” Mr. Pierce said that to me in the limo. I haven’t told anyone that. Bucky finished the sentence for me without my saying it. And you just pulled it out of thin air, so you’ve worked closely with the Wolf. The only person I can imagine ever being close with both the Wolf and the Winter Soldier is the Avalanche.” Steve’s jaw almost hits the floor. Even Bucky looks a bit stunned. Neither man speaks, so you continue. “There’s only a couple more things, but they’re more of an afterthought than an observation.”

“And what on God’s green earth could those be?” Steve responded after picking his jaw up off the floor.

“First off, I was able to sneak up on you. You let your guard down inside the Cabin.”

“And the second?” Bucky inquired.

“Since I’ve been here, Steve’s only called me by my name, or a variation of “honey.” He’s wearing blue jeans and a white shirt, possibly the most basic combination known to man. His job was organization, order, and precision. He doesn’t strike me as the creative type.” The confusion returns to Steve’s face.

“What does my creative ability have to do with my cover name?”

“Avalanche is kind of an awful name for a Mob Boss. It seems like one of the only things within your creative reach,” you state matter-of-factly. Bucky erupts into laughter, about falling out of his chair. To your surprise, so does Steve.

“In my defense, I didn’t have a lot of warning,” Steve claims between giggles. “Besides, who says you could have done better?”

“Vortex,” you state, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what, pray tell, is a vortex?” Steve quizzes you, one eyebrow raised and still giggling

“Counter-clockwise flow of air that keeps colder air towards the poles of the globe. Kind of like the weather version of troop deployment. Plus, its reach increases in the winter, sometimes as far as the jetstream.” You sip your coffee, stunning both men with such a quick answer.

“That . . . Is actually better. Can I change my name?”

“Avalanche is presumed dead after Pierce's last stunt, and I’d say it’s a decent upgrade from Frosty the Snowman.” Bucky’s quip almost makes you choke on your coffee. “Now, what do you mean field trip day, Steve?”

“Knew you’d forget. We were going to make a trip over to Griffiss. Better get going before the sun rises too much.” Bucky stands and starts to make his way back to his room, then calls over his shoulder.

“Hey, Steve? Get her prepped with snow gear from the bunker. This’ll be a great training opportunity.”

As the months progressed, you made the trips to the abandoned Griffiss Air Force Base regularly with Steve and Bucky. Between the extra exercise and all the training they had you doing, you were becoming more capable. You’d even managed to catch Bucky off guard during training and take him down. The mobsters used Griffiss as their own personal storage unit. Heavily fortified, places for guards, and easy to defend. Having a structure so close by was extremely useful. It had to be only a couple miles from the cabin, the walk was a little under two hours both ways. You were settling into your new life. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were growing to think of Bucky as more than a friend as well. The way he smelled. The way he moved. Hell, the dumb yet endearing things you’d heard him say in his sleep. Your heart had been beating a little fast when he’d lent you one of his hoodies after the first snowy trip to Griffiss, but now . . .

You had just come back from a supply run to the base. Steve was off doing whatever it is Steve does, so you and Bucky went alone. It was a dreary April, barely 40ºF and pouring over the entire three hour adventure. You shiver as you peel your wet jeans off of your body. Steve had brought several changes of clothes, but unfortunately none of them suited for heavy rain. Even your panties were soaked. Damn, it was laundry day, too. You pulled on a clean pair of underwear, then bent over to peel your soaked socks off. You hear a sharp knock at your bedroom door. Bucky opens it almost immediately after, not having waited a second for a response.

“Hey, Doll, what do ya think about–” You both freeze. Your ass is facing the door and on full display. As you look back at him, you could see his eyes slowly roam over you. They traced the lines of your thighs, finally settling on your backside. A form of hunger lit his eyes, and you finally understood the satisfaction on his face whenever he caught you shamelessly ogling him. The only clean underwear you had left was a thong. Steve had slipped it and a little black dress in amongst your clothes with a knowing wink and an “I dunno, maybe they’ll come in handy.” You silently thanked Steve. You’d bake him something later. You slowly stand up, Peeling the wet shirt off of your frame, letting it drop to the floor.

“Hey, Buck, what’s up?” You grab the hoodie that you’d successfully stolen from him. As long as you were able to successfully poach it from his closet without getting caught in the act, he didn’t fight you too hard to get it back. The little games you played made your heart flutter, there was this feeling of ease around him.

“I-I um– That is–” The Winter Soldier took a moment to collect himself. This was the perfect day to run out of bras, and you looked damned good from behind. You were glad to see that he was appreciating it. “I lit a fire. You wanna come warm up? I think Steve dropped off some new DVDs last time he was here.” His eyes now shamelessly wandered as he spoke. Water dripped down your skin as you did your best to slip the Hoodie over your naked

“Yeah! I’d love to, Just let me grab a towel for my hair.”

Within ten minutes, you’re curled up with Bucky by the fireplace. The warmth feels amazing, but leaning back on Bucky’s chest . . . you made a silent wish to never have to leave.

“So . . .” Bucky started, a smirk playing on his lips. “Thong, huh? Who’s that for, the deer?” When Bucky was comfortable, he made fun. You didn’t mind it. In fact, you’d learned to shoot back just as quickly.

“Nah, Steve brought it for me.” Not TECHNICALLY a lie. Bucky groans.

“PLEASE tell me you mean physically bringing it to you. You’ll never live it down if you’re getting Frosty the Snowman’s carrot.”

“One, you and I have both trained with him. You know it’s bigger than a carrot. Two, nah. It’s for this guy I kinda like.” You were feeling brave.

“Oh? Who is he? I need to make sure he’s worth your time.” Bucky’s ears picked up. You’d met a couple of his underlings in the months you’d been making trips to the Base, but not many.

“Longer hair, kind of intimidating . . .” you sigh. The banter is fun, but this doesn’t feel like the place. You turn to face him, looking up at the face he’s attempting to will to a neutral expression. “Can I just show you instead?”

“Show me? How are you going to–” You spring forward, your lips capturing his in a kiss. He pulls back in surprise. Oh no. Have you made a mistake? Did you misread? You couldn’t have, it’s so– Bucky’s arms quickly snake around your hips and pull you up to straddle his lap. He locks one arm around your waist, the other hand pulling your face back to meet his. Bucky’s movements are that of a man starved for affection. His grip is strong, his muscles tensing against your body as you press yourself against his chest. Your teeth graze his bottom lip and he gently moans into your mouth. You ground yourself down against his hardening bulge, whining for more.

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this . . .” he groans as he tilts his head back, exposing the side of his neck. You trail kisses from his collarbone to his ear, nibbling gently on the lobe as you feel his large hands squeeze your ass possessively. You lean your body against his, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you make a move, then?”

“I essentially kidnapped you from Stark’s Gala, drugged you, and have kept you in this safehouse for close to what, five, six months? What would you have done in my position?” You wiggle a little, considering your answer.

“Okay, I guess I see your point . . . But this experience hasn’t been entirely awful.” You nip at his ear again, drawing out a low growl as his hands start to trace the lines of your thighs.

“And this,” he all but purred, “is going to be an immensely pleasurable one.” You squeak as he flips you, pushing the hoodie up as he explores your body. He starts at your hip bone, placing kisses and nips across your torso. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, causing you to whimper in pleasure. One arm slipping along the curve of your back, he pulls you up into him. His knee firmly between your legs, his fingers ghosting over the growing wet spot between your legs.

“Mmmh, already so wet for me.” The hand grabs your thigh, lips crashing back against yours and– The door slams open. You both sit bolt upright, but nothing could have prepared you for what you saw next.

“STEVE!!” Bucky roared. He vaulted over the couch that had previously been his backrest. The blonde man lay crumpled on the floor, blood staining most of his clothing.

“Buck . . . I’m so sorry . . . I couldn’t save her . . .” his words are faint, and he loses consciousness as you rushed to his side, trying to see where he was hurt.

“Get the fuck back!” Bucky yelled, catching you off guard. He struggled to flip Steve over, but with Steve being almost completely dead weight, it wasn’t an easy task.

“Buck, let me help you! We need to make sure not to aggravate his wounds too much, what if he has a neck injury?”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” he growls menacingly. “Go get the first aid kit. My room. Under the bed.” You run, yanking the kit out from the rope that secured it to the bottom of the bed frame. Scurrying back, you see Bucky finally has Steve on his back and is peeling off his clothes. Various cuts, bruises, and burns litter his body. You throw the kit open, immediately grabbing the wipes. You needed to get the wounds clean to prevent infection, or this could be a whole lot worse. You lean over, trying to assess where to start.

“Don’t fucking touch him.” Bucky’s voice is low, almost feral. You’d never seen him lose control like this. You knew he and Steve had been friends since childhood, but you hadn’t grasped how strong that connection was.

“Barnes!” you bellowed. “He’s bleeding out. I want to help and two sets of hands are fucking better than one. Let. Me. Help.”

“ . . . Okay. Start cleaning the wounds. I’ll dress them.” You rip open the packet in your hands, starting to dab quickly at the cuts. As soon as you move on to the next, Bucky bandages the wound. You both work meticulously, but as you work down his side, you see something clutched in his hand. You pry it out, and a pit forms in your stomach. A small smartphone rested in the palm of your hand. Blood splashed across the screen and the charm you’d gifted your friend Wanda on your girl’s trip last year. Shit.

“Bucky, this–”

“Shut up.”

“But it’s-”

“Shut. THE FUCK. UP.”

“It’s–” Bucky shoves you. Hard. You fly across the room, sliding to a stop.

“WHAT PART OF SHUT UP DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND, BITCH?” Bucky was completely irrational. “Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out of my sight, get the fuck out of this building. I don’t give a shit what it is, I have to save the only person who’s ever given a FUCK about me!” He was in what could only be described as a blind rage, and you felt tears well in your eyes. Irrational or not, blind rage or not, that hurt. You didn’t deserve that. You did the only thing you could think of in that moment. You bolted to your room. He wanted you out of the building? Fine. You grabbed the only thing left in your room: the little black dress. Throwing it on under the hoodie and shoving your feet into the boots you used to hike. You throw the phone on the bed, take a shaky breath, and open the window.

The rain hadn’t let up, but there was only one place you could go. Griffiss Air Force Base. It was remote, abandoned, and had climate controlled units that Steve and Bucky had hooked solar panels up to so you would have heat. You ran as fast as you could. Your dress was riding up and you hadn’t tied your boots properly, but you didn’t care. You had to keep moving. It was getting dark, and you didn’t want to be caught in the forest alone at night. You pushed forwards, making better time than you’d ever made. Tears stream down your face, Bucky’s words still ringing through your head.

“WHAT PART OF SHUT UP DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND, BITCH?”

You knew it was important to save Steve– you’d never thought otherwise– but you could have told him about the phone while you worked together to save Steve’s life. The base is within your sights as your sobs slip past your control. Just as you’re preparing yourself to climb over the razor wire topped fence, you hear the click of a bullet being chambered behind your head.

“Hello, Y/N,” Alexander Pierce sneers. “Fancy meeting you here, you traitorous little bitch.”

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britishserpent · 2 years

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Undeniable (Loki x Reader) - Loki One-Shot, Smut, 18+

This story is also posted on my AO3 and Wattpad.

My Loki Fanfiction Master List can be found here.

This story was inspired by a question I asked myself: "What would have happened if someone else had noticed Loki was posing as Odin before Thor's arrival in Thor: Ragnarok?"

This is written from the perspective of an old acquaintance who, after finally accepting he is truly gone, begins to see through the illusion.

This does explore feelings surrounding death, so please note there are some descriptions of grief in the first part of the story. Also slightly darker Loki than I have written before.

@mochie85 tagging you, my dearest. If anyone else would like to be added to my tag list please let me know.

Loki x Female Reader

18+

Eventual smut central, you have been warned!

5.7K Words

Silence had fallen upon the realm of Asgard following the King's sombre announcement of Prince Loki's death. There were no cries, nor snickers from those who usually maligned his tiresome mischievous nature. Only the solemn, heavy air of loss. It shrouded the assembly, unifying them in sorrow as they listened to the devastating tale of his sacrifice and final act of selflessness.

Prince Thor was not in attendance, nor was it addressed by the King. People naturally presumed he was buried under the weight of grief for his fallen brother, unable to leave the confines of his rooms to face his people. Or perhaps he wasn't on Asgard at all. It would be equally understandable if he was unable to set foot in the realm he called home if he wasn't returning with his brother by his side.

In the days that passed, your mind refused to acknowledge Loki was truly gone, never to return, until the memorial statue was unveiled. At that moment, you had wanted to disappear into the crowd as you looked up at the golden immortalisation, forever holding his outspread arms skywards.

Flashes of your stolen time together flittered through your brain one after the other as you gazed upwards, frozen in place. Your thoughts were as impossible to hold on to as they were to halt. Though he had grown distant from you as the years had passed, content on finding his own sense of purpose in the world without you, this did not ease your torment. The memories were so vivid they could have been yesterday.

Your throat tightened as you looked on. Your knees threatened to buckle as you helplessly repeated the mantra of 'Not here. Not in front of everyone' over and over again. Shakily drawn breaths intensified as you attempted to hold back tears that insistently continued to well.

When the first tear finally broke through the barrier, you had hastily taken your leave from the ceremony. Your legs fought against you with each arduous step you took, averting your gaze from questioning glances. Despite this, you opted to walk the remaining distance home, unable to speak to beckon transportation.

In solitude, grief had washed over you, engulfing you completely. Days became weeks, and when the drowning weight of loss eventually began to withdraw, acceptance slowly crept into the space it once occupied.

There was nothing you could do to rectify the situation. Loki was gone. You no longer pondered whether he had thought of you in his final moments, eventually resigning to the fact that he probably hadn't. It was logical to assume he hadn't thought of you for years.

At night, doubt began to cloud your memories. Once intimate moments seemed foolish and misinterpreted. You recalled the time his lips had tentatively brushed against yours. One final glance before you locked the memory away for good. Your stomach turned as you remembered you had been too stunned to respond, and he had hastily recoiled from you.

When you had searched his face for meaning, his eyes had pooled with something unknown. You now identified it as regret. Why else would he have distanced himself from you in the days and weeks that followed? Eventually separating himself entirely. That had been the last time you had ever been alone together. You cringed as you pushed the memory into the depths of your mind, begging it to remain there and not resurface.

As you tried to go about your days, establishing a new sense of normalcy, you had grown resentful of the statue. Whenever you passed it now, you ensured you cast your eyes down. It was far easier to look at the ground than at his golden immortalisation. It represented misinterpreted events and unrequited desire, and the lid on the secure box of memories in your mind rattled whenever you saw it in the corner of your eye.

"We're going to be late." The words of your maid pulled you from thought. You had mentally drifted away somewhere safe, allowing you to forget where you were headed. As realisation dawned, an unseen force pulled at you, adding resistance to your movements. Your mind screamed against you with each drag of your feet.

You wanted nothing more than to retreat to seclusion again. The last thing you needed today was a dramatic retelling of Loki's death to plunge you back into sadness.

The play had already begun when you approached the outdoor theatre. A dense crowd had gathered to watch the new tragedy at the request of the King. Though you were thankful for the wall of bodies that blocked your view of the stage, you were unable to mute your ears from the words of the actors.

You grimaced at the imitation of Loki's voice. Nothing could ever quite match his melodic deep tones that had often sent a shiver up your spine. Stop. It is not wise to dwell on such things.

"My lady, surely the King will not refuse a seat beside him. Come." Your feet rooted to the ground, and the maid gently wound her hand around your arm to guide you, pulling you closer to the raised marble pergola. You resisted when she attempted to guide you up the steps, and you muttered "Here is fine" as you sat down, gracefully settling your hands on your lap as you did so.

Although the plays hosted at the theatre often had a flair for dramatics, you couldn't help but furrow your brow at the absurdity of the display that unravelled on the stage. It seemed in poor taste, almost like a mischievous prank of Loki's. You soon cast aside the impossible thought as you looked at the crowd, they were captivated by the tale, and sad whimpers sounded around you.

You stole a sideways glance at the King who lay unusually relaxed across the forest green velvet sofa he occupied. It surprised you that he showed no signs of the grief you had expected. Guilt pooled in your stomach for judging his demeanour, and you quickly averted your gaze back to the stage as his head began to turn to look at you.

You were horrified he had nearly caught you openly gawping at him, and your body remained tense as you tried to drag your attention back to the play. As it was approaching its climax, you leaned forwards as you listened to the lines playing out Loki's final moments.

A loud chuckle snapped your gaze back to the King. He playfully placed a grape in his mouth as he watched on, and his lips sealed around it with a mischievous smug grin. Your heart skipped a beat as you began to look through the facade. You would know that grin anywhere, even if painted upon the face of the so-called King.

As the moment of realisation hit you, his eye met yours, and his expression faltered slightly as he read the look in your eyes.

Bastard.

He cleared his throat, leering down at you - a wordless warning - before turning away. Your stomach lurched as the ground felt like it fell away from beneath you, and you quickly stood. You felt questioning eyes on you as you teetered, unsteady on your feet. "My lady, are you alright?" You did not respond to your maid, and now fuelled by adrenaline, you bolted through the crowd towards the exit.

All sense of your surroundings was lost until you heard the familiar slam of your door behind you, and you helplessly collapsed against it. Unable to catch your breath, you crumbled into desperate sobs.

Loki had been here all along, allowing the realm to mourn him. What selfish desire had brought him to do such a thing? At that moment, you allowed anger to overtake all other emotions. You hated him.

Unable to cry any longer, you eventually dragged yourself to your bed, mindlessly staring at the growing shadows in your room as nightfall approached.

There was no relief to be found in sleep, if anything it would give way to troubling nightmares and memories you would rather forget. Your mind was numbed to even the insistent knocking on your door.

As the door handle turned and the maid entered, you twitched from your state, quickly snapping "Go away" as you turned over. You did not want to be disturbed. Such a harsh tone had never left your mouth before, and the maid paused before she paced across the room towards you.

"My lady, the King has requested your presence. You must come at once." You groaned, intent on remaining in the bed, unwilling to hear what he had to say for himself. "Can you pass on my apologies, I don't think I'll be able. I'm unwell."

Instead of taking her leave, her hand met your shoulder, urging you to turn over to look at her. You reluctantly shifted your weight as she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Guards are waiting outside. I fear they will not accept no for an answer."

You dragged yourself upright as you acknowledged her words. He had sent guards to retrieve you. When you finally looked at your maid, concern was evident in her eyes.

As you swung your legs from the bed, panic coursed through your veins. If Loki was intent on appearing as King Odin, you were nothing more than a threat to the elaborate lie he had created. He had always been hungry for the throne, and your mind swirled with images of his furious rage directed toward you.

The maid left you in thought when she left the room to retrieve a basin of warm water, placing it at your bedside when she returned. She gently cleaned your tear-stained face, pity evident as she did so. As her hand smoothed your finally tamed hair, she offered a forced smile that gave no reassurance. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be fine, my lady."

Though you wanted her to be right, you were certain it would not be fine.

A pair of armoured guards waited for you in the hallway, which only spurred the sense of dread that washed over you. You shouldn't have looked at him, shouldn't have attended the play at all. Your instincts to return to your rooms had been right.

Your legs refused to move, and a guard's hand met the small of your back, guiding you towards the carriage that waited outside, "My lady, the King is waiting." At least he had shown a final kindness for providing transportation, he could have forced you to be marched through the streets of Asgard for all to see.

When the carriage finally stopped, the only thing you could focus on was the movement of your unsteady legs as the guards escorted you to the throne room. Their Heavy footsteps echoed around the vast room as you entered, and your breath hitched as you took in the intimidating appearance of the King.

He was annoyed by your delay, impatience evident on his face as he sat atop the imposing throne. A seat he had not earned, and if anything, had stolen from his father.

You attempted to swallow down the hard lump that had formed in your throat as the guards deposited you at the bottom of the steps that led up to the raised platform. The veil had truly been torn from your eyes, and you saw Loki behind every movement the King made as he shifted in his seat to leer towards you. It was deeply unsettling.

"That is no way to greet your King. Kneel."

His words echoed around the room, and defiance coursed through your veins as you remained on your feet. "Leave us" he hissed to the guards, and they cast a questioning glance at you before taking their leave.

Though they were swift and coordinated with their movements, the clinking sounds of their armour seemed to endlessly trail on as they made their way to the doors.

As the King's gaze hardened, you were unable to form words, let alone move when he rose from the throne and made his way towards you. Though he had been thorough with his transformation, each step had the undeniable sway of Loki, and your throat constricted further the closer he got.

You cast your eyes down as he approached the final step, unable to look him in the eye any longer.

A firm hand met your shoulder. "Insubordination will not be tolerated. You would be wise to recognise your place. Kneel." He began to push you downwards, but your knees refused to bend.

Anger rose within you at his audacity to continue with the charade. It pushed all other feelings aside as you snapped your head up to look at him. "No. I will only kneel for the King. And you are no King, Loki."

The sly grin that spread across his face only confirmed you had been correct in your accusation. That was not an expression that belonged to Odin.

He removed his hand from your shoulder to focus on creating the veil of seidr that began to shroud the room. A silencing charm. Your pulse thundered through your ears, and your eyes widened as you contemplated whether he had cast the charm to conceal your choked final screams.

His eye narrowed as he looked at you, assessing your reaction. You felt judgement for your reaction. "Did you mourn?" He had not intended for his voice to break through his illusion, and your stomach dropped as you heard Loki's voice for the first time in an age.

How were you supposed to answer that question? Of course, you had mourned for him. As had the rest of the Kingdom.

Dissatisfied with your failure to answer his question, he raised his arm with a swift movement, placing it against your head. Before you had time to react, he was already prying your mind open, flinging open the secured box of your most private memories.

It was a new level of invasion he had never subjected you to before, and you desperately tried to fight against his power to no avail.

Wave after wave of impossible sadness washed over you as his intrusive magic flicked through memory after memory. Your reaction to being told he was dead. The unveiling of the statue. How you had lain in bed each night drowning in thoughts of him. And finally, how you had seen through his illusion earlier that afternoon.

As he finally retreated from your mind, you dropped to your knees. It was not an act of submission, your legs were simply unable to support you any longer. You were drained by both his seidr and the memories he had forced you to watch along with him.

You didn't realise you were staring at the floor, desperately panting until his cold hand reached beneath your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back up.

Your waterlogged eyes did not fall upon the expected view of Odin. You instead looked up at Loki's towering form, the expression on his face completely unreadable.

Your heartbeat thundered against the walls of your chest, and the colour drained from your complexion as you began to drown in fear of what he would do next. You attempted to glance at his free hand, expecting a dagger to appear at any moment.

"Look at me." The tone of his voice was eerily cold. You couldn't. You didn't want to look into his eyes as he killed you. Surely he would grant you that final mercy.

His grip shifted to harshly grab your jaw, beckoning you to look back at him. You instead clenched your eyes closed as you waited for a blade to dig into the soft flesh of your neck.

You yelped as he released your jaw, and firm hands pulled you up from where you knelt, holding onto you as you blindly teetered on your feet. As his lips crashed into yours, your breathing halted. You were completely frozen in place, unable to react. What the hell is he doing?

Your eyes tentatively opened as he pulled away from your unresponsive mouth, his brow furrowed with conflicted emotion as he stared down at you. What did he expect?

"You never told me. Of your feelings toward me." He finally broke the silence. After looking into the depths of your mind, uncovering how you had discovered his secret, that was his response.

You were emboldened by the rage that welled within you, interpreting his statement as one last torment.

"If you're going to kill me, can you at least grant me the final mercy of doing it quickly? It is hard enough to stand here after you have pried my mind open. You have once again fooled us all. And I was the only one stupid enough to see through your facade. I will not apologise for your mistakes." Your voice faltered as the words endlessly trailed from your mouth, free of any filter.

He released his grip on you as the unfamiliar feeling of shame rocked his being. He had planned on locking you away in the depths of the dungeons with your mouth silenced, never to see the light of day again as he carried out his duties as King.

His head spun with versions of the right thing to say, and now with his own filter thrown out the window, his question spilt from his lips before he had time to overthink it. "Do you still love me?"

You seized the moment he finally showed vulnerability in his eyes. "No. There is a fine line between love and hate. And you have truly pushed me over the edge. I despise you."

He resisted the urge to flinch, and instead focused on the undeniable lie he felt woven through your words, his astute mind quickly analysing what you could be hiding. "Are you sure about that?"

You scoffed at the audacity of his question. Of course, you were sure. You despised the fact he had led everyone to believe he was dead, claiming the throne for himself. His softened gaze and hopeful half-smile halted your thoughts.

The longer you stood there in silence, the more desperate he looked for you to respond. It was almost as if he was begging you to stop pushing your memories back behind a fortified wall in your mind.

You hated him for it. And you hated him. Right?

Unable to withstand his expression any longer, you steered the conversation away from his continued attempts to belittle you. "What have you done with your father? And what of Thor?"

He looked almost disappointed with your questions, and the vulnerability in his eyes quickly retreated. "Thor is a witless oaf, he is on Midgard." His words dripped with venom. "And the father who left me to rot in chains? He has been dealt with and will continue to spend his final days in the realm he despises the most. A fitting end."

You contemplated his response, relieved to hear they were still alive.

"Do you intend on killing me?" you finally asked, and your heart almost skipped a beat with his short response of "No." Your stiffened frame refused to relax, and your mind refused to accept you were potentially not in imminent danger.

"I wish I could trust you," you replied with a hushed tone. His conflicted expression returned as he took a step closer to you. You should have taken a step away, maintaining the distance between you. But your feet refused to move. "What are you going to do with me?"

With his previous plans discarded, he truly hadn't thought that far ahead. He quickly formulated a response intended to put you at ease. "How about an offer of keeping you locked in my rooms, rather than the dungeons? Until you prove your loyalty to me, and me alone." Your breath hitched at the answer you had not expected.

Your mind swirled with ideas of what exactly he intended to do with you, locked away in his rooms with nobody to assist you. Once again your words flowed from your mouth as you contemplated your fate. "That's rather presumptuous of you. And how am I supposed to do that?"

He moved closer still, and the movement of your heavy breaths almost had your breasts brushing against his chest. Your body betrayed you as a flush crept up your neck. Perhaps you shouldn't have let your final question slip.

"Oh, I have a few ideas, dove." He leant his face back in towards yours, lingering so close you could feel his warm breath with each exhale. Your body betrayed you yet again as you instinctively licked your lips.

He grasped the opportunity to kiss you before you could move away, and your mind screamed with thoughts of what exactly his aim was with such an action. That was until you felt the warm waves of emotion that finally relaxed your tense body. Perhaps he didn't intend on causing you harm at all. You don't typically kiss your prey before you pounce for the kill.

You found yourself closing your eyes as you returned the kiss, forcing yourself to hold back and allow him to take the lead when such uncertainty lingered in the air.

As his arms wound around your waist, pulling you flush to his muscular frame, you were immediately lost to the closeness you had never shared before. He had taken a sledgehammer to your wall of defence, and you were now willingly pouring suppressed emotion into each movement of your lips against his as the kiss intensified.

When he finally pulled away from you to inhale a ragged breath, you shifted your head back to attempt to read the expression on his face. Your breath hitched when you saw the glaze of desire in his eyes. A desire you had not seen before. Think this through. What if it's yet another action he regrets once the moment has passed?

Driven by the thought that ran through your mind, you reached down to harshly grab his manhood. You were surprised by your ability to do such a thing, and even more taken aback by the warning that followed; "If you cross me, I will direct my rage to what you treasure above all else." Your grip around him tightened, and his arousal twitched in response.

"My, there's that bold nature I remember. Where's she been hiding?" His sultry velvet tone washed over you, and a sly grin pulled at the corners of your lips. "I've been behaving myself. Perhaps I should have found such boldness earlier when you were still debating locking me in a cell." You released your grip on his straining member as you responded, and his lips now formed a mischievous grin that mirrored your own.

"Well, then I encourage you to misbehave more often." Arousal pooled in your core at his words, and he shifted his arms to grab your wrist. He turned away from you as he guided you up the steps that led towards the throne.

As you both settled on the final platform, he paused, pulling on your arm to turn your body. His chest now pressed against your back as you both looked onwards at the empty throne room. A shiver ran up your spine as he gently brushed your hair over your shoulder, and leaned in close to your ear. Arousal crackled in the thin veil of air between his lips and your flesh.

"Look at it. This could be yours. Endless possibilities within reaching distance. If you submit and pledge your allegiance to me." You leant back into his broad frame as you contemplated his offer.

He placed a kiss against the soft skin of your neck. "Think of the King I could become with such a fine woman by my side." His arms found your waist again, but they soon drifted over your body, enveloping you in his embrace.

"You can't tell me this isn't what you want. I am willing to admit I was a fool for distancing myself from you so long ago. Perhaps I would have found my ascent to the throne far sooner if I had kept you close." Your eyes closed as he placed his lips against your neck again, continuing to kiss his way across your exposed flesh.

"I would ask if this is another of your tricks, but it would be foolish to ask the trickster himself." A deep chuckle vibrated against your back, "This is no trick, I assure you."

"And if I accept your offer, I will be shown to your rooms and not thrust into the arms of the guards who are waiting outside?" He released his embrace to turn you around to face him, holding his hands in place on the curve of your waist as he studied you with awe. He sealed your fate with his reply, "Correct."

His arousal pressed against you as you shifted closer to him. "Good. We have much to discuss. Prince Loki died with honour, and it's only right we plot his return with the same sentiment in mind." He lapped up your words that now flowed free of any restraint.

"We? Norns, you amaze me. I like this side of you. Alluring, cunning, lethal." You smirked at him, "What can I say, you bring it out of me." You placed a kiss against his lips, and as you pulled away, his head continued to drift forwards to find you again. "Sit."

He raised a brow at your command. "Sit?" he repeated. "Yes, on your throne." His eyes darkened as he acknowledged your intent to continue this game a little longer, and willingly obliged as he took a step back.

You swallowed as he settled into the throne with legs astride, waiting for you. His demeanour exuded confidence, and his eyes glistened with dangerous arousal. You could not deny he looked perfectly at home sitting atop the throne of Asgard. Perhaps this was truly where he was destined to be, regardless of how he obtained it.

He looked on with curiosity as you dropped to your knees. Resisting the urge to leer over you, he kept his back leant against the throne. You raised your hands to rest atop his thighs as you looked up at him. "I submit to you, my King."

A low growl left his throat as you traced your hands up the tight buttery leather of his trousers, exploring the muscular contours that lay beneath. You shifted further and further towards your target, and your hands found the laces that contained his straining manhood. Before you pulled at the strings, you paused to look back up at him. "Allow me to demonstrate my loyalty."

His breath hitched with anticipation at your words, and unwilling to waste another moment, his trousers disappeared with a shimmer of green seidr. Your palms now pressed against his reddened cock that twitched beneath you, begging to be relieved.

You reached around his girth, and his exhale shuddered as you began to run your hand up and down his intimidating length. He was much larger than you had anticipated, and as you guided him into your mouth, your jaw ached in response to the unfamiliar fullness. Loki did not take his eyes off you for a second.

The ache quickly melted away as animalistic desire took hold of you under his gaze, and you continued to work further down his shaft with enthusiasm. Breathy moans escaped his mouth as you pleasured him, spurring you to push further. He quickly met the back of your throat as he bucked his hips against you.

His hand flew to your hair, grasping at your tresses to anchor you against him, and a choked "Fuck" left his mouth as you hummed around him. You were a mess of saliva and tears as you continued to please him, lapping up the sounds of approval he offered.

As his grip tightened on your hair, you felt his body tense beneath you, and his cock twitched within your mouth. "If you don't stop I'm going to-" You cut his words short as you suctioned around him, increasing your pace as you slid your mouth back down his length.

He growled "I told you to stop" as he pulled on your hair, the sharp twinge forcing you to halt your movements, and he dragged your head away from him to hungrily drink in your appearance. His free hand shifted to thumb away the moisture on your face. Taking his time, he hummed with approval following each swipe.

"You would be wise to listen to my instruction. When I say stop, you stop. I'm not finished with you yet." He pressed his thumb against your mouth, silencing the response he could see brewing in your mind. You parted your lips and took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before you sucked it clean. He immediately dragged his hand away.

Your eyes widened as he left his seat to stand, dragging you up with him. Before you could comprehend what he was doing, you were spun around and thrust towards the now unoccupied throne with a swift, harsh movement. Teetering forwards, your arms automatically reached out to catch yourself, and your hands splayed against the gilded armrests.

Your clothing dissolved from your body as the cool sensation of his magic washed over your skin, and your flesh prickled with goosebumps in response. He didn't give you a moment to revel in the sensation as he harshly slapped the skin of your now exposed arse cheek, and the sound echoed around the empty room.

"Move. Kneel on the throne. I want to get a good look at you when I take you." You had only just swallowed your yelp of surprise when he issued his command. Your body moved without needing to be asked twice, and your knees quickly felt the warmth of the place he had occupied only moments ago.

You gripped onto the low back of the throne with whitened knuckles as you awaited his next move. He didn't leave you waiting long, his hands quickly met your inner thighs, prying them open, and you willingly sunk down further as you spread your legs for him.

He hummed again with approval as his hand met your core, gliding across your slickened folds. You shuddered in response to the much-needed friction, and ground your hips back against him, begging for more. "So wet for me already. But I didn't tell you to move." Your hips ceased their movements immediately, and he dragged his hand away from you.

"I'm sorry. Please," you begged, desperate for him to touch you again. His hands dug into your hips as he anchored you in place, and he watched as he guided the tip of his cock into your wanting core. He held himself there, and you wanted to scream out at that moment. It was deeply arousing yet not enough to satisfy you. You needed all of him.

"Such a good little whore, aren't you?" You would normally object to such a word, but for Loki, you were willing to be anything for him and the future he had offered. You would be his cold, calculating confidant as he planned his return. And you would most certainly be his obliging whore if that is what he asked of you. You had truly surrendered, accepting him as your King.

"Answer me," he commanded, his patience wearing thin as he resisted the urge to plunge into you. "Yes. I'm your good little whore." He snapped his hips against you with ferocity, and you threw your head back in response to the heady fullness of his cock inside you. He dragged himself from your tight walls before slamming into you again, working his length further into you with each movement.

You desperately wanted to squirm against him, but his tight grip kept you from moving your hips back against him. "Fuck, Loki," you moaned. The world stilled around you as he buried his remaining inches within you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he poured emotion into each movement of his hips, and he finally dragged his gaze from you as his head fell back, completely lost to the pleasure that engulfed you both.

As your walls tensed around him with each rippling wave of pleasure that dragged you closer to the edge of release, he plunged back into your depths, quickening his pace as he too chased the same high. Your arms shook with each movement that now rocked you forwards, and your body tensed as your orgasm began to ravage you.

This only spurred his movements within you, and with a final scream of "Loki" that echoed around the empty chamber, you tipped over the edge of release entirely. His movements began to falter as you clenched around him, impossibly tight, and with a final snap of his hips, he filled you completely with his spend. Your arousal continued to twitch around him as your walls gripped onto him for dear life, and he dragged out your high by grinding his hips against you.

You had become truly undone for him, and a level of satisfaction you'd never experienced washed over you as he grasped your hair, forcing you to release your grip on the throne. He pulled your upright body against his heaving chest as you both attempted to catch your breath.

You whimpered as he pulled his cock from your spent core, and he placed a kiss against your neck as he breathed in your intoxicating scent.

His supporting arms dragged you back from where you knelt on the throne, and your feet grazed the floor as he shifted your bodies. He settled back into the throne, perching you on his knee, and his arm wrapped around your frame to draw you into his chest.

You found comfort in his warmth and purred against him, still heady from the impossible high you had reached.

"Well, do you?" You hummed as you pondered the meaning behind his question, confused as to what he was asking. "Still love me." Your heart skipped a beat. Surely a raw moment of passion was not enough for you to admit such a thing. "I'm getting there," you responded.

His lips pulled up into a knowing grin as he sensed the true answer that screamed within your mind. It was undeniable. Yes.

#loki fandom #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki x reader #mcu loki #fanfiction #loki odinson #ao3 fanfic

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freesia-writes · 9 months

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Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 39 - Reunion

Even as a cocky young shiny, there were a few people who saw the integrity and depth beneath Howzer's facade. Aurelia was one of them, but life tore them apart. However, when they found themselves reunited on Ryloth, with drastically different circumstances, they have to learn anew how to navigate a changing world and their undeniable feelings for one another.

Master List of Chapters

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapter posts not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death (chapters 12-14); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and infant loss (chapters 31-38); sexual assault up to kissing (chapter 19); relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to but not described (no smut, sorry) ;)

Word Count: 2.1k

39. Reunion

Dreading each step, Aurelia walked slowly from the medical clinic to the hangar. Lennox had informed her during their lunch break that she was needed for a brief meeting, and she had a sneaking suspicion that her diminished usefulness over the last two weeks had finally warranted some action. After all, they couldn't support a freeloader with the already-stretched resources for the growing clone resistance. She'd have to start from scratch again. At least she would be let down kindly, knowing Chuchi.

"Hello, Aurelia!" came the bright voice from inside as she slipped inside the hangar. A couple of clones were working on an armor repair project atop some crates, and the main ship they used was noticeably missing. Riyo Chuchi approached with a warm smile, guards standing silently nearby. "Thank you so much for coming down. I hope you've been doing alright?"

"Yes, Senator... Thank you. I'm sorry that my contributions over the last two weeks haven't been--"

"Please, don't apologize. It's completely understandable," was her surprising response, emphasized by the earnestness on her face as Aurelia met her gaze. "I was wondering if you could return here later tonight? I'm sorry I didn't just send a holo, but I wanted to see you. 2100 hours should be good, if you can? I know that's late, but I promise it'll be worth your time."

"I'll be there," Aurelia confirmed, wondering what the Senator had in store.

* * *

Aurelia had fallen asleep early that afternoon, and she woke with a start. The chrono read 21:17, and a panicked flurry of preparation had her out the door within minutes. The trip to the hangar was fairly quick, but as she pushed the door open, it seemed darker than usual. She spotted Lennox across the room, chatting with Gregor, who was enjoying a hot beverage while resting on a crate. The faint sound of Chuchi's voice could be heard, and Aurelia paused, peering out from behind a long row of crates. She was bidding Echo farewell with a tender hand on his shoulder, nodding after him as he headed back toward the ship. Another clone stood beside her, wearing a plain inmate suit, and as Aurelia's eyes reached him, her heart skipped a beat.

Could it be?

The hair was the same. The posture. The movement. She found herself unable to move, frozen to the ground in disbelief. Chuchi said a few words and the clone nodded to her, then turned to move further into the hangar as she returned to her guards. The light struck his face, illuminating the curves and edges.

Howzer.

She couldn't believe it was real. He was alive. And here! In the time it took her to come to her senses, he was drawing near, passing Gregor and Lennox as he tossed a passing comment over his shoulder to the few others that were gathered there. Continuing on his way, he caught sight of her, and a myriad of emotions swirled all at once in his brown eyes, dark under the dim lights. He quickened his pace, purposeful and focused as he strode toward her, and she rushed to meet him, flinging her arms around his waist. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, resting his cheek against her head and stroking the back of her hair, holding her as though he couldn't get close enough.

"I can't believe you're here," Aurelia said softly, words muffled by his shoulder. He pulled back a few inches to cup her face instead, searching her eyes as though they held all the answers to life. The intensity in his gaze sent an electric shock through her body, and she relished his touch, leaning forward to press her forehead against his.

"I was thinking the same," Howzer murmured, brushing his nose against hers.

"It's like waking up from a dream," she whispered, drowning herself in the sense of him. He smelled slightly different, certainly affected by a day of travel and whatever else he had been through, but the sound of his voice, the feel of his strong back against her hands, and the sight of his eyes, overwhelmed with sentiment, washed over her with an inexpressible peace and joy.

Lennox had followed Howzer with his gaze, aware of the captain's name when he'd received the ship log and any medical needs that the crew would have. Watching him take Aurelia into his arms sent an ache through his chest, and he dropped his eyes to the cup in his hand.

"Ahh, bad luck there, mate," came the squeaky voice of the clone commando to his right, watching the whole exchange as well. "Although -- no offense -- can't say she's got bad taste in men!" Gregor giggled, apparently oblivious to the angst churning within the medic beside him.

"Hmm," Lennox offered feebly, a mirthless chuckle from a straight face. He felt happy for her, at least he told himself he did. It was all she'd wanted, and wasn't that true selflessness? Wanting the best for others? He nodded silently to himself. But was it what was best? All things considered? A deep sigh broke his silence, and he raised his eyes back to the two of them, still holding each other in the shadows of the crates. Aurelia was resting her head against his chest, her hand wrapped in his, held gently against his heart, and his lips were pressed to the top of her hair, eyes closed, savoring the moment as long as they could.

"Hey now... Don't tear yourself up, eh?" Gregor's unsolicited advice broke through Lennox's thoughts. His lilting voice brought a levity to his words, though they were insufficient to reach the medic's dejection.

"Yeah, you're right, Gregor," Lennox said halfheartedly, clearly somewhere else in his mind.

* * *

Aurelia couldn't let go of Howzer's hand as they made their way back to the clinic. Her mind was flooded with a million questions, a million things to tell him, and yet it was also silent, somehow fully present, soaking up every single second with a fervent desperation as though he could be ripped away from her again at a moment's notice. As the door to her little room slid open, Howzer lifted his eyebrows at the miniscule accommodations.

"I guess we'll have to maximize the space, eh?" he observed, and the provocative hint in his smooth voice sent a wave of tingles over Aurelia that she hadn't felt in months. "Listen," he said, turning to face her fully, and she basked in the fondness of his gaze, "We have a lot to catch up on. But I smell like a womp rat, and I'm sure you're tired..."

"I should be," Aurelia agreed, running a hand up the outside of his arm and bringing it to rest on his shoulder, "But I'm skeptical that I'll get anywhere near sleep anytime soon."

Howzer smiled, somewhat wistful at the overwhelming emotions still swirling about. "Well, give me a minute to get cleaned up, and then I'm yours." His words carried a weight heavier than either of them expected, and tears sprang unbidden to Aurelia's eyes. She lifted a hand to his face, caressing those scars that she'd come to know like the back of her hand. She traced a thumb across his cheekbone and felt as though she might explode. How was she ever supposed to let him go?

She didn't need to worry about that for now, though, and by the time she had changed into lounge clothes that fit gently on her soft, changed form and brushed her hair and teeth, Howzer was finished with his shower, standing in the doorway to the refresher with a towel around his waist. The sight made her heart skip a beat, and her mouth fell open slightly, feeling a heat flush throughout her entire body. He looked the same, except a bit more gaunt, and she wondered with a pang what he had been through over the last number of months.

"In my eagerness to leave, I seem to have forgotten the supply kit that Echo told me to grab on the way out... Got anything to wear that I'd look good in?"

Aurelia laughed, unable to believe his playful affection as though no time had passed. She shook her head, throwing her hands in the air in mock despair. "You're going to have to make do with my robe," she said, pointing to the hook outside the refresher door. Howzer pulled it on over his towel, smirking at the way it clung to his arms and shoulders, stretching tightly across his back. He struck a pose for a moment, earning another genuine giggle from Aurelia, who felt lighter than she had in a long time, and she opened her arms, inviting him to join her on the single bed pushed against the wall in the corner.

They entwined around each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces once again, acknowledging their slightly different shapes that had been sculpted by their very different paths. Aurelia's ear was pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, strong and steady, and she traced fingers lightly from his collarbone to his shoulder, down his arm, and up his stomach. He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes at the touch he had felt so starved for, and pulled her closer.

"You're gonna be in trouble if you keep that up," he murmured suggestively, eliciting another wave of electricity from her head to her toe. The recent pain of life had been held at bay by the utter shock of his arrival, but it came washing back over her, settling heavily into her stomach. She had to tell him.

"Howzer," she began, pulling her head back to face him. They gazed into each other's eyes, heads inches apart on a single pillow, and she took a deep breath before continuing. "I can't do that... for a little while... until I heal."

"Heal?" he said, furrowing his brow and propping himself up on an elbow, looking at her intently. "What do you mean?" His thoughts raced with a million possibilities, none of which were good, and he felt an immediate clamminess over the fierce protectiveness that blazed within. "Wait... you wanted to share something with me... I never got to hear..." he struggled to put pieces together, eyes rapidly flitting back and forth between hers with consternation.

"I was pregnant," Aurelia said, almost inaudible as her voice grew thick with emotion, "The day you left."

"No..." he breathed, eyes widening as he reached for her hand. "Oh... Reli..." he rumbled, getting a little hoarse himself, "I'm so sorry. What...?"

"He didn't make it," she interrupted, voice quavering as tears sparkled down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to explain more, but closed it again, squeezing her eyes shut with a minute shake of the head as the grief tore through her anew. Howzer was lost for words, jaw dropped slightly as he stared at her in speechless disbelief. He closed his mouth slowly, gripping her hand and pulling her against him again, shaking with silent sobs as she cried into his chest. After a moment, in a quiet pause, one word resurfaced again in his mind, stabbing him through the core as he uttered it aloud.

"...he?"

They held each other for hours, alternating between silent mourning, loving caresses, and whispered thoughts that jumped from topic to topic. Aurelia finally drifted off to sleep as the sun began to peek around the corners of the window shades, but Howzer remained awake, staring at the ceiling as he stroked her hair, over and over, agonizing over what she had been through... without him. The exhaustion was catching up to him as well, though he fought it, perhaps trying to punish himself for not being there for her. But he'd had his own nightmares and struggles during their time apart. He'd done the right thing, standing up against injustice and refusing to leave his brothers behind, though it had come at unspeakable cost. Only three of them had made it out alive, and Aurelia's news added further weight to his shoulders.

He breathed deeply, turning his head to watch her, unconscious and vulnerable next to him. He traced a finger down the side of her face, and she flinched reactively before comfort licking a few times and going still again. His heart felt as though it would burst through his chest, overcome with affection. Nothing was promised, and the immense fragility of life as well as the unpredictability of the tumultuous galaxy didn't offer much hope. But he pushed the fear aside, vowing that he would continue to do everything in his power protect those he loved and uphold any goodness still to be found.

Whatever the cost.

Feel free to tag a friend who loves Howzer or comment to be added to the tag list! <3

@mary-on-the-contrary @doublesunsets @523rdrebel

#the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch fanart #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #commander howzer #clone trooper howzer #tbb howzer #captain howzer #the bad batch howzer #howzer #howzer x oc

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scfrozenover · 2 years

Text

Happy Friday! Have lots of fluff and also smut and friendship and Hanukkah and siblings and GOATS! All the good stuff!

Following along? Don't forget to copy today's fics from the master spreadsheet to your own!

Bon Hiver

[David/Patrick - E - 41,388]

Patrick, fresh off ending his engagement, is desperate to not be around people this Christmas. It seems like a long shot that the owner of this cottage, in a town neither he nor anyone he knows has ever heard of, is also looking for an eleventh-hour escape over the holidays, but ... there's this pull in his gut that he's curious about.

The Holiday AU, part of the Frozen Over festival

Stickers of old men and a thousand yen

[David/Patrick - T - 3,620]

The birthday kiss between David and Patrick didn't happen, and now it's Christmas. What are they going to do when they draw each other in the town Secret Santa gift exchange?

But a couple of weeks later, Twyla pulled the names and now he had to find the perfect gift that said, “I think you’re amazing and sexy and gorgeous and perfect and I’m half in love with you, and would you please kiss me already” but with, like, a spending limit of $25.

Braid the Pieces Together

[David/Patrick, Rachel/OC - T - 3,276]

“I got a text.”

“From who?”

“Rachel.”

“Oh wow. When was the last time you heard from her?” David’s voice was curious, his eyes were still on the TV.

“The barbecue.”

David finally turned to look at Patrick. “What does it say?”

Patrick smiled. “It’s an olive branch.”

you're the only girl i've got on my list

[Rachel/Heather - G - 3,070]

“Where is the —”

“In the hall closet —”

“And the —”

“Also in the hall closet —”

“What about the —”

“Rachel, I love you, but I’m about to burn this quiche.”

A glimpse into Rachel's First Christmas at Warner Farms.

The Perfect Gift

[Alexis & David - G - 2,348]

One or both of them get the other the perfect gift. Because they (not so) secretly love each other a lot. Maybe when they are kids? Or post canon?

Adelina takes David and Alexis to visit Santa Claus at the Mall. David is less than thrilled by the whole experience.

Don't want to give anything away, so just read this short, sweet story for yourself to find out more 😊

Santa Claus, North Pole, H0H 0H0, Canada

[David/Patrick - T - 2,172]

This year, in the spirit of keeping things local, Canada Post has set up a little group writing session for all those who wanted to participate in the Letters to Santa program at City Hall in Patrick's new home of Schitt’s Creek. He’s only been here for a few weeks, having left his hometown seeking a fresh start. Finding himself missing all the comforts of home at this time of year, Patrick happily leads the efforts to spread joy and holiday cheer to all the children of the town.

Welcome To The Party, Pal

[Patrick & Stevie - M - 1,626]

"Johnny wanted David and Alexis to stay at the motel tonight.”

“Oh, that sucks, sorry,” Stevie said, stepping out of the way, so Patrick could reach to brush off the snow piled on her roof.

“It’s ok, I get it. It’s nice for them to have this. I’m just going to grab some Chinese take-out, and enjoy the solitude that is a house without Ray.”

“Or.”

“Or?”

Stevie held up her hand and began ticking off items on her fingers. “Wine. Take-out. Die Hard - the greatest Christmas movie of all time. Gremlins. Non-sexy sleepover.” She raised her eyebrow in question.

Patrick grinned back at her. “I’ll meet you at your place in half an hour.”

or Patrick and Stevie spend Christmas Eve together after the Rose's Christmas Party

An Exchange of Love

[David/Patrick, Marcy/Clint - G - 1,591]

David and Marcy bake together for a holiday party. David makes a new friend. Also, there are lots of cookies!

Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

[Stevie & David, David/Patrick, Stevie/Ruth - T - 1,563]

Stevie and David, much like the snow, thaw over time.

sweet delights

[Ted/Alexis - G - 1,512]

Three instances of Ted, Alexis, and wintertime baking.

[podfic] i thought i'd ask you just the same

[Alexis/Twyla - T - 35 minutes]

Does Alexis wish she could sing? Maybe. It's occurred to her once or twice. But then people's expectations would be higher than zero, and she'd have to try to meet them. It's always seemed like an awful lot of work for something that simply has to succeed, and it’s always been easy enough for her to make money off of simply entertaining people.

This holiday album, full of covers of well-known songs and familiar melodies, is different. She’s not contractually obligated to do it, and putting out something serious when her public image is the exact opposite feels like a risk. But she figures: when has she ever turned down a challenge? Never, and she isn't letting twelve songs and the iTunes streaming charts change that any time soon.

Alexis Rose, star of A Little Bit Alexis and sole breadwinner for the entire Rose family, gets more than she initially bargained for when she decides to make a Chrismukkah album with the help of her new music producer, Twyla Sands.

CREATORS: If your works were released today, please don't forget to update your posting date!

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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Persephone's Symphony | Day One | Persephone

Hey lovelies— so as per my usual shenanigans I've decided this will have no schedule and that I will play god to my own creation because what is life without some chaos? The pros are you might not have to wait a week between updates, the cons are you might have to wait a week between updates. In all seriousness, please enjoy my lovelies!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 3.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She can’t hear what the man in the truck says to him— the walls of this house are surprisingly thick. She supposes that’s a good thing. It means she will be able to go about her days normally while cooped up here. Well, as normal as possible. She doubts she’ll be able to get away with her three am rom-com marathons and ice-cream binges. She doubts she’ll get away with screaming in her sleep— and in the shower and at the breakfast table and when doing any, little thing that makes her remember that her life is one, constant nightmare.

It’s only three days— all she has to do is stay awake for three days.

While his head— her body guard’s head— is turned she leans against the kitchen sink, inching back the white lace curtain for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s like a little game at this point. She peeks at him, his eyes snap to hers, and she squeals and drops the curtain. Thank god the walls are thick. It’s almost unnerving how tuned he is to every little movement— not almost, it is unnerving but she supposes that is what makes him a good fit for this job. A good fit for keeping her alive. Like she has been doing for months now, she ignores the way her chest squeezes painfully.

Through the little strip of window that she allows for herself, she traces over his features one last time. Cropped black hair, a square jaw, at least two days worth of stubble. He looks like a bodyguard— rough, dangerous, manly— and that’s before taking into account the sheer size of the man. She is on her tiptoes, one hand pushing against the stainless steel below her for dear life, and she still has to crane her neck to properly see his face. She refuses to let her eyes wander any further than that— she had already glimpsed at the rest of him when he had made the short walk from the truck to the house. She already knows he’s massive.

His eyebrow twitches and she drops the curtain— she may not be as fast as he is but she’s a quick learner. Had she held the curtain open longer she is sure his eyes would have flicked to hers again. Those are the rules of the game, after all. She hears a muted thumping and the door handle jiggle from across the room, spinning towards the faded farmhouse door. She watches as the door handle turns, her throat tight, wondering where all the air in the room went— it was there a second ago.

The door pushes open and she jumps away from the sink, only just realizing what it’ll look like if he comes inside to her still hunched over the window. Of course, he’s already seen her but that’s beside the point. Part of the game is not talking about the game. A boot comes into view— the black, military grade kind— and it hits her like a punch to the gut that this is real— there really is someone out there trying to kill her. Now she really can’t breath. She can only force her lungs to expand to draw in some oxygen before her bodyguard finds her sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.

The boot is quickly followed by a leg, which is then, by default, followed by a torso and a head. A head that turns and watches her freeze, red handed like a bandit, in the middle of the kitchen. Gods, she should have just kept leaning against the sink— this is worse! Her hands are up and everything, shot out in front of her like she’s about to jump him or something. Yes, her— the girl currently in a hoodie that pools around her legs, displaying her knobby knees and bad posture— about to jump him— the man who had to practically duck to get through the doorway. She could laugh. In fact, she almost wishes he would laugh at her. She wishes he would do anything but look at her with that blank expression and those ice blue eyes.

“Uhm—” she blinks, trying to think of something to say other than holy shit you’re a giant— which, for the record, is what she wants to say— “hi?”

Are you serious, y/n?

He tilts his head at her and she almost cries. Not the same fear ridden, heartbroken, panicky cries of late. More so the awkward, why the fuck would you say that to the man charged with keeping you alive brand of cries. The normal kind. She drops her hands to her sides, slipping them into the pouch of her hoodie and tangling her fingers together. She can only allow herself to display one embarrassing thing at a time.

The man stays silent for a moment, each second of which makes her cheeks flame hotter and hotter, before finally opening his mouth. “Hi.”

Her chest deflates— some of the heat subsiding. He copied her. Whether purposefully or mockingly it alleviates some of the stupidity she’s feeling. She takes a few steps backwards, her bare feet pittering rather loudly over the worn hardwood. Well, that didn’t last long— there’s that embarrassment again.

“I’m y/n,” she squeaks out— gods, is Mickey Mouse in the building? “I guess you already know that though, huh?”

It was a stroke of genius putting her hands in her pocket— at least now he can’t see the way they shake furiously. She has to resist smashing her head against the sink. Nothing about this situation is optimal, to say the very least. Here she is making small talk with a man who could tear her in half. Her eyes drift to where his red henley pulls taut around his biceps— are they bigger than her head?

“James—” her eyes flick back up, face hotter than the sun, both from her blatant staring and the deep gravel of his voice— “but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t know why, probably because she’s an idiot or because she isn’t expecting him to say more than three words. He seems like the strong, silent type. Maybe that is just the rom-coms though. Maybe her brain is just mush now.

“Okay,” she all but whispers, backing further into the sink. His piercing eyes have yet to leave her— something which makes her knees knock together and fingers clench. “Which should I call you?”

He tenses, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and she has to swallow the bile that rises in her throat. It’s day one and she’s already offending him. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down until the tangy, metallic taste that she has grown too familiar with these past months floods her mouth. She tells herself that she does it to keep from cursing. Lying to herself is another game she likes to play.

The longer he remains quiet, the more she regrets asking the question. His blue eyes are still latched on her, drifting over the space between her eyes and her busted lip, but somehow they also seem miles away. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her— seeing her— or if he’s seeing something else entirely. It isn’t until she pushes off the counter, taking a hesitant step forward, her foot slapping against the wood like it’s trying to embarrass her again, that he blinks. She pulls one of her hands from the puddle that is her hoodie, sliding it over her hair. Can he see the way it shakes?

Probably.

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It was a dumb ques—”

“Bucky,” the word is rushed out, falling over her own stuttered babbling. He slows after that, his face remaining stoic but his cheeks dusting with the slightest hint of pink. “Call me Bucky.”

She doesn’t point it out— she doesn’t have a death wish. Her being here right now, standing across from a literal giant, barefoot and shaking, is proof enough of that. Instead she nods gently, lowering her hand slowly. He’s not going to attack her— he isn’t a wolf— but still she takes the precaution. Better safe than sorry.

“Bucky it is then.”

He nods stiffly and she pretends like it doesn’t make her hands shake harder. She waits for him to speak, eyes drifting over the blue cupboards and the breakfast nook, taking in the applications of the home and trying not to scream. She feels so out of place, not used to the warmth in the room— the lingering smell of yeast and the flowers in the vase on the table. She used to bake all the time. Now she can barely bring herself to microwave frozen dinners. The sun that filters through the crack in the curtains and lands against her cheek feels like pure fire. She spends her days in the dark— she wouldn’t be surprised if she was allergic to the sun itself now. Allergic to all the things she used to enjoy.

The silence is too much— she has to speak to keep her throat from closing. If she doesn’t then it may not open again.

“So—” she draws the word out, her eyes flopping to the floor where her toe scuffs against a particularly worn board— “we just kinda follow each other around then?”

His face doesn’t change, his lips remaining in the same, expressionless line— a master of one trade. “Pretty much. I follow you.”

“And make sure I don’t die.” She fills the rest in— there’s no point not to. He’s definitely seen the pictures.

Finally his expression shifts, his lips pressing together tersely. It’s an answer in it’s own right— he pities her. He shifts his weight between his feet, the floorboards creaking below him. It could just be her but the sound slices through the room— loud and unforgiving— and she can’t stop the way she flinches. He freezes, obviously noticing her reaction. She almost slaps herself. Leave it to her to make an already tense situation worse. Is it going to be this awkward the entire time?

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is softer than his boots, barely reaching her ears as it cuts through the rigid atmosphere.

She doesn’t know what to say— how do she tell her bodyguard that she doesn’t believe him? He’s supposed to be the one saving her life. It feels risky to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Like telling the universe that she wants to die. She doesn’t want to die. It’s just hard not to think about death when it follows her everywhere she goes. For twenty-four years she was just y/n. Now look at her.

The queen of death.

She doesn’t know what to say so instead she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She makes grilled cheese for lunch. It is nothing special but the smell of the butter alone makes the energy she has to scrape together to make them worth it. She can’t remember the last time she cooked like this— the last time she tasted anything but freezer burnt macaroni and lumpy gravy. A couple times she almost drops the spatula, her fingers not used to having to be so coordinated, but the promise of melted cheddar has her fighting through the tremors. That and the audience of one, standing next to her with his arms crossed like he’s judging her culinary skills rather than looking for snipers.

It’s all in her head. That’s what she tells herself at least.

“You want extra cheese?”

She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her face— is there something on her cheek? “Sure.”

It’s all in her head.

She flips the sandwiches, watching as the fluffy white bread is replaced with a perfect, golden brown toast. Her stomach growls, the sound somehow louder than the sizzling pan in her hand. The scream bubbles in her throat again— fuck. Why must everything she does be so humiliating? Why can’t she just keep it together for three days!

“Bacon?” Cue the voice crack.

“Bacon?” He repeats the word back like he hasn’t the faintest clue what a pig is— like somehow he’s a giant of a man but has never touched a piece of meat in his entire life.

Like it’s the dumbest question he has ever been asked. She swallows— hard— her cheeks pooling with heat again. She’s starting to wonder if it ever even left. If he asks she’ll blame it on the steam rising off the pan or her hoodie or both. But he won’t ask— he won’t speak until he has to. It did not take her long to gather that fact.

“You’ve never had bacon on grilled cheese?” It feels like he’s glaring at her.

It’s all in her damn head.

The floorboards groan underneath Bucky again and instead of flinching this time she tries to imagine what they might be saying. Save me, he’s crushing me! She flicks her eyes down, glancing at those military grade boots and then at her own toes, tiny and feeble compared to the size of his gear. One wrong step and her foot would likely be broken. She isn’t too worried about that though— he seems careful. His movements thus far have been slow and calculated, skirting around her and leaving at least a few feet between them at all times. Maybe that isn’t to keep from stepping on her though— maybe he just doesn’t like her. She wouldn’t blame him.

“You say it like that’s unheard of.” He doesn’t say it angrily but there’s no exuberance in his voice either— just the monotone she’s come to expect. It’s been one hour and she can already see how the next seventy-one are going to play out.

“Where I’m from it is.”

There’s a pause— the sound of butter crackling against the pan and of the steady picking up of rain against the kitchen window as it eats away at the sunshine— and she’s expecting the conversation to drop there. He isn’t there to entertain her, after all. That’s what the TV is for— what Leonardo DiCaprio is for.

But then there’s an answer. “Where are you from?”

The corner of her mouth lifts— an action so foreign she can practically see the dust shedding from her rusty smile— and she turns from the frypan long enough to meet his icy eyes and to throw out an arm, putting the front of her hoodie on display for the stoic man.

“SoCal.”

Her mouth lifts higher when Bucky raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He could be mocking her but she chooses to believe he’s interested. She chooses to believe that they are making progress and that she won’t have to spend three days talking to the walls. She turns back to the sandwiches, flipping them for the last time before laying down a few strips of bacon next to them.

She isn’t expecting him to keep going but she also isn’t complaining when his voice tickles her ears again. “Caltech, huh? S’that Pasadena?”

She tries to keep her smile from morphing into a full blown grin— she isn’t sure if her poor lips would be able to handle it. It’s been too long since she last used her mouth this much; both for smiling and talking. “Yes sir— born and raised.”

He hums and she watches from the corner of her eye as he leans to the window, peering out of it for a moment. There’s no one out there— at least she strongly doubts there is. This place is in the middle of nowhere. She hasn’t even heard a car since the truck that dropped Bucky off drove away. It’s supposed to be peaceful. She doesn’t see it. All she sees is the dreadful but necessary silence— at least hopefully that way they’ll hear someone coming.

“How about you? Where are you from—” she flips the bacon, pushing it around the pan, her mouth watering at the thought of the greasy, gooey goodness she’s about to consume— “You mind finding some plates?”

She hears him rummage through the cupboard above his head— well, above her head, in front of his— before two mismatched pieces of dishware appear before her nose. Grabbing them, she lets the corners of her lips tick up just the tiniest bit further.

“Indiana— but spent most of my time in Brooklyn.”

“It shows.” She muses, not turning to see whether or not he appreciates the comment.

It’s true regardless— she can hear some of the mannerisms of New York in his voice. Not many. He hasn’t said enough for her to truly gauge just how strong his accent is. Still it’s there, in the gruffness of his tone, just like she’s sure the SoCal shines through in her. At least it normally does— lately she hasn’t exactly been the picture of sunshine.

She removes the sandwiches from the pan, layering them carefully onto the plates. After staring at them for a moment she settles on the one that she wants, handing Bucky the bigger of the two. It’s only fair— he could probably eat at least four. She watches as the giant gives it a glance, rolling her eyes when he hesitantly lifts it to his lips, taking the smallest of bites. Is he afraid of a sandwich?

“I promise I’m not trying to poison you— I need you to stay alive, remember?”

He only grunts.

She has to turn away when he takes a bigger bite, her eyes refusing to detach themselves from his lips. Unprofessional and inappropriate. The orphan and the bodyguard. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, shoving the thought to the back of her mind and replacing it with the heavenly taste of gooey cheese, melted butter, and greasy bacon. She doesn’t have to dissect the thoughts of her delicious food like she would have to the other ones. Cheese doesn’t require a checklist about whether or not her grief quota is up to code. Clearly it’s not— clearly she’s just sick in the head. She takes another bite.

The two eat in silence for a couple minutes, the tension in the room melting for the first time since she introduced herself. Thank gods for cheese.

After a few more moments Bucky sets his plate down, turning back to the window. At first she thinks she is hearing things— like her mind is now also playing tricks on her as well as making her feel like a terrible person— but then it registers and she has to fight back another inappropriate smile.

“You were right about the bacon.”

Maybe three days won’t be so bad.

____________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license

#Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky imagine #mcu fic #mcu imagine #marvel cinematic universe fic #marvel cinematic universe #Persephone's Symphony

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amphxtrite · 3 years

Text

cedric diggory x fem!reader

part one: Never Let You Go. (smut)

warnings: mentions of smut (but not actually smut), swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: Life with Cedric leading up to your graduation is pretty normal, except for the fact you hide the fact that you’re dating. With amortentia, avoiding practice for cuddles and a graduation dance coming up, how long can this relationship stay a secret.

a/n: thank you to the wonderful @mullthingsoverinthehotwater for this idea and all the help! She’s amazing go check her out!!

word count: 3.4k

tag list:@cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @coldlilheart @inglourious-imagines @evisbored @mayaleon0614 @dogsandrocketsocks

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Waking up in the arms of a lover is the most ethereal feeling you could imagine, a safe feeling, so comfortable and warm, even with the slight pain that poked at you when you tried to move your legs.

As you lay next to Cedric the sun rose through the clouds and casted an angelic glow on the hufflepuff’s sculpted face, it almost felt like you were in the presence of something divine, and just as mortals were in tales of of the gods, you were curious and wished to touch the miraculous boy before you. Tracing his jawline and pink lips a smile grows before he begins to stir and a light sigh rings as he awakes.

“Good morning love.” He yawns, his raspy morning voice bringing butterflies to your stomach. “What are you doing?” He smirks looking at your thumb tracing his cheek.

��Just admiring you darling.” You giggle leaning over to press a chaste kiss to the brunette’s lips. Cedric chuckles and pulls you closer against his chest, burying his face in your neck and sighing at your sweet scent.

“We should probably get you back to your room darling, we still have class today and I’d hate to make you late.” The gray-eyed boy smirks a bit, pressing a kiss to your nose before sitting upright on the bed. “Alright.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out before standing and walking towards the door, pausing when a thought crosses your mind.

“H-Hey do you mind if we keep this between us for now?” You start, a little nervous. ”I don’t think I can take any gossip right now, and I can’t have the school knowing I’m shagging the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts, they’ll hate me!” You finish with a light laugh.

Cedric can’t help but chuckle at your cheeky comment, walking over to peck your cheek before whispering. “Of course love, whenever you’re ready.”

__________

Learning magic at Hogwarts was a dream come true for you; Charms and Transfiguration were marvellous and fascinating. Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic were interesting and fun, but your favourite class, by far, was potions. Despite the potion master’s snide comments and constant eye rolls, brewing concoctions that had the properties to create and destroy was an amazing feeling. A potion has the ability to heal things even the most powerful charms cannot, they can change your form without the need to transfigure, and even break the fates to bring luck to anyone, and in that class you had the ability to do it all.

“Today, we will be brewing a very famous potion, and a very difficult one at that.” Professor Snape’s usual drone begins at the beginning of the lesson.

“Now since you are the NEWT class, I expect absolute perfection, I will write the instructions on the board and you can brew and figure out the identity of the potion with your partner. Begin.”

Excitement bubbles in you as you begin to jot down the information. You and your partner gather your supplies and begin to cut, mix and sprinkle your ingredients into the cauldron.

The distinct smell of wood combined with freshly cleaned laundry and fresh air soon floods your nose and it was as though you were on cloud nine, the scent brought a calmness to you, a safe feeling; the person connected to it was just on the tip of your tongue. A wood like aftershave, clean clothes that had swallowed you whole and the type of air only a seeker gets flying after a snitch.

Cedric peers over to you across the classroom to see you smiling at your cauldron, a dopey smile on your face. He cocks his eye brow in confusion, but as he adds the finishing touches to the bubbling liquid he immediately understands. He’s instantly transported to your arms, the scent of your intoxicating shampoo surrounding every inch of him along with chocolate and a hint of that strawberry chapstick he tasted on your lips while ravaging you in the shower. A blush immediately floods the hufflepuff’s cheeks, and suddenly his pants get a little tight.

“Mr. Diggory, since it’s quite… Obvious, you smell the amortentia. Tell us what your aroma is.”

Hoping Snape isn’t implying the tent in his pants, Cedric slaps on a small grin.

“Sweet shampoo, chocolate and strawberry chapstick sir.” He manages to nod, as Snape raises an eyebrow. “Intriguing. Miss l/n and Miss Macavoy, you were first to finish, what do you smell?”

Your partner, Heidi Macavoy’s face lights up. “Fresh parchment, Honeydukes, and broom polish.” Snape nods, looking over to you.

“I smell aftershave, clean laundry and fresh air sir.” Your eyebrows furrow for a moment when it finally hits you. There was only one person that fit that scent, in fact the only aftershave you’ve ever smelt. Cedric. Your smile widens.

The professor nods with a sigh, folding his arms and walking back to the blackboard to write. “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. Now, I would like you to write a paper on the properties of amortentia and how each ingredient factors into giving the potion it’s unique qualities. The rest of class will be for finishing your potions and starting your writing...” Snape concludes the lesson.

__________

Months pass and everyday grows closer to your graduation. Your relationship with Cedric is kept quiet, but you manage to steal kisses in dark corridors and meet in the night. Oftentimes you spend evenings in the prefect’s shower, using the sound of running water to hide desperate moans and dirty actions, but it still gets hard to remember in public you’re only friends.

Cedric adores teasing you in public, running his hand up and down your thigh underneath the table and flirting insufferably with you everyday.

“Well hello there gorgeous, where are you off to today?” He’d tease every morning.

“Oh shut it Diggory.” You’d sigh as Cedric leaned closer to your ear.

“That’s quite hypocritical to the person screaming my name last night.”

Leaving you a flushed mess for the rest of the morning. Cedric respected your want to keep the relationship a secret, he knew he was popular as it is, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with you. He loved it when you gave him the warning glare if he ever tried his luck in public, and the blush he left after teasing you brought a huge smirk to his face every time. And any chance he got, whether alone or in public, he loved to bring up your amortentia.

“Aftershave, laundry and fresh air huh?” He’d grin down to you, a playful look in his eyes. “Oh Merlin here we go again.” You’d sigh, readying yourself for the cheeky comments.

“Sounds like you smelled the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts!”

__________

The Winter snow took over the Autumn leaves and Hogwarts became a winter wonderland, sweaters were swapped with cloaks, runners became boots and scarfs covered the necks of each student in the school. Unless you were a quidditch player. The captains of each team were still determined to win the quidditch cup, and Cedric was no exception. Everyday was filled with drills, plays and scrimmages that left your muscles sore and your nose frozen from the winter cold. Cedric left no time to stare at the falling snow and each practice somehow left the team shivering and sweating all together.

You couldn’t blame each of the captains for wanting to earn the cup and lead their house to victory, but when Cedric went captain mode it seriously made it seem like you were going to be stuck by your goal post for the rest of the winter.

“Ced, it’s blizzarding outside.” You sigh as the brunette began pulling on his uniform.

“Can we please just take today off? We’ve trained everyday for the past 3 weeks!” Cedric seems to hesitate. “I-I know love, but-“

“Cedric, you know you’re overworking yourself, c’mon let’s just take today off alright?” You stick your bottom lips out in a pout and make grabby hands towards the tall hufflepuff.

“Alright love, because you asked so nicely.” He smirks and collapses back into your arms. He wouldn’t admit it, but you were right, his hands still ached from holding the broom too tight and Merlin were his feet cold. You smile before relaxing into your darling’s arms.

__________

As Winter shifted to spring, the subject of graduation became of the utmost importance.

“Graduating class! As you know at each graduation ceremony there is a ball and banquet. I expect proper behaviour, and represent hufflepuff well. It was a pleasure having you here with us.”

Professor Sprout’s speech comes to an end as the graduating students of hufflepuff cheered and applauded their head of house.

“Are we allowed to bring dates to the ball? A person not the fruit I mean.” Another student calls to Sprout as a couple kids laugh. “Of course! You can bring any of the graduating class, of any house, with you.” The short professor smiles and turns to chat with a girl.

Cedric immediately turns to find you in the crowd, smiling excitedly at you, only to see a worried expression on your face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, walking closer to check on you.

“Can we talk a sec?” You pull the Head boy by the arm to a deserted area, away from prying eyes and take a deep breath.

“Cedric, I really want to go to this ball with you, but I'm nervous about what people would think of me.” You begin cracking your knuckles in an anxious manner, biting on your lips as everything that could go wrong plagues your mind.

“Darling.” Cedric smiles and takes your hands into his. “Who cares what people say? I’d be honoured to have you by my side. If you’ll have me that is.” Cedric looks around for anyone before falling to his knee and kissing your hand. “Y/n, I absolutely adore you, and I could not care less what little minded people have to say. Accompany me to the ball?” The hufflepuff’s eyes fill with hope and love and you knew then, he was right. Cedric was your sunshine and no one could take him away from you.

“Yes Cedric! Yes I’ll go to the ball with you.”

__________

It was decided the two of you would show up together at the ball to ‘announce’ your relationship, but until then you’d stay on the down low.

It was hard seeing girl after girl walk up to Cedric with hope in their eyes only to be rejected in the nicest way possible. You were happy Cedric was yours, but some of these girls were gorgeous and sweet and it made you want to hide your face when they’d walk away dejected; although a small part of your brain jumped for joy when Cedric would discreetly look at you and wink after each confession. As each day grew warmer, so did your heart. Excitement flourished and each day held pure joy that you were one step closer to a future with Cedric.

__________

The Hogsmeade weekend before the graduation ceremony finally arrived and just like most of the graduates you rushed to find the perfect outfit before everything was gone. There were quite a few clothing shops at the village, but your favourite was the small shop towards the end of the street. A small business run by a mum and her family. You enter the shop and the smell of cinnamon and sugar greets you.

“Y/n!” Two little voices call out and two young girls make a beeline for you.

“How are my two little princesses?” You giggle, kneeling down to their level to wrap the small children in your arms.

Coming to the shop often helped you grow close to the family in charge, they were so kind and always had exactly what you were looking for.

“Where’s your mum kiddos?” You ask just as Melina, the owner and mum of the two girls, comes rushing towards you.

“Good to see you y/n dear, now you two run along while I help our little graduate.” She smiles at the girls who hug you one last time before running off to find something to play with.

“Looking for a dress i’m guessing?” Melina laughs and begins walking towards a shelf in the back. “You know me too well Mellie.” You smirk, trailing behind the brunette. Mellie brings her finger to her chin as she begins searching, her eyes full of concentration, shifting to success as she pulls a f/c gown from the rack.

“I knew this day was coming, so I made this dress especially for you.” She grins, holding the dress out to you.

Immediately you wrap your arms around her, and thank her like your life depended on it. This was by far one of the most thoughtful things someone had done for you, and it made you emotional. With small tears running down your face you pull back. “Thank you so much Mellie, it’s gorgeous.”

You giddily run for the change room and pull yourself into the gown. The f/c contrasts your skin beautifully and the shape accentuates your curves, bringing out a newfound confidence and you find yourself admiring yourself. Twirling, laughing and picturing yourself dancing with Cedric.

Despite her insisting it was a gift, you press the galleons for the full price into her hand, hugging her and the kids one last time before walking out of the store, dress in your arms. You stop at Honeydukes for a treat before making the trip back to the castle.

__________

Cedric wanted to make sure he was dressed appropriately for the ceremony, and his suit from last year just wasn’t going to cut it. He scourges every clothing shop in the Hogsmeade vicinity only to be met with empty shelves or nothing in his size. He’s about to give up and wear his old suit when a small shop catches his eye.

“Worth a shot.” He murmurs before pushing open the door. “Hello, I’m looking for a suit.” He greets the woman at the front.

“Oh you must be graduating as well. I’m Melina, please follow me.” She gives the brunette a warm, motherly smile before leading him to a rack.

“I just had a girl come in for her graduation outfit as well. Do you know y/n?”

Cedric let’s his smile shine through when your name is mentioned and turns to Melina.

“I do actually, I’m the lucky guy who gets to go to the ball with her.”

Melina’s eyes light up and she immediately rushes towards a suit towards the end of the aisle.

“Perfect, I had a lot of extra fabric when I made her dress, so I tailored a suit to go with it.” She rushes towards Cedric, pulling a tape measure from her apron pocket. Cedric raises his arms and allows the woman to take his measurements, an excited smile gracing his face.

“It’ll be a little tight in the chest, but other than that it’s a perfect fit!”

Melina quickly pushes Cedric into a change room and the brunette shrugs on the dress shirt and jacket before pulling on the pants and the cape-like overcoat. He nodded to himself in the mirror. This was perfect and he knew you’d love to see him in your favourite colour.

__________

The night of your graduation ceremony arrived and every seventh year was preparing themselves for the night ahead. Some were fretting over hair and makeup while others were content with just showing up and having fun. You were in your room with a couple of your friends, helping each other with outfits and makeup.

“Hold still Sebastian, I'm almost done with the eyeliner!” You scold the blonde as he fiddles with his fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just ticklish.”

You smile and feel a tug on your scalp.

“Gently Heids, you’re gonna rip out my hair.”

Everyone began to laugh and slowly but surely you all got dressed and prepared for the long night ahead. You slowly make your way to the great hall, arms linked with your friends and laughs ringing from everyone. Once at the doors you split up in search of your dates. You spot Cedric’s mop of brown curls and quickly make you way closer to him.

“Nice suit.” You smile and turn back to your date, smiling at the colour choice and design.

“Thanks I got it from Melina.” He grins proudly, pulling a corsage from behind his back and clasping it around your wrist.

“No wonder we’re matching!” You laugh and move your wrist around admiring the flowers. Cedric smiles as he takes in your dress, thanking his lucky stars for whatever he did to deserve such an angel like you.

“Well, you ready milady?” Cedric grins offering his arm to you. “As I’ll ever be milord.”

You take in a deep breath and push open the doors to the hall.

Bright lights flood your vision and happy cheers sound in your ears, people laughing, dancing and drinking, and overall having a great time. Your face lights up and you begin to pull Cedric faster through the room. There were quite a few eyes staring in your direction. Emotions ranging from envy, sadness, disbelief and awe were all noticed when you stepped inside with the Hogwarts Champion, golden student and Head boy on your arm. You could hear whispers claiming you to be fake, an attention seeker or whore, and a frown begins to tug at your lips. Cedric takes notice and quickly wraps you into his arms gazing at you with love filled eyes as everyone else fades away. The anxiety and disappointment evaporates and soon it was just you and Cedric swaying in the middle of the dance floor. Many of your friends shoot you thumbs ups and congratulated the two of you, but all you could focus on was the gray eyes that pulled you into a trance. When the two of you glided across the hall you could’ve exploded with happiness, Cedric ignored even his best mates just to keep on dancing with you. His eyes were glued to you and only you as your face lit up and your eyes shone like stars. He was reminded of the Yule Ball from last year and how he awkwardly danced with you, trying not to look directly into your eyes in fear of getting lost and tripping up.

If his past self could see him now Cedric was sure his mouth would be agape with an unshakable grin. the brunette kept on pinching himself just to make sure you were really in his arms looking into his eyes as if he was your world. It got to the point he couldn’t help but pull you into him and dip you into a low kiss.

So much had happened in just a couple days. He’d won a quidditch game and your affection, he made love to you in a shower, cuddled you in his bed, and smelled you in his amortentia. And while all those things were amazing, he didn’t need one more hint you were the one for him. He had fallen in love with you, and when he looked to the future, the only one he could see by his side was you; In front of him when he knelt to propose, Beside him in a white dress and a veil, holding your children in your arms and growing gray and old with him. His silver eyes found themselves tearing up as he deepened the kiss and held you there in place. The sound of whooping and groaning drowned out, and you smiled into the sentimental kiss, cupping the hufflepuff’s cheek in your hand as you wiped away his tears.

“I love you y/n, so much.” Cedric murmurs against your lips, trying to hold back his tears as you stood so beautifully before him, drying his tears and smiling that perfect smile.

“I love you too Cedric, more than you’ll ever know.” you respond adoringly.

The ceremony began and every student cried in joy at the fact they were now graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You held onto Cedric’s hand all night and as the party came to an end, you toasted to the night and all the bright days ahead.

With the newfound freedom to just be a couple, Cedric pulls you away from the dance early and with a laugh, leads you to his dorm and places you onto his bed. The rest of the evening was dedicated to your sinful thoughts and desires as lust broke free.

No one saw you for the rest of the night.

#cedric diggory #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedricsbrowncurls #cedric diggory fanfiction #fanfic #hogwarts #part 2

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kristanna-days · 1 year

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Frozen Smut Week 2023

Pearl Master List

Anna/Kristoff

Steam That Lingers @justfrozenthings

After the engagement party, Oaken has thrown them, Anna and Kristoff are more than ready to settle down for the night. However, when the subject of taking a bath is brought up, Anna has a few more ideas of how to make the night last a little longer with her fiancè. (E) Tblr | AO3

Take Me to the Pond @annaofthenorthernlights

“Please, come and swim with me.” she had asked quietly.

He wanted nothing more than that, yet… he had always considered never to force Anna to… well… in his dreams, it was different. There, they had done plenty of stuff…(E) Tblr | AO3

Two of Hearts @syzygy_mellifluous (@thecassadilla)

Kristoff hadn’t planned on having Anna join him in the shower.

He certainly wasn’t going to complain about it, though. (E) Tblr | AO3

Wedding Night @flowerinherhair (@glassslippers-n-cowboyboots)

Anna is both excited and nervous for her wedding night. (E) Tblr | AO3

Yeah, Just Like That @firawren

Anna has always been an eager learner, fearless to try new things, even if she makes a mess of them. While visiting Kristoff’s cabin, he teaches her how to bake bread, and they get a little messy together.

Which is how they both end up only half dressed.

Which then results in him teaching her another new thing, and both of them getting messy all over again. Tblr | AO3

Elsa/OC (Alarik)

The Gray Shirt @Frozarik (@frozenprocedural)

Based on this prompt: "You don't have anything to sleep in, so your lover lends you their shirt. A couple weeks later, you find the same shirt in your room. You never gave it back, and you're reminded of what it was like to sleep in the same bed as them."

Or, Elsa and Alarik's first time in the Flowers & Ink universe- Elsa is a tattoo artist, and Alarik is a florist. (E) Tblr | AO3

Kristoff/Ryder

Mint Jelly and Onion Jam, Chapters 4 & 5 @annas-hair-donut (@loonysama)

Kristoff wasn't exactly prepared for his date with Ryder, much less a relationship. But he finds himself opening up to the idea as he opens Ryder up in a different way. (E) Tblr | AO3 Ch 1 | AO3 Ch 4

💛💝💛

Thanks to everyone that participated in Frozen Smut Week: Pearl! I can't wait to see what's in store for Frozen Smut Week: Amethyst!

#frozen smut week #frozen smut: pearl #frozen #frozen fanfic #kristanna #rydoff #frozen smut week master list #pearl master list

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

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The New Apprentice Part 11

Maul x Sith reader

Word Count: 2.1k

WARNINGS: Oof um so yeah, SMUT 18+ ONLY, blood play, decapitations, straight up murder, power grab, power kinks, light cum play, over all violent.

PREVIOUS NEXT MASTERLIST

The Death Watch customized their armor. It was in the small details that you had come to be able to recognize most of them. Clan signets, certain dents and scratches here and there, slight differences in paint. You didn't know any of them personally but you knew whose throat you crushed when they stood in your way to the throne room. Maul strode with his chin held high, hands clasped behind his back as you and Savage walked behind him clearing the way. You didn't have to see his face to know that his eyes burned, flaming with anticipation.

Not many, but a few of the Watch stepped out of your way. It was them you let live. You needed numbers and mindlessly slaughtering all of them wasn't going to get you anywhere. Ghosts couldn't pledge loyalty after all. But the ones who shot or lunged for your master all met one of two fates. Suffocation followed by broken necks or simply being thrown off of ledges. Every step the three of you took could have shaken the ground with purpose. Savage had the last guard in his force grip while he clutched and scratched wildly at the invisible hand that held his throat, lifting him high into the air. You threw the towering doors open to the hall with a powerful unseen push and Savage threw the gasping Mandalorian hurtling towards the group that surrounded Vizsla in his false reign on the throne.

Blasters were raised in your direction but Maul hadn’t faltered, stalking forward he growled loudly banging his fist against his chest and pointing at Vizsla directly.

"I challenge you, one warrior to another and only the strongest shall rule Mandalore!" The guard lowered their weapons and looked to their leader who took each step off of the throne slowly but filled with resolve.

"So be it. Give him his weapon."

Bo Kataan unclipped Maul's saber from her utility belt and tossed to him. Gods, you could've fucking ended her right then and there for having the gall of being the one to hold your master's weapon. Maul force pulled it out if the air and into his hand holding it closely, igniting it with a savage roar as the red lit up half of his face agianst the sun's setting glow.

Vizsla lit the dark saber and cried out, "For Mandalore!" before charging. The two met with a violent ferocity, electricity screamed as their sabers clashed red agianst a crackling black. You noted that Maul wasn't using the force. Whether it was out of personal pride or to strengthen the chances of the Death Watch following him you didn't know but marveled all the same as you stood watching with Savage and Almec. They danced dangerously around one another, weapons shrieking with every contact.

As you had suspected, the battle didn’t last long. You were surprised when Vizsla had managed to disarm your master but he quicky regained the upper hand. Kicking the broken leader back to the foot of the throne he force pulled the dark saber into his grasp, lit it and beheaded Vizsla in front of all of his men.

You watched unblinkingly as Maul took his rightful place on the throne. His golden eyes bored straight into yours, a slickness wetting your folds at his power display. You barley registered Bo Kataan sneering something with a disgusted tone to her voice. Your masters growl rang out clearly in the hall calling for her execution along with the deserters who joined her. You walked slowly away from the door; eyes still locked on his, predatory. Blaster shots flew past you. The traitors had lit their jet packs and took flight, returning fire. You were possessed by lust, more so than you ever had ever been in your life.

You felt more than thought about your arms lifting above your head, clenching your fists and slamming them back to your side, power fueled by your emotions. The loyal Death Watch members stared in amazement as every deserter crashed to the ground with such a force that their beskar shattered on impact. Death rattles and groans of agony drifted from piles of crumpled limbs as blood pooled around them. An invisible, ethereal hand brought Bo Kataan to her knees in front of you, clutching at her neck to no avail like you had seen dozens of times by now. Your eyes still locked with Maul’s.

He leaned back in the throne grinning wickedly as you took your sabers from her belt where his had hung beside them not minutes before. You took a moment to look at her face, swollen and purple while her eyes bulged. You lifted the shorter of the two sabers to the side of her throat and lit it, plunging the plasma blade through her neck. You ripped the last tendons that connected her head to her shoulders with a violent spray of blood, drops splattering across your cheek.

The loyalists were frozen in place, even Savage was gaping but you didn’t see any of them; only your master. He must have commanded them to leave the hall because bodies in armor rushed past you as you sashayed up to the throne before dropping to your knees between his spread legs; his twitching bulge painfully obvious now. You reached up to the hem on his pants and dragged them down, freeing his aching cock.

You didn’t hesitate to drag a long languid lick from his base to his dripping tip while he groaned loudly. You captured the tip in your mouth and lightly suckled it, swirling your tongue around his head as you sunk lower down his shaft. Eyes locked onto his you took him all the way down to his hilt; gag reflex be damned. You were blown out by lust and feral for the man before you. Any slight shred of doubt you held in his plan, gone. You swallowed around him and he hissed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He gathered his bearings and pulled you off of him by your elbows and dragged his tongue over your chin and cheek, collecting the blood where it had splattered.

After cleaning every last drop off of your flesh he delved his tongue into your mouth, tasting himself on your breath. He was growling while he tore your bottoms off of you, exposing your skin to the chill of the air. His hand plunged between your folds roughly and he moaned at how wet you were; dripping down your thighs like you had already cum.

He bit at your lips viciously before pulling away long enough to pull you onto him and directing his cock into your burning core. You gasped out as he brought you down flush with his hips on the throne. You lifted slightly to fall back down onto him as he thrusted up into you. The pace was brutal, ferociously fucking each other as teeth explored one another’s soft necks. His pace impossibly picked up and your legs were starting to shake, breathing became ragged and inconsistent while you clenched around him. You screamed your release and went limp from its power as he continued to fuck into you until he was roaring animalistically in your ear; filling you with his cum. He gripped you there, on his cock, bodies littered around you, Bo Kataan’s blood staining your top. You stared into each other’s eyes until your breathing slowed.

A week passed since your master took Mandalore and instated Almec as its prime minister. The Death Watch who had remained loyal to your master had painted their armor black and red, the higher-ranking members adorned a crown of horns in semblance to Maul’s. All that had seen your display and no doubt heard your sexual activity immediately after the bloodshed obviously feared you. Going rigid if you turned a corner and walked into their line of sight. You had tried to assure them that as long as they did their jobs and served the new Mand’alor appropriately they had nothing to fear of you. This only seemed to make it worse.

That night when you returned to yours and Maul’s shared room you paced around while he read a data-pad from a desk.

“I’m gonna make them like me,” you decided aloud, eliciting a chuckle from Maul.

“They don’t need to like you to do their jobs darling.” He was wearing a long silken black robe as he peered over the rim of his reading glasses at you. He had adapted incredibly quickly to the finer things part of this new situation. He adapted quickly to all of it actually; he seemed to seamlessly juggle the various crime syndicates and the new planet easily.

“No, they don’t, however, people who serve out of fear will only serve you for so long. People who like you, who love you, will follow you to the end of the galaxy and back,” you ran your hands over his shoulders, down his chest and nibbled at his ear, “as I would for you.”

Maul took off his reading glasses chuckling louder as he turned to face you, “they watched you kill at least fifteen solders simply by lifting your arms. Then you proceeded to rip a woman’s head off who had held an air of importance within their ranks; the second I sent them away we fucked on the throne while you were covered with blood,” he gazed at you like you were the most wonderful woman who had ever existed in the galaxy and you playfully pouted.

“I guess I did scare them a little didn’t I?” you pouted coyly. Maul stood to kiss you.

“Yes, my love you’re utterly terrifying and I love it. I love you.” You rubbed your nose against his and nipped at his lips, “I love you too.”

You took his hand and pulled him into your shared plush bed, “I’ve been thinking.”

He turned on his side, propping up on his elbow and dragging his other fingers down your curves, “yes? What about?”

“The extra funds we seized from Satine’s personal accounts. I think we should use them to relight the forges that the pacifist had extinguished. I’ve been reading up on the people’s customs and it seems they value a few things above all else, the forge fire being high on that list.”

He hummed in thought, “and what of the rest of the funds? That surely wouldn’t take all of them to accomplish.”

You thought for a moment before answering, you didn’t want to come off as undermining his rule but he had asked for your opinion so you spoke, “well, Satine had been struggling to get food to some of her people. I looked into reports and found that several extensive farm land properties had been seized from various clans by the crown after failing to make payments on them. After statistical analysists, I calculated that if those lands were to bear crops and raise meat yet again; Mandalore could be self-sufficient in two seasons. I suggest we give the land back to the clans who lost them, abolish their debt and use the money to seed their fields. Mandalore would feed itself without the need for outside intervention and you’d have their gratitude along with their loyalty.”

Maul had removed his hand from your side to stroke his chin in thought of your words looking off into the distance. You waited on bated breath for his response. He eventually looked back to you with a proud smile on his lips, “that would work. You know,” he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your fingers, “you’d make a wonderful Queen. The people would adore you as I do.”

Your face heated as you looked away, honored by his praise and humbled by it.

“I will bring your suggestion to Almec tomorrow and see that it happens. I know I’ve been busy but we will resume your training very soon my love; I’m sorry the break has taken longer than I had perceived but please know I haven’t forgotten about it. It can’t be a bad thing to have a planet full of warriors grateful and indebted to me. Someone wiser than her years recently explained to me why it’s best to have people who like you, serve you.” You giggled at his mirroring and locked your lips with his.

The two of you lazily made love until sleep took hold of you both. As you drifted off into its warm embrace you sighed contentedly, the path felt clear again. This is what you were meant to do in this moment, heal these people and their planet and strengthen Maul’s rule here.

#darth maul #darth maul x sith reader #darth maul fluff #darth maul smut #lemon #SWTCW #SWTCW AU #Star wars #Star wars au #star wars smut #maul x reader #maul x reader smut #lord maul

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year

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Forever Apart ~Mon Mothma xFem Reader

Kinda sad, but right before Mon Mothma officially goes and is in the rebellion, like before their announcement sort of.

Mommy…Master List

Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, angst, smut, eating out, sadness, love confession, not a happy ending

Short to Medium length

Enjoy (:

Senator Mothma visited your clothing boutique often. At first you thought it was because she was just like any other rich woman who loved buying new clothes and things, but your opinion on her changed over time.

First, she started to insist that you call her Mon. Which at first was difficult to get the hang of, but now it was like second nature to you.

Second, she seemed to spend why more time talking with you while “shopping” and at check out than she did on actually buying anything.

And third, nowadays she didn’t even buy anything half the time. She just browsed.

And that’s how’s you came to the conclusion that Senator Mothma, Mon, was really looking for a friend or someone to talk to…

And you were perfectly fine being that person.

I’m fact, you were delighted to be. Probably a bit too much. Every time you talked with her, butterflies flew in your stomach. And your cheeks were often rosy red.

It was hard. Mon was an attractive woman to say the least. You had trouble keeping her out of your mind when she wasn’t there. So when she was, you were basically fucked.

Especially considering how unhappy she was in her marriage with Perrin, your mind had decided to take its own path with that. A very provocative and sinful path…

But she wanted a friend. And that’s what you gave her. Nothing more. Even though you craved more…

You craved to take off each white layer of clothing she had on.

You craved her body for you to worship in its entirety— her legs, her hips, her hands, her breasts, her neck, her lips…

You craved her silky, delicious voice in your ear, whispering your darkest fantasies into reality…

Ohhhh, this woman…

But you were there to listen and be there for her. Nothing more, nothing less. No matter how much it pained you. It wasn’t your place.

But oh boy, did all this change one fateful day…

Mon had come into the shop for like the fourth time this week, which was irregular.

She completely skipped any surface level introductions or talk and just pulled you aside, taking no time to even pretend she was shopping.

Mon grabbed your arm and pulled you aside “We need to talk. In private.” She whispered.

You were frozen. She had never been this close to you… Touching you… Breathing on you…

You broke out of your trance and responded in a hushed voice, “My office?”

Your heart was beating in anticipation. What could she possibly want to discuss in private??

You guided her to your private office and shut and locked the door once you had both entered.

You both just stood there for a minute.

Mon broke the silence,

“Darling, I need to tell you something…”

The fact that she called you “darling” made your heart flutter…

“Okay. What’s up?” You asked, your voice full of concern.

Mon took a deep breath and walked over to you. She gently grabbed you hands and squeezed them. Chills ran through your body.

“I… I’m going away for a while… and…” she choked on her words a bit, her voice becoming meeker, “and… I may not return…”

She looked up at you to gauge your reaction. Your face was flooded with concern and confusion. Where was Mon going?

You had a gut feeling… but you didn’t want to believe it… You had always had a feeling that Mon was an avid fighter against the empire… You knew she was. You just couldn’t accept it.

The beginning of tears which you desperately tried to hold back began to form in your eyes.

“Where…?” You croaked, your voice clearly effected emotionally, “Where are you going?”

Mon looked at you with sadness and what… couldn’t be… love?

She sighed. “I can’t say I’m afraid… But I’ll miss you dearly.”

You couldn’t stop the emotional talk from taking over, “You’ll miss me?” you desperately asked.

“Yes.” She chuckled, her voice laced with sadness.

“Really?” For some reason, you not believing her. For some reason, you needed more proof.

Mon came closer to you and raised one of her hands to caress your cheek, “Yes I will, so much.”

Before you could say anything else, Mon’s lips were on yours. It was a sorrow filled, loving kiss. You quickly reciprocated, adding more passion, which Mon equaled out as well.

Breathless, you both separated from each other with smirks of sadness.

Silence.

This time it was you who broke it.

“What is I never see you again..?” you fearfully whispered.

Mon didn’t have a response.

She didn’t know what to say.

All she could do was embrace you.

Eventually though, Mon did say something…

“Let me prove it to you. Let me prove how much I’ll miss you. Let me show you how you make me feel.”

You looked at her perplexed for a moment, until she started to back you into your desk.

It clicked for you then what she was doing, and you where by no means against it. She tentatively lifted you onto your desk and spread your legs slowly.

Then, she knelt down and rolled up your skirt. All this while keeping constant eye contact with you. She slowly removed your panties and then made her way to your heated core.

It was soaking.

Mon hummed in delight as she began licking and swirling her tongue in your folds.

You moaned out in agreement with her.

She lapped up your cunt in a oddly civilized yet carnal manner. At a steady pace, but in such a sinful way. She had your toes curling and your knuckles white from gripping your desk.

You came, moaning Mon’s name over and over again, your legs shaky and your eyes rolled back.

She cleaned you up completely with her tongue.

Mon stood back up, licking her lips.

She came up to you and kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue and lips.

She stepped back from the kiss and whispered, “I‘ll come back. I’ll find you, I promise.”

You nodded. Even though your gut told you that you wouldn’t see her again…

As she was about to leave, you impulsively grabbed her wrist.

“Wait!” You said.

Mon looked back at you with soft, caring eyes.

“I love you, Mon Mothma.” you whispered.

Mon’s eyes brimmed with tears.

She took you in for one last, tear filled kiss.

“Oh my darling, I love you too.” she whispered through light sobs.

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rightsockjin · 3 years

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Timbs part 2

Hello beautiful people! Merry Christmas and Happy holidays! Since this blog has grown so much even during the time of our temporary hiatus, and this story (Timbs from the dynamite series) continues to get attention, I thought that I'd listen and write a part two! Happy Christmas Y'all! Also, I do want to address some stuff that is in this pic. First off, as a group, the writers at right sock decided to give each member of BTS a permanent girlfriend. So basically, nicknames which will make it easier to refer to other girls. This is the first real place you will see that. Y/N is nicknamed Bunny in this. But Y/N is used as well. Just incase it confused you.

Anyway! On to what we all came here for!

Summary: After your last encounter with your best friend and the words exchanged, you aren't sure where you stand... but maybe you should focus on where you lay...

Rating: M! Big M!

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff. All the good stories are hehe.

word count: Drum roll please....7,378!

Warnings: Stalking, being eaten out, mentions of blowjobs, kink talk. someone walks in during the deed....kinda. Jealousy. General meanness. Naked people y'all. nipple stuff. I think that’s all??

Part one

Master list

He closed the door behind him. It thudded thickly in the small apartment of his that you frequented. It was in the same state as you had seen it the last time you had been over. Boxes were still packed, dust covered the old furniture, save for the couch that had been a combined gift from all of his friends as he was the last to move out, that had come with the appartnemnt appartment, and heaps of bubble wrap and packing peanuts littered the floor. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

Your nose itched and you could feel a sneeze coming on. With a slight shake of your head, you looked over your shoulder and gave your best friend the look. Eyebrows slightly raised at the center, a light smile teased your nude, mint chapstick coated lips. A hint of incredulity mixed with “really?” and some other emotion that you tried to snuff out completely. Something akin to fondness perhaps?

Jungkook had his black shirt covered back to you. His hair was grazing his lower ears and lightly ruffled as he turned to look at you after checking that the door had indeed locked as he forgot to lock his door constantly which made no sense because it was an automatic lock, but somehow, he had already gotten people accidentally walking in on him in less than opportune moments. Namely, this girl who lived near by was always accidentally walking into his apartment thinking it was hers, but you surmised that she couldn’t possibly be that stupid and was coming in purly because she thought Jungkook was cute and single.

You knew this because one time, you had been over and she “accidentally” walked in while Jungkook was in the restroom with a cute little confused face on which fell as soon as she saw you lounging on the couch eating a particularly stringy mango. She stumbled through an awkward apology before quickly closing the door and going to her actual apartment.

But Jungkook was convinced that she was just very lost and very new to the building. You couldn’t bear to break it to him. Or maybe you didn’t want him to realize that she most likely had a crush on him. A creepy, stalkery crush… maybe you should tell him...

Jungkook’s mask sat slightly under his nose. His eyes widened when he noticed you staring, completely zoned out from your light flashback. He blinked in confusion, frozen for a second before he slowly crossed his arms and raised his own eyebrows at you.

You shook your head and scrunched your eyebrows at him then. Your hands held up in question. A stance that clearly said “what are you looking at me like that for? I’m the one judging you here.”

Again, with mirth in his eyes and his nose scrunched slightly, signaling that he was smiling under his face cover, he mimicked your stance. He leaned down slightly to get on your level. His mistake. You would think he’d learn by now.

You smacked the side of his head lightly enough that you were sure it didn’t hurt but also hard enough to get him out of this weird theater mirror exercise thing he was doing.

“Ow? What the fuck, Bunny,” he questioned, closing one eye tightly and rubbing the spot on his head you had tapped as if you had bruised him.

You rolled your eyes but reached up and patted his head lightly before giving his hair a small scratch that you knew he loved as an apology. Without fail, he smiled down at you with squinty eyes and a scrunched nose. The fondness in his eyes reached your own body. A sense of calmness. Your body relaxed.

You made to remove your hand from his hair, but he put his own hand over yours, begging you to keep it on his head for a second longer. You complied, only because you liked to mess with his hair almost as much as he liked for you to mess with it.

Jungkook ripped his mask off as you mused his hair gently. His breathing slowed and he let himself take yet another step closer to you. The scent of sweet pea flowers danced around him like a lullaby.

He was tired. He hadn’t realized he was tired until that very moment, since your outing hadn’t really been something to tire him out. He was usually fairly energetic around you and lunch was hardly an activity that would make him feel tired, but now, a nap was sounding really nice. He wondered if you would nap with him if he asked.

But then your hand was off his head and you were stepping away and the peace was lifted. He snapped his eyes open, a pretty pout decorated his pink lips which went ignored by you.

“You should really unpack all this stuff Kookie. The dust is really obnoxious.”

And then you rubbed the underside of your nose and sniffed aggressively. Jesus, how were you this...breathtaking? He felt the emotion building in his chest. It compressed into his ribs and pressed on all his organs. It grew bigger and bigger until it felt like he would explode. Almost like the weeks before when you had your head between his legs with your saliva dribbled down his cock and onto his-

AACHOOoo!

Jungkook was nearly knocked off his feet with the force of his sneeze. Instantly, the pressure in his chest loosened a bit but not entirely. Not enough. He blinked down at his body, feeling betrayed.

He could already feel his nice slacks starting to squeeze around his middle. He could only stand there in shock as he watched blood flow to his third leg. He had really thought that he had gotten past the phase of his crush on you where every little thing you did turned him on.

But then again, sucking him off while he fingered you in a barely lit room wasn’t exactly a little thing. It was huge. And he wasn’t just talking about his dick.

If he was a braver man, he would have made something of that first encounter. Maybe asked you where you stood. Maybe confessed that as much as he thought you were beautiful in every physical way, he was highly attracted to you. Just you. The you that barged into his room whenever she felt like it. The you that texted him every morning with a synopsis of your crazy dream and used the word dick as a verb, a noun and an adjective at any given point. The you that liked to bitch at him for every little thing he did because it was out of affection.

But no. You had left that day and neither you nor him had mentioned it once while you hadn’t rejected any of his date invitations, he couldn’t muster the courage to actually ask what your relationship was. Not even in passing. He was starting to wonder if it had actually even happened or if he had imagined it, but every time he goes for his laptop and sees the dent on the edge where it hit the floor, he is forced to recall the sweet scent of flowers and your dripping center.

He had to stop that. If he kept letting his head wonder this way…

Well, he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, which is why he hadn’t brought it up. Or that’s what he told himself.

“Well bless you,” you said with a slight giggle, “That sounded like it hurt.”

Jungkook forced his awareness away from his crotch, realizing that if he wanted you to not see it, it would be best to not draw more awareness to it himself and the limb that was awkwardly sticking to his left leg.

“A-a little. Maybe you’re right. I really should sweep this place. I just haven’t had time since i’ve been spending so much time out with you.”

You scrunch your nose at him. His cheeks were a little red, though you assumed it was from the cold outside since the tip of his nose was also a bit red. Then, he pushed his hair out of his face, you noticed that so were his ears.

Weird. He only ever got rosy ears when he was embarrassed? Well he should be. His apartment was a mess. He probably shouldn’t have even moved out. You doubted that he knew how to clean his own ass let alone do his laundry. You were going to tell him exactly that, sass locked and loaded but something- maybe it was the way his pants fit or the way that his chest protruded through his shirt or the muscles in his arms- told you to look down.

His thighs were always your favorite part of him. So strong. Rideable. How could you not when he spent so much time making sure that they were solid as a rock. You could salivate, in fact you were salivating thinking of the last time you had your mouth anywhere near those legs and his dick deep in your throat.

If you really focused, you could fool yourself into thinking that he was hard in that instant. But no. Wait. Was it? Was he?

You snapped your eyes back to your friend. Your friend that you wanted to be more than that but you refused to say so, to see that he was looking around the apartment thoughtfully.

“Why don’t you go home for today, Y/N? I should get started on-,” he cleared his throat and visibly swallowed, hoping that if he got rid of you quickly enough, then you wouldn’t have a chance to notice the log that was in his pants.

You on the other hand weren’t sure what to do. His suggestion made you do a double take. Your boundary issues had not been resolved from last time. And this was evident in what you said next.

“Gonna beat it to the last time you got a real blow job instead of asking for one or what? Small dick energy.”

And who else could that have been than you? Your brain caught up to your mouth a second too late to take anything back. The words floated out in the open like an invitation. Well, wasn’t it? Isn’t that what you had meant? Probably. Your brain tended to go that direction when it came to Jeon Jungkook but had you really just offered him a blow job?

There was a second in which Jungkook’s face steadily turned the color of a cherry tomato and he began to sweat slightly. His eyes were wide and he was looking at you like he must have misunderstood. Were you speaking the same language?

His body tensed and blood pumped predominantly to his cheeks or his nether region. He felt a little faint even. Was the room spinning? It felt like it could be.

You watched him reel and try to compose himself. This was similar to the last time you guys had partaken in activities that weren’t usually shared by platonic friends. And like that instance, you felt the urge to run. To get out before he had a chance to don his other persona. The one that makes you weak in the knees and something of a brat.

“Is that like an offer or are you being an ass?” he asked, sass dripping from his tone. He pushed both hands into his pockets, the tips of his fingers grazed his hardened rod, already sensitive despite it not being entirely hard.

You crossed your arms, not sure if you wanted him to take you up on your invitation or if you wanted to retract it.

Jungkook took a step closer to you, waiting patiently for you to find your voice. He wasn’t going to pressure you. As much as he had enjoyed it last time, he couldn’t live with himself if you did something just for his sake.

You leaned against the back of his couch, the head rest was pushed slightly against your lower back, grounding you.

“No pressure, Y/N,” he assured, suddenly feeling like the playful tone that this activity had taken on the last time may seem a little pushy if you really didn’t want to partake once again.

But this solidified in your mind that as much as he seemed turned on, he clearly had enough respect for you to make sure you really were into the situation as much as he was. This was enough to push any feelings of unease aside and focus just on what was being given.

“I mean… honestly, don’t you kind of owe me for last time? I basically did all the work and you just sat there like a rock.”

Jungkook gaped at you, he put a hand over his heart and scooted slightly closer so that there was only a foot of distance between the both of you now.

“You were the one calling the shots babe. If you wanted me to do something more than just shake that,” Perfectly sculpted and hard work evident, “ass then you should have said something.”

His vibrato dropped for a second, his eyes met yours, “I’d do anything you ask of me, Bun.”

Your heart palpitated wildily in your chest. The words he had spoken to you that night came back to you then. You dreamed of those words. Hoped he would say them again in a different setting but never had even acknowledged that it had even happened, so you were left only with dreams and foggy memories of the way your name sounded on his sweet lips and the three words that you craved to hear.

He’d probably said it in the heat of the moment. The emotions were high and your climaxes had just...well climaxed so maybe it wasn’t that he L-worded you. It was that he L-worded what had just happened.

The issue then was that you did mean them. You meant when you said that you L-worded him so the blow of your relationship staying exactly the same as it had been before, nearly made you want to cut ties with him completely out of pure embarrassment. But you couldn’t. Because he didn’t let you. Any time you didn’t answer your phone, he was at your door. Any time you avoided set dates, he’d find you. The jerk wouldn’t let you leave, and you were too weak to let him go anyway.

But then there was that sparkle of...something, in his big eyes that made him seem so genuine and willing. Subconsciously, he licked his lips and you could only imagine those same lips on you. His head between your legs.

Could you take his offer? Did you have the courage to ask for what you wanted?

“A-anything?”

Junkook’s teeth made an appearance before he chuckled lowly, “Do I make you nervous? Is- is that’s what’s going on here?” He asked, gesturing between you two with one finger. Confidence poured out of every pore.

Instantly, you scoffed. Because no. Jungkook, baby boy, bunny teeth Jeon didn’t make you nervous in the slightest. But then why did your voice get stuck in your throat? Why did your mind go blank? Why were you fidgeting incessantly?

Jungkook hissed, a laugh chimed deep in his throat, “Who would have thought that the only thing I needed to do to get you to shut up was to offer to do you? Wish I would have known this years ago! I would have offered more often.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles flexed against his shirt. Your body thirsted at the sight. What would he look like on top of you? Pinning you down?

Your eyelid felt heavy. Lust coursed through your body. If you could just speak-

“So what will it be? Want me to eat you out? Fuck you? Spank you? Or are you more of an orgasm denial type of girl? You know, if this is going to work out, we should really talk about those kinks. Maybe think of a safe word? Or are you not that kinky? Cuz I’m pretty kinky so we should definitely talk hard limits as well-”

You watched him monologue in complete shock. Did he think that this was going to be a common occurrence? No. You didn’t usually sleep with guys just for the hell of it unless you were never going to see them again, and Jungkook clearly did not fit that criteria so no. You couldn’t just casually sleep with your best friend.

You opened your mouth to tell him this when you suddenly tuned back into the conversation.

“-and I mean… I know it might have been a bit fuzzy but I’ve had fun on our dates so far so I guess it’s natural that we take this to the next level? If- If that’s okay with you! Mama always told me that a gentleman never rushes his woman. Not that you’re mine! Or like that I own you or anything like that! No, no, I just mean that I like you and well you like me and like… the dates? So we’re like together? A couple? Should we have that conversation as well? I don’t know… what do you think, Y/N?”

You blinked at him in complete shock. Had you been dating Jungkook for the last couple of weeks and hadn’t noticed?

In hindsight, he had been paying for some of your meals and while he had done this on occasion, it had become more of a regular thing. He’d also been a lot more clingy than he had been. He’d even tried holding your hand a couple of times only for you to panic and pull away.

All of this information seemed to hit you like a ton of bricks. Oh my God… You had been dating Jungkook! How the hell did you miss that??

When you didn’t answer, combined with the horrified expression on your face that he had no way of knowing wasn’t complete disgust at the idea of him touching you, Jungkook feel like a total idiot.

To him, it seemed clear that the last thing you wanted was for his nasty hands anywhere near you. Couldn’t he take a hint? Clearly not, because you hadn’t so much as tried to kiss him on the cheek and now here he was offering to eat you. Talk about jumping some steps.

He took a step back, trying to give you some room so as not to force himself on you but he could feel his heart constrict. He was not gonna cry. He was not gonna cry. He was not gonna- oh…

Tears pooled in his pretty eyes. They burned with emotion and he really wanted nothing more than for you to leave and never speak to him again while at the same time wanting to jump into your arms and be comforted.

Regardless of his feelings, he stayed rooted to the spot he was standing in, his hands folded neatly before him as he bowed his head in a small apology.

“Oh...I uh… I overstepped. I’m so sorry, Y/N… I didn’t mean to- to make you uncomfortable.”

He balled his hands into fists trying to distract himself from the emotional pain of the blow you had dealt.

You on the other hand, were struggling to come to terms with what was happening. How did you stop this from spiraling further? And.. was he crying? No! He couldn’t be crying! You had to stop this. He may be obnoxious and a baby but he was apparently… your… obnoxious baby!

Without thinking much, you closed the distance with one big step and wormed your arms around his torso. You shimmied your head under his chin. Jungkook seized for a second. Unsure what he should do.

But as the shock wore down, he let his body relax and wrapped his strong arms around your body as he was shocked with emotion. At the end of the day, you were his best friend and if he was going to be consoled after a girl broke his heart, it would be you who would do it, even if that girl who broke his heart… was you.

But then, why were you kissing his neck softly? Was he imagining it? No. Because in the next second, you were grabbing his chin with your thumb and forefinger- they were ice cold- and you were pulling his face to look up at you.

When your eyes connected, your heart shattered. The pools of tears turned to streams in the mountains of his cheeks then conjelled at the valley between his collarbones.

Of course, on top of his good looks, he was a pretty crier. That was so unfair. Almost as unfair as the beautiful fan of eyelashes that caught his sparkling tears. And the voice that could only belong to an angel that he possessed.

You couldn’t help the slight smile that crossed your chapstick lips and the fond scrunch of your nose before you closed the three inches or so of air that divided you. When your lips settled onto his, you felt rather than saw him freeze for the third time that day.

His lips were a little salty and a little minty. Vaguely, you remember him applying and reapplying his chapstick all day. Now you wondered if he had been doing it out of nervousness.

Then his hands were in your hair, pulling you closer, balled at the nape pleasantly. He was breathing hard. Like he’d run a marathon or danced a full concert.

His lips were pressed so firmly onto yours that you were sure they would swell and bruise after this. You let all semblance of control be taken from you. One of his hands slid down to the arch of your back tentatively. Like he was scared to break you or that you would tell him to get off.

You arched your back with his hand, pressing your high necked cotton shirt into his chest. You could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his own shirt and the muscles that covered it.

With a sigh, you opened your mouth as he opened his lips and sandwiched your top one within his own.

You could feel that he was still crying, but you weren’t exactly sure why. You could ask later. Right now, all you wanted, all you knew he needed, was for you to kiss him and make it all better. To fix whatever it is you had done. You could piece him back together if you tried hard enough.

So when he began walking you backwards towards the couch, you didn’t fight. The hand on your back moved over to your hip. His lips were connected to yours, open wide, his tongue explored the wet cavern of your mouth. Teeth clashed awkwardly, the kiss was out of sync. You let him maneuver your head whichever way he wanted with the hand that was still firmly in your hair. He leaned over you. His body seemed to completely incompace yours. Your back was arched almost forty five degrees. It wasn’t painful at all. Instead, it pushed your hips flush against his.

His member, which had shrunk significantly only seconds before, was now growing again, filling with the erotic arousal that pulsed in his veins. A hulk in disguise was being pulled from the Bruce Banner you were so used to. And you were all too eager to let him show you this side of him.

Like a man on the brink of drowning, he pulled his mouth from yours. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. In a split second, he leaned down and picked you up from the knees. You wondered if he would carry you to his room or throw you over his shoulder, but he sat you down on the back of the couch before he placed a quick peck to your lips.

Then, like the sadist he was, he pulled away again, smiling up at you through red eyes. He wasn’t sure what this meant. If this was a sign that you too were too scared to bring up the relationship and the conversation that could change everything, but that could wait for another time. Right then, all he wanted was to show you, with his tongue, with his mouth, with whatever limb you let him, that he was falling for you. Hard.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes. A sigh escaped your lips. If you opened your eyes, would it be over? Would he ask you to leave? Would it once again go back to how it was for the last couple of weeks?

Eventually, you did open your eyes. Jungkook could see the fear and unsteadiness in them. The red around the brown made you hurt deeply in your soul. A tender hand reached out to cup his cheek. The light scratch of your freshly done nails was pleasurable to his senses. Goosebumps. Then a strong shiver. And he felt himself melt for the girl he had known for so long. And you for the man whom you had watched grow from a frightened boy.

“Are you going to touch me or are you going to punish me for all the times I left you high and dry,” you laughed. Even in this tender moment, you couldn’t hold your tongue, but Jungkook didn’t mind. The engine of his brain was whirring and he could hear, all he could see and feel, was you...you...you. Nothing but you and the way your hair hung under your chest and covered your left eye. Nothing but your chest rising and falling and the smile on your kissible, bruised lips.

How could he help himself? The answer? Would always be you.

He kissed your nose, then your cheek. An eskimo kiss. You giggled. It was the most beautiful music to his ears.

“You want me to Bunbun?” Internally, he cringed at his overly affectionate name but you smiled brighter and the insecurity left as soon as it came.

“Is that my name now?”

“If you want it to be, or you could choose another one?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, now that you were almost level with his eyes- though now you were a bit taller than him. You shrugged.

“I like it. Bunny, Bun, BunBun, any variation.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“Who knew you were this cheesy, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully as you opened your legs so he could slot himself between them. You pulled him closer and wrapped your legs around his waist. A mischievous smirk crossed your lips.

“What’s with the face,” he asked, sniffling a little.

“What face,” you asked, feigning innocence.

“This face,” he countered, gesturing vaguely at your eyes.

“Oh this? Ah well you see,” and then without ending your thought, you let yourself fall backwards with your legs and arms wrapped tightly around his frame. He was much heavier than you and clearly more muscular but with the weight distribution you were able to pull him over the back of the couch and twist both yourself and him so you landed on the cushions. His body atop yours.

By the look on his face, he clearly had not expected you to pull him, nor did he expect for his center to land directly on yours, but the shock gave way to the joy and fun that tended to encompass your everyday encounters.

His high pitched giggle of a laugh made an appearance which caused a multitude of butterflies to flutter through your intestines and chest. He relaxed into you, laying his head cautiously onto your breasts, pushing his middle away from your heated core. (yes, he noticed)

He could hear your heart beating against the- hehe squishy- lump of fat on your chest. Instantly, he knew that he could spend eons on your bosom uninhibited and satisfied.

But the pulse of his confined member made his head swirl with thoughts less than innocent.

When your nails lightly scratched at his back and the smallest, lightest moan left your lips, he knew you must be on the same page. Or at least, he hoped. Spurred on by the heavenly shapes and your inquiry from a couple seconds before, Jungkook picked his head off your chest and hovered over your left breast.

There was a question in his eyes as he looked between your boob and your face. One which you couldn’t answer verbally as your heart rate picked up and the lust poisoned your veins.

With the slightest nod, he had everything he needed to lean down and lightly nip at the mound through the thin material of your beige shirt. The warmth of his breath traversed the stitches easily. It sent pleasant shivers through your body, settling in your core.

He nibbled softly around what he hoped was your nipple, before he kissed the center of the mound with tender lips. His eyes stayed looking up at yours, searching for any signs that he should stop. You bit your lips and took a deep breath, dropping his questioning gaze and letting him take the reigns once again.

Jungkook felt you relax into him. Relief flooded his chest. With a little more confidence, Jungkook looked with his mouth for the hardened bud of your breast and pulled it softly between his teeth. He was rewarded with a moan, only slightly louder than the one before and he realized, he wanted you screaming. He wanted you to moan his name. Hear your voice penetrate through the walls of his apartment and disturb the neighbors. This was his new goal.

“Y/N,” he said softly trying to get your attention. Instantly, you looked down from your position, your pupils were blown wide. A beautiful sight.

“Is it okay if I-” and then his confidence waned and so he gestured to your shirt with his eyes a couple of times. You smiled at him.

“Mhm, go for it Kookie.”

Was this what it felt like to be called a good boy? Because Jungkook loved it. He needed more. More. More.

Eagerly, Jungkook untucked your shirt from your pants and bunched it up right under your boobs. The expanse of skin that he had exposed seemed like an oasis in a desert. He couldn’t help the pull of gravity that connected his lips to your stomach. They were not soft, nor gentle. They were fast and more pecks than anything. They tickled your skin as he tried to cover every single open spot with his love.

He worked his way up and nudged your shirt higher with his nose.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Jungkook?” You asked exasperated.

“Can I take this off?”

You groaned, “Yes. Take it off. All of it, my shirt, my pants, my underwear. Whatever you want. You have my permission.”

Sheepishly, Jungkook obeyed. You raised your arms over your head and arched your back to make it easier for him to undress you.

He pulled it off swiftly, ruffling your hair in the process. He tossed the shirt aside, excited to see what he was unwrapping. He wasn’t disappointed. Had you known you would be undressing for someone today? Or did your undergarments always consist of lavish fabrics and sexy shapes?

Jungkook didn’t care. He just felt honored to be able to see it. The see through fabric held together by underwire did little to hide the prize behind the clothing. Your nipples stood pert and puckered under it all. Begging to be released. He wondered if your underwear matched.

It was weird. The things one noticed when something monumental was happening. Like the golden stiching that held the bra together, or the way that the underwire dug into your skin to hold your perfect breasts in place.

Then in a second, he was moving again, frantically unbuttoning your pants and ripping them off your body without hesitation. He must know. It was life or death for him to know if your underwear matched.

He tossed the pants in the opposite direction of the discarded shirt. He watched it fly over a lamp and land on a box that he thought had his art supplies. With bated breath, he turned to look at you. It felt as if his whole life had been leading to this moment.

And yes. The answer was that you were wearing a set. His mouth salivated as the scent of your arousal hit his nose. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your folds and die.

But he slowed down and took in every inch of your body. He wanted to remember it. Every freckle, every curve. He wanted a picture to hang in his bathroom or to draw you on his ipad so he could use it to jerk off when you weren’t around because after this, he knew that no other image would do it for him. Not anymore

He watched your chest heave. He looked up at your face again, asking for permission even though you had already given it to him.

“Jungkook, if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds I’m gonna bite your dick off,” you growled.

Oof… that was not one of his kinks, thank you very much, but it was the last push he needed, because he slithered down your body and pulled your legs around his shoulders staring at the promise land between your legs.

He could already see a bit of your natural lubricant running down your lightly covered slits.

You watched him, entranced by how hypnotized he seemed by your entrance. A laugh gurgled at your throat.

“Wow, if I knew that all it would take to shut you up was for me to wrap my legs around your head, I would have done it sooner,” you teased.

But the laughter died on your lips as jungkook opened his mouth wide and licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit. Even with the fabric in between his tongue and your skin, it felt like heaven.

“Fuck, Jungkook…” your hand flew to his hair, tangling in the locks of deep noir that you loved to braid when you two sat together watching a movie.

He kissed up and down your lower lips lovingly, lickig his lips as if it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life.

He hummed, sending a long vibration to your core which clamped around thin air as if trying to stop it from leaving.

“I can’t wait to really taste you, Bunny… fuck you’re delicious…” Every word was like a strike to your center. Arousal gushed from your entrance that made jungkook’s eyes sparkle in earnest enthusiasm.

Without asking, he pulled your underwear to the side, and buried his face in your juices. A bit of self consciousness wormed its way into your brain. He could be lying about how it tastes. Did it smell okay?

But the devilish sounds of him slurping and sucking at your folds pushed the thoughts away. He held your ass up, pulling you closer and closer to his face. He never felt like he was quite close enough. His nose brushed continuously against your clit and when he noticed the way you screamed under your breath every time it happened, he made it his mission to continue to do just that as he laved at your pulsing hole.

You had been hiding all of this from him. The paradise between your legs. The treat at your center. He wouldn’t let you hide from him any longer. He’d rather perish than to go one more day without your center at his lips.

Short, consecutive moans fell from the petals of your lips. Your orgasm built slowly at first, not coming to a head- both literally and figuratively and he could tell. He pushed his tongue into your entrance. Your walls closed on it, trying to keep it inside. His name came from your lips like a prayer. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted you to scream his name. To never be able to think of another doing what he was doing to you in that moment, so when your eventual crash came, he was less than satisfied.

You were breathing heavily. Your legs twitched. Jungkook ripped his face from your core only because you pulled harshly at his hair. From his nose to his chin, he shone with your cum. If there was anything hotter than that you couldn't picture it.

But then he was standing, and he ripped his belt from the loops and began to undress.

Looking over his shoulder as he pulled his pants down he said, “Take off your bra and underwear. Are you on the pill?”

Shocked, you followed his demands, though they were given loosely. You shook your head no and he gave you one nod of confirmation.

“I have condoms. You’re not allergic or anything right?”

Again you negated his question with a shake of your head and he half smiled.

“We could stop if you want-”

“Don’t be a fucking tease, JK,” you rolled your eyes and spead your legs, hooking one on the head rest of the couch so he could see your abused lips which were dripping for him.

His eyes widened only for a second, but then he tore his shirt off and scrounged for his wallet where he kept a condom. He ripped it open with his bunny teeth and pulled his underwear off unceremoniously.

You watched in fixed fascination as his cock sprang free of its confines, so hard that it looked painful. It was bound to feel good.

He rolled the condom on carefully before he situated himself between your legs and wiped your juices from his face. He was partially on his knees and partially standing. It was easy to find your entrance with your legs spread so wide.

When his head pushed in, you let your head fall back. Maybe it was because you already had one orgasm under your belt or maybe Jungkook’s dick was just a good fit but pure pleasure filled your body. He watched your reaction, gritting his teeth as your walls clamped down around him, resisting his entrance.

“Does it hurt?”

You gurgled something that you couldn’t make out but Jungkook seemed to understand because he nodded and pushed in farther, slowly. He bottomed out, his balls gently hit your ass and your vagina clenched, feeling every ridge of his member within you.

“Fuck… Y/N… I… I don’t know how long I can last…”

It was so sensitive. Every little twitch of his dick felt monumental. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you could last either.

“Move,” you managed.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He pulled out slowly then slammed back into you. Your skin clapped loudly in the mostly empty apartment. You whimpered. Your back arched. He pulled out again, then slammed back in. His pace was marked. Timed. It made your boobs jiggle as he grabbed your hips to help you meet his movements.

Cute little ‘ah’s filled his ears. They got higher pitched as you neared your end. Jungkook couldn’t believe his luck. You were so tight. So wet and the way your walls closed around him made him grow close to his end much quicker than he ever had by hand.

“Y/N… I’m gonna… I’mma…”

But you beat him to it. Your pussy clamped down and fluttered around him as your second orgasm crashed upon you.

You moaned his name as he continued to pound into you. Whines and pleas went unheard as he sped up. He needed you to know who you belonged to… in like a totally consensual way.

You were so sensitive, but the pain of over stimulation gave way to pleasure far too soon and a third orgasm consumed you.

In pure shock, Jungkook grunted and moaned, your vagina got even tighter around him. And he came violently, with his dick mid thrust and his name bouncing off the walls in the tone of your exhausted voice.

Spurt after spurt of white, hot cum spilled from his member and into the condom. He was so caught up in his pleasure that he didn’t notice nor hear the front door open.

Both of you heard a gasp and footsteps. Jungkook, mid orgasm, snapped his heavy head to the sound. To his complete surprise and embarrassment, there stood the aloof neighbor that was always walking into the wrong apartment.

At first, you were embarrassed, being naked was not something you did frequently in the presence of others, but then you were upset. Angry. How stupid could one girl be? Shouldn’t she learn that this was not her place after a billion and one mistakes?

For a second, all three of you were frozen. Jungkook’s orgasm finished and his cock quickly deflated. He jumped to action quickly, throwing his body over yours to cover you before he looked back at the neighbor and said, “this isn’t your apartment!”

Over Jungkook’s toned shoulder, you watched her eyes dart to his exposed ass before they filled with tears.

“Oppa…” she said under her breath, before the tears streamed and she turned on her heels and hurried out.

Your blood boiled. It seemed you were right. She wasn’t stupid at all. She had a crush on your… person? Whatever he was. He was yours- in a ‘I want to be yours and like it’s totally okay for you to say that’ kind of way, and you were not going to put up with some random girl who clearly didn’t have boundaries.

Jungkook looked down at you, his cheeks were red and you could tell he was extremely uncomfortable.

Carefully, he pulled his softened member from your core and made a show of removing the condom then disposing of it. You began to put your underwear and bra back on, watching him walk around his apartment butt naked. Would he say something? Or would you have to bring it up?

After minutes of silence, you decided you would have to be the one to break the awkwardness.

“So uh… do you know what her actual apartment is? Maybe we can put a note on your front door for her to remind her,” you half joked, standing to find your shirt and pants, but settling instead for the button up he was wearing before.

Jungkook pulled his shorts on, his back was to you. There was a tenseness in his muscles that wasn’t going away and something in the air struck fear in the pit of your stomach.

“She lives next door.”

Something about the way he said it made you feel like it was a confession of sorts. It made you want to run. But instead, you sat in his shirt as he rifled in his boxes for a pair of more comfortable pants before you decided to drop it for now, knowing that whatever it was that was hanging in the air around you wasn’t something you were ready for.

“Jungkook, where's your broom?”

“Uh…,” there was a hint of a laugh in his voice and some of the pressure lifted from the atmosphere, “was I supposed to buy one?”

You rolled your eyes for the millionth time that day and berated him for not having bought the basic necessities for his home. Everything felt lighter, but still like you were trending on eggshells. It felt like instead of taking a step forward, you had taken six steps back. You were no more clear on what you were or what to do than you had been the last couple of weeks.

You helped him unpack that day, because you knew he wouldn’t do it on his own. He joked with you as if nothing had happened, and you sassed him all the same but something was off… and you didn’t know if it could be fixed without it first breaking you both.

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