#standing here pressing it to my face. I hope it never fades

[arieslost]

you have pushed me to ask so here I go

I present my idea of motorcyclist!oscar and his gf who is afraid of motorcycles. He convinces her to try it onc3 and BOOM hands around him holding on the dear life.

I want to hold on to him

I can't stop thinking about that tiktok

here's a ss I took from the tiktok edit

what a yummy man

the entire time i wrote this i kept coming back to look at this picture because oh my goodness gracious. i hope this lives up to ur expectations <33 definitely wanna write more biker!osc after this

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

hold on tight | op81

“Just one time?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No way.”

“Do you even love me at all?” Oscar asks dramatically, jutting his lower lip out for extra effect. 

“That’s not going to work on me, Piastri.” You shake your head vehemently. “I refuse to get on that death machine. It’s bad enough that you ride it all the time.”

“Come onnnn,” he whines, tugging you up off of the bed and into his arms. 

The two of you look like polar opposites— him with his leather jacket and riding gloves still on, smelling faintly of exhaust, and you in plaid pajama pants and one of his worn out t-shirts. You suppose that’s what makes your relationship work so well, opposites attract and whatever. All relationships take compromise though, and this is one “compromise” that, thus far, you’ve refused to make. 

In your eyes, it’s not a compromise. But Oscar has been asking you to be his “backpack” practically since the two of you met. 

“What do I have to do to convince you?” He’s asking, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Hmm, nothing.” You smile up at him, and it fades just as fast when you see the excitement in his eyes. “Because it’s never going to happen. I like being alive, thank you very much.”

“Baby, you know you’ll be safe with me. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He says sincerely, his pleading tone now gone. “I’ve been riding my entire life. I did all the crashing before I got my license. Haven’t crashed since.”

“Yeah, that makes me feel better.” You mutter, hiding your face in his chest so he can’t see your resolve slowly starting to crumble. 

“It would be so fun,” he continues, arms tightening around your frame as he starts to sway you both side to side a little. “All you’d have to do is hold on to me. I’ll do all the work. You trust me, don’t you?” 

“With all things except the death machine,” you say, voice muffled by the material of his jacket. 

“I love you, but I’m gonna need you to stop calling her ‘the death machine,’ honey.”

“Her?” You look up at him, affronted. “I’m definitely not doing it now. Wouldn’t want to get between you and the other woman in your life.” 

Oscar laughs. His laugh has always been more of a giggle around you, which is such a contrast to his outward appearance that it never fails to make you melt. 

“You’re the only woman for me, which is why you’re the only woman I’ve ever asked to be my backpack.” He says. 

“Don’t try to butter me up with the whole backpack thing again.” You roll your eyes and try to pull away from him, but he somehow manages to twirl you and bring you right back into him. 

“It’s not me buttering you up, I’m just telling the truth. Come on, baby.” he leans in and gives you a long kiss that leaves your head spinning a little. “One time. And if you don’t like it, I promise I won’t ask again.” 

You let out a frustrated groan, because he has to know that he’s won at this point. That kiss was nothing but tactical. “Fine. Fine. But you can’t just kiss me like that every time you want something from me, it’s unfair.” 

“Yes, yes!” He squeezes you into him, kissing the top of your head over and over. “You won’t regret this.”

“I already am a little bit.” You grumble. 

That’s how you find yourself standing on the sidewalk with Oscar in front of you adjusting a helmet on your head. 

“This is making me claustrophobic,” you complain as he flips the visor up so he can see your face. 

“I’m just making sure you’re safe, baby.” When you furrow your eyebrows, he sighs and drops his hands to his sides. “If you really don’t want to do this, you don’t have to, okay?”

This makes you relent a little bit. “Osc, I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I don’t like motorcycles, like, at all.” You smile as best you can with the helmet on, hoping it goes to your eyes so he can see it. “I want to do this. You just… you really have to help me.” 

He nods, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. “Of course, honey. C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you over to his motorcycle. While you’re terrified just looking at it, you can’t deny that it’s absolutely beautiful. Streamlined and sleek, like he literally just bought it, even though you know he’d already had it for a year when you first met him. 

He looks almost the same as he did when you first met— all black getup, signature leather jacket, riding gloves, and of course, his strangely colorful helmet that doesn’t match the rest of him. His hair was long when you met him, and you still remember being absolutely starstruck when you saw his face for the first time. It had felt like everything went into slow motion when he took his helmet off, pushed his hair back, and instantly made eye contact with you from where you were just exiting the bookstore. 

Needless to say, you were done for. And now here you are, a year later, letting him help you onto the death machine. 

He never said you had to stop calling it (sorry, her) that if you were thinking it to yourself. 

“You okay? Comfy?” Oscar asks, reaching to adjust your helmet one more time. 

“Yup. Mhmm. Totally.” You nod, not even trying to sound convincing considering your heart is in your throat and he hasn’t even started the engine yet. 

“Great,” he kisses the top of your helmet and smiles at you cutely before climbing onto the bike so he’s seated in front of you. “Just hold on tight, okay baby? Like this.” 

He reaches behind him, grabbing your hands that had been anxiously scratching at the material of your jeans and pulling you forward so your arms are wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t have to say anything else– you’re quick to tighten your hold around him, fingers clutching at the material of his open jacket. You immediately feel your anxieties begin to dissipate as soon as you’re holding onto him, and you shift your whole body forward on the seat so your front is pressed as close as it can be to his back. When he lets out a quiet grunt, you release your grip a little. 

“I’m sorry! Am I holding you too tight?” “No, no,” he huffs out a laugh, patting your thigh. “Do whatever you need to do. Just warn me if you’re planning to suffocate me at all.”

“Listen, Piastri–” you begin, and he cuts you off by twisting around to look at you.

“Okay, I get it, I’m sorry.” He’s giggling now, and you let go of him to smack his helmet. “I’m done, I promise. As long as you feel safe, honey.”

“Come on, let’s go before I chicken out.” You say, quickly reassuming your hold.

It’s times like these where you appreciate just how buff your boyfriend is. He has something of a sleeper build, so one quick glance at him wouldn’t really reveal much, but when you’re pressed up against him like this, you can feel the muscles in his back and shoulders and his abs through his shirt when your hand slips past his jacket. He’s warm and solid against you, and that in itself is comforting enough that you don’t go flying off the seat when he starts up the engine and you instantly feel your whole body start to vibrate from the force of it.

“I’ll check in with you, okay?” He says over the loud rumbling. “Hit me in the head or something and I’ll pull over. Sound good?” Having him to hold on to is nice, but your throat is still dry thinking about all the dastardly possibilities that could occur when the bike starts moving, so you have to swallow a couple times in order for him to hear you over the engine. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Your heart falls out of your ass and lands on the pavement when he pulls out onto the road, the engine roaring as he accelerates. 

“God, please spare me,” you say out loud, grateful that Oscar can’t hear you over the engine. 

As soon as he gets onto the freeway, that’s when you realize just how much fun you’ve been missing out on.

It’s never been a secret to you that Oscar loves going fast. There have been plenty of occasions where you’ll drive somewhere, do whatever it is you have planned, and then you’ll turn to him and ask if he wants to drive home just to give him some peace of mind knowing that the journey back will be cut down by a few minutes at least. Being in the car is fun enough, but being on the back of his motorcycle is different.

You thought you’d be more scared. You’re terrified, sure, but even though you can feel the wind whipping against your clothes and you’re flying past cars on either side of the freeway, you’re holding on to Oscar, and you could easily do that forever. You’re quickly warming up to the concept of being his backpack, and you can feel yourself relaxing your death grip around him. This is actually kind of fun. Okay, really fun. You actually can’t believe you were so adamantly refusing to do this this whole time. 

Every so often, he reaches back with one hand and rubs your thigh, or holds one of your hands that is now tucked comfortably into his jacket pocket. You thought you’d be freaking out about him taking a hand off the handlebars, but he exudes confidence on the bike, and he never wavers no matter what he’s doing with his hands. 

He doesn’t go very far; the whole ride lasts maybe 20 minutes, but it feels like half that with how quick the bike is. Your arms ache from all the muscles in them working the whole time, and when he helps you off the back of the bike your legs feel like jello.

“How was it?” He asks, helping you pull the bulky helmet off your head. 

Your hair falls in your face and he brushes it away for you before you can even lift your hands. He cups your cheeks, a small smile on his face as he admires you.

“We are definitely doing that again.” 

His smile grows, and he places a sweet, adoring kiss on your lips. “I knew I finally found my backpack.” 

word count: 1,787

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: writing this has me thinking up a whole biker au for multiple drivers... thank you for this gold mine of a request <33

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings

[tuiccim]

Pickup Game

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3509

Warnings: Flirt, Fluff, Smut, Oral (f rec)

Summary: An after party game of pickup lines leads to a confession and an even more fun night in bed.

A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.

The after party of just Avengers and close friends was in full swing. Drinks and laughter flowed as you enjoyed each other's company.

“Okay, okay. Your best pick up line! Let’s have ‘em!” Clint yells over the most recent spate of laughter. “Tony, whatcha got?”

Tony smirks before opening his arms wide and declaring, “I am Iron Man.” He grins as everyone heckles him, “What can I say? Works every time!”

“Really?” Pepper raises an eyebrow.

“Used to! Used to work,” Tony backpedals. “Rhodey, save me here, buddy!”

“Okay, okay,” Rhodey laughs as he glances at Natasha who is standing by him and tugs at his sleeve, “Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

"Nice," Natasha scoffs.

"Let's hear yours then!" Rhodey huffs.

"Ever had a White Russian?" Natasha asks, holding up her glass.

"No," Rhodey looks at her suspiciously.

"Want to?" She says seductively. 

Rhodey chuckles, "Smooth. Okay, Clint, what've you got?"

Clint bats his eyes at Sam, standing next to him and says, "Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes, big boy?"

Sam laughs while rolling his eyes, "So, what you guys are telling me is that you have no game?"

"Give us your best then, Rocket Man!"

"You know, dating is a numbers game. So, can I have yours?" Sam grins.

"Boooring!" Tony heckles. "Steve, what's your favorite?"

"I've never been good with pickup lines. That was more Bucky's territory," Steve tilts his head towards the dark-haired super soldier. 

"Thanks," Bucky says sarcastically,  "I'm a little out of practice with pickup lines."

"Aw, come on, Buck, give it a shot," you pipe in and then try to hide your embarrassment at having drawn attention to yourself. Even though you hoped he'd test out the line on you. Your attraction to the man was undeniable and you'd harbored a crush since you'd met him. You leaned back against the wall with your hands behind your back and raised your eyebrow in challenge to him. 

Bucky's face betrayed a moment of discomfiture before he straightened his shoulders and stepped over to you. He placed a hand on the wall above you, leaning in with a small smirk, "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

You could hear some chuckling and comments in the background but it faded as you stared up at Bucky. God, he was fine as hell and you were doing your best to control your erratic heartbeat.

"Sorry, doll, that wasn't very good, huh?"

You don't know where the gall came from but, before you realized what you were doing the words slipped out of your mouth. "Don't worry, Buck, I'm not big on being picked up. I prefer to be pinned down." Your eyebrow raised as you said the words and you smirked, bringing your glass to your lips for a sip. 

Bucky's jaw drops as the room erupts in laughter and cheers. Tony crows, "She wins!" 

Clint laughs heartily as he agrees, "Hands down!"

After a few moments, you reach up and close Bucky's mouth, “And to answer your questions, yes, I would,” you whisper with a wink as you walk away. 

A little while later, the party was winding down and you decided it was time to slip out. Your nerves were getting the better of you. Thoughts ran amuck as to what Bucky thought of you and whether the attraction you felt was reciprocated. He’d been in a conversation with some of the guys since the game ended and you hoped to catch a glimpse, some sign of mutual interest but now you were walking away with your tail between your legs. God, what must he think of you and that brazen comment. 

Hitting the button for the elevator, you berate yourself for thinking you ever stood a chance. Your head snapped up when a deep voice whispered, “You know, you have a beautiful body.”

Grinning, you turn and press yourself against Bucky, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Bucky smirks at you. Without warning, he stoops and picks you up as if you weigh nothing. 

“Bucky!” You squeal as the elevator doors open. 

He carries you in, hitting the button for his floor with his elbow, “Don’t worry, doll. I know you aren’t big on being picked up but I’ll have you pinned down soon enough.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “It was just a line, Buck.”

His confidence falters for a second, “Oh, uh-”

“Don’t worry, baby. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” you smirk.

“Oh, you’re naughty,” Bucky laughs.

“I prefer ‘playful’.”

“I like playful,” Bucky adjusts you in his arms so that your back is pressed to the elevator wall and your faces are at the same level. 

You use the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and look at him expectantly. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

You’re surprised by the request after the way he’d handled you. It warmed your heart that he would seek your consent and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “Please.”

The kiss is intense. He presses into you as his lips move over yours. His tongue slips out seeking entry and you oblige him immediately. You separate only when the elevator dings your arrival. He lowers your legs gently and takes your hand. Leading you down the hallway, Bucky says awkwardly, “I, uh, was kind of surprised when you, um, said that tonight.” 

“What? The pickup line?” You tilt your head as you look at him. 

“No, the… thing you whispered afterwards.”

“Really, why?” You thought your feelings for him were fairly obvious. 

“I mean, I’m a mess and you’re so put together. I just,” he shrugs, “kinda thought you were out of my league, ya know.”

“No,” you laugh, “no, I don’t know. I have never thought of myself as put together.  Thanks for that but I’m kind of a mess, too. I think we all are in our own ways.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Bucky smiles as he opens his door and guides you in. 

You suddenly feel awkward as you walk inside the room. The passion displayed in the elevator had mellowed as you walked and talked together into a camaraderie. You were unsure how to get back to it. 

“Would you like a drink?” Bucky asks as he comes up behind you, his lips brushing your neck and his hands caress your hips. You jump a little at the unexpected contact. 

“I think I had enough earlier,” you breathe, heat pooling between your legs. 

“I haven’t had enough, I haven’t had nearly enough. I need another taste,” Bucky says as he turns you around to capture your mouth. You oblige him willingly, snaking your arms around his neck as you arch into him. 

Abandoning any reserve you would normally have, you reach for the buttons on his shirt. He reaches for the zipper of your dress but his hands still. You pull back to look at him curiously. 

“You’re sure?” He asks. 

You smile and pull the tails of his shirt from his pants while saying, “Barnes, if you don’t get me naked and pin me down, I will never forgive you.”

He pulls you against him forcefully, grinning as he pulls down your zipper, “We can’t have that.”

Clothes are discarded quickly as he backs you to the bed. Bucky slides his hands into your panties to grab your ass and you gasp when he picks you up. Laying you on the bed he pulls your panties off. You expect him to follow you down but instead his eyes take a slow path up your body. Propping yourself on your elbows, you resist the urge to cover yourself but tremble as he studies you. He smiles, grabs a discarded t-shirt, and rips the bottom half from it. Your eyebrow raises at the display. 

“And what do you plan to do with that, Sgt. Barnes?”

His smirk as he advances has butterflies dancing in your stomach. He grabs your arms, twists the shirt around your wrists, and hauls them above your head as he pins you to the bed. 

“Happy now?” Bucky rumbles as he kisses your neck. 

“Almost. I’d like these off,” you use your legs to pull at the underwear he still has on, “and an orgasm or two would be nice.” 

Holy shit, you don’t know where this confidence had come from. Maybe because Bucky wanted you. Maybe because of whatever drink that was that Natasha had handed you. Whatever it was, you were enjoying the results. 

“Only one or two?” Bucky teases as he nibbles along your clavicle. “I bet I can do better.”

“Is that so?” You gasp as his tongue plays over your nipple. 

“Mm-hm,” he murmurs before plucking at your other nipple with his lips. He lets go of your hands that are still bound above your head as he slides his tongue down your stomach. Your breathing picks up when he reaches your navel and proceeds to kiss his way down to your mound. Your eyes screw shut to take in every sensation. When he spreads your legs further apart, you feel the contrast of warm skin and cool metal on your thighs. Anticipation builds, making you lick your lips and you can’t help the whimper that slips out when you feel a gentle finger trace your slit. 

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers reverently before his tongue follows the same path as his fingers. His metal arm curls around your leg and he rests his hand on your abdomen, effectively holding you in place as he explores your folds. It was almost unbearable, the way his tongue slid around to touch everywhere but where you needed him most. 

“Bucky, please,” you whimper desperately. 

His chuckle rumbles against your core. His fingers replace his tongue, taking the same lazy path. “Poor baby, am I not giving you what you want?” His finger tip barely grazes your clit and you whine. “Are you feeling needy?” His finger circles your entrance and his tongue gives the softest lick to your clit. Your hips flex, desperate for more friction, making Bucky press his metal hand more firmly against you. “I like seeing you like this.” Another small lick to your clit. “Wet, under me, and so desperate.”

“Bucky, pleeeaase,” you can’t keep the whine out of your voice. You don’t think you’ve ever been quite so turned on and the teasing was making you a writhing mess. 

“Say please again and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please!” the word rushes out of you. His fingers and tongue driving you mad. 

His tongue moves slowly, lapping back and forth over your clit while his finger still teases. It’s maddeningly delicious but not enough at the same time. He holds your hips hostage, not allowing you to move. You mewl with each motion of his tongue over you, your body on fire and screaming for just a little more until your mouth opens to plead, “More! Oh, god, I need more!”

Bucky lifts his head, a devilish smirk across his mouth, “Oh, precious, you didn’t say please. We’ll have to start all over again now.” His finger goes back to tracing the slow path over your cunt. 

“What?” You gape at him as he plays with you. 

“You didn’t say please, doll,” Bucky repeats, allowing his lips to brush over your thigh, far too far from where you wanted his lips. 

You felt like crying. You felt like screaming. You felt like ripping off your bindings, flipping him over, and riding his face until you came all over it. Unfortunately, you knew you’d never overpower him and, if you were really honest with yourself, this little game he was playing was hot as fuck. You’d never been treated like this and he had made you a gushing mess. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky. Please, please, I need more,” you whimper at him with doe eyes, hoping for a reprieve. 

“You need more, precious?” Bucky’s finger grazes lightly over your clit. 

“Oh, please!” Your hips try to buck against his hold but he merely chuckles as he holds you in place easily. His finger circles your clit slowly as his tongue takes a meandering path up your thigh.

“Please, baby, please!” You whine as he makes his way back to your apex and are rewarded when his tongue takes the place of his finger. His motions are still slow and deliberate while his finger brushes over your entrance again causing you to clench around nothing. Desperate for more, you start to say the one word you know will earn you some relief, “Plea- OOH!!!-” In the middle of your plea, his finger had entered you and he sucked on your clit suddenly. “Yes, fuck, please, please, please…,” the word became your only mantra as he fucked you with fingers and tongue. Your legs began to shake and then he curled his fingers into that perfect spot, making bright white flash before your eyes and a scream rend from your throat. You came hard, your muscles clenching. Your legs try to close but Bucky’s broad shoulders between them keep you open to him. He laps at you through the aftershocks.  

“Fuck, I could stay here for days,” Bucky groaned. His fingers curled slowly as his tongue made gentle licks.

You gasped and moaned, words and thoughts hard to come by in the haze. “Bucky,” you finally manage to whisper his name as if it was the sweetest endearment. 

“I know. I know, doll. Don’t worry, I’m not done yet,” his mouth nuzzled you as he said the words. Flicks of his tongue came closer together, “I need another one from you, precious. Gotta hear you make those sweet sounds again.” 

“Bucky, oh, fuck. Please, it’s so good,” you gasp the words out, nearly overstimulated and yet still desperate for his touch. 

“You know how hard I am hearing you say that?” Bucky groans against your clit, vibrations coursing through you. His tongue begins moving faster, making swift circles. 

“I… I- fuck. Please,” you stutter, unable to form sentences anymore. Bucky’s fingers curl more firmly into that spongy spot inside and your back tries to arch despite his arm holding you firmly in place. He was moving his tongue as if his sole purpose in life was to make you fly into a million pieces. You were a whimpering mess, unable to form words and so close to the edge again. When he growled against you again, your eyes flew open and you looked down your body at him. His cobalt eyes met yours and the intensity in his gaze was a hit straight to your core. Your muscles began to spasm as you watched him, so focused on your pleasure and aroused by your responses. Your scream is stifled by the overwhelming intensity of the orgasm that rips through you. Your hands flex around the bonds that hold them in place. 

As Bucky kisses his way back up your body, you manage to come back to yourself… mostly. You wanted to touch him, to hold him against you, to run your hands over his body. You attempt to untwist your hands from the scrap of t-shirt but the deceptively loose looking knot doesn’t budge. 

“Bucky, baby, please can you untie me?” You whisper. 

Bucky had paused at your breasts to show them some attention. They were deserving of the most reverent of worship in his mind. His tongue traced your nipple before he spoke, “Why? I’ve got you tied up, pinned down, and perfectly on display for me.”

“I want to touch you, please,” you gasp as he takes your nipple into his mouth to gently suckle. 

“Hmm,” he muses as he makes his way to your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. “If you’ll answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” you sigh, enjoying each motion of his mouth over you. You feel the rumble of his chuckle at your quick response.

“How long?” He asks. 

You slide your leg to brush against his cock, still covered by his boxer briefs before saying cheekily, “I didn’t bring a measuring tape with me but I’d say more than adequate.”

Bucky lets out a small moan at the contact and then chuckles, “Not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, baby?”

“How long did I waste not having you in my bed?” Bucky asks as he brings his face level to yours. 

“You mean, how long have I wanted you or are you asking how long I’ve liked you?”

“Both,” Bucky narrows his eyes but gives you a small smile. 

“If I’m really honest, I’ve always wanted you. You’re kinda hot, ya know?” You smile and bite your lip. 

“And the other?” Bucky asks, flexing his hips into you so that his hard cock nestles between your legs. 

You gasp and arch into him, “About five minutes after meeting you.”

“Seriously, when?” Bucky scoffs gently. 

“You were so sweet and a little self-conscious and I just adored you,” you nudged his nose with yours, encouraging his lips to find yours. He kissed you, long and lovingly, while he released your hands. You both seemed to settle into each other as your hands explored, finally free. The heat began to return, hips flexing into each other, craving the friction, but before things got too carried away, you cradled Bucky’s face in your hands and forced him to look at you. “How long?” You repeat his question. 

“Always,” he whispers passionately before taking your mouth again. 

It was all you needed. You reached for the band of his underwear, wanting nothing left to separate you. You managed to get the offending garment off of him and circle his cock with your hand. He takes a sharp intake of breath and then groans. Definitely more than adequate, you think to yourself. 

“Doll,” Bucky presses his forehead to yours, “I need to be inside you.”

“Oh, precious, you didn’t say please,” you tease him, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick. Your core aches to be filled but you can’t resist the chance to tease him just a bit as he’d done to you earlier. 

Bucky chuckles, “Knew I should have kept you tied up.”

You rub the head of his cock over your clit and whimper loudly in his ear, “I still haven’t heard it.” You pump him in your hand but still won’t let him slip into you despite his attempts to maneuver his hips. 

“Fuuuuck, please!” Buchy growls, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

You waste no time lining him up with your entrance. He presses in a few agonizingly slow inches before grabbing your hands and hauling them above your head. He stares into you as he growls out, “I should pin you down,” he sinks in a little more, “and tease you mercilessly.” His hips slide slowly forward until he’s fully seated inside of you. “But I don’t think either of us would survive it right now.” He slides out a couple of inches before snapping his hips forward, taking your breath away. He sets a slow but driving pace, staring into your eyes as he fucks you. His hands slide down to hold your face and he kisses you fiercely, his thrusts coming a little faster as he does. You wrap your arms around his chest, pulling him to you, sliding one down to grab onto his ass. You encourage every movement, the drag of his cock tipping you closer to the precipice. 

He buries his face in your neck, whispering praises and encouragement, “Shit, you’re squeezing me so tight, doll.”

“Bucky, fuck, I’m gonna-,” your breath catches as you fall over the edge. Your body sings as you come, trembling and moaning with each wave. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, doll. So fucking pretty,” Bucky grits out as you clench around him. It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts for him to lose himself inside you. His hips flex with each aftershock that hits him. 

Rolling to his side, Bucky pulls you against him. You nuzzle his chest as you both catch your breath. Despite the lethargy settling over both of you, Bucky's hands wander continuously over your skin and you bask in the attention. 

“You'll stay, won't you?” Bucky whispers.

“I don't know,” you say sleepily, “Do you hog the covers?”

Bucky chuckles, “I'm pretty good at sharing.”

“Mmm, then I'll stay,” you yawn and a little giggle escapes you.

“What?” Bucky smiles at your mirth-filled eyes. 

“That's the first time a cheesy pick up line ever worked on me,” you giggle again.

“I'll have to come up with some others. See if I get lucky again,” Bucky laughs as he kisses the top of your head.

“I'd say your chances are pretty good,” you smirk at him, “But maybe next time, I should be the one to pin you down.”

“Only if you say please, doll.”

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

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[sellenite]

cherry blossoms 03 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: oral (m! receiving, sloppy, deep-throat, face-fucking), praise kink (lightly), dracryphilia, Choso is rough but still sweet, friends to lovers word count: 3.3K notes: DIRECT CONTINUATION OF 02! I pulled a crazy editing day (and night lol) on this series, so if you read the original part 2 and are now confused reading this one I am so sorry 😭 I will link the post where I explained the rewrite here: 🤡 but I hope everyone enjoys 🫶 tags: @tojicvmslut @vampress7 @venusinx @mochipip @matchafroggies724 @sabo-has-my-heart @serra10 MDNI | 18+

virgin!Choso whose lips parted in awe as he gazed down at you sitting on your knees before him. You had kissed your way down his torso sweetly, pulling up the hem of his t-shirt a little to press your lips against the bottom of his abs. He reveled in the softness of your lips as they explored more of his body, feeling like he was on cloud nine from all of the gentle attention you were giving him.

He watched you settle on the ground between his parted legs as he sat on the couch, the movie the two of you had put on long forgotten. You began to pull his sweatpants down his thighs and he thought for a moment that he shouldn’t feel so comfortable to be so exposed in front of you, to be so vulnerable. Yet, he had no reservations as he felt your delicate hands slowly remove his pants. When you asked him so sweetly if he trusted you, his answer was an obvious yes. He trusted you completely—with his mind, body, and soul—and he was ready to let you do whatever you wanted to him. And he could see the same tender affection he had for you reflected in your own eyes as you watched him, making sure he was comfortable every step of the way.

You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as you lowered his pants more, revealing the heavy outline of his erection in his boxers, a dark stain of pre-cum already seeping through the fabric. He watched with curious, lustful eyes as you gingerly reached your hand out to stroke him over the material, feeling the thickness of his cock underneath your palm. He groaned low in his throat, his hips rolling a little as you teased him over his underwear, your hand lightly gripping his length as you gave it gentle strokes.

“Take them off… Please,” Choso begged with a light laugh, to which you returned with your own giggle and a nod. The need you felt for one another at this moment was palpable, yet the playful comfort of your relationship never faded. Choso lifted his hips as you tugged the waistband of his boxers down and they quickly joined his sweatpants around his ankles. His heavy cock sprang free the moment you lifted the material from his body, thick head standing upright against his stomach as it leaked. You blinked a few times as you took in the sight, almost intimidated as you registered how large he was.

virgin!Choso who saw your reaction and felt a moment of doubt, self-conscious fears suddenly racing through his mind. But then you took him so gently into your soft hands and that was enough to make his worries retreat. He let out a light gasp as he felt your hand wrap around his shaft, squeezing him so perfectly that it made his tip dribble even more. You took a moment to familiarize yourself with his cock, gently tracing the veins that ran over it and watching as the fluid started to spill down his pretty head.

His length was impressive, but what you found even more thrilling was how thick and veiny his shaft was. His skin was smooth to the touch underneath the pad of your thumb as you gingerly followed the prominent vein that spanned the underside of him. Immediately, he felt the difference between your hand and his; yours was so much smoother than his rough, calloused palms. Your touch was so delicate, yet so deliberate. Your thumb reached his head and you swiped over his drooling slit, causing his hips to twitch as he sucked in a breath, his keen eyes watching your every movement.

“You’re even bigger than I thought you’d be, Cho... And so pretty,” you giggled sweetly as you wet your lips with your tongue, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in your excitement. He didn’t quite understand why being “big” was a good thing, but he could hear the wonder in your voice and it made his chest swell with pride that you were pleased with him; and that you thought he was pretty.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, watching as your hand intimately explored his body. You smiled up at him, your pretty eyes creasing in the corners the way he loved so much, but they were darker with lust now. You used your palm to gently stroke over his head, spreading his pre-cum over his shaft as you moved your hand back down in a fist. You began to grip his length with a little more pressure, using his fluid to slowly stroke up and down. He moaned your name softly, his abs clenching as you pumped him steadily and his body became increasingly eager for more. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips as you inched your face closer to his throbbing length, holding the base of his shaft tightly in your grasp as you held his gaze.

“Let me make you feel good…” You said in a silken tone, and he watched, unblinking, as your soft lips drew closer to his flushed head.

virgin!Choso who let out a reflexive whimper as you stuck your tongue out to flick the point of your muscle delicately against the underside of his tip—teasing his frenulum. He let out a low moan as you kept teasing him like this, his body trembling lightly against the couch and his lips hanging open as his breathing became heavier. His cock twitched as he felt the wetness of your tongue working against his skin, playfully licking at all of the sensitive spots he didn't even realize he had. His hands shakily found your cheeks, his large palms tenderly cradling your face. You licked over his drooling head—collecting the faintly salted pre-cum that dripped from his slit—and hummed in satisfaction at his clean taste. The spit from your mouth leaked off of your tongue, slipping down his length messily as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You watched as he bit into his lip unconsciously, his eyes staring into yours with an intensity you had only ever seen on his face in battle, concentrating on your every move.

Choso could feel his brain practically melting over how hot the visual of you on your knees for him was. Your perfect, pretty face, your bright eyes, your soft, cherry-colored lips… You were so beautiful and sweet, yet so naughty, as he watched you work your tongue over his aching length—the contradiction making his head feel thick with lust. Seeing your pretty lips so glossy with spit and his pre-cum made his dick feel like it was about to burst at any second. He barely understood this feeling: the desire to want something, someone, so badly that he physically ached. But there you were, on your knees between his legs with your pretty mouth running up and down his cock… And he felt the urge to do things to you that he barely even understood.

He whimpered again and rolled his hips involuntarily as you swirled your tongue around his tip, the sensations driving him insane. He couldn’t help but start whining for you, and you hadn’t even put him properly in your mouth. But the way your warm, wet tongue teased him was enough for him to know that his hand would never come close to the amount of pleasure you could give him.

“Need more, please,” he begged softly, in his deep, gruff voice. His eyes were so dark with lust as he held your gaze, watching as your tongue lolled out to lick up his shaft on either side. He groaned low in his throat, his fingers threading into the hair at the back of your head as his touch grew unconsciously rougher.

“You’re so needy today, Cho,” you teased him with a smile before pressing your lips lightly to his tip. But you were feeling the same urge. You were so turned on from watching and feeling how responsive he was to your touch; you couldn’t help but want to give him more, to be the one to make him feel pleasure he had never experienced before.

virgin!Choso who was about to respond to your teasing when your mouth suddenly wrapped around the head of his cock—and any cohesive thought in his brain was obliterated. Choso let out a husky groan and pushed himself back into the couch cushions as he felt your lips form a tight ring around his tip, gently moving up and down over his ridge. His hips stuttered up as you sucked him and he watched you—utterly entranced—with heavy eyes and flushed cheeks. He could feel your tongue still flicking against his frenulum as you looked up at him with your beautiful mouth stuffed full of his cock; so heavenly, yet so sinful. He felt he could get off from the view alone, his breathing coming out in fast, ragged moans. You let your lips ease slowly down his shaft feeling them stretch around his thickness as you hollowed your cheeks, wanting to make sure it felt good for him.

You pushed your mouth further down his cock—flattening your tongue against the vein on the underside of his length—making his hips buck suddenly, forcing him to the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden intrusion—your throat constricting around his thick head, squeezing around his dick so perfectly— as spit poured from your lips. Choso whimpered loudly and his hips jerked up once more as his body instinctively chased after the warm wetness of your throat. His trembling hands unconsciously forced your face against his navel, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as he pushed deeper into you. Your throat contracted around his swollen tip as you gagged again, starting to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen. You let out a gargled cry and dug your nails into Choso’s strong thighs; the sharp sting bringing him back down to reality for a moment long enough that he could recover control of his body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He apologized profusely as his strong hands suddenly relinquished their force on the back of your head, giving you the chance to sit back up. You coughed as your mouth pulled off of his length, spit dribbling down your chin as you struggled to catch your breath. Choso looked down to meet your eyes—glassy with unspilt tears—and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

“I’m so sorry… I-I didn’t mean to–” Choso started nervously, afraid that he had hurt you when he saw your glistening eyes. He felt immense guilt. Here you were, offering so kindly to help him and he had ruined it. You could see the anxiety brewing in his wide, purple eyes, so you shook your head and shushed him gently, rubbing a reassuring palm over his thigh.

“It’s okay, Choso—really… I just... Didn’t expect it was all,” you said with a sweet laugh, still a little breathless but smiling up at him. You took a moment to regain your composure, wiping some of the spit that had leaked down your chin off with your hand. You could see his expression relax a little, but there was still a lingering doubt hiding in the slight furrow of his brows. “You can be rougher, if you want to be… I don’t mind,” you offered gently, your eyes looking coyly up into his.

virgin!Choso who swallowed nervously as he took in your words. His hands were back on your face now, his thumbs rubbing tenderly across your cheekbones.

“But… I don’t want to hurt you…” Choso said softly. Yet, he couldn’t deny the inexplicable lust he had felt for watching you drool over his cock, seeing those unspilt tears make your eyes shine so pretty. You shook your head gently. “You won’t. I’ll stop you if it’s too much,” you promised him assuredly. Choso swallowed nervously again, but consented with a light "O-okay," too captivated by the idea of feeling his dick inside of your warm, tight throat to put up much of a fight. His hands stayed on your cheeks as you started to pump his cock slowly with your fist again, using all of the spit that had dripped from your mouth to easily slide up and down his length. Choso whimpered, his hips already bucking gently up to meet your movements.

“Fuck… It feels so good,” he whimpered and you felt your core clench up at his needy tone. You were already so wet from sucking his cock, hearing him beg and whimper for you was making you feel like you could cum just from watching him. “Mmm, I know it does, Cho… Want to make you feel even better though,” you couldn’t help but moan back to him.

Your hand slid up and down his shaft a few more times, making audible wet sounds from how much spit had leaked out of your mouth when he gagged you. You continued to use your hand on the lower part of his length, stroking him steadily as you brought your lips to wrap around his tip once more. His hands slid back into your hair, gently holding the loose strands of hair from your face. When you felt comfortable, you picked up the pace again, sliding your lips further down Choso’s cock as your hand stroked in rhythm with your mouth. Your lips and hand were wrapped so perfectly around him… So wet, so warm, so tight… Choso’s head was spinning and he could feel his control slipping.

“Feels so good…” He repeated once more in a repressed whine as he attempted—in vain—to restrain the movements of his thrusts. “Wanna give you more, pretty. Can you take more?” He asked you so desperately, his eyes glazed over with lust and his eyebrows furrowed deeply. You could feel his thighs trembling, the little jumps his hips made as he struggled not to fuck your face as aggressively as his cock was telling him to. You hummed around him and removed your hand from his shaft, giving him permission to use your throat.

virgin!Choso who lost any remaining semblance of control after you took your hand off of him. He tried to start slowly, trying to make his hips roll lightly into your face, wanting to be as gentle as he could. But he kept pushing deeper with every thrust, making his tip press against the tight ring of your throat harder each time until he was slipping past it, bullying into it. He moaned heavily as he watched your lips stretch to fit his girth and clusters of tears gathered in your waterline, the sight only making him thrust harder.

Choso’s breathing was coming out fast again as he watched you take more of his length. His moans were breathy and whiny as his dick took over and he fucked himself into your face blatantly. His voice was so husky, but his moans were so soft and desperate and it made your cunt throb with want as he used your throat. He was humping his hips into your face with abandon now, one strong hand gripping into your hair and forcing you down on his cock while the other held onto your shoulder like a lifeline. You focused hard on relaxing your throat as he manually bobbed your head up and down his length, his dick getting squeezed so perfectly every time he felt your throat gag and constrict around him.

“F-fuck… Thank you, Y/N…Thank you…” He whined in his gruff voice, his hips shaking as he forced the warm wetness of your mouth down and up his swollen cock. He watched you drool and gag as he abused your throat, spit dripping from your chin and onto his heavy balls. His dark eyes watched as you struggled for him, for the sake of his pleasure, and he felt that familiar pressure building inside of him. You blinked up at him—vision blurred from tears—watching as his pretty face contorted with passion. The corners of his dark eyebrows were curved upwards and his swollen lips parted as he watched you so pliantly take his thick cock. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Choso moaned out desperately—sounding as if he were near crying—his hips jerking more erratically as he neared his release. His back arched as his body trembled against the cushions, his head thrown back once again as he panted and whimpered. “Gonna cum,” he cried out in the most pathetically erotic voice you had ever heard. “Gonna cum in your pretty mouth…” His hand had made a fist in your hair, holding your head steady now as he let his volatile thrusts push him over the edge.

virgin!Choso who pulled your face flush against his pelvis as his cock twitched and he released his cum deep into your throat with a sob. You watched the breathtaking sight before you through watery eyes; Choso’s body trembling above you, his neck—littered with blooming lovebites—stretched so beautifully as his head tipped against the back of the couch. He panted and whined your name and his hips bucked into your face with every rope of cum that spurted from his pulsing length, forcing you to swallow all of it.

He groaned as his cock finally stopped twitching and as his grip on your hair relaxed, letting your lips release his thick cock with a pop. You pulled back, breathing heavily as drool streamed down your chin, and your eyes were glossed over with tears. A thick strand of spit hung between your lips and Choso’s tip as the two of you struggled to regain your breath. With effort, Choso pulled his head up to look down at you and gave you a dizzy grin, panted laughs escaping from his chest as he reveled in the afterglow of his orgasm. He took in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair, and your glassy eyes as you smiled back at him; and he thought you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

“How- How was that?” Choso asked breathlessly, his brain still too dazed to form a coherent sentence. You laughed in return, your eyes creasing in the corners and making him chuckle back at his own speechlessness. “You did so good, Choso," you praised him sweetly, wiping the residual drool from your chin and tears from your cheeks. "It was really hot... Watching you let go like that,” you admitted to him a little shyly as you helped pull his boxers back up his thighs, covering his half-hard cock back up (for now).

“How was it for you?” You asked him a little smugly as you smiled up at him, confident you knew his answer. Choso smirked lightly, rolling his eyes, but he still entertained your question.

“Incredible… I... Didn’t know it could feel that good,”  he admitted sincerely, still in disbelief at just how blissful you had made him feel. You smiled at him warmly and laughed as you rose to your feet, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. Choso watched you stand, his eyes gazing at you with adoration and contentment and a lazy grin plastered on his face. He patted his muscular thigh, suddenly feeling emboldened to show you just how grateful he was for you.

“Your turn..."

these just keep getting longer omg 😭 but I am having so much fun making this series more of a slow-burn and I hope you guys are enjoying as well 🫶

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

-

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 1k love!!! Im so happy for you, you deserve all the love 🩶

Could i request a ravenclaw!reader who's a little volatile (i suppose like dark acadameia) that the slytherins have kind of adopted (because shes volatile not violent and they think its cute). But shes been in a relationship with Remus on the down low and they realise at a halloween party?

I imagine Remus as an angel while reader is a devil and the slytherins were already concerned by the costume but then they notice you and Remus and just loose their marbles. Barty's having a meltdown, evans im shock and Sirius is cackling because Regulus is trying to stand tall but Remus is so much bigger than him its just impossible.

Anyway, tysm for your wonderful self and feel free to twist this however fits you, love!!

Hi lovely, thank you so much! I'm assuming you meant this to be for the Fade Into You part of the celebration since it's a specific reader, and also I don't know the Slytherin boys very well so I feel like my characterization could be wayyyyy off but I hope this is alright!

join the party

Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!reader ♡ 930 words

You’re dancing with your friends when your drink is plucked suddenly from your hand. 

“Hey!” You spin around to find the thief, and then your tone changes completely. “Hey, Remus, you came!” You crash into him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Remus hugs you back the best he’s able, a drink in each hand. “And you wore your costume!” You grin as you pull away, resting a hand on either side of his face to admire how soft and sweet he looks in seraphim white. “Is that glitter on your cheeks?”

Said cheeks grow warm under your hands. “That’s Sirius’ touch.” 

“You look very pretty.” He grins, and you stand on tiptoe to whisper sweetly in his ear, “Now give me back my drink, pretty boy.” 

Remus’ smile doesn’t waver, but he becomes a tad more serious about the eyes. “How many have you had?”

“Oh, don’t be such a drag, Lupin,” Barty pipes up, coming up behind you to sling an arm around your shoulder. “She’s fine, and not that it’s any business of yours, but we won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“She just seems like maybe she’s had enough,” Remus replies, and his tone is far from unkind, but there’s an edge of admonishment to it that has Barty bristling noticeably. He turns back to you, voice softening. “What do you say, lovely, want to go sit down for a little while?”

You look at Barty, who raises an eyebrow at you. Behind him, Reggie stands with his arms crossed, looking bored with the whole thing.  

“I won’t be gone long,” you say in apology, and Barty scoffs disgustedly, but releases you. 

“Fine, go play with your costume buddy,” he says. “We’ll be here when you get sick of him.” 

You take Remus’ hand in one of yours, flipping Barty off with the other. 

“Are we really going to sit down?” you whisper hopefully, and Remus chuckles. 

“Yeah, we are. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not exactly walking in a straight line right now.” 

You grin, tugging at his hand playfully. “That’s just ‘cause I’m a rebel. The boys would never let me hang out with them if I walked the straight and narrow.” 

“That so?” Remus hums, pulling you down onto a couch beside him. “Have I mentioned how nice you look yet? You really do.” 

“I’m not supposed to look nice.” You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to him. “I’m a devil, Rem. I’m supposed to look hot and salacious.” 

Remus graces you with a smile, brushing a piece of hair from in front of your eye. “You do look hot, but you look nice too. I don’t think you can help that one, dovey.” 

“Yeah?” You bat your eyelashes, moving into his lap. Remus’ eyebrow quirks up slightly, cheeks glittering with the movement, but he doesn’t stop you. “Is it just that I radiate sweetness?” You kiss his jaw. “And patience?” Remus’ cheek is faintly pink where you press your lips. “Innocence, certainly,” you tease, breath hot on his ear, “but what else?” 

“Dove,” he whispers, “I think your friends are watching.” 

“Hm?” You look up, and sure enough, Regulus, Barty, and Evan are standing just a few feet away by the punch bowl, expressions ranging from bewilderment to abject horror. “Oh. Oops.” 

“I—I can’t,” Barty sputters. “I can’t be seeing this. Are you plastered? Get off him.” 

You don’t, but Remus does it for you, standing and setting you on your feet as Regulus stalks forward. He stops with his arms crossed in front of the two of you. 

“Is this who you’ve been ditching us for lately?” he asks you. 

You start to reply, but Barty talks over you. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, there’s no way. There’s no way.” 

Others have started migrating toward you to watch the show, among them Remus’ friends. Normally you wouldn't care, but Remus is beginning to squirm, so you try to calm things down for his benefit. 

“You guys are overreacting,” you say, as peaceably as you’re capable of. “As if it really matters what house my boyfriend is in.” 

“Boyfriend?” Barty despairs, and you should have known better than to think anything could quell his dramatics once they’ve begun. “God, as if the costumes weren’t bad enough, you have to throw lovey-dovey terms like boyfriend around.” 

A peal of laughter sounds from somewhere nearby, and you look around to find Sirius, eyes already wet with mirth as he watches his younger brother. “Reggie,” he manages between giggles, “are you trying to look taller than him?”

Reg raises an unimpressed brow, and anyone who didn’t know him well might not notice the flicker of embarrassment in his gaze. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, but his posture is better than you’ve ever seen it, his neck elongated in an attempt to look Remus in the eyes without having to tilt his head. 

“Reg.” Sirius swipes under his eyes. “You may be taller than me, but you’re never gonna get all the way up there.” “Alright,” you say decisively, taking Remus’ hand and proceeding to push past Regulus’ stiff form. You shoot Evan a half-apologetic look as you go by, still standing frozen like he’s been stupefied, and Barty follows your movement with eyes blown wide. “Just for that, we’re going back to you guys’ dorm, Black. And we’re going to fuck, loudly, all night.” You shoot your most winning smile in his direction, even as Remus’ face takes on a fiery hue beneath the white glitter. “I wouldn’t recommend coming home. Goodnight!”

[slaybestieslay946]

Dream Girl

Summary: Paul has dreamt of a girl all his life, and when he reaches Arrakis, he finally discovers her to be the assistant to Dr Liet Kynes.

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Fremen!OC

Word count: 2500

Warnings: Slight mentions of violence, pretentious writing style.

A/N: just need to get this out because im so obsessed with him its becoming unhealthy. hope anyone reading enjoys and has a nice day! You never know i might add chapters if i feel like it lmao.

Paul had seen her in his dreams many times over the years. She had been with him throughout it all, from the cradle until now, as he began to bloom into adulthood. 

He’d never thought he’d really see her in front of his eyes. Over the years he’d dismissed her as a mere fantasy; the leftovers of a child’s overactive imagination. Blue eyes that couldn’t quite be real, and a beauty that only existed in daydreams. 

Yet, here she was, standing stoic beside the ‘judge of the change’, surveying the approaching group with those piercing blue eyes. Paul had to remind himself to breathe before he collapsed from lack of oxygen. 

“My Lord Duke.” The older woman greeted his father, bowing her head, and so did the dream-girl, except the fire in her eyes never faded. 

“Dr Kynes. Thank you for agreeing to take us out.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, sire. This is my apprentice and pilot, Nami.” 

Duke Leto acknowledged the dream-girl, no, Nami, with a quick nod. She responded in kind.

“Now,” Kynes began, “We must check your stillsuits-” The two women stepped forward in sync to aid the group, but were stopped by Gurney’s blades at their necks. 

Paul couldn’t help but admire the way she didn’t flinch as a blade was held to her throat, merely raising her chin in defiance. Few would have the gall to glare at the soldier in such a way. 

“Gurney, no need. Let them work.” The Duke asserted, and Gurney lowered his sword, albeit rather begrudgingly. 

They then approached the group of outworlders to adjust their suits. Paul had to force himself to breathe normally as Nami approached him and the two locked eyes. He quickly tore his gaze away from hers, as she began to check his suit was on correctly. 

All the while, Kynes was going on a long and probably very interesting spiel about stillsuits and their benefits, but he found it very hard to concentrate when he was face to face with the girl he had been dreaming about all his life. 

“You’ve worn a stillsuit before?” Nami suddenly asked, inspecting some of the straps on the front. 

“No, this is my first time.” 

“Hm,” She cocked her head in confusion, “Your boots are fashioned slip-fast at the ankles. Who taught you to do that?” 

“Just seemed like the right way.” He said, trying to work out what was going on inside her head. 

Their exchange had now caught the attention of the rest of the group, and Nami turned to Kynes, muttering a few words in a different language, shaking her head slightly. 

It took Paul a few moments to realise that they were speaking in the language of the fremen. 

“You’re fremen.” He said plainly, like it had been obvious the whole time. 

“We are accepted in both sietch and village, yes.” Nami said, nodding. 

Before he could ask anymore questions, Kynes began to lead them to the aircraft, explaining that they would be travelling to the nearest harvesting field north of Arrakeen. 

The group all entered one of the small aircraft, and Paul watched as Nami began to sit in the pilot's chair, but was stopped by his father. 

“If you don’t mind, Nami, I’d like to pilot.” He said, with an almost childlike smile upon his face. Paul remembered his fathers admission that he had once wished to be a pilot himself. 

“Of course, my lord.” She bowed her head, and shuffled over to the co-pilot’s seat. 

The group all strapped themselves into their seats, grabbing a headset and preparing for take off. 

Duke Leto soon began to press several buttons, and Paul’s dream-girl followed suit, adjusting switches here and there. The Duke soon pulled up off the ground and turned in a near-perfect manoeuvre that left his co-pilot impressed. 

“You’re a pilot?” She asked. 

“Yes I was, in my youth. It has been many years though.” He smiled, regarding the desert beneath him in what looked like wonder. 

“You are very talented.” Nami complimented simply, and Paul watched as a newfound respect bled into her eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of yearning for her to look at him in the same way. With respect earned by his own deeds, rather than the kind that stemmed from a generations old name. 

Kynes then began her narration as they moved over dunes, towards the spice fields. Paul chipped in here and there with a question or two for her. 

“Why don’t they just shield the crawlers?” He asked, looking down at the desert below, where one of the crawlers was moving. Was this the desert power his father had been talking about?

“Shields are a death sentence in the desert.” Nami chipped in, turning her head momentarily to look at Paul, who tore his face away in embarrassment when he felt a slight heat rise to his cheeks. 

“Yes,” Kynes continued for her apprentice, “It attracts the worms and drives them into a killing frenzy.” 

“Is that one of the worms?” His father asked, pointing at a vague cloud of dust on the horizon. 

Kynes picked up a pair of binoculars from her lap and peered into them for a moment, before answering, “That’s a worm alright. And a big one. Nami, call it in for me?” 

“On it.” She replied, and began speaking into the headset in various codes, asking for any carriers in the area. 

It didn’t take long for one to appear, and it began making its way to the crawler below. Paul watched in awe as it made its descent. He knew spice harvesting was dangerous, and of course accommodations had to be made, but the technology used was truly fascinating. How was that tiny carrier going to lift that enormous crawler?

He would, unfortunately, never find out. Because as the carrier attempted to attach itself, one of the arms snapped. Suddenly an influx of frenzied shouts came over the radio in confusion, as Kynes chipped in to explain the situation. 

The Duke then snapped into action. 

“How many men on that crawler?” 

“A crew of 21.” Kynes replied. 

“Our ships can only take 6 each. That leaves 3 men.” Paul added. 

“We’ll find a way.” His father responded, flicking a switch before dropping into a nosedive, the other two ships following suit behind him. 

Soon, they were landing just beside the crawlers, and unbuckling themselves from their seats inside the aircraft. Paul was the first up and moving. 

“The shield generators should weigh about the same as a few men.” Paul said, waiting for Gurney to finish undoing his seatbelt. 

“Good idea,” Gurney said, “I’ll toss them out, go instruct the men.” He said, patting the younger boy on the shoulder as he moved to get rid of the shields, Paul slipping past him and onto the sand below. 

As he dropped onto the sand of the desert for the first time, he couldn’t help but pause. Something about his boots on the ground felt natural, and as he looked down at the swathe of gold, he had never felt more at home. 

What snapped him into action again was the thud of a shield generator falling from the aircraft, and then Paul was moving, running towards the groups of men coming out of the crawler. 

“7 over there, 7 over there, move!!” He shouted, pointing to the various aircraft waiting for them and waving them over.

And then a cloud of sand engulfed him. 

Paul quickly brought his mask to his face and shut his eyes, trying to ignore the stinging pain of millions of grains of sand hitting him. And then suddenly everything around him seemed to still, and he brought his mask down away from his face, opening his eyes. 

He was surrounded by a cloud of dust, and he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. 

Paul took a deep breath in, feeling the way his nostrils tingled as he inhaled, and noticing the sparkle of the dust around him. 

He wasn’t standing in dust, but spice. 

 Before his eyes the real world melted away, and he was overtaken by visions. Visions of violence, death, the dunes of Arrakis, a blade, and finally Nami’s face, blue-blue eyes staring into his own. 

Then she began to cry, tears streaming down her face. The face that had seemed so stoic in the real world was not so in his vision. 

Then his vision began to return, and through the haze of spice he heard something familiar, before realising what it was. 

“I recognise your footsteps old man…” Paul whispered, jolting awake as Gurney clapped him on the shoulder, hauling him to his feet. 

“C’mon!” He shouted, glancing to the side. Paul followed his gaze, and was immediately spurred into action as he saw the fast approaching sandworm. 

Immediately he was sprinting towards the aircraft, locking eyes with his father through the windshield as he began to take off, spinning so the open door was facing them. 

And there she was. 

Gurney was the first to reach her, and she quickly hauled him up into the aircraft, pushing him in while not taking her eyes off Paul. 

“Atreides!” She shouted, holding out her hand for him to take, evident concern in her eyes. 

He pumped his legs faster than he thought possible, catching up with the aircraft and grabbing her hand, watching as the sandworm emerged from the very place he had been kneeling, overtaken by visions. 

Eventually he pulled himself away from the sight of the desert, clambering up the ramp towards Nami, who quickly shut the door behind him. 

“Thank you.” Paul said to her, still slightly breathless. 

“No problem.” She replied, dusting a few grains off his shoulder before returning to her seat beside the Duke, slipping on her headset and reporting their re-entry into general airspace. 

Paul moved back to his seat just behind her, trying to ignore his fathers angry gaze, as well as quell the aggressive beating of his heart. Their trip had been more eventful than he thought. 

Soon the aircraft was landing, and Paul stood to get up, wanting to get away from one of his fathers lectures, but not before saying goodbye to Nami. 

“Thank you, again.” He said, quickly.

She smiled this time, her face softening ever so slightly, “Take care, Paul Atreides. I pray we meet again.” 

He nodded, unable to form words in response as his tongue had grown heavy in his mouth. And then he ran away, jumping out of the aircraft as quickly as he could before he blurted out anything stupid.  

*

Paul whipped around taking in the sudden appearance of so many Fremen around him and his mother. They must have seen them running from the sandworm. 

“Do not run. You will only waste precious water.” A man said from above him. He seemed to be a leader. Upon closer inspection, Paul realised it was Stilgar, the man who his father had received. 

“Stilgar? Do you remember me? You came before my fathers council.”

“Ah, yes. The Atreides boy.” 

“Stop wasting time, we need their water!” A cry came from above, and as Paul looked up, he saw a man, and beside him, his dream-girl. 

“Quiet Jamis. You know we cannot harm him. He is Atreides. Besides,” Nami jumped down from one of the ledges to stand beside Stilgar, “I will vouch for him.”

Objections erupted from the rest of the Fremen, but her eyes remained locked with Paul’s. Stilgar quickly jumped in to quiet them. 

“That is fine. The boy is young, he can still learn our ways. However, the woman cannot.” He declared, and Paul looked to Stilgar in horror, moving backwards to stand in front of his mother protectively. Although, it was mostly meaningless, as he knew his mother could protect herself perfectly well. 

“She’s too old to learn?” He asked, his voice harsh. 

“Atreides…” Nami said softly, almost like a warning not to push further. 

But he didn’t have to, as the Fremen were already drawing their knives, and Stilgar was removing the outer layer of cloth he was wearing. And then, his mother was leaping out from behind him, and she and Stilgar became locked in battle. 

Paul took the opportunity to gain the upperhand, climbing up to a higher ledge and stealing a maula pistol from one of the Fremen warriors, but not before shooting Nami an apologetic glance. 

As he looked back down, he saw that his mother had made quick work of the Fremen leader, holding his own blade to his throat. Nevertheless, he activated the pistol and kept it pointed at one of the nearby Fremen.

“Peace, woman. You did not tell me you were a weirding woman and a fighter.” He sighed. 

“Our conversation ran short.” She snapped, not letting go of him. 

“Peace. I judged you too hastily.” 

Jessica then released Stilgar, handing him back his blade, meanwhile Paul lowered his pistol.

“The woman is under my charge until we reach sietch Tabr. Nami, are you still willing to vouch for the boy?”

“Yes.” She said firmly, and the rest of the Fremen sighed, making a cutting notion on the top of their wrists with their blades, before sheathing them. 

Once that was done, Stilgar began climbing up the ledge to approach Paul, holding out a hand for the maula pistol. 

“Come now. You will get your own when you have earned it.” He said, and the younger man sighed, returning the weapon to him, albeit begrudgingly. 

That was when ‘Jamis’ decided to chip into the proceedings once more. 

“I will not have them.”

“Jamis, I have spoken,” Stilgar said, “Be still.”

“You talk like a leader, but the strongest leads. She bested you. I invoke the Amtal.” 

Paul’s mother stiffened beside him, and although he did not yet know what that meant, he knew it did not bode well. 

“Jamis, you may not challenge her-”

“Then who will fight in her place?”

“Jamis,” Nami piped up, “Do not do this, the night is fading.”

“Then the sun will witness this death, Nami. Where is her champion?” 

Paul now understood what was going on, and if anyone was going to fight for his mother it would be him. 

He stepped out from behind Stilgar, and walked towards Jamis in the way he had been taught to as a Duke’s son, back straight, head held high.

“I accept her champion.”

Stilgar sighed as Jamis brushed past them, but soon followed suit. As did the rest of the Fremen, his mother included, until it was only him and Nami left. 

“So, we meet again, Atreides.” She smiled, her voice slightly teasing. 

“Mhm. I see you’ve been praying.” Paul smirked, hoping to get the upper hand over her.

“Have you not?” She asked in faux shock, and it sent Paul spinning, because although he had not been praying, he had dreamt of her every night since he last saw her. 

“Besides,” Nami continued, not noticing his sudden flush, “I am beginning to regret my prayers. You are causing trouble already.” 

“It’s in my nature.”

“Evidently. Now, come along, you have a duel to prepare for. Jamis is a good fighter, if you try hard you may just die with honour.” She declared, a wry smile on her face as she turned on her heel and led him further into the rocks of the desert. 

[minnaci]

contents: established dan heng x gn!reader. reader is a member of the astral express crew, but is not the hsr mc. hurt/comfort, post-1.2 spoilers

a/n: a little bit of a longer one today! thanks to @itoshisoup, @/petrichorium, n @/kitsunefreak for answering my questions abt dh's reincarnation (ask here)! if u see this i hope u know it took everything in me not to call him daniel heng

you and dan heng have never needed words. why say "i love you" when you could just cut him a plate of fruit? why say "i need you" when you could press little, fluttering kisses to his spine, and watch the shiver of goosebumps spread over his skin?

your language has always been one of quiet actions, quiet loves, which is perhaps why he looks so surprised when you take one look and him and say, quite loudly, "what the fuck?"

because the dan heng standing before you isn't the dan heng you could recognize by touch alone. he's.... taller, somehow. broader. he carries himself with an ease that he hadn't before. and most importantly—

"are those horns?"

"yes," he says, with no further explanation.

"dan heng used to be a cool dragon warrior guy in his past life!" march 7th interjects, seemingly oblivious to your increasing upset. "he was super powerful and super important, too!"

you'd known about the whole... reincarnation thing. he'd explained it to you before, but from your understanding, his past lives weren't important. he'd told you that this life with you was the only one that mattered to him. so why hadn't he told you...?

"that's quite enough, march 7th," himeko takes one glance at your expression and cuts in as march 7th begins rambling about dan heng's... boyfriends? husbands? from his past lives and how handsome and cool and strong they all were, and how their story was so romantic—

dan heng says nothing.

"well," you say abruptly, forcing a smile, "i'm suddenly feeling a bit tired. i'm going to turn in. dan heng, you can sleep outside tonight."

you stand up and swiftly make your way to the passenger car. behind you, you hear march 7th ask, "did i say something wrong?"

you let it all fade into silence as you step into the archive room— you and dan heng's room. at least, it would be silence, if it wasn't for the faint footsteps behind you.

"you're upset with me." dan heng crosses the room to you in a few long strides. gently, carefully, he pulls you into his arms. you let him. despite all of the visual changes, he still smells the same. it's more comforting than you thought it would be. you take a few deep breaths, letting his familiar scent calm you down.

"i'm not angry," you say, voice a bit muffled as you bury your face in his chest.

"you're not," he agrees. "but you are upset."

silence falls upon you. you curl further into dan heng's embrace, and he welcomes you easily, drawing wide circles over your back. he's generous with his touch, his affection. it helps you begin to sort through the mess of feelings in your heart.

"you always told me that your past lives weren't important," you say. the words spill from you, a waterfall of hurt and insecurity. "but then you come back from the luofu looking like some— some celestial war dragon, and then i hear about your banishment for high treason and your two beautiful lovers who recognized you across lifetimes, and how it's so romantic because they're probably your soulmates—"

"i know you don't like when i interrupt," dan heng interrupts. "but i... i want to explain before you get more upset, as there are nuances to this situation that i do not think march 7th handled with enough care. you know how she can be when she's excited."

you nod. you do know. you take another deep breath— in through your nose, out slowly through your mouth. "okay, then. explain. please."

"i do not consider myself the same person as the version of me who lived in the past," dan heng says. "i am dan heng. the person that march 7th spoke of was called dan feng. his deeds and his lovers are not mine. i claim no ownership of nor association with them. thus, they are not important to me. dan feng is not important to me. does that make sense?"

"not really," you say. "you're literally him."

"i am not him," dan heng says. "we may share a soul, but i am not him. i do not remember his life, nor do i want to. i have everything i could ever want here and now, as dan heng."

"really?"

"yes," he says. there's a warm brush of lips against the crown of your head. "the astral express crew makes me happy. you make me happy. we may have our troubles, but there's nobody i would rather face them with than you."

warmth flushes through your body, and you hide your face again. it's rare that dan heng voices his emotions so clearly. his candor strips you raw, scraping at the inside of your chest. he's the one being vulnerable, so why are you the one feeling so seen?

"i mean it," dan heng says, taking your silence as disbelief. "i love you. nothing about my past reincarnation's life will change that."

"you're so ridiculous," you sniffle, willing your tears away. "i love you, too."

silence settles around your shoulders once more, comforting like a feather-filled duvet. dan heng rocks you gently— back and forth, back and forth. new clothes and new horns aside, he still smells the same. he speaks the same way. and when you press your ear to his chest, his heart beats the same, steady beat.

"were your— dan feng's— past lovers really that hot?" you break the silence, and dan heng lets out a rare laugh.

"of course you're curious about that," he says, with no small amount of fondness. "here— i'll let you form your own opinions."

he taps on his communicator a few times, pulling up a picture.

"no way," you do a double take, hands flying to your mouth, and you pull back to look at him, wide-eyed. "dan heng. no way."

"yes way," he says, and you can hear the little smug smirk in his voice. he loves you, you know he does, but you can't blame him for the bit of pride that shines through his tone. if you'd managed to pull not one, but two men that magnificent in your past life, your head would get so big that you'd explode.

"and you don't care about them at all?" you have to ask. dan feng was one lucky guy. it's hard not to feel insecure, just a little—

"why would i? they're strangers to me," dan heng blazes through your train of thought, tilting your chin to look you in the eyes. he sobers. something in his voice reaches into the soft, small animal of your heart, holding it steady as it flutters. "besides, i already have the most beautiful person in the universe in my arms."

extra:

"so does this mean i can sleep in the room again?"

"mrgh," you mumble. if your eyelids were any less heavy, you'd open your eyes to shoot him an incredulous look. your limbs are intwined with his like an octopus, and it's bedtime. surely, he's capable of extrapolating. as it is, you mouth sleepily at his collarbone, and hope he understands it as permission.

"okay. just checking. goodnight, dear."

[calistrae]

his world. jude bellingham

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing: jude bellingham x f!reader

summary: jude absolutely adores his little baby girl and her mommy

warnings: reader and jude are young parents in this one!! (i have the biggest baby fever rn), teeth rotting fluff, if you're not into parenting/baby tropes then this probably isn't for you in any way

cal's notes: yes, i do realize i've literally disappeared lmao. mental health went downhill and yeah, we're here now. i don't know when i'll get to the requests, i'm really sorry but i'm hoping i'll get my motivation back at some point

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

jude's pov

the moment the nurse laid her in her arms, i couldn't tear my eyes away. she was beautiful, her little nose scrunched up ever so slightly as she slept so peacefully. that's the moment i realized what it meant to love someone more than anything else in the entire world. so cliché but you'll never know before you experience that feeling for the first time.

i lifted my eyes from the small bundle and up to her, the woman who had given me this gift. i thought i loved her before, but it was nothing compared to the way i felt towards her now. she had just gone through hours of pain to bring this little girl into this world. i admired her features, glistening with sweat and tears but i could swear she had never looked more beautiful.

"i love you so much, beautiful." i kissed the top of her head and the back of my hand slowly glided across the skin of her cheek, flushed after what must've been the toughest hours of her life.

she looked up at me and gave me a small, clearly exhausted smile but she couldn't take her eyes off her for long either. this little angel stole both of our hearts on the spot.

"aila." she muttered and upon noticing the confusion on my face, she was quick to explain "that's her name."

aila.

─────────────────────

as you stirred awake to the sound of your daughter's cries, you noticed jude was no longer next to you. how did you realize before you even opened your eyes? his warm, somewhat calloused hands were gone from their usual position around your bare waist.

with a soft sigh, you moved out of the comfort of your bed and sauntered to aila's room, noticing how the soft, warm light was glowing in the distance. that's how you knew your boyfriend was already there, handling the situation but as you approached the door, the sight made you stop and silently lean against the door frame.

jude was standing by your daughter's bed, holding the little one in his arms while he slowly swayed himself from side to side. his eyes were fixated on the six-month-old while he hummed a soft melody, attempting to quiet the cries of your baby girl. you had never seen him so serene and attentive before and you could feel your heart warm at the two.

you were both fairly young to be parents and you had always worried about your maturity but with each passing day, jude proved you wrong. the way he cared for aila and always made her his top priority...she was his world.

you couldn't help but smile at them, especially when you heard the cries and weeps fade into the night as they were replaced with babbling and soft giggles. a smile rose on jude's lips when he realized he had managed to calm his daughter and he placed a gentle kiss on her tiny knuckles before holding her against his chest. he would've loved to hold her like this for hours, never laying her down in her crib again, but he knew he had to get her back to sleep.

you moved further into the comfort of aila's room and pressed yourself against jude's back, arms instinctively wrapping around his mid-section. "having some trouble there, papa?" you asked him with a smile and he only chuckled. "hey, i'm the one that managed to calm her down. princess is almost ready to go back to bed, aren't you, angel?" he said and turned around, which brought your daughter to your view. she smiled at the sight of you and reached her hands out, her chestnut brown eyes glistening as she giggled. just like jude, she had stolen your heart the moment she was placed into your arms and you were completely powerless. from those beautiful eyes that were identical to her dad's to those chubby cheeks, she was perfect.

as jude watched the most important women in his life, he couldn't contain the pure happiness he felt surging through his veins. "what's on your mind?" you questioned as you had now taken aila into your own arms and began to rock from one foot to the other slowly. jude shrugged, the everlasting grin on his lips staying in place "i never thought it was possible to love someone this much, let alone two people" he admitted and pressed a tender kiss on your temple before turning his attention to his daughter. "she is the best thing that could've ever happened to us" he whispered as he watched the little girl's eyes slowly flutter shut, followed by a gentle yawn from you.

"i've got it, my love. go and get some sleep." he offered and took aila from your arms, which you were eternally grateful for as you could swear you almost fell asleep on the spot. "i love you" was all you responded but instead of replying, he gave you a delicate kiss on your lips. considering it was sometime around 2 am, his lips were slightly chapped and rough, but you didn't tell him that. "join me soon" you requested before pecking his cheek and heading back to bed.

his eyes lingered as he watched you leave and began to hum the same melody as he had been before, this time hoping to slowly swing the six-month-old back to sleep. "i don't think you'll ever know how much daddy loves you, angel. i'm so lucky to have you and mummy. i think i'm going to propose to mummy soon." he told his daughter in a hushed whisper, it was almost as if he was expecting a response.

"goodnight, my angel. you're my entire world."

[itsmealaiah]

Angel

TW: angst, fighting, kicking tom out, p in v sex, unprotected sex, head (f rec), profanity, babytalk, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, slight degrading, tom talking in german, pussydrunk tom

Request: could you please do a oneshot about 2010 Tom and y/n having a massive fight because he forgot their 3 year anniversary (make the angst long plss <3) and then y/n finally caves in when he brings her flowers and chocolates to make it up to her and they fuckkkk

Rating: 18+, mdni

Word count: 2.4k

Send some tom reqs yall my inbox is open 💞

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are very much appreciated

It was a night much like any other, the cold air nipping at your exposed skin as you waited for tom to come home from whatever the fuck he was doing this late at night.

You were angry. So, so angry. How could he forget your anniversary? It had been three whole years together, and he couldn't even be bothered to remember. You knew you shouldn't be surprised; after all, he had been distant lately, and he had been away a lot more than usual. But still, it hurt. It hurt so much.

You had tried to call him earlier, but his phone had gone straight to voicemail. You left him a message, your voice laced with anger and hurt. You didn't want to fight, but you couldn't help it. You needed him to understand how much this meant to you.

And then, finally, you heard the click of the front door. You turned around, your eyes narrowed, your hands balled into fists. Tom walked in, looking sheepish, his shoulders slumped. He glanced at you, and for a moment, you could see the regret in his eyes.

"Tom," you said, your voice low and shaky. "You have some explaining to do."

He winced at your tone, but he didn't say anything. You felt a surge of anger course through you, and before you knew it, you were yelling. You were yelling at the top of your lungs, throwing his promise ring on the ground, the platinum flashing in the dim light. Tears streamed down your face, and you felt like your chest was going to cave in.

"How could you?" you screamed. "How could you forget our anniversary? Do you even care about us anymore?"

Tom's face contorted in pain, and he took a step forward, reaching out to touch you. But you shoved him away, your anger stronger than your fear.

"Get out," you managed to choke out. "Just get out."

He looked like he was about to say something, but then he seemed to change his mind. His shoulders slumped again, and with a defeated sigh, he turned and left the apartment, the sound of his footsteps fading away down the hall.

You were left alone, the silence pressing in on you like a heavy weight. You wiped away your tears, but they seemed to come faster and harder. You curled up into a ball on the couch, your whole body aching from the tension and the hurt.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, and you fell asleep, still sobbing. You didn't know how long you were out, but when you awoke, it was to the sound of a gentle knocking at the door. Groaning, you sat up, wiping the tears from your face. Maybe it was Tom, coming to apologize. Maybe he'd brought you something to make it up to you.

Your hopes were quickly dashed when you opened the door to reveal not Tom, but a young florist holding a large bouquet of flowers. "Um, hi," they said, their voice shaky. "I was sent here to deliver these for Mr. Kaulitz" They held up the flowers, a stunning arrangement of red roses and white lilies.

You felt a pang in your chest as you took the flowers from the florist, your hand shaking slightly. "Thank you," you managed to choke out. As the florist turned to leave, you closed the door and leaned against it, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

It was then that you heard another knock, this time from the window. Confused, you crossed the room and peered through the curtains to see Tom standing outside, his face pale and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was holding a small box, and you could see the corner of a gold card peeking out from it.

Your heart began to race as you unlocked the window and pushed it open. "Tom?" you asked hesitantly. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with regret and apologies. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to make it up to you."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took the small box from him. It was wrapped in black velvet, and when you opened it, you found a pair of exquisite earrings inside. "They're just like the ones you admired at the jewelry store last week," he explained, his voice barely audible. "I wanted you to have them."

You felt your defenses start to crumble as you looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. "They're beautiful," you whispered, wiping away another tear. "Thank you." You took a deep breath and stepped forward, pulling him into a hug.

As you held him, you could feel the tension easing out of your body, and for the first time in hours, you felt like maybe things could be okay between you again. Tom held you tightly, his face buried in your hair. "I love you," he murmured against your skin. "So, so much."

You breathed in deeply, trying to steady your own voice as you replied, "I love you too, Tom. I want us to work this out. I don't want to lose us." He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any sign of hope. "I'm not giving up on us" you assured him, and placed a kiss on his lips.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the tension slowly melting away, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and connection. Tom held you close, his hands gently exploring your back, and you knew in that moment that you wanted this, you wanted them. You wanted to be with Tom, through everything.

As if sensing your newfound resolve, he pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into yours, and then without warning, he roughly pushed you down onto the couch, following your body down until he was hovering over you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he pinned your wrists above your head, his body pressing into yours, his erection trapped between your legs.

He growled, the sound vibrating against your neck, and then his lips found your earlobe, sucking and nipping at it hungrily. You arched your back, moaning as he continued to thrust his hips, grinding his erection against your clit with each movement. The friction was almost too much to bear, but you knew you couldn't last much longer like this.

You gasped as his hand slipped free from your wrists and roughly grabbed the back of your head, holding you in place as he began to fuck you harder. His hips snapped forward with each thrust, his body weight pinning you to the couch. You could feel the muscles in his back tensing and relaxing with each movement, and you couldn't help but match his rhythm, your body moving in time with his.

His growls and curses in german only seemed to heighten the sensation, pushing you past your limits. It was as if he were a wild animal, untamed and unyielding, taking what he wanted with a primal fury. You arched your back, moaning loudly as he thrust deeper inside you, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

Your head thrashed from side to side, the couch cushions digging into your back as you tried to find some purchase against the force of his movements. The heat between your legs grew more intense with each passing second, your orgasm building and building until it felt like it was going to explode from your body.

And then, with one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his eyes meeting yours as he watched your face contort in ecstasy. "Ja," he gasped, "ja, baby." You clenched tightly around him, your gummy walls squeezing and massaging his cock as your orgasm crashed over you in a wave of pure pleasure.

Your body arched off the couch, your back bowing, your fingernails digging into the cushions as your inner muscles gripped him, milking him. He growled, the sound vibrating deep in his throat as he began to move faster, thrusting harder, his hips slamming against your ass with an urgency that left you gasping for breath.

Your orgasm seemed to go on forever, your pussy clenching and releasing around him in rhythmic spasms, each one more intense than the last. He groaned, his face contorted in pleasure as he felt your walls squeezing him, milking him, your muscles gripping him so tightly it was almost painful.

Finally, with a last, powerful thrust, he came, his hips snapping forward as he released himself deep inside you. His grip on your hips tightened, his teeth biting down gently on your shoulder, holding you in place as he emptied himself into you. Your walls milked him relentlessly, drawing every last drop of his seed before finally releasing him.

As his orgasm subsided, he collapsed forward, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. His weight pressed you deeper into the couch cushions, his sweat-slickened skin pressed against your own. You reveled in the feel of him inside you, the warmth of his body and the strength of his embrace.

After a few moments, he slowly pulled out, the wetness between your legs left exposed and vulnerable. He rolled onto his back, pulling you into his arms, your head nestled in the crook of his neck. His fingers traced gentle circles on your stomach, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against your clitoris.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice raspy with exhaustion and desire. "I could look at you all day." He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling back to look at you. Your eyes were closed, your face flushed with pleasure and contentment. "I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I've always loved you."

You opened your eyes, a slow smile spreading across your face. "I love you too, Tom," you whispered back. "You're my everything." He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his tongue darting out to tease your bottom lip.

Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his chest, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin beneath them. The afterglow of your orgasm lingered, leaving you both relaxed and content. "I could just lie here with you all day," you sighed, nestling deeper into his embrace.

He chuckled, the vibration of it sending a shiver down your spine. "Well" he pointed out with a grin. "We could stay here and just enjoy each other's company for a while. Or," he continued, moving to kiss you slowly and deliberately, "We could head to our room, and see what other mischief we can get into." His words sent a wave of anticipation through you, and you felt your body respond, growing even wetter between your legs.

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement at the thought of what might happen next. "I like the sound of that," you whispered, tracing a line down his chest with your fingernail. "Lead the way, my love." He smiled, rolling to the side and then scooping you up in his arms. With you held securely against him, he stood, carrying you through the living room and into the hallway.

Your bedroom was just down the hall, and as he neared it, his pace quickened, his heart racing with anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of their lovemaking, the sheets tangled and sweaty from their earlier encounters. He set you down on the bed, the mattress dipping as he knelt between your spread legs. His hands moved to your hips, gripping them possessively as he leaned forward, his lips mere inches from your wetness.

He inhaled deeply, savoring the musky scent of your arousal, and then lowered his head, his tongue darting out to trace circles around your clit. Your hips arched off the bed, your back bowing as a moan escaped your lips. He increased the pace, his tongue flicking faster and harder against your sensitive flesh, his fingers digging deeper into your hips. Your legs trembled, your inner walls clenching tight around his tongue.

"Oh God, Tom," you cried out, your voice cracking with desire. "That feels so good!" He groaned in response, his teeth scraping lightly against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure crashing through you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. His free hand moved up, cupping your breast, tweaking your nipple roughly before rolling it between his fingers.

The bed creaked beneath you as he shifted, spreading your legs further apart to get better access to your sensitive flesh. His tongue danced in and out of your folds, teasing and pleasuring you, his thumb circling your opening, pressing against your entrance. Your hips bucked up off the bed, seeking more contact, more friction, more of him.

The taste of you on his tongue ignited a fire inside him, and he moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent. His free hand found its way to your other breast, squeezing and massaging it roughly as he continued to ravage your clit with his tongue. The room spun around you, your senses on overload as he brought you closer and closer to the brink.

Your orgasm built and built, an unstoppable wave of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, digging your nails into his shoulders, the muscles in your thighs clenching tight around his head. He groaned into your pussy, the vibration sending shockwaves of ecstasy through you. Your pussy clamped down on his tongue, milking him for every last drop of pleasure.

As your orgasm finally crested and broke, you cried out his name, your voice hoarse from the intensity of it. He slowed his ministrations for a moment, savoring the taste of you as your body shook with aftershocks of pleasure. His eyes were dark and intense as he looked up at you, his chest heaving from exertion.

"Ah, mein Schatz," he murmured, using his favorite pet name for you. "You are so beautiful when you come." He leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before spooning you, and holding you tightly against him.

As your breathing slowly returned to normal, your body relaxing into the comfort of his embrace, your eyes began to shut.

The weight of his arm draped across your waist, his strong hand gripping your hip, grounded you even as sleep pulled you under. You felt the mattress dip as he shifted his weight, his breath warm against your neck as he murmured something in his native tongue. It was a lullaby, you realized, a sweet and soothing melody that made your eyelids grow heavy.

"good night my sweet girl" "goodnight tommy" you said, before shutting your eyes.

Taglist: @madzandmore @20doozers @ichikopotato @il0vet0mk4ulitz @benkeibear

[lanadelnegan]

One Night Stand

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Request from anon: Can you do 2000s!Jeffery Dean Morgan x actress!reader who works on Grey's anatomy w/ him (she plays Izzie instead of Katherine Heigl) but she doesnt know it yet? Like they meet at a bar and end up flirting and having sex in his hotel and she stays the night and then in the morning she's like getting dressed and says "I have to go to work blah blah blah" and he's like "me too" and then a time skip to when she's on set and Jeffery is going around meeting people and she's just standing there in total shock?

Warnings: smut, NSFW, 18+, vaginal sex, single middle-aged JDM, semi-public oral sex (female receiving), this is HAWT - trust me.

"You look like shit." A deep voice chuckles from beside me.

I snap my eyes towards the asshole, almost choking on my drink in the process. Not sure if it's from his rudeness or his hotness, but I cough and play it off. "Excuse me?"

He laughs before ordering himself a drink. "Oh, and another for the lady here. Looks like she could use it."

My mouth drops open as he just.. grins at me. Who the hell does he think he is.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I ask annoyed.

"Not yet.. do you want to?" His wide grin stretches across his face, revealing his pearly white teeth. I study his face in the neon bar lights, noticing the shades of green swimming throughout his light brown orbs. This man is stunning.

I chug the drink he orders me seconds after the bartender sets it down. "Not really, but thanks for the drink."

He nods and sips his own drink, raising one of his thick brows at me. "Bad day?"

I sigh, trying to relax a little and accept his small talk. "Just tired."

"Then why are you here? There are beds upstairs, ya know?"

I glare at him. "I'm tired.. of other people. Tired of faking conversations I don't care to have."

He raises both of his brows this time and appears to look surprised by my forwardness. "Well excuse me darlin'. I'll shut the hell up then." He goes back to sipping his whiskey.

Out of all the things he's said so far, it's that sentence that finally puts a smile on my face. "Bout time." I tease and roll my eyes dramatically.

An awkward silence follows after we both laugh. I look over and his eyes meet mine, right before they slowly trail down to my lips. The playfulness in his features fades into a seductive gaze and fuck.. this is the kind of energy I've needed since I've been in this shitty town.

I've been filming for months now, only getting to visit home on the weekends. This hotel is basically my home and it's taken a toll on me for sure. At least at home I have my cats. Here I just have half empty wine bottles, my vibrator, and candy bars stashed in my nightstand to keep me company. I guess when I put it that way, it doesn't sound so bad.

"Are you staying here?" I blurt before I can stop myself. That was a stupid question. Why else would he be at this hotel's bar.

He blatantly ignores me, pulling out his phone while leaning his elbows against the bar and pretends to scroll.

"Um, okay." My lips clench together awkwardly as I nod my head and look in the other direction. "Good talk."

"Oh, forgive me darlin'. Can I talk now?" His veiny hand rests against his heart as he sarcastically grins at me. What a fucking smart ass.

"You know what, no. You can't. Never mind." I get up to leave, hoping he stops me.. and he does.

He turns in his bar stool and blocks me with his thigh as I try to walk past him. "What the hell are you doing?" I snap, walking around his leg. I don't realize he's behind me until I step on the elevator and turn around. I gasp a little, looking up at him. His face is serious now.. all the playfulness from earlier gone.

He backs away and leans against the wall of the elevator. The door is closed but I haven't even pressed the button to my floor yet. He crosses his arms and nods towards the buttons, urging me to press one.

"I'm not taking you to my room." I cross my arms, mimicking him.

"Okay, but I'm walking you there."

The seriousness on his face tells me I'm not going to win this one, so I hesitantly press the number 6 and the elevator starts to ascend as we stare at each other the entire way up.

When the door finally slides open, I start to leave but he gently grabs my wrist, turning me back around. Before I can fully face him, he leans down pressing his lips against mine softly. As soon as he pulls away, I pull his shirt towards me, silently granting him permission and begging for more. My back slams against the elevator wall as he kisses me hard this time. His large hands cup my face as I moan into his mouth. My hands reach for his back as his body presses firmly against me.

He tastes like whiskey and tobacco and smells like leather and musky cologne. It's euphoric. His lips are full and soft but the stubble hairs surrounding his mouth scratch at my sensitive skin. I let myself imagine what it would feel like between my legs.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he breaks away from our kiss, breathing heavily before dropping to his knees and wasting no time throwing my leg over his shoulder. My mouth gapes open as I look between him and the open elevator doors. Anyone could walk by right now and see us. My skirt bunches around my waist, giving him all the access he needs before slipping his fingers underneath my panties and pulling them to the side. I watch his face disappear between my legs and feel his warm tongue lick a stripe from my already dripping cunt to my clit. He moans from the taste and I moan at him moaning from the taste.

His tongue presses firmly against my clit repeatedly in an up down motion. He pulls back for a moment and without warning, slips his middle finger inside me, bumping it against my g-spot repeatedly while gently finding and sucking my clit again.

"Oh my god." I whisper down at him, feeling the pressure building up in me from his finger and tongue working in unison. He looks up at me like he can sense I'm about to explode, and grins against my pussy proudly. The sight alone sends me over the edge and I cum so hard that I think squirt a little in his mouth. He groans at the taste and buries his tongue deep in my hole like he needs more.

After a few moments of him lapping up all of my juices he can possible get, he stands up, lifting me in his arms in the process until my legs are wrapped around his waist. He smiles at me cockily while his facial hair glistens with my wetness.

He carries me down the hall and I point towards my room. I unlock it with my key card. Once it clicks, he kicks it open the rest of the way and quickly brings me inside, his lips never leaving mine in the process.

He lays me down on the bed but I keep my legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him down on top of me as he works on pulling my panties off with one hand and holding himself up with the other.

I arch my back, helping him slide them off.

Once I'm exposed completely to him, he leans back up, undoing his belt and throwing off his shirt, revealing his sweaty chest. He quickly pulls out his rock hard cock and I lean up on my elbows to get a better view.

His dick is just as pretty as he is.

He strokes it a couple times while he watches me watch him. My eyes grow wider at the sight of his precum leaking from the tip and he smiles down at himself. "Look at that, baby. Already got my dick leaking for you." He glides his thumb over the tip and I watch him in a trance, hoping I'm not visibly drooling.

"You ready for me, doll?" He asks as he leans back over me, bracing himself up with his hand. I nod as he kisses my lips and I still taste myself on his mouth. His hazel eyes look down into mine as he uses his other hand to guide himself towards my entrance. I feel the tip of him circle my opening before he slides in me agonizingly slow. He doesn't stop until his dick is pressing against my cervix almost painfully. I groan and wiggle a little, trying to adjust to him. He slides halfway out before thrusting his hips flush against me again, causing my mouth drops open as he reaches even deeper this time.

"That's a good fucking girl. Taking me so deep." His raspy voice praises me before his lips connect with the sensitive spot under my ear. He bites and licks at me while his stubble tickles me. I reach my hands around to hold onto his back and his thrusts grow steadier and faster. I scratch his back hard enough that I'm sure it's leaving marks, but it encourage him to fuck me harder so I don't stop.

"Mmm, fuck." I moan out. His hips slam into me faster and my face immediately burns with heat. My mouth drops open again but I can't form any sounds because he's completely taken my breath away. He stops kissing my neck to look at me again and smiles arrogantly when he sees my face and what he's doing to me.

"Goddamn, baby. This pussy feels so fucking good." His breathing is rapid and his forehead is sweaty as his grunts and moans fill the room. I can tell he's getting close and I am too. His hand reaches between us and he easily finds my clit like a pro, rubbing circles around it with his thumb and slamming into me so hard that I stars. My pussy clenches around him as I lose control, moaning loudly and arching my back at the overwhelming sensation. I cum around his cock so intensely that a tear rolls down my cheek.

"Oh fuuuck. Fuck." He says, quickly pulling out of me. He buries his head in my neck and groans, and I feel his warm seed squirt all over my lower tummy. He rolls off of me, grabbing some tissues to clean me up. "That pussy is straight from fucking heaven, baby." He chuckles as he wipes his cum from my stomach.

I get up to go pee and clean myself up and when I come back in the room, he's laying on his back.. asleep. The bedsheets are hanging halfway off, revealing his toned torso and dark chest hair. I watch his chest rise and fall slowly, taking a moment to notice every detail of the absolute sex god in my bed.. the permanent dimples embedded on each side of his mouth, the veins in his arms, the tattoos on his tan skin.

I frown to myself. Too bad this can't go anywhere. I'm way to busy in my career to settle down with someone.

I climb into bed, not bothering to wake him and fall asleep with my legs entangled with his.

The next morning:

"Hey! Wake up, I gotta go!" I yell, throwing a pillow at his face. "Seriously! GET. UP. I'm already late!" I finish tying my shoe as I yell impatiently at him. This isn’t the first time I’ve slept through my alarm and I hate being late.

He lazily rubs opens his eyes open before looking at me with that smirk. “Well good morning to you too, sunshine.”

I jerk the covers off him, noticing his erect cock standing against his flat stomach. My eyes cling to the sight of it and he bites his lip and raises his eyebrows suggestively at me as I stare at him.

“As much as I’d love to sit on that right now, I Have to go. Look, just see yourself out okay? Take a shower, whatever you need to do. Just make sure the door locks when you leave.” I grab my keys and my purse and head for the door before turning around again. “You’re not... some creep are you?”

He looks at me amused. “You’re asking me that after we already slept together?”

I stare at him and rolls his eyes, sighing when I don't answer him. “Does going through your panty drawer count?” He bites his lower lip teasingly.

“Yes! That counts!”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Guess I’m a creep then.” He winks at me and I glare at him as I turn around to leave once again.

“See ya later, y/n!” He yells.

I ignore him, still pressed for time and leave him to my room as I rush to the elevator. Poor guy thinks he’ll see me again. I should’ve told him I wasn’t interested in anything other than his dick.

The doors shut before me as the elevator descends.

Oh shit.

My eyes widen with realization.

“He said my name.” I whisper to myself.

I - I didn’t tell him my name. Oh my god, what if he is some creep that’s been stalking me. That would explain the weird interaction at the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a fan try to stalk me. Sucks being famous sometimes. I breathe, calming myself down. Maybe.. I told him and forgot? I was tipsy last night. I could have said it. I tell myself to soothe my nerves. I think about what he could steal in my room and mentally punch myself for not kicking him out.

What if he eats all the candy bars in my nightstand. My eyes widen at the thought. That bastard.. he would.

I overthink the entire way to work, but finally relax when I get on set with my coworkers. Ellen and I have grown close over the years. She’s like the big sister I never had.

I sip my Starbucks and change into my pretend light blue scrubs while spilling the beans to her about last night. She leans forward on couch in our dressing room, fully invested in my story.

“Was he.. ya know?” She asks curiously.

“Big?” I blush and giggle with her. “Let’s just say.. it was soo thick. He was probably a good 8 inches in length too but the thickness was simply… chefs kiss."

I make the motion with my hand as we laugh together, fully dressed now and sitting in front of the mirror getting our light makeup done. Our stylists are used to our juicy gossip. They’ve learned to tune us out by now.

I grab my iced latte and Ellen and I leave the dressing room, going into the set where all our other costars and directors are. This is definitely the biggest acting job I’ve ever landed. So many of us are on set at one time.. at least 30 of us are spread throughout this room. Ellen and I stand back, waiting for the cameras to get set up. I scan over my script even though I’ve studied it a thousand times and can recite it in my sleep.

“Oooh, todays the day I get to meet my new looove interest. Denny Duquette.” I say to Ellen, putting emphasis on his name.

“I heard the guy they chose to play him is insanely hot.” Ellen winks at me playfully.

I scoff, eyes still scanning over my lines. “Can’t be as hot as my one night stand. I mean seriously... I can’t get his face outta my head. Or his dick.”

The room grows quiet and I snap my eyes up, worried everyone heard me. When I realize they aren’t looking at me, but past me, I turn my head around and the sight almost knocks the wind out of me. Mr. one night stand himself ... No fucking way.. He definitely heard everything we just said and I internally cringe at myself.

“Y’n, meet Jeffrey.. or Denny.. I should say.” Our director next to him introduces us. My coffee slips from my hand and splashes all over the floor in between us. Jeffrey - I guess that's his name - drops to the floor on one knee before I can reach down to grab my empty cup. He lingers down there longer than he should, looking up at me with the same smirk he had last night in the elevator when my leg was draped over his shoulder. I try my best to hide the weakness in my legs and redness in my cheeks at the sight of him below me.

"Lovely to meet you." He says, standing back up with my cup in his hand. He nods his head towards Ellen, politely greeting her as well.

"Thanks." I reach for the cup and my fingers brush his lightly as I take it from him.

He stands proudly, looking down at me smiling before the director pulls him away to meet the others. As they walk past us, Jeffrey leans down to me, his mouth close to my ear.

"I can still taste you." My eyes widen and his deep whisper sends a chill straight to my aching cunt that he destroyed last night.

He walks away and I'm left standing there.. speechless. Goosebumps appear all over my arms. Before I'm done processing, Ellen leans in, "That was him... wasn't it?"

I nod my head, unable to move an inch. The producers call for Denny and myself to begin the scene and my heart races.

Ellen giggles and whispers from beside me before walking off. "Well... this should be interesting."

The End.

Might make a part 2 because I REALLY enjoyed writing this one. Xoxo

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER ONE: CLOSURE

“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, AND SEEING THE SHAPE OF YOUR NAME STILL SPELLS OUT PAIN.”

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol consumption, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.1K+

☆ A/N: this will make a whole lot more sense if you've already read the one shot that this entire series is based upon! and thank you to @fracturedarkness and @munson-blurbs for beta-reading <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

It had taken nearly two hours, and even as the aerial platform is finally lowered from scaling the side of the building, there are still remnants of the graffiti paint scattered across the crumbling brick. 

You’d watched the workers scrub at the rusted shades for ages, ignoring the new emails beginning to pile up in your inbox on the screen, only to be left completely dissatisfied. You hadn’t really thought the graffiti was ugly so to speak – it was just there. It was blatant and something that demanded to be seen, a stain on that stretch of wall that made up your desk’s entire viewpoint each and every day. And it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t pretty. 

You’d even been a little excited when you saw the cleaning crew. A little hopeful. 

But the hope had been wasted, as it always was, as you watch the crew give up the battle and the paint win the war. Go figure. Another day and another stain that can’t be erased. 

“You know, I’ve heard of dreadfully boring people watching paint dry, but never seen someone look so enticed by paint being removed.” 

You look up quickly from where your dead stare had zeroed in, a chipping splash of vibrant scarlet that hardly stood out against tired and faded red-turned-pink bricks, to face your coworker. 

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan, spinning your office chair so your entire body now faced her, “Have you ever considered a career change, Romina? Maybe you’re better off a comedian rather than an event planner.” 

Romina, your coworker, only smiles brightly at the monotone joke. She holds a mug of coffee in her hand as she rests her hip against the edge of your desk, lips pursed as she takes a slow sip from her steaming cup. The sharp, bitter scent of the coffee wafts across the space before she lowers the mug right onto your desk – completely disregarding the coaster available. 

Sure to leave behind a stain; a ring of light brown on your pristine desk. You can’t help but cringe. 

“Apparently they sent out an email about that new secretive project,” Romina continues on without addressing your sarcasm, “Said whoever’s got the account has been notified.”

“Awesome.”

“I didn’t get an email.”

“I’m sorry?”

Romina sighs, realizing you weren’t going to take the bait. “Have you received an email?”

You shrug in a silent succession of, probably not. 

Your pessimism keeps your hand from reaching out and wiggling your mouse as an attempt to wake your desktop computer back up. You highly doubt you were the one to be elected for this new project that had the entire office buzzing. You’d only been working here for a little over a year, hardly earning any attention with the small weddings and local business grand openings you had taken on during that time. 

And that was fine.

You were fine flying under the radar for the time being. It’s not that you weren’t good at your job — you were excellent at it, even — but whatever this top secret project was was the farthest thing from your expertise.

You didn’t do secretive projects. You did simple. You did small. The exact opposite of what you’d heard about this elusive opportunity. 

“Have you even checked?” Romina presses, leaning down and tapping your space bar herself, making the screen come to life before you could protest, “C’mon, babe! Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?” 

Another honest shrug. “Truthfully? Not at all.” 

She makes no move to grab her coffee cup as she pushes herself off your desk, standing over the screen now with intent and focus. All you can really think about is that damn faded ring that’s going to be left behind.

You really wish she would have used the coaster.

The login screen stops her in her mission, making her take a step back and wave you forward, pointing excitedly at your keyboard, “You know, I heard it might have something to do with a very popular band. One rumored to be dropping an album soon. Possibly the album release party. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?” 

Your stomach drops.

Romina is all wistful sighs and dreamy eyes as she says it, still pushing that keyboard closer to you as she looks out the window you had been before her arrival. It’s clear she’s looking right past that stained wall. She probably doesn’t even notice the evidence of graffiti that was left behind. The marks are lost on her eyes; but she hadn’t spent hours waiting for it to all be cleaned away, to be fair. No, it’s clear the only thing on her mind is this popular band.

And you know which band it is. It’s not just the prospect of a larger project that has kept you out of this rumor mill — it’s the prospect of the client.

Everyone knew you didn’t care for the band. Or at least, you said you didn’t care for the band.

Nearly a year ago, several coworkers had invited you to a sold out show. They had an extra ticket, and had so kindly extended it to you. A flag of friendship billowing in the wind, outstretched to you in such a welcoming manner. And you’d shot them down — you’d lied, and you’d said you had plans before you’d spent the entire night throwing your own personal pity party.

“I don’t think I’d be the first choice for an album release party, Ro,” you murmur as you finally tug your chair in closer to your desk. You ignore the knots forming in your stomach, that heavy weight that presses into your chest. There was no way you’d be assigned the project. You’d simply log in, show Romina, and then maybe she’d leave you alone, “I usually just take on weddings. That’s my forte. Not arranging open bars and booking rooftops for some shitty band.” 

Romina scoffs, “Some shitty band? I know you don’t like them, but Corroded Coffin is not just some shitty band.”

Corroded Coffin. The weight makes your ribs creak, makes your lungs ache. 

You swear she’ll notice the way you freeze in your typing. The mere mention of them, of him, curls around your body and easily triggers your fight or flight response. 

Well, fight or flight or freeze. A new option, a new and drifting cold, has made itself clear as ice keeps your knuckles from continuing to type in your password. 

It’s funny. You used to fight for them, then you’d flown as far away from him as your pathetic diner wages could get you. Clearly, only moving across a city you once thought to be so vast wasn’t far enough. You could move across oceans, and something in your gut tells you his ghost would only be a few steps behind. 

“You know, I still don’t get your issue with them, by the way. Are you just not big on rock music?” she asks, and you can imagine his offense and correction that it was metal, not just rock, “I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t know. Just seems a little personal, the way you avoid them like the plague.”

It is personal.

Your vendetta is so, so very personal when it comes to Corroded Coffin. 

When it comes to Eddie Munson.

His name echoing in your mind finally has your fingertips slamming keys again, suddenly eager to bring up your email and prove Romina wrong. To get her as far from your desk as possible and end this conversation before you can spiral.

“I’ve never been a fan of that type of music,” you lie through your teeth. You had been. You had been their goddamn number one fan once upon a time. 

Your work email can’t load fast enough when she continues on, “I’d argue they have at least one song for everyone. You just gotta give them a chance.” 

No, the voice in your head screams. I do not need to give them a chance. I gave him a chance, and he blew it. 

“I’m sure there is,” you grit out, those knots in your stomach wound so tightly they might just snap, “But not for me.” 

Never for me.

They don’t know. No one in your life now knew about your past, about your ex, about the truth between you and Corroded Coffin. 

They didn’t know that you’d been their first fan, standing in that stuffy garage at the Emerson’s residency through the scalding Hawkins’ summers. They didn’t know how you’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday night occupying a stool at the Hideout that had all but your name engraved into it. They didn’t know the way you’d packed up your entire life, the way you’d only moved to this cursed concrete jungle to see all of their wildest dreams come true. They were unaware that Corroded Coffin had nearly turned down the tour that triggered their breakout for you. All because their leading rockstar hadn’t wanted to leave you behind.

Funny how life works out.

Romina is unaware of your discomfort as she leans down over your shoulder to peer at the list of new emails you’d received this morning, “Oh, oh! That one! Click that one!” 

Her long, blood-red stiletto nail taps at the screen excitedly, pointing out an email from your boss with an eye catching subject line.

Meeting at Noon — New Project Assignment. 

“Holy shit!” Ro exclaims, getting ahead of herself before you’ve even clicked on the email. You can’t click on it. You’re petrified. “Oh, holy shit! You definitely got the project! Are you fucking kidding me?” 

For a moment, you’re silent, staring at the screen in buzzing shock. It rings in your ears and it blurs the edges of your vision, the weight of the possibility finally causing the first snap within your chest. 

No. No, no, no. 

You don’t want this project. Not the rumored client, and certainly not the attention that it has attracted from all your peers. No.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be what everyone says it will be,” you choke out, white knuckling your mouse. Romina can’t see your face — she can’t see the year of practiced indifference crumbling so easily, “It- It probably won’t be Corroded Coffin, Ro. It can’t be. They wouldn’t assign me something so huge. Th-They probably just have another wedding for me. Maybe another bakery opening up in town — I think I heard about one on Third Street-“ 

Ro’s hands come down on your shoulders, giving what should be a reassuring squeeze, but it only smothers you during your breathless rant.

“Babe,” she emphasizes, “This is a good thing.” 

It’s not. It’s really, really not. 

But you don’t know if the project is what everyone has been murmuring about. You don’t know for sure that the email has anything to do with it. The contents of what your boss had written to you have little to no specifics; nothing more than a request to come to her office at noon to properly discuss the details of this assignment. So you convince yourself it’ll be fine, that it really is just about that bakery opening up on third street. You convince yourself to shake away any thoughts of chestnut curls and honey brown eyes. You convince yourself to untense your shoulders and smile up at your coworker, faking enough enthusiasm to satiate her until she’s walking away from your desk giddily, taking her coffee cup with her. 

Your eyes avert to the expected coffee mark that had formed a perfect ring on your stark white desk. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become. 

—

“I’m not going out tonight,” you repeat yourself for the millionth time over the line, pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you opened your fridge to dig around for whatever leftovers you might be able to salvage into a dinner for the night, “I don’t feel well.” 

“But we need to hear about the new project!” Ro’s chirp comes over the line. You can hear the buzzing of a bar in the background. Glasses clinking, strangers chatting. Hell, you could probably pinpoint the song playing lowly if you focused hard enough.

You weren’t focusing on the call, though. It was the last thing you wanted to offer up your dwindling attention to, desperate to get off the line and resume your very exciting night of cold pasta with a side of whatever sitcom was running old episodes on the television. 

The phone nearly slips from your half assed attempt to keep it against your cheek as you sigh, “It went fine. I already told you guys it did. Nothing exciting, okay? It was the bakery on Third that’s opening up, just like I thought it would be.” 

A lie.

The meeting went anything but fine. Your boss, Lydia, has just been plain secretive. And normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but it meant your worst fears were coming true. 

The bakery on third wouldn’t have needed such secrecy, and they sure as Hell wouldn’t have insisted on you signing an NDA prior to even meeting and discussing the event you’d be planning. 

“It’s all just precautions,” Lydia had insisted as she slid that damn paperwork over to you, “Just to protect the client. They’re a bigger name than we’re used to dealing with. If you sign, we’ll have a proper meeting with them tomorrow and dig into all the nitty gritty.” 

“You phrase it like I have a choice,” you had muttered before picking up the pen.

You knew you didn’t. And Lydia’s smile had confirmed it. 

Romina continues on with more convincing, but you’ve stopped listening. There’s not a single thing she could really say now that your mind was made up — you were staying in tonight. 

“Ro,” you finally snatch the phone back up into your hand, straightening out as you pick out a random tupperware that you think holds chicken parm from that fancy lunch date you’d gone on over the weekend, “I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.” 

Complete silence on her end. You worry for a moment that you had been too harsh. 

“Okay,” she finally gives up.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” the word continues to echo back and forth between you two, “That’s fine. I’ll just have to bother you about it tomorrow. At work. Where you can’t use bullshit excuses to escape me.” 

You consider snapping back about how you absolutely still could, until you consider the fact that you have a real excuse, “Good luck with that. I have a very real meeting with… with a client.”  

You don’t even know the name of the client, technically. You can only guess. 

You still hope you’re wrong.

“Right,” she laughs over the line, “See you tomorrow, babe.” 

“See you tomorrow,” you repeat back, staring at your now closed fridge before you’re relieved by the sound of a dial tone, signaling that she’s finally hung up. 

What you should do now is plate the leftovers, arrange yourself on your sofa, and numb your mind with The Office reruns. What you should do is leave well enough alone and continue in your delusion. 

You don’t. 

It starts innocently; you do transfer the cold chicken parm onto a plate and you do curl up on your sofa before flicking on the television. You do set the channel to the reruns. You do – and you swear you do it all with the best intentions. 

But then your mind wanders. 

As you stare straight ahead at the television, you’re not processing a single image that flashes across the screen. Your thoughts are a bit preoccupied with different images, movies and snippets from a point in your life that now feels like a lifetime ago. Conspicuous dimples making an appearance from across the room at a joke you had made, unkempt curls flying recklessly in the driver’s seat beside you on late night drives with the windows down, wild eyes shining like sunlight through a whiskey bottle as he catches your gaze from a stage much smaller than what he must be used to now. 

Everything from before. Before the not-fight, before the fame, before the move. Images of when Eddie had been yours and only yours, not yet a precious gem to have to share with the world. 

“Are you busy tonight?” 

Your locker had been slammed shut by a hand that didn’t belong to you, knuckles adorned with familiar rings and distinct callouses along the fingertips. 

“Hello to you, too, Eddie,” you smiled as you clutched one of the unnecessarily heavy textbooks to your chest, turning to face the boy who stood impatiently at your side. He was all jitters, rocking on his heels and nearly incapable of standing still as his body buzzed with excitement.

It rolled off him in waves, contagious as he leaned into you, “Yes, yes. Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” you opened your mouth to answer him, but Eddie comically steamrolled right on, hands waving erratically, “Good? Good! Excellent! Now, are you busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for O’Donnel’s test-“

“So you don’t have plans!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as one of the annoying warning bells chimed. He may have been in an interruptive mood, but he knew you hated being late to class — less about being anal about punctuality, and more about the stares you’d practically burn under from the attention of other students when you’d barge in on the teacher mid-sentence, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In that case, I have fantastic news!” 

You allowed him to guide you amongst the bustling student bodies, only gaining a few stares from fellow peers, “You do, do you?” 

He nodded before he reached out and snatched that heavy textbook out of your arms, “Here, let me carry that for you, darling.” 

“Darling?” your nose scrunched, “Oh, no. You’re trying to sweeten me up. What did you do?” 

“Nothing!”

Liar. The crack in his voice would have given him away if his hyperactive energy hadn’t already done so.

“Oh, really? Then what’s your fantastic news, rockstar?” 

His grin that broke at your nickname for him could have destroyed the Earth you walked on just as easily as it could have mended it. Something groundbreaking, something to churn the dirt and raise the dead. Something made of pure sunshine and static happiness. But the only thing that cracked was your chest as it tried to contain the residual joy it felt for him in that moment. 

“Well…” he trailed off, leaving just enough room for a suspenseful pause that could have suffocated the room without that damn grin on his face, “Let’s just say you’re looking at the frontman of the Hideout’s newest Thursday night entertainment.” 

You took a moment to catch on, Eddie keeping you pressed closely to his side as the two of you stopped outside of your next class. 

“Thursday nights?” you questioned, brain working overtime to piece together what he’d just said, “Wait, I thought you guys only played Tuesda-“

When you had processed what he had meant, all that animated elation that had been consuming him became shared. Every jitter in his bones became your own, your own lips speedily spreading into a proud smile to challenge his own.

“Oh, holy shit,” you gasped, “You guys got the gig.”

One more bounce of his heels, curls quivering with the movement as his arms fell from you and the two of you faced one another.

“We got the gig.”

“You got the gig!” 

People had been staring more obviously at the sudden rise in volume from you, but you hadn’t cared. Because in that moment, all you focused on was the eager boy in front of you, and the way your broken chest mended from the same grin that had burst it wide open, only for it to swell with inexplicable pride.

“We got the fuckin’ gig!” he shouted right back, laughter slipping from between his lips that started to echo your own. 

You were the one bouncing then, hands instinctively reaching out to press on his shoulders in gentle slapping motions, unable to contain or conventionally express this pounding excitement. 

“You got the fuckin’ gig!” you were just parroting each other now, but you were just as delirious as he was as that final bell signaling you were late rang out. That certain embarrassment you were sure to have to face had become a distant memory.

Eddie had wanted this for a while. He’d been bugging the owner of the bar on the edge of town about Corroded Coffin earning a second night of residency for months, only taking the repeated rejections as encouragement to ramp up his convincing charm. You’d seriously doubted it would work, but had never voiced the concern aloud to Eddie. You’d always figured that the worst that could have happened would be another no, fuck off, kid. But the best that could have happened had been this — he would be told yes and secure his band two weekly performances at the Hideout rather than just the single one they played before. 

You didn’t know it then, but it was the first step down the path that would lead to inevitable heartbreak. 

“I haven’t even told the guys yet,” Eddie admitted once the two of you calmed down to the best of your abilities, “I… Uh, I wanted to tell them after school today. Was wondering if you might, I don’t know, maybe- do you wanna be there when I do?” 

And that made sense. Eddie inviting you made sense when you attended every single band practice in Gareth’s garage as religiously as he did. When you knew every word to their whole three original songs even better than him at times. 

He wanted you there. You were important to him, to the band, and he wanted you there. 

“I- Is that even a question?” you stared at him in disbelief, “Of course I wanna be there, you fuckin’ idiot. I can’t believe you told me before you told them, honestly.” 

His demeanor softened, the ghost of his exuberance still stubbornly lingering. But your eyes were on him, glowing with such high regard that it was impossible to not let it creep beneath his skin and trigger a blush across the bridge of his nose. All that love, all that pride. So genuine it could have made him cry. 

“Of course I told you first,” he whispered in a finally empty hallway, “You’re always the first person I tell any good news to, sweetheart.” 

When had you stopped being the first person he shared his forthcomings with? 

Probably the day you had decided to leave him, leave the entire life you two had built together, under the guise of best intentions. 

The TV continues to play as you stare at the wall, mind and heart alike locked up with nostalgia. The plate of leftovers has long since been sat down on the coffee table. 

You hadn’t let yourself reminisce like this since the very first night you had spent in your apartment. That first night, you’d allowed yourself to wallow. You had sat on this very same sofa, the entire apartment pitch black as you weren’t brave enough to turn on a single light and face yourself, and told yourself that any and all tears or regrets had to be purged that night. A funeral for all that you had lost, a single night to mourn all that you had left behind. 

Clearly, one night was never enough to let go of years of memories – of love. 

You don’t shut off the TV as you impulsively grab your phone, not thinking the action through before you do the one thing you had forbidden yourself from over the last few years; you’re going to Google search Eddie Munson. You’d created the rule as a make-believe step in the right direction. You told yourself if you didn’t google him, if you didn’t track down his every move after you’d left behind the damage done, then you could move on easier. 

From the first headline, you realize that it might have never been about moving on. 

FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN? HAS EDDIE MUNSON, LEAD SINGER OF CORRODED COFFIN, FINALLY GONE TOO FAR?

EDDIE MUNSON — ARRESTED AGAIN?

HOTEL COMES FORWARD ABOUT DAMAGES DONE BY ROWDY ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON

HOW TO BURY A CAREER: A DETAILED TIMELINE OF CORRODED COFFIN’S EDDIE MUNSON’S DOWNFALL

“EDDIE MUNSON GAVE ME A CONCUSSION” - VICTIMS OF THE ROCKSTAR’S CLUB TANTRUM COME FORWARD.

Each headline sends your head reeling, eyes widening impossibly without even clicking on the stories. 

The boy you had known wouldn’t have done half of the things these accusations stated. Violence, trashing hotel rooms, public temper tantrums taken too far — it doesn’t feel as though you’re reading about someone you once knew, someone you once loved. The man in these paparazzi photos is a stranger, completely unrecognizable with his red eyes and middle fingers held high. 

A particular photo catches your attention. He’s standing outside what you assume is a club, in handcuffs. His hands are locked behind his back, an officer not far behind and his face bathed in glows of blue and red lights flashing from a car half blocking the camera’s view of him, and he’s grinning with dead eyes squinted to the sky. It almost looks as if he’s midlaugh — as if the entire scene was funny to him.

The one time he’d nearly been caught while pedaling drugs for Reefer Rick back home in Hawkins when you’d still known him, he had nearly burst into tears. Had panicked as he scrambled to shove everything, even just the weed, into every possible hiding place within his van. He hadn’t laughed in the officer’s face; he had been petrified, face transforming to that of a terrified little boy as you had told him to calm down and play it cool. 

You should stop scrolling. But you can’t.

Another photo, one that makes your chest echo with another hollow pang. It was clearly taken without him realizing it, the quality atrocious as the camera had attempted to focus in on him through a balcony sliding door of what must be a hotel. But despite the terrible blur, you can clearly pick out the details that were meant to be exposed. 

A speckle of white coating the ring of his nostril. Made even more obvious by that midday sun shining in on him. 

It was clearly the middle of the afternoon, and Eddie had clearly been caught snorting cocaine.

It’s a bit much. You haven’t even scrolled far enough to catch sight of all the pap photos of him with different women, or the photos of him clearly inebriated at major events that had been meant to celebrate him and the band’s success. You lock your phone, you set it down on the table with the screen facing down. You hardly recognize him. 

The reality is you had never googled Eddie for the same reason most won’t look at the corpse of loved one’s at open casket funerals – you wanted to remember him when things had been good. You had wanted to convince yourself that you still knew him, some version of him, and that he hadn’t become a total stranger.

But, really, you’d known the moment you had walked out of that once shared apartment that you had lost the privilege of knowing him. Of loving him. The moment he had stopped telling you that he loved you, you had known something between the two of you had died. Losing Eddie hadn’t been a sudden thing — it had been a long, painful, torturous process. When all that love and all that promise had died, it hadn’t gone down without a fight. He had smothered it, but you had provided the extinguisher. You had pushed him to chase after his dreams, and you should have never been surprised when he did exactly that.

You should have never been surprised that one day, the space you’d claimed residency in in Eddie’s heart would become nothing more than an annoying prick to him. A thorn in his side, sharp and threatening all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

So you’d left. You’d left, told yourself it was for the best, and exited with more love for the memory of a man than the tangible person on the other end of that terribly lonely dial tone – on the rare occasions he did call. 

You didn’t know him. It’s a truth you should have long since swallowed, but hadn’t. Not yet. Not in the last two years.

Your appetite is gone as you stand from the couch and grab the leftovers, only pausing on your way to the kitchen to scrape the waste off into the trash can. What a waste. As you put away the plate into the sink, not bothering to wash or even rinse away the crumbs, you immediately grab one of your few wine glasses and set it on the counter. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea, but your body has begun to move on autopilot. And it seems convinced that feeling the buzz from alcohol would be better than the feeling of nothing at all. 

You didn’t know him anymore. And the space you’d still let him occupy in your memories, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not, was now hollow.

You turn your back on the glass, still numb and still reeling as you open the fridge and pull out a half empty bottle of merlot, cork half peeking out the top of the bottle. You can see that stained bottom half, almost half hidden in a weak attempt to preserve the wine inside. Maroon. Deep, deep maroon bleeds up and feathers at the edges of that cork as you pull it out fairly aggressively, carelessly tossing it onto the white countertop and not watching it bounce as you pour yourself a drink. 

In your hollow staring off into the distance, you don’t realize you’ve missed the glass in your pouring until the chilled liquid splashes at your knuckles – until it’s too late. You panic, grabbing at paper towels and rinsing off your hand in the same breath, but it’s clear that it’s a useless battle in cleaning up the mess you’ve made. 

The damage is already done. As you soak up the wine and swipe away, a pink-tinged blotch is still left behind. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @conquerwhatliesahead92

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Six becomes Five

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Content warning: Unreality

"Sparkling Joy Cookie! There you are!"

You blinked a few times, your head pounding. You let out a soft groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. "Oh, by the Witches.. Did I drink something bad..?"

"Sparkling Joy Cookie?" The voice asked, concerned.

"One second.."

You pushed yourself up to sit, rubbing your forehead. Blinking a few more times, you opened your eyes to

Red

Purple

Pink

Yellow

Blue

BLUE.

"Shadow Milk Cookie?"

"Hehe, yup!" He grinned at you. "How are you feeling?"

"Ugh, like crap.." You grumbled, pushing yourself upright. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

He pursed his lips as he helped you up. "I think the right term would be an 'hour ago'. Burning Spice Cookie may or may not have hit you too hard during sparring and sent you flying into a tree."

"Ugh, that jerk.." You huffed softly, stumbling as you regained your balance. "Where is he now?"

"He left a few minutes ago." The fellow Primordial smiled. "Said something about a village that needed burning -"

Burning?

"Helping!" He chuckled. "A village needed helping."

You blinked a few times, uncertainty creeping into you. Had Shadow Milk Cookie just said burning? No, your mind had to have been playing tricks on you. There's no way he would say that!

You rubbed your head as you gazed at him.

.. where was his hat? Why was he grinning like that?

"Sparkling Joy Cookie?" He frowned, tilting his head. Too far too far too far.

HIS NECK SHOULDER HAVE SNAPPED.

You rubbed your eyes. "I.. I need a walk. I think my head is messing with me, hehe.."

You smiled in what you hoped was a reassuring way.

Your friend watched you walk away, his face falling as strings unraveled.

You walked through the trees, your wings tucked tight to your back. Your head was still pounding, but it felt like your chest was constricting. And your Soul Jam..

CRACK

as the attack intended to crumble-

You gasped and stumbled, leaning against a tree. You rubbed your eyes before spotting a lake nearby.

Rushing over to it, you kneeled down and scooped some water up and splashed it into your face a few times. Sparing with Burning Spice Cookie never made you feel this bad. Sure, sometimes it he got out of hand, but he never intended to hurt you.

You looked down at the water, and faltered.

A Cookie you didn't know stared back at you, their eyes as wide.

A splash of water made you jolt and fall onto your back. You hissed from the sting of pain and looked up to see Shadow Milk Cookie.

It wasn't him. That's not him.

He grinned down at you.

"Isn't this nice? Don't you want it to stay this way?"

He picked you up and squeezed you tightly, making you hiss. "Shadow Milk Cookie-!"

"Just stay here!" He pleaded, squeezing you tighter.

"-er Cookie!"

"You aren't Shadow Milk Cookie.." You whispered softly, eyes narrowing.

"-ader Cookie!!"

"I am-!"

"You haven't been for a long time."

The strings surrounding you snapped, the world faded and you

f

e

l

l

.

You gasped, and you landed in the arms of Mercurial Knight Cookie, who flew back with you towards Silverbell Cookie and White Lily Cookie. "Wha.. where..?!"

"Sparkling Joy Cookie!" Silverbell Cookie gasped. "You're okay!"

"YOU PESTS!" Shadow Milk Cookie shrieked. "GIVE THEM BACK! THAT'S MY SPARKLING JOY COOKIE!"

"Like crap.." You groaned, getting back onto your feet. You focused on trying to reform your scepter, but instead fell to your knees. "Gah..!"

You gritted your teeth as you looked at the other three Cookies. Mercurial Knight Cookie and Silverbell Cookie looked no better than you, and White Lily Cookie looked on the verge of collapsing herself.

She needed to use the Guardian's power.

Shadow Milk Cookie was taunting her, Pure Vanilla Cookie was telling her to fight..

There was a sudden flash of bright light, and you looked over in surprise.

White Lily Cookie was now standing, but she looked different. She looked like a Faerie Cookie.

"Oooh, finally! I see you've made up your mind!" Shadow Milk Cookie grinned.

"White Lily Cookie...?!" Silverbell Cookie gasped.

"That power...!!!" Mercurial Knight Cookie's gripped his spear.

"The Guardian's power.." You whispered, your eyes wide.

Everyone watched with wide eyes as White Lily Cookie channeled the powers she'd been gifted. Green vines, glowing beautifully whipped out and past a shocked Shadow Milk Cookie. Slowly, they turned to a flurry of white butterflies. Landing on the Silver Tree, it was slowly purified, glowing white vines coming to seal the cracks and pouring darkness.

A butterfly landed on your Soul Jam, and you looked down in surprise, seeing the crack in it heal. You felt better as well, enough to stand up on your feet.

"You... YOU...!!! I gave you only two choices...!!!" Shadow Milk Cookie growled in rage. "How dare you ruin... this moment I've been waiting for for so long..."

You watched with your hands gripped, watching as Shadow Milk Cookie slowly began to fade.

You ignored his calls to you.

As the other three Cookies helped your friends down, you looked over at White Lily Cookie.

"That was amazing, White Lily Cookie," you congratulated her as you walked closer, smiling warmly. She seemed to bloom under your praise. "For a moment there, I thought you were a Primordial just like me."

"Ah! That reminds me!" Pure Vanilla Cookie hurried over to you. "Reader Cookie, are you-"

"Sparkling Joy Cookie," you gently cutted him off. "Call me Sparkling Joy Cookie."

Everyone seemed surprised.

"But.. why?" Strawberry Cookie tilted her head.

You smiled warmly. "Eh, I've.. come to accept it now. I'll never be like them." You smiled at them all, but more specifically Pure Vanilla Cookie. "You guys.. have taught me that."

With a few more check-ins, the group set off to defeat the last of Shadow Milk Cookie's monsters, when his voice rang out not too long after.

"You think you won, don't you?!"

"HUH?!" Wizard Cookie gripped his staff. "How are you still talking?!"

"You may be celebrating your little victory for now... But heed my words! We have finally risen. Do not think that you can hold us back."

His voice, despite echoing, had everyone on edge.

"Foolish Cookies...! You simply have no idea what's waiting for you...! HA HA HA HA HA!"

"Then bring it," you whispered to the air as his voice faded. "Bring it on. I'll seal you again."

For some reason, after you whispered, sadness seemed to hang in the air.

You sat far off on the side, watching the Faerie Cookies celebrate. To honor Elder Faeire Cookie, and to celebrate White Lily Cookie.

It was beautiful to watch.

"Why haven't you joined in?" Pure Vanilla Cookie's voice made you jump. He gently set his staff to the side before sitting next to you.

You gave a small smile. "Eh, parties were never really my thing. But, maybe I'll join in soon."

Silence filled the small space between you two before Pure Vanilla Cookie broke it again. "Did you.. mean it earlier? When you said that you wished for us to call you Sparkling Joy Cookie?"

"Of course I did." You gently grabbed his hand, smiling. "However.. Pure Vanilla Cookie, you can call me whatever you like."

His cheeks turned a soft pink, even more so as your wings reformed, and you rested one over his back.

"Ah! That reminds me!" He looked at you, concerned. "Don't you want me to return the Light of Compassion to you?"

You frowned softly as you thought about it. While you probably should, Shadow Milk Cookie being able to reach Pure Vanilla Cookie unnerved you.

You shook your head. "No, I trust you, and so does it. Until we know that he won't try anything with you."

"But..!"

"Plus, it seems to like you," you pointed out with a smile.

Indeed I do!

Pure Vanilla Cookie chuckled bashfully, turning his head away.

You smiled and pressed your forehead against his, and the smallest hint of a purr rumbled from you. "Plus.. I trust you, Pure Vanilla Cookie. I trust you with all my heart."

He seemed to beam at that and you laughed gently.

As you two continued to talk, none were aware of the Beast stewing in his anger.

taglist: @snail-noodle @average-crk-enjoyer @looking4userthatworks @ori-stole-the-cheese-again @sqiddgie @justalittledumb @ax0lotly @ihatemyselffromthestart-blog @ravenkake @ohnoivefallen @craixe

So.. We've reached the end of the current content for Beast-Yeast! I would really love to continue this series, but doing filler constantly sounds boring.. but what do you guys think?

(Also, yes, this is another update right after the last one. I was very inspired today.)

[jinkookspencil]

Hey, one with jk, he attends a red carpet and saw for the first time to his idol ( this world wide famous singer) and starts fanboying her, and they spend time together, and he asks for his number

i was surprised at how quickly i wrote this since my writing pace has been so incredibly slow and also since i’ve never written idol!jungkook like this before or idol!reader. now i keep resisting the urge to hold it in my drafts and add to it and make it longer >.< i feel like i might be able to maybe continue it?? but idk. thank you sm for requesting, anon!! i hope you like it!

<3

she’s here? | jjk

jungkook arrives at another tedious brand event… only to see his celebrity crush

wc: ~1.8k

tags: idol!jungkook x idol!reader (afab reader) / fluff / one-shot / first meeting / clean except swearing / featuring: kim mingyu of seventeen / mentions: IU and cha eunwoo of astro

The flashing lights appeared before the car had even come to a full stop, and Jungkook was bored already. Sat fiddling with his styled outfit and brand-gifted jewelry, as he began to hear distant yells of his name, he wondered how soon he could leave the event. It wasn’t personal, just another tedious event.

“It’s good you decided to come here,” his manager, Do-yun, says beside him as if reading his thoughts. “It’s been a while since you made a public appearance, you’re contracted to show off your brand ambassadorship and promote the jewelry, and most of all, your album is coming up. This’ll be good.”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook murmurs, ready to disassociate for the next couple of hours while putting on his best smile. All he wanted at that moment was samgyeopsal, karaoke, and beers with Mingyu and Eunwoo… but duty calls. “Is Mingyu going to be here?”

“The PLEDIS team hasn’t answered my text,” Do-yun says. “You’re up.”

The van’s jet-black door slides open and Jungkook is almost immediately blinded by the lights of the cameras going off right in front of him. He’d forgotten just how bright they could be, but thankfully remembered his failsafe sensory-overload tactic: covering up his face with his hands. It was the only way Jungkook could cope, and for once, he thanked his youthful appearance and reputation for making him seem adorable above all else. He adjusts soon enough, as always, strutting down the carpet and showing off his charm, outfit, and accessories. He was able to pick up on one or two of the paparazzi and press’ requests, showing off a finger-heart pose and playfully touching his abs over his outfit, but in an instant, their loud voices fade, and time slows. He can’t hear anything. He can’t see anything… but the beautiful smile he's started to dream of, right behind the clear double doors of the event. Was that really….

“Jungkook!”

He hears that - a call right beside his ears coming from the familiar, booming voice of his own manager, now grabbing his elbow. “Snap out of it. You’re supposed to be in by now.”

Looking around, Jungkook realizes he’d been holding up a line, with a dozen other celebrities waiting for his moment to be over, while the paparazzi continued to cheer, capture, and fawn over him, eating up his ‘adorable spacing out moment.’

“I apologize!” Jungkook smiles, bowing to the celebrities beside him as well as the hundreds of photographers ahead of him, his heart racing as Do-yun and his security team lead him to the double doors. When they’re pulled open, his bubbling anticipation subsides, for rather than the heavenly hallucination he must've had, he sees Mingyu standing before him.

“Gyu!” Jungkook yelps, hugging his best friend, who greets him with the same enthusiasm. “Samgyeopsal and karaoke afterwards?”

“Please, sunbaenim,” Mingyu giggles quietly. “I’m bored out of my fucking mind. I’ve been here for an hour already.”

Unable to wait even a minute, Jungkook brings in both his manager and his best friend into a huddle. “Hey, am I dreaming, or was that _____ I saw in here?”

“She is here, simp,” Mingyu smiles, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively before sticking out his tongue between his teeth.

“Do-yun, you didn’t tell me she would be here tonight,” Jungkook says in a panic.

“I didn’t know. Seems she decided at the last minute, just like you did.”

“Soulmates,” Jungkook whispers under his breath, ignoring the two men rolling their eyes before him. “This is fate. We keep missing each other at these things…. I have to meet her.”

“I’ll make it happen, Kook-ah,” Mingyu smirks, expecting the light shove Jungkook gives him afterward. “For you, I promise. You know we don’t have the same taste in girls. Do-yun, do you know that I never even crushed on IU?”

“You fucking idiot - you know you’re the only idol who hasn’t, right?” Jungkook says. “Anyways, IU was a boyhood crush. This…. she… she’s even better.”

“Oh, shit. Do-yun-nim. This is serious. We need to do something.”

“I don’t know where your team is, Kim Mingyu, but I’m dragging the both of you to meet everyone you actually have to meet here. Then, sit in a corner and chat about pork or singalongs, or mingle with safe people. Men - or female staff only. You know the drill,” Do-yun says sternly. “Best to stay safe even though you don’t really have to worry about sneaky photos - security is tight, and they took all our phones. The only people with their phones are idols and brand ambassadors such as yourselves. Got it?”

The boys nod reluctantly. “Now we know why he keeps missing her at these things,” Mingyu scoffs, and at that, Do-yun quickly places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’ll make it happen, Jungkook-ssi.”

+

It’d been close to an hour since Do-yun scurried away and mere minutes since Mingyu silently left Jungkook to fend for himself and wish his other members had been invited. He was so used to being glued to his hyungs at the hip, and now he found himself scanning the crowded room for a familiar face.

“Jungkook!” Mingyu’s familiar voice boomed, and Jungkook finds his best friend farther than he’d expected, close to the other side of the room with a wide smirk on his face. Knowing his friend was just as menacing as he was sweet, Jungkook made his way there without any thoughts…

"For your own benefit, I took a page from your book and stopped waiting around for the company’s approval... You're my bad influence, so you are my first bad idea. Thank me or scold me later."

One can never be sure when it comes to Mingyu, so Jungkook nods and allows his friend to grab him by the hand…. silently leading him through the crowded room... to you.

"Do-yun-nim was taking too long. Found her much hotter friend first, and ta-da,” Mingyu quickly whispers into his ear.

In a moment of panic, Jungkook’s idol-wired brain took over, quickly scanning the room for any warning signs - untrustworthy staff or sketchy fellow idols, hidden cameras. It seemed… safe. It was just an innocent meeting, tucked away in a corner of the room… No biggie.

“BTS Jungkook…”

Jungkook couldn’t believe it. Your voice was as sweet as it was in your interviews… But you were far, far more beautiful in real life.

“____!” he cheers. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Me? Coming from BTS’ Jeon Jungkook, wah, I guess I’ve made it then.”

Holy shit, how do you blush so adorably?

“You have made it,” Jungkook says, “And with your own blood, sweat, and tears, too. It’s insanely admirable.”

“You flatter me too much. You paved the way! I hope to one day get to the level where I can quote my own songs too.”

“That… was unintentional,” Jungkook blushes, regretting his choice of words. “But your lyrics are… some of the most beautiful I’ve come across in all my years as an idol. Your latest single brought me to tears.”

“It’s true. It was embarrassing,” Mingyu confirms, ignoring Jungkook’s glare.

“Oh, no, that touches my heart. It makes me feel like an honest artist and a bit proud, actually - not that I made you cry! But that my experience translated into the song like that… I cried every second I worked on the song, actually.”

“Oh no. I hope you never cry a day in your life, _____,” Jungkook blurts. “Don’t get hurt, please.”

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you say with a heartwarming giggle. “I have to, though, don’t I? I’ll take care of my health, but I have to live. To live is to cry every now and then.”

“That’s true. Namjoon-hyung says that too - you know he’s the main songwriter in our group, right?”

“Of course.”

“Beautiful lyrics can only come from beautiful people.”

In a failed attempt to hide his scoff, Mingyu scurries off. “Simp," he quickly mutters under his breath. "I’ll go find your friend, ____.”

“Kim Mingyu, treat her well!” you call out with a ferocity that ignites another fire in Jungkook’s heart.

“Jungkook-ssi…. Maybe we can write together sometime?”

“I’m not really a writer,” Jungkook says, not knowing the reason why. A failed display of honesty, perhaps? He has written in the past, of course, for both his own discography as well as BTS’…. A surge of regret floods his system in a second.

“You’re a beautiful person, Jungkook, so by your logic, you must be able to write some beautiful lyrics as well.”

Stunned, Jungkook is unable to respond. Did you just call him beautiful?

“You really are as cute as they say… as cute as I imagined,” you smile. “What do you say?”

Jungkook nods, happily giving you his phone when you ask for it before typing in his number in yours.

“So I can call you?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair away from his face.

“I hope you do.”

You turn your back, ready to make your way back into the event and probably find your friend, but the moment you’d turned your back, Jungkook realizes he hadn’t said enough.

“____?” It takes another moment for Jungkook to muster up the courage to go on once he sees your face again, so he spills out his words the moment they come to him. “I just want to tell you that I… I really respect you as an artist. I always have, and I always will. I can’t say the same for so many of our peers these days, unfortunately, so I felt like I needed to say that.”

“I...... I needed to hear that more than anything else, Jungkook-ssi... Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Thank you," you repeat in a whisper. “I’m also thanking whatever force or higher power made you say that just now.”

“I mean it myself, though,” Jungkook reiterates.

“I know, but it feels like fate that you’d told me that tonight. I’ll tell you the story one day - why I so badly needed to hear that tonight.”

Jungkook nods, exhaling in an effort to hide his astonishment as you walk away in a rush, hiding whatever emotion you were feeling too.

One day.

He’ll hold you - and fate - up to that.

[thefallennightmare]

Ménage à Trois-eight

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/pinterest*

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+ only please, swearing, angst, fluff. M/F/M relations.

Summary: Bucky has a proposition for Reader, something involving Steve. This trio, however, never expected for their lives to change after that night the way it had.

A/N: Phew, just filthy smut ahead ;) Tags are open!

Tags(open): @matisse030502 @buckystevelove @floral-recs @inlovewithametalarm @buckies-dolle @cjand10 @matchat3a @kamaria-sweet-writes @pono-pura-vida @miikayywhocares @kunaikunari @mousee555 @akmenia @pono-pura-vida @ezraa-the

My feet paced my apartment back and forth, my heart racing with so much worry I kept running my hand through my hair. It had been a few hours since I last saw Steve before he ran off after the shooter. I had little time to react to what happened because Colonel Philips whisked me away in the car telling the driver to take me straight home. Whatever questions I had gone unanswered in the haze of the chaos.

Dr. Erskine was dead. That was the first time I had seen a dead body and his lifeless eyes stared back at me before Colonel Phillips wrapped an arm around me, pulling me away.

The shooter escaped, not before taking the last vial of the bright blue serum. Both Steve and Peggy ran after him to do only god knows what. I understood Steve cared for the Doctor but he shouldn’t have gone after the shooter. Even if he was a super soldier now, he did not know how the serum affected him yet.

What if he fainted and was lying in the street?

What if the serum had failed, and he got shot?

I shook my head at the thought and forced myself to stop pacing, taking in a deep breath before letting it out low and slow.

Steve would be fine, I thought to myself. He’s a super soldier now. He’ll be alright.

Suddenly, the door to my apartment busted open, and I walked a very pissed-off Steve. Any anger I had built up ready to attack him faded the moment I saw how sad his eyes were.

“Oh, Stevie,” I sighed.

When his eyes landed on me, everything bad that was weighing heavily on his shoulders faded away and he closed the distance between us in two very large steps. Strong arms wrapped around my back and I breathed in his scent. My hands sprawled over the large muscles in his back and given any other circumstances, I would have marveled at the way they felt beneath my fingertips.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked into my hairline, leaving a few kisses there.

I nodded while pressing my face deeper into his chest. “Yeah, I’m okay. Colonel Phillips put me in a car right away and I’ve been here the last couple of hours.”

He breathed. “Good.”

I peered up at him, not being used to the sudden change in height. Before, I would stand a few inches over Steve. Now, he was the one towering over me.

“What happened?” I asked.

His muscles tensed with anger but my soft touch eased it slightly.

“The shooter killed himself,” Steve said.

My eyes doubled in size. “Why the hell would he do that?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m not sure. But once I got back, Peggy forced me into a chair so they could take my blood. Fucking filled up eight vials so they can use it hoping to recreate Erskine’s serum.”

“What?” I gasped. “Steve, that’s a lot of blood to lose. How are you even standing right now?”

My hands cupped his cheeks so I could look into his eyes but he reassured me with a soft kiss to the inside of my palm. “I’m alright.”

We stayed in that position for a few more moments and much to Steve’s dismay; I pulled away slightly. A whine erupted from his throat so I linked fingers with him and began leading him to the bedroom.

“Stay with me tonight?” I asked as we passed through the doorway.

He eagerly nodded. “Nowhere else I would rather stay, doll.”

Even with the sly smirk, I knew Steve was hurting about Dr. Erskine’s death but I didn’t want to push him yet on how he was feeling. He would tell me if he wanted to.

Once in the bedroom, I motioned for Steve to sit on the bed. It was late in the evening and his eyes shone with exhaustion.

“I’ll find something of Bucky’s for you to where,” I said.

Before I could turn around, Steve linked fingers with mine and pulled me into his lap. My squeal echoed off of the walls. With his large hands grappling my hips, he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you were the one who got shot,” Steve admitted with a shaky breath.

My heart sank low into my stomach, hearing how wrecked his voice was.

“I’m alright,” I rubbed his shoulders. “I’m right here.”

“Buck would have buried me alive if that happened,” he said with a dry chuckle.

As much as I wanted to deny it for Steve’s sake, I knew he was right.

I lifted his chin to look into my eyes. “He’s going to lose his mind when he finds out what you did.”

Steve nodded. “I know.”

“He’ll get over it once he sees how handsome you look,” I giggled while pressing our foreheads together.

He breathed me in, hands bringing me in closer to him. I let out a soft moan when my core rubbed against his cock. It wasn’t hard, still soft, but I could tell the action had the same effect on him. I ignored it, however, knowing that tonight probably wasn’t the night for sex.

So instead, I motioned towards the hallway. “I’m going to take a shower. Do you need anything?”

Without a word, Steve pressed his lips to mine in a gentle, slow kiss. The serum must have changed his lips because now they were fuller and tasted so fucking sweet on my tongue. I groaned into the kiss and wrapped my arms around his neck to deepen it.

“Doll,” he sucked on my bottom lip. “Don’t go.”

I giggled once more in his embrace. “I’m only going to take a shower.”

At the mention of me taking a shower, Steve’s now hard cock pressed against my core. I was still wearing my dress from earlier and with how I was sitting on his lap, the dress had ridden up giving his clothed cock access to my pussy that was still covered by my underwear.

“Steve,” I moaned.

“I need you, Y/N. Please.”

My stomach burned with desire at the way his voice begged for me and I felt my panties dampen with my wetness.

All he needed was a nod from me before Steve had my dress on the ground and laid me on the mattress. I stared up at him in nothing but my black panties and his eyes raked over me with such hunger it made my entire body shiver.

Steve’s lips were on my skin in a flash, leaving kisses and bite marks where ever he wanted to claim me. I didn’t mind, the feeling of his teeth biting into me brought a fire sensation straight to the middle of my legs and I moaned out his name when his tongue brushed across one of my nipples.

“Steve,” my hand scratched at his hair.

He worked my nipple for a few minutes, pulling the perky bud between his teeth before soothing the pain with his tongue. Below, his fingers grazed my slick folds over the confines of my panties and I raised my hip into his hand needing some kind of friction.

“Please,” I begged.

Steve’s mouth left my nipple before kissing his way up the valley between my breast, over the pulse point on my neck then he dragged his nose up over my chin and I leaned my head back into the pillow.

“Tell me what you want,” he groaned.

“I want-,” my voice gave out.

The sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls and I screamed out in pleasure, Steve smacking my ass once more.

“What do you want?” He grunted.

“I want you to eat me out,” I breathed out in one fast breath.

Steve’s smile faltered a bit. “I’ve never done that before.”

Suddenly, I remembered that he still wasn’t well versed in sex; me being in first.

“It’s like you’re fingering or touching me down there but with your tongue. Whatever you want to taste or do with it, go for it.”

I guided him with a hand to his head and shivered when his hot breath fanned over the wetness in between my legs. So slowly, Steve pulled down my panties before tossing them to the floor.

“Don’t overthink it, Stevie. Just do,” I said when I felt him tense under my touch on his shoulder.

And he did just that. A loud groan of pleasure crawled out of my lips when I felt the tip of his tongue press hard into the sensitive nub, tracing circles. My fingers raked through his hair while my hips raised into his mouth, needing more.

“Faster,” I panted. “You can lick faster.”

Steve obeyed, but it wasn’t quite enough. I needed more.

“Finger me,” I begged. “Please.”

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He dove right in; literally. With one finger buried deep between my walls and his tongue pressing those hard circles over my clit, I covered my face with my hands not wanting my orgasm to wash over me yet. I wanted to enjoy this feeling longer.

“Oh, fuck,” I moaned when Steve slipped another finger into me.

The new thickness was what my body needed to reach my climax, the blinding white orgasm crashing into me and I rode it out on Steve’s fingers and tongue. His name fell from my lips repeatedly in broken moans.

I lightly tapped his head to let him know he could stop but frowned when I felt the fullness of his fingers leave my pussy.

“Shit,” he muttered while licking my orgasm off of his lips. “Bucky always said you tasted so sweet. I thought he meant your kisses.”

My heart smiled at his innocence but now, innocence was gone. The only thing that filled the room was our pure desire for one another. Grabbing his fingers that were once inside me, I brought them to my lips and sucked off my juices, moaning around them.

“Fuck,” Steve cursed. “Doll, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I let his fingers go with a pop before smiling up at him with hazy eyes. “You have seen nothing yet, Stevie.”

We made quick work of shedding his clothes and when he kneeled on the bed in nothing but his bareness; I took a few moments to take in his new body. His arms and chest were thicker, with more muscles. His abs rippled with definition under the light from the end table, his things were so fucking huge, they could probably suffocate me. But where my gaze lingered longer than the rest of his body was his now larger cock.

Even if he wasn’t hard, the size change was different. No longer was he short and thick but now he was longer and thicker; almost thicker than Bucky.

Hell, I had to admit it. He was thicker than Bucky.

“Oh fuck me,” I exasperated. “You’re fucking huge.”

Steve blushed. “I’ve never realized how dirty your mouth is, doll.”

I pushed him onto his back and straddled him. “Well, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“What do you want?” I asked him now, wondering what he desired most at the moment.

Steve’s hand gripped the back of my skull, forcing me to look up at the ceiling while he sat up, teeth dragging over the skin of my neck.

“I want to fuck that pretty little pussy.”

I swear in that moment, I came a little over his cock with only his words.

“Well,” I cleared my throat. “I stand corrected. It seems as if you learned quite enough.”

Steve gave me a devilish grin before bending over to the end table and rummaging for a condom. He made quick work of it, ripping the wrapper open with his teeth and sliding the condom over his dick. I let out a low whistle.

“The new Steve has a lot of confidence, eh?”

All he did was give me a look and when I nodded, he slid into me and I hissed at the new pain.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked, halting his thrust.

I nodded quickly. “Yeah, keep going. I’ll get used to the size.”

He did what I said and listened intently to my moans. First, it came out strangled as I bit my lip, eyes closed tight. Then my hips moved in sync with his until finally a groan of euphoric bliss fell from my lips as I started riding his cock faster.

“So good,” I breathed.

Steve leaned against the headboard and then dug his nails into my hips, undoubtedly leaving marks. “You’re so tight, Y/N.”

Our movements were slow at first, enjoying the feeling almost as if it was our first time all over again. It was. The new Steve, the super soldier, was now losing his virginity.

Soon, our slow languid movements became fast and erratic. Steve wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer to his chest.

“Can you handle it?” He muttered his question into the divet where my shoulder met my neck.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” I assured him. “I’m used to Bucky.”

That’s all Steve needed to hear before he slams up into me, the head of his cock hitting that spot. The veins on his cock scratched at my inner walls and I squeezed around him, a mess of curses and moans spewing from our lips.

“Fuck-so-good,” I breathed.

“You-take-me-so-well-doll,” Steve gritted out through each thrust.

My nails scratched at his shoulders. “Harder.”

He obeyed and with his cock slamming into me and his mouth working at the pulse point in my neck; I felt myself come undone all over him. My wetness spread all over his thick cock and I screamed out in pleasure, my orgasm wrecking through me.

“That’s a good girl. I’m so close,” Steve nibbled at my earlobe.

Exhaustion crashed into me but I didn’t let him know, I needed him to cum. With my head resting against his shoulder, I rolled and rocked my hips over him. The feeling made Steve lean his head back against the headboard, our movements causing it to slam against the wall behind us.

Great, can’t wait for my neighbors to complain about the noise.

“Cum for me, Stevie. I need you to cum for me,” I panted in his ear.

He did; so hard and fast I could feel him cum into the condom and I moaned.

“Yes,” I hissed, riding out his orgasm with him.

When his body stilled, I pulled away from his shoulder and cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes.

His once lust-blown pupils returned to their normal blue, and I smiled fondly at him. “That was good.”

Steve grunted in response, squeezing his arms around me, and slowly pulled himself out of me. We both sighed at the sudden loss of warmth. As he busied himself by running into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, I laid on the comforter, fatigue creeping up into me.

It had been such a long day, so many emotions and things went unsaid about what happened, then with the great sex, my body couldn’t fight sleep any longer. I was fast asleep before Steve came back into the room with a washcloth. He cleaned me up and then slide in behind me. He tossed the blanket over our exposed bottom half and then shut off the light, darkness encasing us.

“Sweet dreams, doll,” he muttered into my hairline.

The only response he received from me was my deep snores.

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Duty PT6

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

WORD COUNT: 5642

WARNINGS: none :)

SUMMARY: The Queen considers whether it is time to move on with her life, but the past is not so easily buried.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 4 ½ | PART 5 | PART 5½

MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST

A/N: All will be revealed in time 👀 Please reblog, comment or send an ask so I can hear what you think! Really hope you enjoy this one 🫶🏾🥰

The rain up North is nothing like the summer showers you experienced back home. This rain stings and bites at your skin as it falls, but it doesn't send you back inside under the shade.

Today is the first time in a few days that you have been outside, breathing in the fresh air. Your moon blood came particularly harsh this time around and left you bedridden for two days. It was a terrible ordeal, but it allowed you to see another side to your husband.

This morning, you awoke with no pains. Although your body is still tired and weak, here you stand, in the rain, embracing the Northern cold and eagerly awaiting nightfall because surprisingly, you have missed spending your evenings with Robb.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Amiria calling your name.

"My Lady, what are you doing out in the cold?" she sounds panicked as she wraps a blanket around your shoulders, "Seven hells! You'll make yourself ill!"

You chuckle as you welcome the blanket and follow her back under the shade, "It's alright, I wasn't out there for long."

Amiria runs the blanket over your damp hair. "It is a good thing I found you. Any longer and you might catch a fever," she presses the back of her hand to your cheek, "You have just been unwell, you should not tempt fate, my Lady."

"I apologise, I did not mean to worry you," you smile warmly and give her a short hug to reassure her, "Found me? Were you looking for me?"

"Yes, Lady Stark has requested your presence in her quarters."

You're taken aback by this. Lady Stark, though pleasant since the wedding, has never once asked to speak to you alone.

"Did she tell you why she wants to see me?"

Amiria looks up at you and chuckles when she sees the nervousness that has settled into you.

"Don't be afraid," she says in a tone that suggests your anxiety is amusing to her, "She did not seem to be in a terrible mood."

"That is good," you breathe a sigh of relief, but your eyes remain apprehensive.

Amiria smirks and takes you by the arm, pulling you towards your chambers, "Come. Let us get you dry for the Queen Mother."

***

As soon as you enter the parlour, Catelyn rises to greet you at the door, embracing you before you even have a chance to curtsey. When she releases you, her smile turns into a frown as she cups your face with her hands.

"You still look a bit unwell, darling," she says, looking between your eyes, a hint of pity in her voice, "Come and sit, let us have some tea. Perhaps it will help you feel better."

You follow her to where a small table is set with all your favourite treats and a teapot to share between the two of you. She takes a seat in an armchair on one side of the table and you sit opposite her on the other side of the table. Without a word she begins to pour the tea for the both of you.

"Does it normally trouble you so?" she asks as she hands you a cup.

You take a grateful sip, smiling when that familiar warmth begins spreading in your chest. "Sometimes the Mother offers mercy and my bloods pass painlessly," you say, "Other times I am confined to my bed chambers for some days."

"Poor girl," her forehead wrinkles when she frowns, "I'll speak to Maester Luwin about giving you something that might take away your pain."

"Thank you, my Lady."

There's a pause in the conversation as you sip the mint tea and enjoy the warmth of the fire burning. Your worries begin to fade away as you relax in Catelyn's company.

“I see you’ve been spending much more time with my son as of late,” she says, breaking the silence, “I hear you’re with him in his study into the late hours of the night.”

It's an abrupt turn from your initial conversation, but you suppose it is normal for her to ask about her son.

“We talk mostly. Sometimes I sew while he works.”

A thin smile forms on Catelyn’s lips as she hums in response, “And what is it that you talk about?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s a bit impolite to ask about private conversations, but you would never dare to point out such a thing to your good-mother.

“I tell him about my family, what it was like growing up in the South,” you say hesitantly, “He talks about you, his family…his father and sisters.”

You can’t help but pity her when you see how she deflates at the mention of her lost family. Her eye twitches as she looks away, trying to stop her mask from slipping.

“He tells me stories about all of them as children,” a tender smile forms on your lips as you think back to the conversations, “It makes me wish I had siblings of my own to fight and play with.”

Catelyn nods again, but her smile seems even more strained than before. Your brows furrow in concern as you reach out to touch her knee.

“Lady Stark?”

She presses one hand to her lips, taking a moment to collect herself. Not a single tear falls from her eyes, though they come close. After only a few seconds, she blows out a breath and sits up properly in her chair, composed once again.

“He rarely talks about them with me,” she whispers, eyes downcast.

“I think he finds it easier to talk about them with someone who doesn’t know them,” you reassure her, “I assume it feels more like recalling a fond memory to a stranger than it does reminiscing about loved ones he’s lost.”

She nods her head, though she seems unconvinced. You can’t imagine the pain and fear she must be feeling knowing that her son has made an enemy of the same family who have her daughters in their grasp. That he is in open rebellion against the King who took her husband's head.

"He must trust you quite a bit."

You consider it for a moment, "I hope so. I would like to think he does."

"How have you been finding all of this? Being here, married to Robb?"

It is not a simple question to answer. In truth, you did not expect this much time to pass with your heart still refusing to fully open to Robb, nor his to you. Your mother always told you that falling in love is quick and simple, and in the past you found that to be true. But for some reason, it is slow and difficult with Robb.

A month since your wedding and you still hold each other at arms' length, merely allowing glimpses into your souls on occasion.

Instead of telling her an outright lie, you choose to focus on the good. "Your family have been so accommodating, as has Robb," you plaster a smile on your lips, "It has taken some time to adjust, but everyone has been so kind."

Judging by the look on Catelyn's face, she knows that you are hiding something. She doesn't come across as the kind of woman who is fooled easily.

“This may be crude of me, but I must ask," she begins, leaning forward ever so slightly, "This is your second time on the bloods since the wedding?"

It only takes you a second to decipher what exactly she is asking. You nod quickly, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Have you and Robb–?"

"We have not."

"The marriage is unconsummated?"

You nod again, averting your gaze in embarrassment. Catelyn looks off to the side, deep in thought. Each passing second only serves to make your stomach turn and your palms sweat.

Eventually, she turns back to you, but there is no anger nor shame in her eyes, only determination.

"I truly do not wish to make you uncomfortable, but I must stress the importance of your consummation." She speaks in a matter-of-fact tone that is only slightly intimidating.

"Your marriage is not valid until the act is done. And I need not remind you of your duty to each other as husband and wife, and as rulers of the North."

Children.

"I understand."

"Then why, may I ask, are you waiting?"

This time, there is a hint of frustration in her tone. She looks at you with eyes so piercing that for a moment you forget that you are not a child being scolded by her Septa. Yet, it is somehow worse because the person asking the question is your good-mother.

"We only wish to know each other better before we–" you cut yourself off to find the right words, "There is still time–"

"There is no time," Catelyn's patience seems to have worn thin, "Robb will return to the frontline before long. And only the gods know if he will come back."

That thought sends a chill down your spine. Robb may not be some great love, but the mere idea of his demise makes your heart sink to your stomach.

"I have been in your shoes before, Y/N," she says, her tone softer, "I did not know Ned very well when I first met him. I certainly didn't love him either. That comes with time."

Her words are optimistic. Reassuring. And they get you thinking.

"We all have our roles to play. It is time you and Robb started doing your part."

***

"She wants us to consummate."

Amiria sits on a stool beside your bath, washing all the grease and dirt out of your hair while you soak in the warm water.

"But His Grace said that you do not have to if you don't wish to, no?" she asks.

You sigh deeply, "That is true. But I'm starting to believe that she may be right."

The longer you think about her words, the more they cut deep. You have been ignoring the reality of your situation, going through the motions and capitalising on Robb's busy schedule to avoid hard truths.

Robb is your husband now, and the North is your home. That will never change. This is not King’s Landing where you will have to endure for a time and be rescued. This is your life, forever. And deep down in your heart you know that if you are to start a new life, you must let go of the old one.

Without warning, tears begin to well in your eyes and blur your vision. This is not the life you imagined for yourself. To never experience love, you were prepared for – you always knew that your marriage would be arranged, and if love never happened with your husband, you would’ve been content given he was kind and gentle.

But this? To have loved and lost it? To know what it feels like and know that you will never have it again? It’s a pain you would not wish on anyone.

And Robb. He is kind, and he cares…somewhat. But he does not love you. And if he loves Elyse the way you have loved, then you know he will never love you. That is the hard truth.

You bury your head in your hands and let the tears flow. Amiria crouches down beside the bath and wraps her arms around you, letting you sob into her shoulder.

"I hate to see you in such pain, my Lady," she says, her voice thick with emotion.

The day you left King's Landing, your heart was shattered. A part of you has been holding on to him for so long because it is a reminder that what you shared was real. And how could you repay the love he gave by letting it go?

Selfishly, you want him to be happy, to have moved on. You pray that he has forgotten you. Maybe then you would not be riddled with guilt over letting him go. The truth is, you have responsibilities that you can shirk no longer. And you cannot be a good wife with him still in your heart.

With a deep, shaky breath, you pull away from Amiria and wipe your eyes, splashing your face with the bath water to calm yourself down.

Once your heart stops racing and your breathing relaxes, you turn to Amiria, "Could you fetch my robe, please?"

She hesitates momentarily before doing it. You climb out of the bath and slip on the robe, walking to your dresser with Amiria following close behind.

"Help me dress."

Your sudden switch from distress to being resolute is alarming to Amiria. She stares in bewilderment as you begin to get ready. "Where are you going?"

"I always visit Robb in the evenings," you say, "It is the perfect time to raise the topic of consummation."

Amiria places a hand on your shoulder to grab your attention. She looks straight into your eyes and asks sincerely, "Are you sure that you are ready to take that step?"

You know that you are not ready, but you also know that it is time to stop living in the past. It is exhausting, and it hurts you more than it makes you happy. You want to believe that you can be happy here, if you only give it a chance.

"Yes. I'm sure."

***

It’s not a question that Robb has a face any woman would love to look at. You see the way women giggle and blush when he smiles as he walks past them. The way they always seem to crowd when he spars with Ser Rodrik. You understand, you like to look at him too. He’s really quite…beautiful, but it’s more than that.

His guard is never lower than when he is in this solar working, and you like to watch the way he does things when he is not concerned with appearances. These are the moments when you see the truest version of him. His brows knitting together when he reads something particularly unpleasant, the way he occasionally looks up at you and offers a sweet smile. He curses sometimes. It used to shock you, but you find it amusing now.

Your admiration grows the more you see him like this, constantly fighting through mental and physical fatigue to lead his people and be there for his family. When he talks to you about them, you wonder if he has even had time to properly grieve his father, or if that is yet another thing he has pushed aside for the sake of his responsibilities. It breaks your heart to think so.

Most mornings you wake up alone because he is up by the crack of dawn. And at night, you leave him here in this study, working into the late hours. You see the bags under his eyes and the way he pauses every so often to massage his shoulders and neck. He takes on…too much.

Sitting across from him tonight, all you can think about are Catelyn's words. How do you even begin to discuss such a sensitive topic? Especially when he is under so much pressure?

Your mother says it is time we consummated our marriage. Shall we start making love?

Ridiculous.

Robb stops his writing for a moment to crack his knuckles and stretch his back, and as he puts down his writing quill, he looks up and catches you staring. You quickly tear away your gaze, returning to your embroidery and ignoring the rising heat on your neck and chest.

Robb knows you well enough now that he can tell when there is something disturbing you.

"What is on your mind?" he asks, leaning forward to give you his full attention.

This is your opportunity to broach the subject, but for some reason, you are unable to form the words. So you tell him something else.

“Just that I...forgot to tell you something. I went into town the day before I fell ill.”

Robb sits up a little, visibly concerned, “Alone?”

“No, Amiria went with me. And a few guards.”

He relaxes then, leaning forward once again.

“We took some food and clothes to the homes sheltering the children orphaned in this war,” you say, “I wanted to be sure they’re being taken care of.”

He looks pleasantly surprised. “That is very kind of you. I had not thought to do that yet.”

You wave a hand and shake your head. “Of course not. You already have so much on your plate,” you gesture to his cluttered desk, “I have never ran a household much less an entire castle before, so I leave it to your mother. I’m just trying to do what little I can to support your efforts.”

You return to your embroidery, but Robb doesn't take his eyes off you. He knows there is still something eating at you and yet you refuse to say it. Suddenly he's full of regret. Perhaps, if he had not been so determined to dislike you at first, you would not still hide behind your wall.

Eventually, he looks away from you with a sigh, picking up a letter from his unopened pile and breaking the seal. You glance up at him, relieved that he has broken his scrutinising stare.

“What are you reading?” you ask, attempting to change the topic.

“A report from our scouts.”

You sit up properly, now curious, “How goes the search for Arya?”

Robb puts down the letter a little forcefully and run his hands through his hair in frustration. That about tells you all you need to know.

"Have you thought any more about what I suggested? About the Owls?”

This is a conversation that has already been had before. Multiple times. Robb turned down your father's offer, and he has rejected yours as well each time you've brought it up. At this point, he is tired of reiterating his position.

“I have already told you that I have no intention of using them,” his tone is clipped when he speaks, and he attempts to busy himself with other work to end the conversation.

His efforts are futile because you refuse to let it go, “They would be inside the Red Keep within hours of receiving your letter–“

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“–and they would have Sansa on the road back to Winterfell within days.”

“I am not going to use spies.”

“Sansa is not–,” you pause mid-sentence to gather yourself, “Sansa is not safe with Joffrey.”

Robb sighs deeply and rubs his tired eyes with his hands, "Do you think I am unaware of that?”

“I just don’t understand why you won’t use them,” you press, “Do you doubt their capabilities?”

“No, I am sure they are very capa–“

“Because they managed to smuggle me out of King’s Landing without issue,” you cut him off, “Daenerys Targaryen is alive in Essos today because of them.”

“Enough!”

You flinch at the sound of his raised voice. Instantly your heart starts racing, the hairs on your body standing on end. For a second, only a mere second, you are back in King's Landing, and you are terrified.

“I am fighting this war with honour,” he continues, his voice now back to normal, “This is the last time I will have this discussion, do you understand me?”

He stares you down for a few seconds until he thinks you have dropped it. You wait until he relaxes some before speaking.

“Your enemy would pay a starving child two coppers and a loaf of stale bread to poison your supper,” you say in the calmest tone you can muster, “Spying ought not be where you draw the line.”

You rise to your feet and walk to the door, ignoring Robb’s burning gaze. As you place your hand on the handle, you turn to him once more.

“I don’t suppose you will be retiring for the night?”

He begins shuffling some papers on his desk, “No, I still have much to do before the morn.”

You don’t believe him, but you nod anyways. “Very well, then. I shall bid you goodnight.”

Once you step outside and close the door, you lean against the wall of the corridor, sucking in the cold air and placing a hand over your chest to slow your heart. Hot tears burn behind your eyes – not of sadness, but of anger.

It took one word – one little word – and you were back there at the lowest point you've ever been. It's a reminder that all the pain and hurt inflicted by that monster is still inside you. And it hurts that Robb was the one to bring it to the surface.

***

When Robb eventually retires for the night, he half-expects you to be waiting for him, ready to continue the conversation from earlier, so he's surprised to find you curled up under the blankets on your side of the bed.

A few of the candles in the room are still lit – he knows you left them burning for his benefit. He uses the dim lighting to make his way around the room, removing his jerkin shirt as he does so. It gets hot in the room because even with the natural heating from the hot springs, you still insist on having a fire built every night before you sleep. Robb doesn't object to this because he knows you can't sleep in the freezing cold – but it does mean he now sleeps in as little clothes as possible.

He hears you stir when he walks to your side of the room and blows out the candles there, but he ignores it and returns to his side before climbing into the bed. As always, he turns his back to you, stares into the darkness and listens to your breathing.

Steady.

"I know you're awake," he says after a moment.

He's not sure you know that you snore when you sleep. It's not bothersome at all, the sound resembles the light purring of a kitten. On nights where sleep eludes him, the sound helps to calm his mind and lull him into a slumber.

That is how he knows that you are only pretending to sleep.

You don't stir, and after a while he assumes that you are choosing to ignore him. The moment he closes his eyes, he hears your voice call out to him.

"Robb?"

He hums in response, not wanting to seem too eager to reconcile.

"Don't ever raise your voice to me in that manner again."

Your tone is flat and unemotional, but the words are extremely sobering for Robb. He's rendered speechless, and no other words are spoken by either of you that night.

***

The bridge connecting the Great Keep to the Armoury offers the best view of the courtyard in Winterfell. That is where you go to forget your troubles, distracting yourself with the activities happening below you. But even watching the bustling of people fails you this afternoon. All you can think about is the night before.

Deep down you know that you provoked Robb into having that row, simply to avoid having a difficult conversation. You did not realise that was what you were doing until you had some time to yourself. And yet, you cannot seem to stop yourself from thinking about Robb's reaction.

He has never presented himself as a man who is quick to anger.

Neither did Joffrey. Not at first.

You shake those thoughts out of your head almost as soon as you have them. Robb is not like Joffrey, of that you are certain. He is...attentive, in the ways that matter.

Not a single stew or soup has been served to you since you told him about your unusual diet. He found out you enjoy lemon cakes, and before long there was a lemon tree growing in the glass garden. And not once has he complained about the fire you keep burning in your chambers before you sleep even though you know he despises the heat.

Joffrey was never that way, even before he revealed his true colours.

Perhaps this is all you will ever have, you don't have to love him to bear his children. A kind husband is more than most have. Shouldn't that be enough?

It is at this moment that Robb arrives at the top of the bridge, emerging from the armoury with Lord Umber in tow. He sees you standing there, right in the middle of the bridge, looking out onto the courtyard. There's a distant look in your eyes as you stare down, and Robb knows exactly what is weighing on your heart.

You don't notice him or Lord Umber until they are only a few steps away from you, at which point you quickly stand up straight.

"Your Grace," you curtsey to Robb as you always do around other people.

Lord Umber bows his head to you, "Your Grace."

"My Lady, this is Lord Umber. You might remember meeting him at our wedding feast?"

His face is unfamiliar, "My apologies, Lord Umber, I met quite a few people that night."

"No need to apologise, Your Grace," he laughs heartily, "The ale flowed freely that night, I'm not sure I remember our meeting either."

All three of you share a laugh at that, but before the conversation can continue any further, Robb turns to Lord Umber.

"Lord Umber, might you wait for me by my solar? I would like to speak to my wife in private."

"Of course, Your Grace." he bows his head to you both and walks past you towards the Great Keep.

Robb turns to you once you're alone, but he does not speak. He notices that the smile you put on for Lord Umber has faded, and the sadness in your eyes has returned. Your words from the night before play over in his mind, as they have been all morning. He knows that your upset at this present moment is because of him and only him, and for that, he's ashamed.

After a moment, he turns to face the courtyard, arms resting against the railing. You watch him, curious about his troubled expression, before joining him. Your forearm brushes against his as you stand next to him, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm sorry for raising my voice at you," he says, eyes downcast, "I did not mean to frighten you, and I will never do it again."

You didn't expect an apology, not for this. Many men have done worse to their wives without a second thought, but as you glance at Robb out of the corner of your eye, it is clear that he is remorseful. It warms your heart.

"Thank you," you whisper, "And I am sorry too."

"What for?"

"Picking a fight," you look up at him, "I should not have taken your decision so personally."

Robb nods briefly, accepting your apology – one he is surprised to receive because he knows that you still believe he is making the wrong choice.

"I'm trying to be like my father," he explains with a heavy sigh, "I want to fight this war in the most honourable way I can. And if I resort to spying and trickery to win, how would I be any different to my enemies? To Joffrey?"

At those words, you turn your head sharply to look at him. Your eyes soften when they meet his.

"You are a good man, Robb. Nothing like Joffrey."

The hint of a smile plays on his lips.

"I know you don't believe this, but I truly do value your advice," he says, "Even if I don't always agree, I would still like to know your opinion on those choices. Don't ever hesitate to tell me what you think."

You stand side by side, overlooking the courtyard. Down by the guest house, a little boy and girl are wrestling in the mud. Within seconds, a woman who you assume is their mother appears by their side and begins scolding them over their spoiled garments. She pulls them away from the scene by their ears, the two children giggling as she does so.

You and Robb both laugh as this unfolds, revelling in the innocence and mischief of childhood.

"They remind me of Arya and Bran," he says, a mournful look in his eyes.

The same urge to console him when he first opened up to you about his father overwhelms you once again. But instead of drawing back, this time, you place your hand over his, and he welcomes it without hesitation.

You lean against his shoulder and give his hand a comforting squeeze as he absent-mindedly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. A simple touch but it’s enough to make you wish things were different.

"Do you think we will ever be happy?" you suddenly ask, "The way my mother and father are? The way yours were?"

Robb doesn't know how to respond to that. Mostly because in the midst of this seemingly endless war, he has been unable to envision life beyond it. But judging by your question, you may have started to, so it may be time for him to start as well.

He looks down at you with a thoughtful expression. "I don't know," he answers honestly, "But I hope so."

That makes you smile. You hold his gaze for a moment, only tearing your eyes away when the deep blue of his begin to grow too intense for your comfort.

You chuckle nervously and nod your head towards the Great Keep as you stand up straight, "Lord Umber must be waiting for you."

Robb blinks as if the fact had slipped his mind. "Of course," he says quickly with a bow and you regret that he chose to be so formal.

You watch him as he walks away, but he stops after a few paces and turns back to face you.

"I'm going into town later, I thought you might accompany me if you'd like," his tone is cheery, "I have some business to attend to, but you can visit the market while we're there?"

It is a kind offer, but you simply want to be alone with your thoughts for now.

"I'm afraid I'm not feeling up to it today," you say apologetically, "But I thank you for the invitation."

Robb is disappointed with your answer to say the least, but he does not let it show. Instead, he nods in understanding with a wistful smile and heads back inside, leaving you alone on the bridge.

You turn your attention back to the courtyard, resting your arms on the railing and letting out a deep sigh. That is when you notice the very familiar silhouette of a man.

His back is to you while he talks to another man just outside the armoury. Even though he's far away and you cannot see his face, he looks too familiar.

There is absolutely no chance.

You lean so far forward that only a few inches more and you'd fall over the railing. The man throws his head back and laughs. Instantly a pit forms in your stomach.

You know that laugh.

Your body begins to move faster than you can think. Within seconds you've hitched up your skirts and ran back into the Great Keep. Your heart is beating out of your chest with every step down the stairs. There are no thoughts in your head. All you hear is that laugh and the thumping of your heart.

In the courtyard there's people bustling about everywhere. You want to scream at them to stop moving so that you can see. To stop talking so that you can think. Your shoes and the bottom of your dress are caked in mud as you run from one end of the courtyard to the other, frantically searching for him.

The armoury. He was standing in front of the armory.

You take off running in that direction, stepping in puddles and all kinds of dirt and muck on the way. Once inside, you stop to catch your breath, panting heavily as you look around, hoping to catch sight of him. All you see are large, oily men carrying pounds of steel, shields, armour and all sorts.

You begin to wonder if you only imagined seeing him. Your mind playing some kind of sick trick on you. It wouldn't be surprising considering everything that has happened recently.

Just as you are about to let it go, a hand grabs your shoulder and turns you around.

The black hair. Those blue eyes.

You forget how to breathe for a moment. Completely frozen in shock. It's like the whole building goes silent and all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You're sure he calls your name, but you find yourself incapable of doing anything but stare at him in confusion and awe.

This is not real. This is not real.

You cannot allow yourself to believe that this is happening because the devastation if it's not real is not one you will recover from easily. With a shaky hand, you reach out to touch his face. Before you can even cup his cheek, he takes your hand and leans into it.

A stuttered breath escapes your lips as tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

"Gendry."

*

Special thanks to these lovely people (and extra shoutout to everyone who called it 😉) Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 💞 (@’s in bold I can’t seem to tag :/):

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[wayfayrr]

Surprise!!

I'm back from my break, taking some time just to clear my thought's feels like it's worked wonders <33

To set things back off with a bang I've got the grand prize winner for @glowyskull in my 200 followers raffle!! It's self aware twi deciding to take certain matters into his own hands after his darling reader was gone for so long - since he's fresh out of twilight princess in this one he's going as link rather than twilight as well I hope you enjoy!! <3

[masterlist]

Of all the days to get sick it had to be today, of course it is. I’m somewhat grateful for the extra day off though even if I would’ve preferred not being sent home early, it’ll give me some time to sort out some things I’ve been pushing aside for a while. Maybe I could start by finally sorting out some boxes of old things I’ve been putting off for ages. Well, now that box is a lot emptier than it was when I started and I’ve finally found my old Wii - I wonder does it still have my old Twilight Princess save? Maybe I could see, there’s not much else to do now I’ve finished sorting everything out. Just gotta get all the wires plugged in correctly and then … There! It’s certainly working which is a good sign, now all there is to do is to open it up and check up on something I thought I had lost long ago. 

This isn’t how it should open - I know what the opening is supposed to be.

There should be something here, not just this, not just this dark empty noise. Maybe the data got corrupted or something, I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

“..Dar-li-in’?”

“...”

“Darlin’ is that - you - you’ve finally come back darlin’? I - I ain’t alone anymore?”

…What is that - that can’t just be file corruption, that was someone speaking to me… It wasn’t the clearest, it sounded like it had been put through rounds of compression but that was definitely a voice… 

“You are there aren’t you darlin’? Please - I don’t- I can’t go - I can’t”

“I can’t go back to how I’ve been stuck I can’t - I can’t do it anymore… I know I’m supposed to be the courageous hero but I -”

“- I can’t do this anymore… I ca-n’t do - this… not - no-t any-m…”

He cut himself off with his own sobbing… I’ve never heard anyone sound half as broken as this, it’d be the rawest I’ve ever heard anyone cry if it wasn’t for all of the distortion… What has he been through? Now that the static has lessened - It’s links model, but more humanlike? It’s like there’s a person on the other side of the screen and not just a character.

But that means He’s the one crying…The way he’s standing is just as heartbreaking as his sobs are, his hands pressed up against the glass, his head hanging low and endless tears falling down his face. How do I go about - I know where I can start… 

“...Link? Can you hear me - I - I’m not sure if I’m the darlin’ you’re talking about, but right now, You aren’t alone link.”

“[Name] - you ? Oh darlin’ you - You’re really here - ‘m not imagining this? You - you’re finally back?”

“Yeah, I’m here link.”

His crying sounds happier now, but it still doesn’t sound anywhere close to stopping - I don’t expect him to stop crying for a long while though. It has to have been what - at least a decade since I last played? - has he been trapped in there aware the whole time? 

“You aren’t - you aren’t going to leave me again, are you? Please darlin’ - I can’t go back - it’s so - I can’t. Please. Darlin’ you can’t leave me again - I can’t do this anymore.”

His voice sounds even worse now, it’s heartbreaking and I think he knows how inhuman he sounds if his wince is anything to go off of, how he sounds is hurting him too.

“I thought I’d tried every way to get out… but I - I never got the chance to do it when the game was on… You won’t be able to leave me if this works… will you darlin'?”

Here I thought his crying sounded scary, the way it’s fading into laughter is downright haunting. It sounds so wet as if he’s choking on his tears as he laughs. 

“I’m finally going to get out- I’m not - I’m not going to be stuck anymore.  Darlin’ I”

For the first time since this all started he’s looking up at me, lifting his head like it’s one of the heaviest things to exist just to make eye contact with me. He looks… he looks like he’s ready to kill someone.

“W-what are you - what are you planning to do link?”

“... I don’t know… All I do know is that this glass keeping us apart? It’s so thin… I think tha-”

The way he silenced himself suddenly isn’t so shocking, not when a smile is cracking its way across his face mirroring the glass underneath his fingers. His breath and mine hitched before his laughing picked back up with even more distortion. 

“To - to think darlin’ - all I  - it just - it just needed to be on - I… I…”

Blood coated my shelf now due to how desperately his hand is reaching for something to hold onto after the glass tore into his skin. This is all just a fever dream though so…

Without much more thinking I reached out to take his hand, wincing slightly as the glass caught in his skin dug into mine. Immediately his grip tightened with a choked sob coming from him, like he didn’t expect me to help him. It doesn’t take long after that for him to shatter the screen in his desperation, falling out onto me knocking us both to the floor. Shards of my tv embedding themselves into any bare skin of his, blood - his blood - streaking out from each and every wound now marring his face as proof that this is real.

The same blood that’s starting to stain my shirt.

“I’m here darlin’ - ‘m finally out.”

“Yeah, you are Link, you’re out of there now.”

Everything feels so fuzzy, maybe my fever really is messing with me more than I thought. Real or not though, I should deal with the cuts on his face, he isn’t from here… Who knows how deadly even the most basic infection could be to him?

“...Link, if I may you’ve um… you’ve gotten a lot of cuts from …that and I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave them as they are. Would you mind if I...?”

“You would - darlin’ you’d do that just for me?”

“I’d do it for anyone who needed it… and you really need it. I don’t want to think what could happen if I don’t. I’ll just need to get up to grab some supplies okay?”

As I shifted to get up he let out a low groan and buried his head more into my torso, clearly very against the idea of me moving in any way. Even trying to gently pry him off of me isn’t helping at all, he’s not letting go anytime soon; his grip only seems to be getting tighter with every movement I make. 

“Link, please… I don’t know how your body could react to an infection and we don’t have healing potions or fairies here. I’ll be back in just a second I swear.”

“Darlin’. You aren’t leavin' me again, I’ve already spent far too long without you when you abandoned me for so, so long.”

Why does he sound and feel so real this can’t be… this has to be a hallucination. Come on [name], just deal with this as it comes. 

“I don’t need to leave you then, you can stay with me while I get what I need. Does that work for you?”

A gentle nod followed by loosening his hold on me was a good sign that he is okay with this, despite how frail and overwhelmed his face makes him out to be. Getting up still isn’t the easiest thing to do with how he refuses to let go of me despite if he did then it would far easier for the both of us to get up. Then the moment I do finally get up immediately his arms are wrapped around my waist as he pulls himself up with me, almost as if he’s struggling to stand on his own; not that I’ll question that now, there are other issues to be dealing with.

Shuffling over to where I keep my first aid kit, link could clearly tell it wasn’t the best idea to keep ahold of me while I get it, instead leaning on the wall keeping himself upright as his eyes never left me the entire time his hands weren't on me. Like he’s scared I’m going to up and vanish or something. Because I did. I did and I left him in that place. I left him to rot.

“Okay I’ve got it link, let’s go sit down and I can treat your wounds.”

“M’kay darlin’.”

Leading him back to the couch with his arms securely around my waist again was faster than before, letting me move him into the position that would be more comfortable for him while I do this. 

“Okay wolf boy, this isn’t going to be the best. After I’ve taken the shards out, I’ll have to disinfect the cuts. So this is gonna sting a little alright? Just try to keep still and it’ll be over faster.”

The silence was tattered with the occasional whine and whimper as I pull each and every shard littering his otherwise perfect face. It wasn’t long till I was preparing some rubbing alcohol on a cloth just to be certain there won’t be any more risks. Just got to do it before I start getting too drowsy from this fever. 

“There you go Link, not much longer now, you’re doing amazingly. I’ll warn you again though this is really going to sting.”

“Darlin’ nothing could sting worse than the feeling of you abandoning me all that time.”

Hissing and pulling away when the cloth came close to touching him seemed to disprove that faster than he meant for it too. Not that I didn’t expect him to try pulling away from it, just not pushing my hand away while pressing himself into my other side. With a soft sigh, I let him grab onto my free hand with both of his, the image of him clinging to my sleeve like a plush toy being one of the cutest things I would have ever seen if not for the blood streaming down his face. 

“Come on, you were doing so well. I promise it’ll only take a moment more then it’ll be done with…”

That seemed to do the trick, despite the clear pout and his tightening grip whenever it seemed to hurt a little too much, he’s let me clean the blood off of his face and clean the wounds. Now just to bandage him up and -

“All done link, see it was worth it right? Now you don’t have to worry about all those cuts; I can go and lie down for a bit now too.”

“Lie down but - but I just got here… can’t we spend more time together?”

“I do want to link, I can promise you that. I’m just not feeling well, I haven’t been well for this whole time really; this fever is taking more of a toll on me than I thought it would.”

“Fever? Oh, darlin’ you, you should be resting not dealin' with me [name]. I - I didn’t even realise, I just. I was so excited to be here with you that I didn’t even notice you were in pain. How could I even call myself your lover?”

What did he just-?

No don't worry about that at the moment [name].

Laying my head on his chest after gently shoving him onto the couch is such a comforting feeling; if he’s just my fever trying to convince me to rest, well I wouldn’t mind getting sick more often. 

“‘s alright link, don’t worry about ‘t. I’m just, gonna sleep for a little bit. Then if you aren't just a hallucination we can spend more time together later.”

Hands carded through my hair only seem to push me further into sleep now, there’s no point resisting and forcing myself to stay awake now anyway.

“I know we will darlin’, ‘cause I ain’t ever letting you leave me ever again.”