#then you don’t have any friends and at your age you should wonder why

[dilf-draco]

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[ziracona]

Go fucking apeshit every time a DA player is like “Yeah I agree Mages should be free, but he doesn’t have to TALK about it all the time” - oh, yeah god forbid the member of an oppressed minority who lives in the very real fear of being imprisoned, lobotomized and enslaved, or killed, every second of every day just because he exists, deign to talk about it much. Gee I wonder why the fact he could be legally locked up or killed by the established power structure at any second for having been born what he is might be on his mind every single day. So annoying he gives a shit what happens to other members of his minority community even when he’s slightly safer for the moment personally, and is committed to drawing attention to their plight and making things better through direct action!! Bet you guys are a real peach towards the minority folks in your real lives. Such understanding for why things matter to people they effect constantly on a life or death level when it doesn’t apply personally to you.

[waitimcomingtoo]

This Means War

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: Peter and his crush on you feel threatened when your childhood best friend Harley Keener comes to visit and clearly harbors feelings for you

Masterlist

“Do you think I’d explode if I drank this?” You asked and swished around the insides of the beaker you were holding. Peter looked up at you through his lab goggled and chuckled.

“I don’t know. You should try it.”

“You say that now but you’d be so sad if I exploded.” You insisted. “You’d have no one to watch Over the Hedge with.”

“Wait, can we watch Over the Hedge tonight?” He pleaded. “I forgot about that movie. I love it so much.”

“I know you do. Which is why you’re gonna be sad and alone watching it tonight and thinking wow, I wish I didn’t let my best friend explode.” You shrugged and put the beaker down.

“Um, excuse you. I would never be best friends with a girl. You have cooties and go to Jupiter to get more stupider.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.” You chortled. “Because I actually went to college to get more knowledge. It’s boys who went to Jupiter to get more stupider.”

“But if I, as a boy, successfully figured out how to travel to Jupiter, wouldn’t that make me the smarter one? Since I cracked interplanetary travel?”

“I think you should drink this.” You said after a beat of silence and held the beaker up. Peter laughed and you did too. He snuck another glance at you as you combined the contents of two flasks and made a tiny explosion. You often accompanied him in the lab when he was at the Avengers tower despite not being much of a scientist yourself. You just liked to help and watch as he did his thing.

“Thanks for helping me, by the way.” Peter said. “I’m sure you have a million other things you’d rather be doing than helping me develop new kinds of web fluid.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrugged. “If you throw out the words “tornado web”, of course I’m gonna want to help you make that possible. Plus, I like spending time in the lab with you.”

“You do? Because so do I.” He said as a blush covered his face. You looked up from what you were working on and gave him a smile. Peter sucked in a sharp breath and cleared his throat.

“Um, so, I’m just gonna throw this out there and you can tell me how you feel.” Peter began. “I was wondering if maybe sometime you’d want to-“

“Where is she?” Peter was cut off by an unfamiliar voice booming through the lab. You immediately looked up and pulled your goggles down.

“Harley?” You asked, sending a twinge of jealousy down to Peter’s stomach.

“Who?” He asked you. His question was answered by a tall, sandy blonde guy walking into the lab. He wore an oversized corduroy jacket with patches on the elbows that made him look the kind of effortlessly cool Peter could only dream of looking.

“Harley!” You exclaimed and put your beaker down to run to him. Peter watched with furrowed eyebrows as you threw your arms around Harley’s neck and hugged him tightly. Harley wrapped both arms around you and lifted you off the ground as he spun around.

“There’s my girl. I missed you so much.” He said into your ear as he swayed back and forth with you in his arms.

“I missed you too.” You told him as you pulled out of the hug but stayed in his arms. Peter felt like he was about to pass out and maybe even die over the sight in front of him so he cleared his throat to remind you he was there.

“Hi. Sorry, your girl? Who is this guy?” Peter asked you through a forced laugh as he shit daggers at Harley.

“Oh, sorry. Peter, this is Harley Keener. He’s my dad’s friend.” You explained as you slid out of Harley’s embrace but kept an arm around his torso.

“Your dad’s friend? How old is he?” Peter asked.

“He is your age. Feel free to direct any of your questions at me, by the way.” Harley said sarcastically but playfully to Peter.

“Harley, this is Peter. My dad’s other young adult male friend.” You told Harley. Harley held out his hand and Peter shook it as hard as he could while never breaking eye contact with who he had now deemed his competition.

“Right. I’ve heard of you. You’re the one that can shrink down really small, right?” Harley asked while still shaking Peters hand. Peter narrowed his eyes at Harley when he registered the subtle shade and tightened his grip.

“No. That’s Antman. Peter is Spiderman.” You explained. Peter gave you a look that told you to stop talking since you had just revealed his identity.

“It’s okay. We can trust Harley. He’s known everyone’s secret alias’s from before the Avengers were even a thing. He’s not gonna tell anybody.” You assured Peter.

“Yeah, you can trust me. But sorry for the mix up. I just assumed you had shrunk yourself to be that short.” Harley smirked as he stopped shaking Peter’s hand.

“I’m not short.” Peter defended. “I’m the average height of a woman.”

“I bet you are.” Harley snorted. “You said it was Peter, right?”

“Yes. A man’s name. That makes one of us.” Peter mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“That’s weird. You’ve never mentioned him, Sands.” Harley said to you as he slung an arm over your shoulders. Peters jaw tightened as his eyes flickered between you and Harley.

“Sands?” Peter asked you.

“Oh, it’s an old nickname from when we were kids that he still insists on using for some reason.” You said and playfully rolled your eyes.

“How cute.” Peter scrunched his nose. “Who doesn’t love nicknames?”

“I’m guessing you do, Spiderman. How did you get your powers anyway? Did you fall into a giant tank of spiders or something?” Harley asked, making you laugh.

“No. No one has a giant tank of spiders just lying around uncovered. I got bitten. And then it got infected. And now I’m really sticky and sensitive to loud noises and don’t need glasses anymore.” Peter stated with zero amusement in his voice.

“Hm. I’m starting to see why you didn’t bring this guy up, Sands.” Harley whispered in your ear but Peter still heard. He gulped and felt his jealousy grow as you leaned into Harley to hear him better.

“I’m sorry, how did you say you two know each other?” Peter asked through another fake laugh.

“My dad befriended Harley when we were kids. He’s a family friend now. He and his mom come over for holidays and family dinner sometimes but I haven’t seen him in a while since his band went on tour.”

Peter fought the urge to laugh at him being in a band but didn’t when he remembered that you had a thing for band guys. He looked Harley up and down and had to admit that he was your type to a T.

“So you grew up together? Thats great. You must have a real sibling bond now after knowing each other all those years. And you know what they say about siblings.“

“And what do they say about siblings?” Harley asked him with an amused smile.

“Well I didn’t think I’d have to explain why incest is bad to you but I guess I don’t know how you do things down in…wherever you’re from.”

“I’m originally from Tennessee. And you’re right, we do have a special bond. Y/n was my best friend before her dad sent her to fancy private school and she got all pretty and made rich friends.” Harley teased and gave your shoulder a squeeze.

“Hey. We’re still friends.” You insisted.

“Best friends, though?” He asked skeptically. You laughed and looked at Peter, whose expression immediately made you drop your smile. You and Harley were not as close as you used to be and in his absence, you’d grown close to Peter. In that moment, you didn’t really know who you considered your best friend.

“Peter and I were actually just in the middle of making something. You can totally stick around and help but I know you’re not much of a science guy.” You said to change the subject.

“That’s okay. I’m gonna go say hi to your mom and catch up with you later, all right?” Harley asked as he placed a hand on each of your shoulders. He was so touchy with you and to make matters worse, you looked perfectly comfortable with it. Despite you and Peter being close, you were never the type of friends to show physical affection.

“Okay. Thanks for saying hi. We’ll talk later.” You replied.

“We will. Now come on. Bring it in.” Harley smiled and opened his arms to you. Your eyes flicked to Peter again who looked like someone had take his batteries out. You felt inexplicably guilty as you stepped into Harley’s arms for a hug.

“Missed you.” Harley hummed as he rubbed his hand in circles on your back.

“Missed you too.” You said as you stared into Peter’s eyes over Harley’s shoulder. Harley gave your arm a squeeze before leaving the lab, leaving you and Peter in awkward silence for a while.

“What?” You laughed nervously to break the silence.

“You really never mentioned me to him?” Peter asked quietly.

“I have. I definitely told him about the time you got your finger stuck in that park bench.”

“Okay, well that was really traumatic for me so thanks for bringing that up. I’m glad that’s the one thing worth mentioning about me.” Peter grumbled and went back to working on his web fluid.

“Peter, come on.” You groaned. “Don’t be mad at me. I talk about you all the time. He probably just didn’t remember because I usually call you “my friend” when I tell a story about you since he doesn’t know you.”

“Okay. That makes sense. But how come you never mentioned him to me? Did you know want me to know about this other guy best friend or something?”

“I have mentioned him. Remember I told you about the friend I used to play house with? But we’d always fight because we both wanted to be the dog?”

“He definitely looks the part of the dog.” Peter mumbled.

“Hey.” You laughed. “Be nice. He’s my friend.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just feeling a little weird that this whole time there was this guy you have whole history with and I didn’t know anything about him until today. I guess I just thought we knew everything about each other.” Peter said without looking you in the eyes.

“You’re right. It is weird. I guess I just never really thought about explicitly telling you about him. He’s just kinda been a passing figure in my stories from my childhood. But you know, you and I have deep history too. So deep that when you and I are together, I’m not thinking about other people I know. I’m only thinking about you and how God damn annoying you are when you ignore my ideas but then magically come up with the exact same one ten minutes later.”

“Because only men are allowed to have good ideas.” Peter laughed now that you had put some of his nerves to rest.

“You’re right. Sorry, sir. I forgot.” You said meekly, making Peter laugh. He was able to relax now that you talked it out but he was still curious.

“So, did you and Harry-“

“Harley.” You corrected.

“Yeah, whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Did you guys ever date or anything?”

You were quiet for a minute which was exactly what Peter was afraid of. It looked like you were thinking of something, a memory that Peter didn’t have access to but desperately wished he did.

“No. We were only ever friends.” You said finally.

“But did you ever like him? Like, like like him?”

“Like like like?” You teased him.

“You’re avoiding the question.” Peter said without sharing in your laughter. You stopped smiling and shrugged a little.

“I don’t know. I’ve known him a really long time. So yeah, I’m sure there were a few times where I wondered if we were meant to be more than friends. But nothing ever happened between us.”

“Oh.” Peter said curtly and nodded his head. You snuck a glance at Peter but he was looking down so you couldn’t tell what his face was doing.

“Why do you ask?” You wondered.

“I’m just curious since I don’t know anything about the alleged childhood best friend of my young adult best friend.”

“Well don’t be. Because there’s nothing to know.”

“You’ve been friends with him since you were kids but there’s nothing to know? How boring is this guy?” Peter snorted and hoped you’d say he was the least interesting person you knew.

“He’s not boring. You remind me of him a lot, actually. You guys are very similar.”

“Does that mean you’ve ever wondered about us?” Peter asked before he could stop himself. You froze and looked up at Peter who was bright red under his goggles.

“Um…” You began. Before you had a chance to finish that thought, the contents of your beaker exploded and webs shot all over your section of the lab table. You jumped in surprise and Peter ran over to you to pull you away from the explosion. He kept you behind his back as he threw a towel over the smoking beaker to snuff it out.

“Maybe that’s enough lab work for the day.” You said as the smoke alarms began to blare. Peter covered his sensitive ears with his hands and you smiled apologetically before putting your hands on top of his to further block out the noise.

“I have, by the way. I have wondered about us.” You admitted as you looked into his eyes.

“What? What about pus?” Peter shouted over the noise. You smiled tightly and shook your head.

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

A few days later, you and Peter were back in the lab to work on some things. Harley was still visiting, much to Peter’s dismay. But nevertheless, he was grateful to have alone time in the lab with you without any interruptions. That is, of course, until you were interrupted.

“Hey, you.” Harley greeted as he walked into the lab in water another oversized jacket that made him look like the love interest in an 80s movie.

“Hey, you.” You smiled in response while Peter discreetly rolled his eyes.

“Hello Peter.” Harley said with a tight smile.

“Hey, Harry.” Peter replied. Harley caught the intentional misnomer but didn’t say anything.

“Woah. Why does it smell like badussy in here?” Harley grimaced as he sniffed the air.

“Stop.” You groaned. “It does not.”

“What’s badussy?” Peter asked.

“Um, butt, dick and pussy. Obviously.” Harley replied as if Peter should have already known that.

“No. Not obviously. I only know what two thirds of those smell like, so.” Peter shrugged.

“You’re telling me you’ve never walked into a humid public bathroom and it smelled like straight up cooch in there?” You asked Peter.

“Um, no.” Peter stated. “I have not. Men’s public bathrooms usually smell like wide open ass. No notes of cooch.”

“He’s right.” Harley agreed. “Especially New York bathrooms. And there’s usually poop or blood or after birth smeared on the walls.”

Peter stifled a laugh and turned his head when he found it harder than he expected. Harley noticed Peter laughing and smirked.

“It’s okay. You can laugh at my jokes.” Harley told him.

“I wasn’t.” Peter lied and held in another laugh.

“You so were. You guys don’t have to sworn enemies, you know. You’re allowed to be friends.” You told them.

“No we can’t.” Harley shook his head.

“He’s right. Shockingly. We can’t.” Peter agreed.

“Why not? You’re like the helvetica and comic sans version of each other.”

“Who’s comic sans?” Peter asked at the same time Harley said, “I call helvetica.”

“See?” You laughed. “You guys are meant to be friends. So get off your high horses and French kiss each other already.”

“We are so not gonna French kiss.” Peter mumbled.

“Yeah. If I’m French kissing anyone in this room, it’s not gonna be him.” Harley replied. His sentence both flirted with you and took a dig at Peter, giving Harley the upper hand once again.

“She doesn’t want to French kiss anyone. She infamously thinks that’s the grossest form of kissing. I’m surprised you don’t know that. I thought you guys were best friends.” Peter tilted his head to the side just to piss Harley off. Harley took the bait and folded his lips in.

“I’m surprised too. When did she tell you that? Did she mention it while you guys were braiding each other’s hair and making foul smelling potions?” Harley asked and swished the contents of the beaker around.

“First of all, they’re not potions because we’re not Minecraft witches.” Peter snapped. “And secondly, we don’t braid each other’s hair. She gave me one braid one time when my barber actually left a long strand of hair and I wanted a tiny padawan braid.”

“You’re telling me this smoking beaker of green fluid isn’t a potion? What the hell even is this? Fuel for a fart gun?” Harley grimaced and put the beaker down. You laughed at Harley’s questions, sending white hot jealousy through Peter’s veins. He could feel you slipped through his fingers and falling right into Harley’s arms.

“No. Because I’m not a character from Despicable Me, it’s not fuel for a fart gun.” Peter replied and snatched the beaker.

“Then what is it? Don’t tell me you made a love potion to get her to fall for you. Because I hate to tell you this, but it’s not gonna work. No matter how many strands of her hair or fingernail clippings you threw in there.”

“Stop teasing him.” You warned. “It’s a not a love potion or a fart gun. We’re trying to make a web fluid that doubles as a stink bomb in case he needs to make a quick escape.”

“Ew. What the hell is web fluid? And where does it come out?” Harley grimaced and looked Peter up and down.

“For a dollar, I’ll show you.” Peter said with a wink.

“Web fluid is one of Peters many inventions. It helps him swing from building to building.” You explained.

“Oh yeah? Why do you have to make it in a lab? Shouldn’t Spiderman be able to produce his own webs?” Harley asked Peter.

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you be in school or an AA meeting for skinny jeans or something?” Peter shot back, making you laugh.

“How would it be an AA meeting if it’s for skinny jeans? Wouldn’t that make is skinny jeans anonymous?” Harley pulled apart his joke, making Peter clench his jaw.

“Well I don’t attend the meetings so I’m not sure what they’re called.” Peter shrugged and looked away.

“Right, right. Hey, why don’t you tell him what you said about my skinny jeans?” Harley said to you.

“I said nothing.” You mumbled.

“Come on. Tell him what you said.” Harley laughed and poked your side. Peter watched the interaction and clenched his toes in his shoes.

“What did you say?” Peter asked you, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I said I liked them because they remind me of the frat boy pictures of Harry and Niall from back in the day, okay? Specifically that picture with the yellow hat and white shirt. Is that what you all wanted to hear? Are you both happy now?”

Peter discreetly punched the table out of frustration because he knew exactly what photo you were talking about. He knew because you had shown it to him when teaching him out the epic high and lows of reading One Direction at a formative age.

“Well she once told me that my outfit reminded her of Alex’s hot Italian boyfriend from Wizards of Waverly Place.” Peter replied in an attempt to level the playing field.

“Dean Moriarty.” You gasped. “He was so fucking hot.”

“Oh yeah. I remember him. We used to watch that show together after school. In my living room. Sharing one blanket.” Harley recalled the memory while looking at Peter to see if that bothered him as much as he hoped.

“Okay well I see your one musty blanket and raise you the time she sat on my lap because there weren’t enough seats in the car. And her pony tail was in my mouth for the whole ride. Sounds like a really comfortable blanket, though. Congrats.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “Guys, stop. I can’t listen to you trying to one up each other with what you think are impressive things. I’m friends with both of you and that’s it. I’m not gonna be the yard stick in your dick measuring contest right now.”

“Yard stick?” Harley laughed. “Damn. What type of guys have you been dating?”

“Not you, obviously.” Peter mumbled.

“And why is that obvious?” Harley asked him.

“Because you’re wearing the Bella Hadid of skinny jeans right now and they don’t leave much to the imagination.” Peter shrugged. You shot him a look but he wasn’t backing down.

“I don’t even know what that means.” Harley snorted.

“It means your jeans are really tight, Keen.” You whispered to him. A smile tugged at Harley’s lips over the nickname and he took that as an opportunity to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

“Sorry. You know I’m not great with pop culture references. I’m more into the classics.”

“You literally just mentioned frat Harry and Niall but okay.” Peter mumbled under his breath.

“Stop fighting.” You warned. “This weird little competition you have going on it stupid and unnecessary. I want you guys to be friends. Then we can all hang out.”

“We can never be friends, Sands.” Harley told you.

“Yeah. That was the second time the broken clock was right.” Peter agreed. “Because he’s Gale and I’m Peeta. He’s Jacob and I’m Edward. He’s Jesse and I’m Jake. He’s Tom Hardy and I’m Chris Pine in that movie we watched where they’re both spies and fall in love with Reese Witherspoon.”

“This Means War.” You snapped your fingers when you remember the name of the movie he was talking about.

“Hold on. I’m pretty sure you made yourself the guy who gets the girl in all those examples.” Harley pointed out.

“And I’m pretty sure you 100% understand pop culture references so I’m not sure why you lied a minute ago.” Peter replied.

“If you’re gonna keep this up I’m leaving.” You told them.

“Fine. We’ll stop. But if you’re not too busy with this web stuff, I could use your help with a song.”

“You sing?” Peter sighed in defeat. He had hoped Harley was just the water boy or something for the band he was in.

“A little.” Harley shrugged.

“He’s being modest.” You insisted. “Harley has a great voice. And he plays the guitar. You should come with me the next time his band has a show. He’s the frontman.

“Jesus Christ. Of course he’s the frontman. Do you ride a motorcycle too?” Peter asked mockingly.

“Yes, actually.” Harley replied. He had Peter beat in the cool bad boy department and they both knew it.

“Did you bring it?” You gasped and squeezed Harley’s arm.

“I did. You want to take a ride and go get some food?” He asked you.

“Yeah. Sure.” You smiled excitedly.

“You’re leaving?” Peter huffed like a little kid.

“You should come.” You replied. “You haven’t eaten yet. And we can show Harley around the neighborhood.”

“No, thank you. I need to finish this. By myself.” Peter grumbled as he stared daggers at Harley. Harley just smirked and gave Peter a shrug that said “better luck next time”.

“While you straddle a guitar players bike.” Peter mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” You asked him.

“I said I hope the weather stays nice.” Peter lied through an exaggerated smile.

Peter tried to stay busy in the lab for a while but he couldn’t stop thinking about what you and Harley were doing. Your conversation did little to ease his mind about your history with Harley so now all he could think of was the worst case scenario. The image of you getting whisked away on the back of Harley’s bike with your arms wrapped around his waist was playing in Peter’s mind no matter how hard he wanted to push it out. You were probably laughing at all his jokes and leaning into his side at some restaurant. To clear his head, Peter went for a walk to clear his head. When he came back, he heard the sound of a guitar coming from your bedroom. His curiosity got the better of him and he went to your room to see what was happening. When he pushed your door open, he saw you and Harley sitting on your bed while the played the guitar for you.

“Oh. Sorry. Sorry to myself that I had to hear that. Wait, what? Sorry, what did you guys say?” Peter played dumb and looked between the two of you.

“We didn’t say anything.” You laughed and knew exactly what he was doing.

“I was just playing Y/n the song I wrote for her.” Harley told him.

“You wrote her a song? Well isn’t that just peaches and cream?” Peter smiled tightly.

“Yeah. Would you like it hear it?” Harley smiled innocently and strummed a few chords.

“It’s really good.” You said. “It’s about our friendship and always being there for each other despite living in different places.”

“Sounds really magical and effervescent. Didn’t realize your cycles synced up.” Peter said quickly but you still caught what he said.

“What was that?” You asked him.

“I said I would love to hear it so bad.” Peter lied. Harley started to play the beginning of the song but slowly stopped playing and cleared his throat.

“What’s wrong, Keen?” You asked, making Peter roll his eyes.

“I’m feeling shy all the sudden.” He laughed shyly.

“Really? Because of me?” Peter asked. “I thought you’d be used to singing to men. Because that’s who I assume is your target audience giving all the pins on your guitar strap.”

“No. Because of you, actually.” He admitted to you. “I haven’t played you the second chorus yet. And it’s pretty vulnerable.”

“Well, let me hear it.”

“Yeah. Let’s hear it. Let’s all hear it.” Peter said to remind you both that he was there. Harley smiled timidly at you before starting to play the song again.

“Though we’re miles apart, you’re still in my heart. Fought with paper swords when we were kids. I wish we still did.“ He sang in a smooth voice that even Peter had to admit was good. You looked utterly in love and rested your chin on your knee as you listened to him sing to you.

“The ribbons in your hair, playing truth or dare. We grew up too soon. Cause now I miss you.” Harley continued singing and you covered your face with your hands to hide your smile. Peter couldn’t take it anymore and felt himself losing the urge to interject.

“Do you guys ever think about how mozzarella sticks-“

“Peter! Shh.” You hushed Peter and quickly returned your attention to Harley.

“Now I live in a different city. I saw online that you’re still pretty. I text and ask how you’ve been. You send back Checkers but never win. I wish things didn’t have to change. Like when you went to a school far away. You came home but we were never as we were. I love you now but I sometimes miss her.” Harley slowly stopped strumming the strings and looked at you with a shy smile. You gasped and clapped your hands for him while he blushed a deep red.

“Sorry. I know it’s cheesy.” He said. “It’s about missing how close we were when we were kids. I know we still talk but it’s not the same. We catch up every now and then but I miss when I knew about every thing about your day.”

“That’s really sweet, Keen. We should talk more. Because I miss our friendship too.” You said and squeezed his shoulder. Harley smiled and toyed with his guitar.

“Peter, what did you think of…” You trailed off when you realized Peter wasn’t there anymore. You immediately felt guilty because you weren’t sure when he left.

“Damn it.” You hissed. “I gotta go talk to him.”

“No. Let me.” Harley said and put his guitar down. He walked down the hallway until he found Peter’s room and knocked on the doorway.

“Hey.” Harley greeted. Peter looked up at him and rolled his eyes.

“If you’re here to sing to me-“

“I’m not. I want to talk to you.” Harley cut him off and went and sat on his bed. They sat in awkward silence for a moment as neither knew where to begin.

“You know, if you and I keep this rivalry up, we’re only going to hurt her.” Harley said after a minute.

“I know that.” Peter said quietly.

“Look, Peter, you seem like a nice guy. I can tell why she likes you. And she obviously really enjoys your friendship. But that’s all that’s ever gonna happen between you two. A friendship. Because I’ve been playing the long game.” Harley said earnestly. He wasn’t trying to be mean or hurt Peter, just being candid.

“So have I.” Peter told him.

“And how’s that going for you?” Harley asked with genuine curiosity.

“I’ll have you know I accidentally brushed against her boob once and she didn’t even bat an eye, so.” Peter shrugged like what he said mattered.

“Yeah?” Harley laughed. “We’ve kissed.”

Peters world came crashing down in that moment. He felt a hot rod of jealousy pierce his heart and cut him straight down the middle upon learning this.

“What?” He asked with a dry mouth.

“I was her first kiss. She didn’t tell you?”

“No. She never mentioned that.”

“Peter, I didn’t come in here to hurt you.” Harley began. “I just wanted to let you know what my intentions are. I came back to New York for her. I think it’s finally time she and I give it a go. And I think she feels it too. But I hope that you and I can put this aside and become friends. Because I genuinely think we’d get along.”

“If you and her start dating, there is no way we’re gonna be friends.” Peter said without making eye contact.

“Why not?” Harley asked, sounding a little hurt.

“Because I’m gonna kill myself.” Peter snapped, making Harley laugh in surprise. Peter couldn’t help but laugh too when he heard how ridiculous he sounded.

“I hope you don’t. Because she’d miss you. And I would too.” Harley told him. The boys looked at each other for a moment and ending up smiling. Peter felt his animosity towards Harley dissipate and realized they were just two boys who liked the same girl. And on top of that, Peter couldn’t blame him for liking you. How could he not?

“Please don’t.” Peter blurted.

“Don’t what?” Harley wondered.

“Don’t go for her. You’re so handsome. Like, in your face, Greys Anatomy doctor level handsome. You have the bike and the guitar and the floppy hair. You could go out and get any girl. I will even help you find one. But please, don’t go for her. Because I can’t compete with you. I can’t write her a song like that. I tried to write her a poem once but I was too scared to give it to her.” Peter said as he pulled out his notebook to show Harley his poem. Harley read over the poem a few times as his eyebrows knit together.

“You rhymed “go the movies” with “the shape of your boobies”. Two separate times but they’re completely different trains of thought. I’m not even sure how you did that. This stanza just says “perchance.” You can’t just say “perchance”. And this line is just a lyric from Pound the Alarm.”

“Do you see why I need you to back off?” Peter sighed and took the notebook back.

“You don’t think I feel the same way? I can’t compete with you either. You get her in a weird way that I never could. I see the way she laughs at your jokes. And relaxes around you. She and I have shared history but sometimes I wonder if we’re just rehashing the good memories and never making any new ones. If she and I met today, I don’t know if she’d like me. But you two formed an organic friendship. There’s no wondering whether or not she likes you or just likes the nostalgia. And I know she adores you. She tells me about you all the time. I know every story of every person you’ve ever saved. But she loves the regular side of you too. She once told me about this time you got your finger stuck in a park bench and she was laughing so hard during it that I didn’t even hear half the story. Her real laugh, too. The one where her head falls back and she kinda wheezes. I haven’t been able to make her laugh like that since we were kids.”

“Okay unfortunately you’re right and I actually do want to be friends with you.” Peter said after hearing Harley be vulnerable with him. Harley chuckled and Peter found himself laughing too.

“Let’s just promise that whoever she chooses, the other backs off and lets her be happy. She deserves that.” Harley said and Peter nodded in agreement.

“If it’s you, you better treat her right.” Peter told him.

“Or what? You’ll shoot me with your fart gun?” Harley joked.

“Yeah. Exactly.” Peter laughed.

“I’ll take care of her. You would too. I know that.” Harley said once their laughter died down.

“I’m glad you know. But I’m not worried. She knows where home is. Sooner or later, she’ll stop eating shrimps with the wimps and come eat lobster with the monster.” Peter shrugged and gestured to himself.

“I don’t even understand what that-“

“Me either.” Peter cut him off.

After their talk, Harley went back to your room and found you playing with his guitar. You looked up at him when he walked in and smiled.

“Hey.” He said and sat back down beside you.

“Hey. I think I still remember how to play Hey There Delilah on the guitar.” You told him and gave a bad attempt at playing the chords.

“Do you?” Harley asked skeptically and you laughed.

“I guess not. How’s Peter?” You asked and set the guitar down.

“He’s fine. I don’t think he liked my song, through.” Harley joked.

“It’s okay. I liked it.” You replied and gave him a fold smile. Harley smiled back and took your hand in his. You gulped at the contact because you felt something was coming.

“I really do miss you.” He told you.

“Miss you too, Keen. You should visit more.”

“I know. But you need to give me a really good excuse to come up here because I’m not a fan of the flight.”

“What kind of excuse?” You smiled nervously. To answer your question, Harley slipped a hand behind your head and started to pull you into a kiss. Before your lips could touch, you turned away and hung your head so that you didn’t have to see his face.

“I can’t.” You said quietly. Harley withdrew his hand and put them on his lap.

“Because of him?” He asked and you nodded your head. Harley laughed shortly and nodded as well.

“I get it. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. But I have to admit, I always thought you and I would just go for it one day.”

“So did I.” You admitted.

“So why can’t we just…” He trailed off and gestured between the two of you. You finally looked into his eyes and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Because I’d always wonder about him.” You answered. Harley smiled sadly but nodded in understanding.

“Can we still be friends?” He asked you.

“Are you kidding? Of course we can. This doesn’t haven’t to change anything.”

“Good. Because I don’t have anyone else to play IMessage games with.”

“I’m sending Checkers right now. And winning.” You said as you pulled out your phone.

“We’ll see.” He laughed.

Peter slept at home that night in fear of hearing the sounds of you and Harley consummating your new relationship. He put his earbuds in and listened to his sad boy tunes and cried until he fell asleep. He got up the next day with puffy eyes and got dressed to prepare himself in case you wanted to see him. Just as he was getting up to leave him bedroom, you appeared in his doorway. He jumped a little and sat back down on his bed.

“Hey. I thought I’d see you last night.” You said and folded your arms.

“Yeah, sorry. I needed to come home and clear my head.” He said without looking at you.

“Oh, okay. Is it anything you want to talk about?”

“Not particularly, no.” He replied. You have Peter a look up and down and let out an amused laugh.

“What?” He wondered.

“You’re wearing skinny jeans.” You pointed out with a cheeky smile.

“Psht. No.” He scoffed. “These are regular jeans.”

“Those are absolutely your skinny jeans from when we went as Kurt and Blaine for Halloween. And you didn’t gel your hair today. Oh my God. You’re trying to look like Harley.”

“I am not.” He lied but upon looking in the mirror, he realized he had definitely channeled Harley when getting dressed.

“You are. Which I don’t understand. I like your gelled hair and dorky t shirts. Why are you trying to be someone else?” You asked as you sat beside him on his bed.

“I don’t know.” He lied again because he couldn’t tell you that he was trying to look like the boy you liked.

“Harley said he talked to you yesterday after he played his song.” You said to change the subject.

“Yeah. We talked. He mentioned that you guys kissed.” Peter admitted without looking up at you.

“Yeah. We did.” You nodded. Peter clenched his eyes shut at you confirmed it and hung his head.

“I didn’t know that.” He said quietly.

“Because it was so awkward that I never tell anyone. We were like 11 or something and acting in a very poorly rehearsed summer camp rendition of Grease. I was Sandy and he was Danny. But my dad brought all his business man friends to come see me and I got so nervous I threw up during Hopelessly Devoted.”

“Oh.” Peter couldn’t help but smile now that he knew the kiss was nothing to worry about.

“Yeah. You feel stupid now, don’t you? You got all worked up over a peck between two 11 year olds.”You teased him and poked his aide.

“I may feel stupid but at least I wasn’t a theater kid.” He mumbled.

“Hey.” You said warningly and smacked his arm.

“Sorry.” He chuckled and rubbed his arm.

“So are we okay?” You asked him and turned to face him.

“I don’t know. Is your boyfriend gonna be okay with us staying friends?” Peter asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Well I don’t know either. Since I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Peter asked as hope grew in his chest.

“Peter, I don’t like Harley like that.” You insisted. “I told you that.”

“I thought you were capping.” He shrugged.

“I wasn’t.” You chuckled. “He’s not the one I like.”

“So you do like someone? Who is he? Is he bigger than me?” Peter asked with his jealously coming back with full force.

“Oh my God. You’re honestly so annoying.” You groaned and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. Peter wasn’t expecting this so he froze for a moment before kissing you back. He’d been waiting a long time for this so he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you close and full enjoy the moment. When you pulled away, you both laughed shyly and rested your foreheads together.

“Was that just as friends or…” Peter trailed off and looked at you for answers.

“Uh huh. Yeah. That was a friendship kiss.” You replied sarcastically before pulling him back in.

Tag List 🏷️

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[harryspet]

bambi eyes (5) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, obx special guest appearances, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Will tag people later, for now I must sleep :) Enjoy!

word count: 3.9k

In which Rafe loosens his leash, but actions come with consequences.

Rafe told you to get dressed and to wait at the front of the house. Truthfully, you liked it better when Rafe picked out your outfits. That way, you knew exactly what looked good on you and that you wouldn’t make some kind of fashion faux pas. You decided on a pink fitted top, a matching skirt, and an adorable pair of brown boots Rafe bought you for Christmas. You completed your look with a bow at the top of your hair and an array of colorful bracelets you put on each arm. 

You spent a while watching men in dark clothes walk the perimeter of the yard and through the forest on the sides of the property. At first, you were quite scared to see them, but Rafe explained that they worked for him. This led you to ask even more questions. Weren’t they cold out there? We should offer them some snacks? Could I make them cookies? Rafe shut down your curiosity quickly, emphasizing that you were not to say a word to any of them. 

When the door to the enclosed porch opened, you expected to see Rafe. You closed your drawing book and turned your head to greet him. Instead, Rafe’s friend Barry greeted you. You’d heard them going back and forth all morning, usually, their conversations were tense, but you assumed they must’ve come to some type of agreement. At the sight of you, he smiled, flashing his gold tooth. 

“Country Club’s little princess,” He sang, “How are you, baby?”

You smiled nervously, still not super used to being around others. It had been a few months now since Rafe brought you to Tannyhill and almost all of your social interaction had been with Rafe and Lana. 

“I’m good, I . . . how are you?”

He walked in front of you, his hands behind his back as he looked you over, “Oh I’m just peachy. Whatchu got there?” 

You glanced back towards the door, wondering if Rafe was far behind him. Looking back down at your lap, you said, “I was just drawing a little bit. Rafe told me to wait here–”

“Drawing, huh? You an artist?” Your eyes tilted back up to him. 

“Not an artist,” You said quickly, “I just like to . . .”

“What kind of stuff do you draw?” He asked, and you sensed sincerity in his tone, “You know, I used to draw a lot when I was in school. Nothing serious, but I couldn’t help it; my mind would just wander, and then my paper would have a bunch of doodles on it.”

He kneeled down in front of you, and you hesitated for a moment before you opened the book. You showed him your page of doodles. You drew a lot of what you saw, including doodles of Rafe, and things you saw around Tannyhill, “That’s Lana, ain’t it?” You nodded, “Impressive. Most people ain’t good at drawing faces. Not you though.”

“Thank you,” You said, “You don’t draw anymore?”

He shook his head, “Not very often. I should.”

You agreed, “You should. Sometimes, Rafe will draw with me. Well, mainly we’ll color together. He likes it when there’s already a picture, so he doesn’t have to come up with it himself.”

“He’s pretty bad at it, anyways, ain’t he?” Unexpectedly, a giggle left your lips, and you raised your book to cover the bottom of your face. 

“I should go look for him–” You made a move to escape, but Barry placed both his hands on the arms of your chair, effectively trapping you. 

Barry hadn’t touched you, but you felt you might get in trouble just for laughing at his joke, “You don’t like my company or something?” You shook your head immediately. 

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant . . .” 

“You’re sweet; I can see why he likes you,” Barry held his eyes on you and you felt the skin on your face heat up with embarrassment, “You know, you ever get tired of him, or he pisses you off – which he will, then you can call me. We can run away together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t have a phone.”

Barry smirked at that, “Ask anyone on this island who Barry is, and they’ll point you in the right direction.”

Running away with Barry was the last thing you wanted to do. Rafe had his bad days but you hadn’t considered trying to leave. Barry also barely knew you but you decided to think positively. Afterall, Rafe trusted Barry. You assumed his intentions must be good, “Okay,” You agreed, “When you come back next, maybe you can show me some of your drawings.”

“You want to see them. Really?”

“Yes,” You said, “It’s only fair.”

Barry nodded, “You make a good point. I gotta come back soon and try more of your desserts. That cake you made … I ain’t tasted nothing better.”

“You have to,” You rushed out excitedly, “Rafe and Lana say everything I make is great, I can’t tell if they’re honest.”

“I’m as honest as they come, sweetheart,” You grinned at that, “A good friend is honest.”

“You want to be my friend?”

“I mean, only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Don’t tell Rafe though–”

Your conversation was interrupted when the poor door opened, and Rafe appeared, “Don’t tell Rafe what?” His gaze was sharp, and luckily, it was mostly directed at Barry. You watched as Barry stood and stepped back from you. 

“Nothing man, we were just talking about about Kildare. You’re going to let me help show her around, right?”

Rafe’s brooding look turned to amusement, “She’s not gonna step foot on your side of the island. Thanks for the offer though.” 

There was an awkward silence, and you felt some tension building until Barry finally said, “Alright, I’ll see you soon, Bambi,” You waved as he turned on his heel, “Rafe.”

Rafe watched as Barry walked out the front door before he held out his hand, summoning you. You hurried from your chair, moving in closer before you grabbed ahold of his hand. It was his cue to you that he would be leading you somewhere, and you were expected to follow. 

“He touch you?” Rafe asked, leading you out the same door. You watched as Barry pulled around the horseshoe driveway in his sports car. He walked you to his large truck, opening the passenger door, “Bambi.”

“Uh …no,” You stared. 

Suddenly, you were the furthest from Tannyhill’s front door than you’d ever been. 

“Good, get in, Bambi.”

“I’m leaving . . . you’re leaving with me in the car? Your car? Right now? Today?” 

“Yeah,” He said, unsure of himself, “Get in; I’m already starting to change my mind.”

You jumped in excitement, “Really? Where are we going?” Rafe helped you as you started to climb in. He leaned over you, fastening your seatbelt for you, “You aren’t taking me back, right?”

“No, sweet girl,” Rafe assured you, “As far as where we’re going, it’s a surprise.” 

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you settled into your seat. As you pulled past the gates at the end of the long driveway and onto the road, you couldn’t help but feel like all your faith in Rafe had paid off. 

“Who’s that, Daddy?” You asked, noticing a black car that had also pulled out of Tannyhill and was following closely behind. 

“No one, Bambi,” He brushed your question off, “So, uh, what were you two talking about? You and Barry?”

Your eyes were focused on the huge trees that hung over the road, beautifully dripping green moss from it’s branches. Between the trees, you saw huge mansions with big gates and long drives just like Tannyhill. 

“Drawing,” You said briefly, “He said he would show me some of his work.”

“He’s full of shit.”

You turned to Rafe who was gripping the wheel with one hand, “Daddy … I don’t like it when you curse.”

“Bambi, I–” He held his tongue, sighing before he reached over to place his other hand on your thigh, “I’m sorry, sometimes work makes me lose focus. What I mean is that Barry is my friend but … he likes to mess with me, you know? So he might say something to you knowing that it would bother me.”

“He seemed like he meant it,” You said, “Would it bother you if we were friends?”

“Guys and girls can’t really be friends,” Rafe explained, “Especially not with little girls like you, okay?”

“But why–”

“Because I’m telling you right now. I appreciate that you are kind to Barry but he wouldn’t be a good friend to you. If I’m going to protect you, and as your Daddy, I should have a say in who your friends are.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. It didn’t make much sense to you why men and women couldn’t be friends. Why would Barry offer to be your friend if it wasn’t appropriate? You supposed that you never had any male friends before, and most men you’d been around wanted a similar thing from you, “Maybe you’re right, Daddy.”

You drove over bridges with water on both sides of the road and through more neighborhoods with huge houses. Fifteen minutes into your drive, you arrived at an area with a grocery store and lots of stores that you assumed were also for shopping. 

Rafe pulled his truck in front of one of the storefronts. You unbuckled your seatbelt, sitting up further in your seat so you could read the sign, “Fig . . uuure eight …ball …it.”

“Ballet,” Rafe corrected you, “Figure eight Ballet Company.”

Confusion spread over your features, “I looked into it; they have adult classes for beginners. I thought it might be something fun for you to do once a week.”

“Me?” You pointed to your chest, “Dance classes?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Rafe rushed out, “It’s good exercise, and you can also do it at home. And it’s a chance to meet friends, friends that are girls, preferably.” 

“Oh,” When you looked at Rafe, it seemed like he was desperately trying to read your expression, “I’d be so nervous. And I wouldn’t be good at it.”

“I think people just do it for fun and to learn something new. And I wouldn’t just leave; I would walk you in and pick you up. Not today; I just wanted to take you by and see what you thought.”

“... It could be really fun …”

“And you’d make quite the adorable ballerina.”

“Maybe I could try one class . . . and if I liked it, you would take me every week?”

“Every week, as long as you continue to be a good girl,” Your nervousness started to melt away into excitement the longer you thought about it, “And while we’re out, I thought we could do some shopping. My research has informed me you’re going to need shoes, tights, a leotard, and a skirt.”

You practically leaped over the center console to hug him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy!”

Rafe pulled you in close, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Rafe didn’t need to get his hands dirty anymore; he could hire people to protect him or kill for him. As he settled into his new life with you, he started to miss some of the adventures he experienced in his early 20s and late teens. There were no more brawls or treasures to steal. He hadn’t realized he needed an outlet for the negative energy that seemed to boil up inside of him sometimes. Now, what he knew is that he needed to keep that side of him as far away from you as possible. 

Killing JJ would’ve satisfied that part of him that has been begging to come out of him for years. He would’ve felt a rush like no other, power and control that he hadn’t felt in so long. He hadn’t brought himself to do it yet, teetering on that line between sanity and insanity. The Pogue was always a good competitor, and Rafe wasn’t surprised that he was still fighting. Rafe liked that about JJ. 

Still, Rafe wanted to see him break, and he was patient enough to wait for it. 

“What would you do to see her again?” Rafe asked as he kneeled over JJ’s bruised and battered body. 

The pogue coughed, and blood-spattered on the boat cabin’s floor. 

The silent treatment followed, but Rafe was used to talking to himself, “I know she’s not over you, but how long do you think she’ll wait before she moves on? Six months? A year? I mean, she’s a wild one; I’m sure she won’t want to stick around this place for much longer.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” JJ’s favorite words. 

“Maybe you just don’t love her like I thought you did,” Rafe taunted, “I mean if you did, you’d be groveling at my feet, right?”

JJ’s eyes pinched tight as Rafe’s words sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

The silent treatment followed again, and Rafe considered what his next steps might be. Removing limbs? That could be fun for a while, but if he hadn’t surrendered at this point, what would make him crack? 

“Fine,” Rafe looked down at his bloody knuckles, “I won’t bother you anymore today, but I do have something I want you to contemplate in your hours of silence. Consider the idea that I let you go, and you see Kie again instead of bleeding out here and your body being chopped into pieces. I want you to think, and I mean really think, about what you might do to make that happen. And don’t think of it as sacrificing your morals or making a deal with the devil … think of it as securing your future, okay?”

Rafe tapped his hand against JJ’s sore cheek before he stood and left. He heard no quippy comeback from the Pogue. At least Rafe had successfully beat that out of him. 

Rafe’s eyes snapped open and was awakened from his sleep when he felt a soft finger poking at his cheek, “Wha…” Groggily, he reached to turn on his bedside lamp and found you, dressed in a onesie that made you look like a brown bear,  standing beside his bed, a sniffling mess, “Hey, w-what’s wrong?”

Immediately, Rafe reached out to grab you, and you proceeded to climb onto his large bed, “I-I had a scary dream,” You hiccuped, “Y-You sent me away a-and I was alone again and Master he was so mad at me b-because I-I didn’t make you h-happy–”

Rafe shushed you, pulling you into him, “It wasn’t real, okay? Look, you’re here with me right now.” 

“It felt real,” You whimpered, and Rafe’s lips pulled into a thin line of frustration. He wanted you happy, and he wanted to give you much more than you ever had, and it pained him that you thought he might hurt you in that way. 

“I . . . I wouldn’t ever do that, Bambi,” He brushed tears from your cheeks and caressed your face, “I’d fu- … I’d rather die than let you go. And I’d kill anyone that tried to take you from me. Anyone, okay?”

“You’ve hurt people before,” It wasn’t a question; Rafe could see it was an observation she’d made. 

“Yes,” He admitted, “But I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“You saved me.”

Rafe nodded, “That’s right, sweet girl. I saved you. I’ve hurt people, yes,  but I-I’m not a cruel person. I wouldn’t do something like that. And you make me so happy.”

Rafe watched as you blinked away your tears and tried to stop yourself from frowning, “What if I don’t always make you happy?”

“You make me happy by breathing,” Rafe tried to assure you, “You’re smart and beautiful, and you deserve nice things. I never had anyone in my life that made me feel like I deserved anything. I never even felt like I deserved to be loved. I don’t want you to ever feel like that.”

“I love you, Rafe,” You were trying to reassure him now, and Rafe was grateful. He loved those words on your lips, and he felt in his heart that you meant them, “And . . . I like being loved by you. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rafe felt you press your forehead against his before you pressed your lips softly against his, “Thank you . . . for everything. Uhm, did I scare you?”

“No, no,” Rafe’s mind was mostly on the thought of your lips, “I like being woken up by cute bears.”

Rafe pulled you in again for a kiss. Softly, your lips moved together, and Rafe explored your mouth with his tongue, slowly deepening the kiss. Rafe was already growing hard, and he cursed in his mind, frustrated by how easily you got him going. 

“You still sore from earlier?” He asked. 

“A little bit,” You spoke shyly, “You were kinda rough…”

Rafe thought back to you, bent over the arm of the couch, taking you deep, but that just made his cock ache even more. 

“But I’ve trained that little hole well, haven’t I?” Rafe asked, pressing the length protruding from his boxers, against your stomach, “You can take more, okay?”

You nodded, although Rafe’s question was rhetorical. Rafe didn’t like you sad, but he certainly like seeing your teary face. Your pajamas were the cherry on top, including the convenient little flap on the back that allowed for easy access, “Turn around on your side, little girl,” Rafe commanded gruffly, “This will help you sleep.”

“Daddy…” You whined as you did exactly as Rafe ordered. 

“Right here, not going anywhere,” Rafe pushed his crotch into your ass, bringing his lips close to your ear. He ground against you as he carefully pulled down the front zipper of your onesie. He needed to feel your nipples between his fingers, your breasts in his large hands. He also needed your pussy dripping for him, knowing he couldn’t fuck you when you were already sore without any lubrication. He reached into your onesie, finding your mound easily, and began to rub circles over your sensitive area, “Daddy needs you so badly.”

You squirmed, but you were tightly pressed against him. He teased you, moving back and forth from your clit to your breasts. He’d rub your breast until you were aching below, and when you started to feel close, he’d go back to teasing your nipples. 

He got you to a point where you were so stimulated that you were already orgasming with three slow and deep strokes inside of you. You were convulsing around him, unable to contain your moans, but Rafe wrapped his hand around your mouth and continued to pump inside of you. It certainly wasn’t as rough as earlier, but Rafe could feel you squeezing him tighter, “You feel how happy you make me, Bambi?” Rafe grunted, “Daddy wouldn’t want to cum in any other pussy than yours — Jesus.”

Rafe finished inside of you. He hadn’t lost all of his energy, though, moving his hands back to your clit, as he filled you up. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and you were cumming again. 

“Thank me.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You spoke breathlessly. 

Now that your Daddy was allowing you out of the house, there were new rules for you to learn. Of course, you weren’t allowed to talk to strangers unless they were girls you met at dance class. You had to go by Y/N, Y/L/N, and Rafe had given you an ID to carry around when you couldn’t be together. If anyone asked who you were to Rafe, you could just say that you were his girlfriend and you’d moved in with him a few months ago. That wasn’t far from the truth, so you didn’t imagine that would feel like lying. 

A few days after he showed you the ballet company, he let you tag along to run errands with him. For most of the time you sat in the car, watching him pump gas, stop at different businesses, and shake hands with men who seemed amused by every word Rafe said. You noticed people tended to stare at him, especially as the two of you walked through the grocery store together. 

“Did people always stare at you like this?”

“They used to stare at my Dad; he used to be the King of this place,” You nodded, twirling the ribbon in your hair as Rafe pushed the cart along, “I don’t think people expected me to come back.”

“Well, since you’re Dad is gone. I guess you’re the King now,” You flashed him a smile. 

“Maybe so,” Rafe conceded. 

“Oooh, look!” You pointed at something in the refrigerated section that caught your eye, and your feet were already moving towards it. As soon as you pulled open the glass door, you felt Rafe’s strong hands around your bicep, stopping you. You whipped back to see eyes narrowed at you and his serious face.

“You can’t just run away from me like that,” He snapped, “Jesus . . . don’t do that, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked, “I just saw . . . they have so many types of iced coffee. They have peppermint, and caramel and mocha-”

“Coffee isn’t good for you.”

“You let me eat sweets all the time, and those aren’t good for me,” The words came out before you could stop them. You couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Rafe offered you the world, but at the same time, he controlled so many aspects of it. 

You’d pissed him off; you could immediately see it in his face. His hand still on your arm, Rafe leaned closer to you, “You’re going to stand right next to the cart for the rest of the time we’re in here, and you’re not going to say another word, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

You let the door go just as Rafe let your arm go. You crossed your arms, knowing you had no other choice than to keep your mouth closed. Rafe didn’t have much to say after that, and you let him brood on his own. 

You were standing near the fresh produce; Rafe was picking out the vegetables that Lana had written on the grocery list when you saw a woman approaching your cart. She had caramel skin and pretty curls that were tamed by a messy bun on top of her head. She was holding a small shopping basket, but she didn’t seem to have any care for any of the items inside as she stomped closer to the two of you, red in her eyes. 

“Rafe Cameron!” She didn’t seem even to perceive you as she stared Rafe down. You watched his reaction closely and how his contempt quickly switched from you to her. 

“Kie, long time no see,” He didn’t express much emotion other than through his eyes, making him appear stoic. 

The woman, Kie, didn’t hide any of her emotions, “I know what you did.”

“What’s that?” Rafe tilted his head. 

“You know what exactly I’m talking about,” She pointed a finger at him, tears in her eyes, “Your day is coming–”

He proceeded to talk over her, “Hey, let your Mom and pops know Cameron Development is still interested in working with them. I have the perfect property for their next restaurant. I mean, an absolutely gorgeous spot.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” You covered your mouth in shock. 

“It was nice catching up with you too, Kie,” He winked as the woman walked away. 

You watched as Rafe’s hands squeezed into a fist and then how tightly they wrapped around the cart’s handle. 

“Daddy-”

“Let’s go, Bambi.”

“Rafe-”

“I didn’t want to hear it before; I definitely don’t want to hear your mouth now. Let’s go.” 

You bit your tongue and fell back into step with him. You supposed a king couldn't be loved by all his subjects.

PART 6

Please reblog if you enjoyed and let me know what you think/predictions for the future!

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Professor, I didn’t cheat.

Summary: reader is a top student at her university. always exceeding in her courses and even taking the liberty to do study groups with other students to help them. Professor Kennedy finds out that the reader and this other student have the same thesis for an upcoming paper. What happens when he confronts y/n after class?

Warning: fem reader. Professor Leon. make out. breast play. creampie. age gap. CONSENTED.

a/n: I HATE my political class. I don’t understand anything😭 I was put in a group full of of guys and I deadass felt so out of place

(pt.1) (pt.2)

You always took notes during his lectures. You always made sure to jot down every single detail, even if it was something that you could search online. Your studies were important to you. You wanted to be the best so you strived for academic success. Many students valued your ambitious character but others were jealous.

Today’s lecture was more of an exam day. You always aced your tests, given that you studied the night before. You were one of the first students to finish their exam. You and the girl next to you finished at the same time and walked up to Leon’s desk to turn it in. You took your backpack with you as you laid the exam flat on his wooden desk. He gave you a curt nod, and then one to the other girl.

You both walked out of the classroom without any issues.

Until Leon emailed you that he wanted to have a private conference with you.

You panicked. What could have possibly have gone wrong? Or maybe he knew of an opportunity that you could take, like a job or a scholarship you should apply. Most professors did that, they helped their best students.

So when you walked to his office Monday morning, your gut feeling sank as you noticed the look on his face. It was a mixture of disappointment and disapproval. He motioned for you to step up to his desk, “Y/n, glad you’re here. Please, take a seat.” He sat down on his desk chair while you took one of the chair in front of his desk.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here,” He began as he shuffled through some papers.

What could have possibly called you for? Nevertheless, you responded, “Yes, Professor, I am.”

He looked at you for a brief moment before laying a piece of paper in front of you. It was your exam, not graded yet, but it was yours. You furrowed your brows in confusion and then looked at him, “This is my exam…what’s wrong with it?”

He cleared his throat and rested his hands on his desk, “Look, I’m going to be straight with you. You’re an excellent student. The best student I’ve had so far.” He began slowly but you felt anxious, where was this going to?

“However, academic integrity is part of the student conduct every student must follow. I cannot grade your exam, y/n.”

It was as if time stopped. Your eyes widened, your heart was beating out of your chest. The silence was deafening, the pit in your stomach dropped heavy. “If you don’t grade this exam, I’ll fail the course,” you replied anxiously, “I can’t afford another class, I’ll have to wait for other scholarship opportunities to help me pay.”

He looked at you with sympathy but that didn’t mean he believed you, “Look, I know it’s stressful but that’s life. You don’t get an easy grade from cheating off a friend.”

“Cheating off a friend? Sir, with all due respect, I am not friends with anyone in the class,” you began to feel defensive. You didn’t know anyone, you only talked to them for projects. The professor raised his eyebrow as he stared at you.

“Someone told me that you copied from them. I won’t name the student since that’s between me and them,” he leaned forward onto the desk, “You’re an exemplary student, it hurts me to say this to you.”

All you could do was stare at him, someone actually wanted to ruin your grade and reputation. While you remained silent, he spoke, “Look, you have amazing grades and your participation has been outstanding. I’ll give you another chance. Retake the exam but it must be in my office.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why should I retake an exam if I didn’t cheat? I guarantee you, I would never lie on an exam. I am aware of the consequences that comes from cheating off of someone.”

Leon sighed and leaned back against his chair, “You’re stubborn, that’s good in a student.” He paused for a few moments, staring at you in silence, almost analyzing you. “Tell you what, I’ll investigate this further, however I still want you to take the exam again. If what you say is true then the retake of the exam will be extra credit for your grade.”

Extra credit? How can you say no to that? You sighed defeatedly and nodded along to his words, “Fine, I’ll retake the exam.”

He smiled softly and gave you a short single nod, “Good, come to my office on Wednesday at 12:30.”

You nod again and stood up to leave his office. His eyes trailed behind your back as you walked away from his office. Now all you had to do was wait for Wednesday so you can retake that exam, but first, should you find the person who accused you of cheating?

Wednesday came and you, lazily, made your way to his office. It was 12:25 as you were walking the halls of offices. The Dean’s office, some other professor’s office and then there was his. With his name plastered in the door in gold, Leon Scott Kennedy.

You knocked three times and heard a soft ‘Come in.’ You stepped into his office, immediately met with the smell of coffee, you forgot how much coffee this man consumed but honestly, who doesn’t consume coffee in college? “I’m here,” you spoke awkwardly as you looked at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you scan him, he looked strangely hot. His tie was loose, his suit jacket hung on the back of his chair and his sleeves were rolled up. You were to see how toned and muscular his arms were, the watch on his left wrist made his hands look bigger for some reason. His hair was messy but it made him look godly.

“Ah, you’re here, good,” He motioned for you to sit down at the chair in front of his desk. “Take out your laptop, I published the exam for you. It should be there.”

You walked over to the chair and sat down in front of his desk, you pulled your laptop out of your school bag and began to scroll through your student account, “I see it.” You mumbled softly.

“Let me know when you’re ready, you have 90 minutes to complete the exam,” He replied politely. You could tell he was proud that you decided to retake it. With a soft sigh, you nodded and began to work on your exam. You leaned back against the chair as your laptop rested on your lap, you answered one question after another. It was an easy exam, you’ve taken it before.

Leon was watching you attentively, his eyes scanning over your relaxed figure. He noticed the way your hair seemed a little bit messy and how your brows scrunched up together in deep thought. He felt proud because he knew you were an ambitious student, you were everything he wanted in a student. Studious, hardworking, hot- wait a minute, hot?

He quickly looked away and focused on some miscellaneous files, he shouldn’t be thinking about his students. He kept stealing glances at you as you worked on your exam and he couldn’t help but feel hot. His eyes lingering on parts of your body, as if truly seeing you for the first time. He sees you as an attractive woman.

“I finished,” you mumbled softly as you looked up from your laptop, he quickly turned his gaze to his computer to check if you finished it. With a firm nod he responded, “Yeah, I see it. Good job, you got another perfect score.”

Of course you did, you were the smartest in his class. This was easy for you, light work. You closed your laptop and began to pack up but not before he tried to stop you, “Hey, wait- don’t leave yet.”

You looked up from your bag to look at him. He clears his throat and continues, “I still have to put in your grade and we need to talk about the cheating accusation.” You nodded and remained quiet as he kept speaking, “I decided to grade both your exams and use this attempt as your extra credit. You’re a great student and it would be a shame if anything bad were to happen to you that could affect your future.”

Your eyes widened, you couldn’t believe he was being this considerate. Most times when a student s caught cheating, a lawyer gets involved. But he was being nice, too nice even.

“What happened to the investigation?” You asked with furrowed brows. “I decided to drop it. I see that you scored the same on both tries so I guess that means you weren’t lying,” he replied as he maintained eye contact. His foggy blue eyes piercing into your soul. It didn’t help that his appearance made you feel butterflies.

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about this scholarship I found. It might be good for you,” His hand motioned for you to come up to him and his computer, you got up from the chair and walked to stand behind him. The screen showed a website of a scholarship due next semester. You heard him talk about the details but all you could focus on was the scent of his cologne. He smelled good albeit his messy look. He turned around in his chair to look at you and your faces were merely centimeters away from each other. You looked down at him and he looked up at you from his chair. It wasn’t on purpose but your gaze fell to his lips. Your gaze switched from his eyes to your lips and you didn’t notice how he slowly brought his hand to your cheek. He cupped your side of your face and brought you down to his face.

It wasn’t meant to happen but you felt your lips against his lips. The moment the two of you joined together as one in a kiss felt surreal. His lips tasted like coffee. His other hand traveled to your waist and pulled you down to his lap. You straddled his hips and gripped on his hair as you two emerged into a passionate and sensual kiss. His tongue brushing against your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you as he forced his tongue inside your mouth. The man was old but he knew how to kiss so good. You moaned into the kiss and felt his cock hardened against your clothed core. Causing your panties to grow a wet spot from the arousal. You shifted slightly against his hips, grinding up against his erection. Your kiss turned hot and messy, saliva dripping down as your chest is pressed up against his. His hands traveled down from your waist to your hips, fingers digging at your skin.

He put hind hands on the back of your thighs near your ass and picked you up. He gently laid your back down on his desk, not caring about the files falling to the floor right now. His mouth moved to your neck as he began to nibble and suck on your skin. Red marks terrorizing your sensitive skin as you moaned and gasped. Your hands gripped on the back of his hair as his hands began to travel to the inside of your shirt, touching your stomach and swiftly making their to your breasts. He growled against your skin as he pushed his hand inside your bra and felt the hardened nipple.

“Take it off,” I mumbled against your skin and pulled back. He helped you take off your shirt as you began to unclasp your bra, revealing those beautiful titties to him. Their color only making him water the mouth, he dropped down to one of your breast and began to suck hard on it while his hand manhandled the other. You arched your back as his tongue moved swiftly across areola of your breast. The salivating skin coating your breast as his teeth grazed your nipple. Your moans and whimpers escaping your mouth as he destroyed your breasts with his mouth and hand. You felt good.

He pulled back from your chest and looked down at the marvelous sight before him. He leaned down to kiss you again before softly whispering against your lips, “Let me know if you want to stop.”

You nodded your head and watched as his hands traveled down to his trousers and began to unbuckle his belt and buttons. He pulled his pants down to his thighs and pulled down on his boxers. His erection jumping from the enclosed space, hitting his abdomen with a thwack as precum had been leaking. He was large, the tip a rosy tone of pink with a vein protruding from the side, his cock leaned to his left and you could swear you saw it twitch. It was a spectacular sight. His hands quickly went down to take off your pants, pulling them to your ankles before taking them off completely. His noticed the wet spot in your panties from your presumably wet cunt.

His index finger pressed down against the fabric covering your clit, the slick of your folds seeping through the fabric as you shut your eyes tightly and moaned quietly. He smirked and began to circled your clit through your panties, he wasn’t aware you were into this but he obliged.

Just as you were near your orgasm, he pulled his finger back and pulled your panties down towards the floor along with your pants. He stood in between your legs and aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance, “I wish I had the time to prepare you but I’ve got a meeting after this,” he mumbled as he pushed himself into you, not giving you time to respond as your mouth became full of moans.

He made sure to fill up with his cock until his balls made contact with your ass, your jaw fell slack as you rolled your head back against his desk. Leon slowly began to thrust in and out, not fully pulling out, he was kind enough to let you adjust to his size.

Once he was sure you were doing good, he began to thrust into you. Pulling out and pushing back in with force, causing the desk to grind against the floor. He leaned down and put his hands on either side of your head. Your hands traveled to his hair and back, clawing your nails through his shirt.

The sound of skin clapping and the smell of sweat and sex covered the room. The air felt humid as both of your breaths became heavy and labored. You felt his tip touch your cervix, sending a wave of pleasure over you through a whimper. He kept thrusting, making sure to hit your g-spot and cervix. He may not have fingered you but he was still a gentleman, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed this just as much.

Your moans began to cut short as your breathing increasing, you arched your back and felt the band in your lower stomach stretching to a snap. And soon enough, your pussy clenched around his cock. Your orgasm milking and pulsating as he thrusted in you while you were experiencing your high. You closed your eyes and the darkness was clouded with stars.

His own thrusts faltered a little bit as he felt you clench and pulsate around his member and without a second thought he couldn’t contain his own cum from spilling inside you. His hot and thick juices shooting into your womb as he slammed his cock into your cunt for one last time. He kept himself buried inside you as he tried to catch his breath. Both of you panting and sweaty.

He slowly pulled out of you and watched as his cum dropped down from your cunt to his desk, the sight making his cock throb again but he couldn’t indulge himself for a second round as he had a meeting to attend. He helped you clean yourself up with some tissues he had and handed you your clothes from the floor. You both began to dress yourselves as the aftermath of what you two had done began to settle into your heads. He looked at you with a smirk and kissed your cheek, his stubble grazing your skin.

“I’ve got to now, sweetheart,” he whispered as his hand cupped your cheek like he did previously. “You should let me take you to dinner some time.”

You could only nod as you were still feeling dumb from the sex, “Yeah…”

He chuckled and pressed a light kiss on your lips before leaving you in his office.

Who knew a professor could fuck so good?

[sidthedollface2]

Something Old and Something New

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (Rhys sister)

Summary: Rhys tells Azriel to back off Elain and find release at a pleasure hall. Instead, Azriel finds you, Rhys' younger sister. 

Or

The Princess of the Night Court becomes Azriels rebound. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, ANGST, hurt/no comfort, cheating? (not really tho you'll see), smut (p in v, oral, fingering) no use of yn, nicknames, drug use, alcohol.

A/n: I’m back from vacation and decided to do this one shot in between crown fit for a god. I really don't like using yn (its me not you) so every one of my fics will have a nickname but its still x reader. I’m sorry in advance if this hurts you. Anyway, enjoy. :)

“You will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” 

Azriel hadn't slept in weeks. The weight of his shame suddenly became too heavy for his illyrian shoulders. You weren't supposed to be this magnetic and he wasn't supposed to stick around this long. He told himself it was just going to be a quick fling, someone he could spend the night with and try to forget about her.

 But you had always been in his company. Ever since you became of age he thought you were stunning and entirely too good for him. You were afterall Rhysands younger sister. The female version with equal power and even more beautiful. Graceful when needed, mostly among people of importance, and always polite and kind like a princess should be. You were a Princess for the people, earning the citizens trust and walking among them like each and every person was your friend. It was no secret why they preferred your company to their High Lord.

Your amethyst eyes were now engrained behind his very own eyelids, everytime he closed his eyes for the night, they shot wide open. The image of you under him all those nights and the soft moans as he took you to bed in the shroud of darkness. He really didn’t know how it happened, mostly, he blamed it on the alcohol. One night after Ritas was all it took for him to be obsessed, seeking you out when his loneliness threatened to consume him.

Azriel’s panting mixes with your own moans as he pumps himself inside you. The delicious drag of his thick cock leaves you breathless under him. His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, his hazel eyes never leaving yours as he imagines forever in your arms. “You're so beautiful. Can’t believe I get to have you.” He coo’s as he trails soft kisses down your neck, nipping and biting your flesh, careful to not leave any marks. Your hands card through his dark waves, back arching off the bed when his lips attach to your pebbled nipple.

Kissing and biting at the fullness of your breasts, soothing away the love bruising he left on them previously. His scarred hands feel like silk when they roam the soft curves of your body, lighting a fire within you with each and every touch. Knees dig into the bed as he grips your hips, still completely sheathed inside you. He moves your body against his, matching the velocity of his thrusts. Deeper and deeper. One arm wraps around your waist while the other rubs tiny circles on your clit. His eyes never leave your beautiful face as his favorite part comes to life right before him. Your head is thrown back, mouth agape as pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach. “Oh fuck Az, don’t stop.” Azriel’s eyes sparkle with wonder as you fall apart beneath him. Toes curling as the force of your orgasm takes over all your senses. Azriel follows soon after. His pace stutters as your name falls from his lips with a groan. Spilling his seed into you with slow thrusts, ensuring each drop doesn't go to waste.

 “You were so good for me baby,” he smiles as he peppers your face with kisses. Azriel pulls out with a hiss and you giggle into the covers when his toned ass walks to the bathroom. You pout adorably when he returns wearing a pair of low hanging pants, and a warm cloth in his hands. “None of that love. I’m all yours and very willing to give you seconds and thirds,” he waggles his eyebrows and nestles between your legs. No shame or embarrassment from neither of you as he gently cleans you up. In between his gentle wipes he places a loud kiss to your core, “so fucken pretty.”

“Pink or Red?” He asks, looking through your assortment of panties, imagining how you'd look wearing the lacey ones. “Black.” Is all you reply and Azriels grin widens when you pick the lacey ones. 

He insists on helping you get dressed, pinching your butt and digging his fingers in your sides, making you giggle. You swat his greedy hands away. knowing it's just an excuse to keep touching you. “I’m not going to let you help me next time, all you do is tickle me,” you joke, knowing very well you couldn’t keep him away if you tried. “Fine. I won’t tickle you next time,” he says, crossing his arms with a sly grin on his handsome face. 

“You said that last time, and the time before that too.”

Like a true Royal he fed you ripe grapes from the vine, watching intently as you parted your mouth for the sweet berry. Azriel licked his lips when your mouth wrapped around the fruit, making you chuckle as you pulled it off the stem. “When you said snacks this is not what I had in mind. I was thinking more like dessert.” 

“Then you should know what to expect. Now come to bed, and snack with me.” Azriel moves to lay on the bed and opens the covers. Patting the space next to him with the palm of his hand, beckoning you next to him. You don’t have to be told twice, because this was without a doubt your favorite part. Like clockwork Azriel requested all your favorite snacks and without hesitation the house delivered.

“You just had dessert baby,” he teased with a shit eating grin as he gestured to his cock. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped from the back of your throat, causing you both to burst into fits of laughter, giggling like children. Who knew the shadowsinger belly laughed so openly. Something he only did with you. Once your laughs died down Azriel indulged you with a sweet treat. Again offering to spoon feed you, taking every chance to lick frosting off your glossy lips or fingers. 

By the end of the night you couldn't believe how sore your cheeks were from laughing so hard. Azriel had this charm about him, and you couldn’t get enough. You draped your arm over his toned stomach. Head nestled against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his strong heart, a melody you loved to fall asleep to. He held you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair, “Goodnight baby,” he whispered. 

“Night Az, I love you.” 

Silence. 

Azriel didn’t sleep that night. Neither did you. You didn’t expect him to say the words back, because he’d shown you he loved you in his actions alone. But his coldness afterward was unexpected. He laid still under you. No longer stroking your hair, or rubbing small circles on your back. It was like all the air had left his body yet the rhythm of his heart increased, hammering against his chest with the ferocity of a freight train.  If he felt your saddened tears fall on his chest he didn’t mention it, too caught up in his thoughts to console you. 

But now all his thoughts were of you and how quick your love had turned bitter when he didn't respond after you had said those three words to him. 

He was an idiot. Because he did love you. At the very sight of you his heart beat wildly in his chest. He wanted to spend every waking moment holding your hand and kissing your perfect lips. Fall asleep with you in his arms only to be awoken by your feminine beauty.  But Rhysand was unaware that you two were in a relationship. Were you in a relationship? He never asked. Wanted to. But he didn’t. He couldn’t imagine a day where Rhys would accept him as your lover. Rhys had been furious that he wanted to sleep with Elain, threatening him to no end. He couldn't imagine the anger if he were to find out that he turned his efforts to you instead. There were only a few things Azriel was scared of. Rhysands fury if he were to ever find out he’s been sleeping with his sister. And losing you. Those sort of went hand and hand didn’t they. 

You woke up alone the following morning. Thinking that your confession was too much for the shadowsinger. And perhaps you were just one of his many conquests added to the long list of females that warmed his bed. For as long as you knew Azriel he only had casual flings, nothing of substance. No one he introduced to his family. It made you feel stupid. He made you feel stupid. Hoping that you were the one he could call home. Someone he could envision spending the rest of his life with. You could forgive him for not saying ‘I love you’ back. That didn’t stop you from loving him and that didn’t mean he didn’t care about you. Because surely he did right? 

Right?

It wasn’t just that though, you had overheard Azriel tell Cassian sleeping with you was a mistake and that choosing you to be his rebound hadn’t worked out for him. “She said she loved me. It’s just all wrong. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go between us-” You didn’t bother hearing the rest of the conversation. Azriel’s words left your heart gaping, a wound so large you were afraid no one could mend it.

You had missed the importance of his following words, how Azriel wished he had done things right with you. Courted you the right way, with flowers and lovely dates to the finest eateries. Taking things slow at first, holding hands and sweet kisses under the moonlight. You didn’t hear Azriel explain that you had become more than he ever expected, more than just a rebound. He wanted a life with you. Now and forever, just you two and the family he always wanted.

You’d both move into a beautiful house just along the Sidra where you’d spend hours decorating every room to your liking. He’d soon marry you in front of all his family and friends, wearing the finest gown that glittered brighter than the night sky. During the mating frenzy, because of course you were his mate, he’d be sure to fuck a baby into you. And if his seed didn’t stick he wouldn't stop until your scent shifted to one of a pregnant female. He just hoped that Rhysand would give his blessing. 

Now everytime Azriel tried to seek you out, you were nowhere to be found. Like you had just vanished from the Night Court, even though the other members had interactions with you. You suddenly had no time for Azriel. The citizens of Velaris saw you less and less and when they did, your time spent was cut in half. Your joyous laughter no longer echoed the halls of the House of Wind, instead Cassian and Nesta’s not so secret sex romps were becoming more frequent. You had changed your entire schedule to avoid crossing paths with the shadowsinger. 

You no longer spent your mornings having breakfast with Rhysand and Feyre, instead you woke up earlier than usual and held your morning breakfast in the library. 

 “Why are you having breakfast here and not with Rhys?” Azriels hazel eyes took you in as he neared, noticing your tense shoulders. Closing the book in your hand, now finished with your chapter, you stand and gather your items into your bag, “was just catching up on some reading.” You don’t meet his gaze, the sight of him too painful for your heart to bear. “You haven’t been training with Cassian either,” he continues. “Or shopping with Mor. You haven't exchanged books with Nesta and,” Azriel towers over you, his breath fanning over your cheek at his closeness, “you haven’t warmed my bed.” Your eyes finally meet his, a look of desire in his warm eyes as his hands come up to cup your face. A glance over his shoulder has you pulling away from his touch as Elain enters the library, her soft voice dancing along the walls, “Hi Az.”

He ignores her completely, doesn’t even spare her a glance. But your eyes travel from her to him and back again. You see the fondness she has for him in the flush of her cheeks and the way her voice sings as she calls his name.

Memories of their subtle interactions come crashing into your mind. Her shy gaze whenever he walked in the room. The slight brush of fingers when they crossed paths, his lingering gaze when she exited a room.

He’s not yours, and you're not his. Never was, never will be. It dawns on you then that all the soft touches and lingering glances were never sincere but simply a ploy to get Elain jealous. Everytime you made love to him you gave a part of yourself, hoping he would accept you with open arms and an open heart.

You had hoped you were the only one in his life that made him throw his head back, eyes closed shut in ecstasy. But it's clear now when he closed his eyes he saw Elain riding him instead, not you. She was who he really wanted and you were just a placeholder. The rebound. 

He knows you well enough to tell when you're about to fall apart and now is one of those instances. It clicks for him now why he hasn’t seen you. Azriel catches your arm before you dart away, his touch gentle yet firm “you're avoiding me.” He says, worry etched all over his face as he attempts to pull you into his chest. “I’ve figured it out so you can stop pretending to care about me now.” A tear escapes your waterline and Azriel reaches to thumb away the hurt that he's caused.

You don't give him the chance as you swat his hand away and turn to make your exit. He’s panicking now watching you practically run away from him, as you hurry to get away from his presence.

A wound so intense suddenly opens within his heart. With no other option but to just blurt out the first thing that comes to his mind to keep you close. “I adore you!” he says breathlessly and waits for you to run into his arms so he could kiss you silly. When you turn around to confront him, Elain comes up from behind him and wraps her arms around his middle in a tight squeeze. A picture perfect couple you think to yourself, her innocent personality and bubbly nature a lovely contrast to his tall, dark and handsome. Azriel can’t pry her arms off him in time to chase after you before you rush out of the library, traces of your scent still lingering in the air. 

You run and run you're not sure for how long, just long enough till your tears are dried tracks along your soft cheeks. You find yourself in the arms of your brother, clutching his shirt in your closed fist as you loosen the cries that held your throat hostage. “Hey hey, what's wrong?” he coo’s pulling away just enough to see the heartbreak etched in your pretty face. “Send me away please Rhys, I am begging. I never ask anything of you, it doesn’t have to be forever, just a few months.” Your shoulders are shaking violently as you continue to wail into his chest, the intensity of your cries cracking the high lord into submission. “Are you sure, love? I can fix-” 

“No! There's nothing you can do.” 

Rhys nods, winnowing you to a secret cabin that sits along the border of The Night Court. “Just tell me this. Are you in any danger?” he asks, “because I know Azriel and Cassian or even myself will-” 

You wince at the mention of Azriels name, “I’m not in any danger, brother.” You assure him as you settle on the couch in front of the hearth, pulling a warm throw over your body and curling in on yourself. “Good, that’s good. I’ll talk to Kallias. He has someone he wants you to meet. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hosting you for as long as you need.” Rhysand takes one last look at you, studying how unhappy you look, hoping you can confide in him your troubles, whatever they may be. You lay bundled under the comfort of the blanket, your glossy eyes staring into the flames of the fireplace. It’s heat providing a comfort you wish was someone else's. 

Azriel enters your room frantically searching for you, but he gasps and stumbles back when he sees Cerridwen packing your belongings. “Where is she?” he asks, his voice tense and panicked as he grips her by the shoulders. “I’m afraid I don’t have that information.” 

“Why are you packing her stuff then?” He starts shaking her shoulders, as if it would quicken her answer. “She’ll be visiting the Winter Court and Rhysand requests her favorite items to be sent to her.” 

You were running away from him, when all he wanted was to run toward you. Azriels world shattered completely. If you weren't here to live beside him then he had no interest in living. He had been too complacent in being in the now and not once had he initiated to be something serious. Now he was left with longing. 

That same night Rhysand made accommodations for you to stay in the Winter Courts Palace. Kallias and Vivienne were more than happy to have you stay with them. They were quite eager to introduce you to their son Kit. Hoping that with time you’d become great friends. Kit was the spitting image of his father. His white hair styled to perfection, with not a single strand misplaced. Chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw, pouty lips with Icy blue eyes to match his cool demeanor. His eyes trailed your beautiful curves as he bowed, taking your hand within his, placing a tender kiss to your delicate knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Princess.” 

Your violet eyes met his and for a moment his pretty face made you forget about your heartbreak. Kit extended his elbow to you and without a second doubt you linked your arm with his as he led you to see the beauty of his Court. 

You spent the next two weeks in the company of the future Heir. Kit remained a respectful host. Introducing you to his closest friends, a welcomed change of personalities compared to your friends from home. Each evening he’d join you for dinner. Offering a different restaurant each night in hopes to expand your palate in order to get a feel for your favorite foods.

During your brief stay you opened up to him and told him of the situationship you had with Azriel. You explained to him what you overheard Azriel say and how stupid he made you feel after you confessed your love for him. “I finally saw the way he looked at her and it broke me more than it should have, because I remember when he looked at me the same way.  I heard him tell Cass that I was just the girl he picked to get over her. I never meant anything to him. Yet this whole time it had been real for me and I foolishly fell in love with him.” 

“Oh sweetheart, you deserve to be someone's first and only choice. You’re a Princess of The Night Court, if anyones the stupid one It’s him for not seeing how incredible you are.” With the end of his sweater sleeve, Kit wipes away a stray tear that escaped your waterline. His gentleness is a stark contrast to the ice flowing within his veins. “Besides I hear there's a handsome Prince looking for a warm heart to thaw the coldness in his soul,” he smirks playfully, rocking on the heels on his feet, a look of innocence in his crystal eyes. Your sweet giggle transcends into his favorite song and he makes it a mission to hear it often. 

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

Azriel was tearing himself apart from the inside out. By the third day of being plastered and starting fights with innocent bystanders; Rhys had pulled him off missions until he sobered up enough to function.  All that did was give him a larger drinking window. He visited every winery and brewery in Verlaris, sometimes even forgetting how he got there in the first place.  Drowning in bottles of liquor till he could barely stand, let alone fly or walk or do anything for that matter. Tonight was different from the past two weeks, as he decided to smoke his problems away, alcohol no longer providing the high that made him forget.

 The strain for tonight was Mirthroot laced with Amnesia Haze, a hallucinogenic that could either make your deepest wish a reality or make you completely forget your life's problems.

Azriel couldn’t remember how he got up the steps to the house of wind. He couldn’t remember lots of things as of late. One thing he’d never forget though, was your scent and the way you made him feel. So when he opened the door to the house and your sensual perfume hit his nose he almost fell to his knees with relief.

You were finally home. He could explain himself and tell you that he loved you and that you meant the world to him. Azriel followed your scent like it was second nature. His shadows excitedly rushed up stairs towards your bed chambers, leaving him slightly confused because you were sitting at the kitchen Table.

Your hair was long in flowy waves down your back, a little longer since the last time he saw you. It hadn't been that long had it? It didn’t matter, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms again. Keep you safe in Velaris where you belong. Azriel slowly approached you, his breath shaky as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Vi?”

Violet, the nickname you were given for your stunning eyes with various shades of purple and blue. Your eyes met his and you smiled, “Hi Az.” 

“Gods I missed you,” he admitted as he pulled you up from the chair, enveloping you in a warm embrace. You were slightly startled at how tight he hugged you. Inhaling your scent deeply as his nose nuzzled against your neck. “I’m so sorry, for everything. Please forgive me?” Azriel cupped your face between his scarred hands, angling you to look up at him. His pupils were large and dilated, a gaze mixed with sorrow and lust.  Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Az? What are you talking about?” 

“Come here, I need to tell you something.” Azriel lifted you onto the kitchen counter, earning a small yelp from your lips. He settled between your knees, making your thin night dress pool around your hips. His hands remained on your exposed thighs, rubbing them softly to keep you warm. His eyes never strayed from yours, like he couldn't believe you were actually here. “I made a mistake and should have never let you feel like you were the wrong choice. I don’t care what Rhys says anymore. I want you.”

His hands inch closer to your center, a silent request to touch you as the other brings your lips to his in a steamy kiss. You nod into the kiss, giving him permission to touch you. Azriel pulls your panties to the side, easily coating his fingers in your arousal, groaning when he feels how wet you already are from his kiss alone. 

Your breath catches when he slips his fingers inside and curls them in a come hither motion. “Oh gods Az, I’ve dreamed of this moment,” you pant into his mouth, needing more of him, anything he's willing to give you’ll take. He then rubs tiny circles on your clit, making you throw your head back so hard it slams against the cupboard in a loud thud. White flashes behind your eyes as your orgasm crashes over you, a giddy smile plastered on your face from the pleasure he's given you. 

You hop off the counter, eager to return the favor. Palming his cock, you notice he's barely hard, a groan escapes his mouth as you fumble with his belt. You pull Azriels pants down along with his underwear, pooling at his ankles, his cock still not fully erect. Your small hand grips him at the base, making him hiss. He sways side to side, eyes closed as he concentrates on getting hard, something he's never had to do before. You pump his shaft. Once. Twice. And then you wrap your lips around his cock and suck, the warmth of your mouth excites him and he stands at attention, finally. “So the rumors are true,” you coo.

“Fuck baby, your mouth feels so good. I Fucken love you.”   

Wait. What rumors?

“Azriel?” 

Azriels eyes fly open. You're standing in the doorway, shaking like a leaf in the wind with a  hand over your mouth. Sobbing loudly into your hand, tears blurring your vision as they escape your waterline. Heavy drops fall to the ground and the only sound heard is the unmistakable ‘pop’ as the female on her knees releases Azriels cock from her mouth.  

Azriel blinks rapidly, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the haze he's in. He looks down to the female, stuffing his cock back in his pants as she's scrambling to get up. 

“Elain?” he chokes out her name, tears welling in his eyes as he stares at her, devastation in his wide eyes  as he realizes what he's done. What he did to her thinking she was you. His eyes turn to meet yours again, but he only catches your dress billowing as you turn around and run. Your loud wailing echoing in his ears like a hammer to a church bell.

“Vi wait! Please. It’s not what you think!” He yells, rushing past Elain as he sprints after you, needing to reach you before you winnow away.  His heavy footsteps pound against the tile floors, waking up the rest of the inner circle. Just as you're about to reach the knob Azriels arms wrap around your middle, pulling your back to his chest. You both crash to the ground from the force of Azriels tackle. His back meets the hard floor in a loud slam, cushioning your fall. “Let me go!” You plead, kicking and  clawing at his arms that are tightly wrapped around you. “Sshh, baby please. Listen to me.” his voice cracks as he tries to calm you down, “I love you, I love you so much. I thought she was you!! Please believe me!” 

Your voice slices through him, like a dagger to his already bleeding heart. “I hate you!” You scream out in anger, venom lacing every word as it hits its mark. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!” 

Darkness envelops the entire room, It’s cold mist threatening to devour anyone who so dares to defy its power. “Azriel, release my sister before I sever those hands off your body.” Rhys stands at the bottom of the stairs, his power bouncing off him like flames of a fire. The rest of the inner circle gathered around him, watching in horror as both males stood off in a staring contest. It’s Azriel who wavers; finally releasing you to shuffle away from him. 

Azriel sits on his heels, a subtle submissive pose showing respect to his High Lord. “Rhys, I’m sorry. I’ve been in love with your sister for some time now. Too cowardice to tell you or her,” Azriels gaze falls on you. “I’ve been a mess since you left. Masking my pain with alcohol and drugs, which is no excuse. But tonight I took a hallucinogen, and,” his chin wobbles as he tries to hold back his tears, “I made the biggest mistake of my life. I know I’ve lost you, and you will never forgive me. However, I need you to know, in front of everyone, that I have always loved you. I will always love you.” 

Azriel lowers his head. The flood of emotions finally pulled him under the surface, drowning him in his own misery. Fat heavy tears break from his eyes; landing in scattered drops along the floor beneath him. This pain is all consuming, torturous in its own vile way. Tearing at his heart shred by shred, a disastrous mess all by his own hands. A lonely scarred heart to match his scarred hands. Hands that once held the most precious gem, a rare Violet beauty; now only hold the memory of a lost love. 

When Azriel lifts his head to see your face for the last time, he’s once again too late. Fear latches onto his ankles like a heavy chain, anchoring him to the bottom of the sea. You’re gone. His darkness driving away your bright light, leading you into the arms of someone new.  

A/n: part 2 ? 🤔🤔

[marlenesluv]

Hullo, hope you're doing okay. I was wondering if I could request a smau with Carlos.

Y/N is an upcoming but less known film scriptwriter and has a significant age gap from him (6-7 years younger than him). A lot of fans bully cause she's a struggler in Hollywood and not your typical model either. (she doesn't make the effort to look good for Carlos they say)

There is an Oscar winning film but her credit was taken away and fans finally support her (something dramátic like this idkk your choice!!) ty tho <3

Doesn’t Come Easy. (CS)

note: hi, i’m doing well, i hope you are too :) and yes, i love this sm!! i hope you enjoy! (no summary for this, j read the rec lol!)

pairing: carlos sainz x film scriptwriter!reader!fem. carlos is 29 and reader is 22.

fc: alani (alanikaii on insta)

warnings: fairly aggressive hate comments (happy ending tho)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and 47,104 others

y/n.user: lots of work this week☕️📝

view comments…

carlossainz55: cariño❤️❤️

↳ y/n.user: ❤️❤️

user7: not the messy bun pictures 💀

f1wags: no one could ever make me hate y/n, wtf is wrong with you guys??

vroom99posts: the lack of effort she puts in to talking with the other wags, making herself presentable…why is he even with her?

user2: “work” is making up little movies? nope, babe

cschili55: facecard = 0

y/nhatepage: get this guy OUT. ain’t no way he’s happy with her…

user4: the way carlos doesn’t even defend her in these comments LMAOOOO

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 39,027 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

twitter:

Claire @claireblogsstuff8 •2hr ago

It’s about time someone made one of these threads:

Why we don’t like Y/n Y/l/n, Carlos Sainz’s girlfriend..:

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Reason 1: She makes no effort to look good for him or the cameras. The only clothing she wears to the paddock is jeans, sweats, tee’s, and tennis shoes. Other wags give us dresses, skirts, like?? Try harder.

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Reason 2: Y/n and Carlos have a 7 year age gap… This one speaks for itself………

Reason 3: Her job makes no money, shes mooching off Carlos. Being a film scriptwriter is great, if you’re actually good. Which she’s not.

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Reason 4: She makes zero effort to be friends with the other wags. As a girlfriend, you should try and connect with your boyfriends friends girlfriends. She just ignores them on race weekends and it’s rude and lazy.

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Reason 5: Y/n has no career in her field.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, landonorris, and 63,248 others

y/n.user: little 5 year old me would be so excited that i’m finally able to say: my film script that i’ve worked four years on perfecting is finally in the works and being casted and filmed!🥹 this is surreal. i’m going to go cry some more.

view comments…

carlossainz55: hermosa❤️❤️ you’re amazing. i love you

↳ y/n.user: i love you more carlos❤️❤️

user3: uhhuh….

landonorris: CONGRATULATIONS 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

↳ y/n.user: TY LANDO!!!!

f1editpics: mmmm it’s gonna be soo bad😭

f1wags: GO Y/N‼️🫶

yourbsf: i’m so proud of you, i love you🫶

↳ y/n.user: i love you so much��

user5: mhmmm, we all know where this will lead😐 FAIL

formula1edit: nahhhh💀

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, lewishamilton, and 2,945,019 others

carlossainz55: Where do I even begin? Y/n, my world, my bestfriend, my soulmate. Ever since we met in Spain 4 years ago, I knew you knew what you wanted. When you told me your dreams, you didn’t expect them to become reality. Yet, here we are. I’m so proud of you, cariño. Te quiero❤️

view comments…

y/n.user: carlos🥹i couldn’t have done any of it without you. te quiero, amor❤️

↳ carlossainz55: ❤️❤️❤️

f1wags: UGH they’re so cute idcccc

user8: i still don’t think it’ll be good. and when tf is she gonna up her game bro

charles_leclerc: congrats y/n!!

↳ y/n.user: thanks charles!

user1: the way this film will flop and then he’ll break up with her💀

cs0ln0: sloppy, yawning, boring

user9: naurrrr🤧

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

F1 Gossip Blog Post:

Goodmorning…I have no entrance for you, because I am shook to the core today. It has been about a year since Carlos Sainz’s girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n, went to the movie premiere of the movie she wrote.

Today I woke up and saw something that shocked me! Last night, this movie won an Oscar, but Y/n was no where to be found. She didn’t attend the awards and she wasn’t even credited.

The petty “I don’t like her” needs to stop. We need to support her, she’s talented, smart, and yes, beautiful. Us, as fans, don’t know how hers and Carlos’ relationship is. Although I would assume pretty good… (via the recent paparazzi photos, lol)

Her credit being taken away is awful, and shouldn’t be glossed over. Sign the petition at the bottom of this post to support Y/n, and bring attention to the fact that this film happened because of HER!

sign here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 167,204 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, lilymhe, and 345,024 others

y/n.user: First off, I want to say thank you to Carlos for being the most patient, loving, and kind boyfriend. I see the “she’s not good enough for him” comments and the hate posts. Carlos doesn’t say anything because I simply don’t want him to. I can’t even count the amount of times I have to tell him to not respond. Judging a relationship you know nothing about is silly.

I also want to say thank you to the other wags for being patient and understanding with me. I do hangout with them, I just keep that private. Not everything needs to be aired out on social media.

A huge thank you to fans of Carlos’ that have supported me and my journey with this film. I appreciate all the kind messages throughout the process of writing and even now with the Oscars.

Thank you to my family and friends, for supporting me from when I was a little girl watching movies and pretending I was in said movie for a week straight, writing alternate endings and embarrassing you at theaters.

There’s nothing that can be done about what happened with my credit for the movie at the Oscars. It’s unfortunate, but true.

Oh, also, Carlos and I got a puppy. His name is Calvin, that’s all.

view comments…

*comments have been limited by the creator of this post*

carlossainz55: I love you, cariño❤️

lilymhe: here for you🫶🫶

landonorris: keep your head up, dude😁 miss you!

maxfewtrell: cute dog!! loved the movie too, goat film writer

francisca.cgomes: love you!!💖

charles_leclerc: amazing film, you’re so talented🙏

lailahasanovic: prettiest girl made the best film and is living her best life 🥰

carmenmmundt: keep your head up!! george and i send hugs🫶💓

danielricciardo: you’re slaying with this post💅

alexandrasaintmleux: ❤️❤️

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and 227,284 others

y/n.user: back to writing🙃 #quentintarantinoishelpingmewiththisscript

view comments…

f1wags: yesss, queen!! so looking forward to the new script you write 😋

carlossainz55: bonita❤️❤️

↳ y/n.user: guapoooo❤️❤️

user3: i want the love they have

jvroom8: i like how everyone switched up on y/n, i’ve been saying she’s the best wag and no oneeee listened

tarantinouniverse: so excited for your new work!! the fact that you worked with quentin is so awesome!

zendaya: can’t wait!💜

↳ y/n.user: 💜🪩

moviecritic: y/n and zendaya?? duo i didn’t know i needed

landonorris: she’s busy writing guys💅📝

user7: living for your posts!!

maxverstappen1: DU DU DU DU BEST WRITERRRR

↳ y/n.user: ….what has gotten into him?

↳ charles_leclerc: 🤷‍♂️

↳ y/n.user: *cough* lestappen *cough*

↳ maxverstappen1: oh my

↳ alexandrasaintmleux: AHAHA i live for lestappen

↳ charles_leclerc: 😐

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated! ^-^)

[milfsloverblog]

Third Time’s a Charm

college professor!Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Hello, hello! Finally posting the fic I shared an excerpt of a while ago. This is an AU where Larissa is a college history professor and reader an ex student of hers. Everyone is of age, Larissa didn’t know reader as a minor, etc etc. LOOSELY inspired by real life events. 🫡

Have fun! <3

“I don’t want to bother you, Miss Weems.”

“Nonsense!” Larissa had smiled, dismissing your worry with a wave of her hand. “I’m offering. It’s pouring, I’m not letting you go home on your own. You’ll be soaked to the bone!”

And that’s how it all started. On a rainy Tuesday night nearly a month ago. Larissa had dropped you off at home any time she could ever since, whether it was pouring outside or not.

You didn’t really think much of it at first. Larissa had been your history professor the previous year. She’d always seemed detached. Not that she wasn’t a great professor - she was an excellent one - but she always kept her distance from her students. She was one hell of a woman. One that no one would want to mess with.

Again, you hadn’t really thought much of it at first. Not until something else had somehow developed between the two of you. Or at least it had on your side. Friendship, perhaps. That’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Friendship. But friends didn’t look at each other the way you had started to.

You never thought of Larissa as a funny woman. If anything she would have been considered a stern one by most people. And yet she always went out of her way to make you laugh whenever it was just the two of you in her car.

And then there had been a friendly hug one day. Some stupid crap, as you’d put it, had happened and you had stayed quiet through the whole ride back home which had alerted Larissa.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, I know how much silence can be comforting sometimes. But still, if you wish to share…” Her voice had been sweet like honey, like she really cared. And you had just spilt everything out. The anxiety, the anger, the sadness about everything and anything. You had spilt your guts out on the pristine interior of her Chevrolet. And she had listened. She had stayed quiet, nodding when necessary. And when you’d been done spitting it all out, Larissa had pulled you into her arms. And how right it felt, to be gently squeezed into her warm embrace.

Everything had changed from that moment, like you had somehow opened Pandora’s box. The couple of weeks that followed only deepened what had sparked inside you that night.

Larissa stopped the car, a heavy silence instantly falling between the two of you. The tension, you thought, could have been cut with a knife. You could almost feel it under your fingertips.

The woman’s hand moved to rest on your leg, right above your knee. She gave it a gentle squeeze, her thumb rubbing at your skin. A soothing gesture. You wondered if perhaps you should return it.

Still, that heavy silence.

“Can I kiss you ?”

A beat.

Larissa’s silence was enough of an answer to you but still, you watched as her tongue darted out to wet her crimson lips before she spoke.

“No,” She said. And before you could ask why, like she knew you would, Larissa went on. “And I’m not saying that I don’t want to. But if I kiss you, there is no turning back. If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop. And I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Larissa almost let a chuckle out. Almost. She knew you like the back of her hand.

“Because this-“ She said, gesturing her hand between the two of you. “This is already way past what we should do.”

“What we’re allowed to do, you mean.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “What we’re allowed to do.”

“And yet we’re still doing it.”

You were right and Larissa knew it. But still, as long as she didn’t kiss you it hadn’t gone too far.

Desire was a funny thing - Larissa had found that out quite a long time ago. But she couldn’t let herself be tempted by you. She was twice your age, you had been under her authority, you were still a student even if not hers anymore, you-

“I think I should go.”

The silence had stretched for too long and you needed to swallow the rejection you’d just faced. Well, it wasn’t really rejection, right? Larissa wanted it, but you simply couldn’t. She wanted it, right? Or maybe she didn’t and this was her way of gently pushing you away.

“I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night.” Larissa’s hand left your knee and you immediately missed its warmth against your flesh.

“Night.” You said before getting out of the car and getting inside of your flat as quickly as you possibly could.

You avoided Larissa like the plague the next day and even thought about leaving early so you could walk home but she had opened her car door as soon as you’d stepped into the parking lot. The ride had been excruciatingly awkward with Larissa trying to fill the silence with anything that came to her mind.

Eventually, she parked outside your flat, watching you pick at an invisible lint on your jeans.

“I’m sorry for making things awkward between us.” You said barely audibly, keeping your eyes down.

“Look at me,” Larissa started. When you kept your head down, her fingers grabbed your chin and forced you to look at her. “You didn’t make anything awkward.”

You almost didn’t hear what she was saying, the pressure of her fingertips on your skin making your brain freeze.

Your mouth fell open and Larissa watched as the tip of your tongue darted out to wet your lips. She swallowed thickly, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the images that had been conjured into her mind.

“Gods…” She whispered before slowly turning your head to the side.

Kissing was out of line, but maybe… She wasn’t thinking straight. Larissa wasn’t thinking straight, she obviously wasn’t or she wouldn’t have latched onto your neck the instant that followed.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you, something between surprise and pleasure. The surprise only lasted for a second before you grabbed the back of Larissa’s head and pulled her impossibly closer.

“Let me kiss you-“ you pleaded, voice hoarse as the woman’s mouth continued its assault on your neck.

“I can’t-“ Larissa whispered between two kisses, making you snap out of your trance. You felt like you’d go berserk any second.

“You can’t blur the line and expect me not to cross it.” You blurted out as you pulled away from her. “You can’t drive me home and flirt with me and put your hands on me only to act surprised when I want to kiss you.”

Larissa’s hand that had been on your neck stayed still in the air when you pulled away. Guilt filled the woman’s body, making her stomach suddenly feel heavy.

“I won’t ask again,” you eventually said when the silence had stretched out for too long. “I might be foolish, but not foolish enough to keep begging.”

Larissa didn’t know what to say, she only blankly stared at you, lips half open as if she was searching for something - anything - to answer.

You shook your head a little and your hand grabbed onto the door handle, you’d had enough. You had already opened the car door when the woman’s hand wrapped around your bicep to hold you back.

“Larissa,” you sighed as you turned to face her. Before you could add anything else, the woman pulled you closer and crashed her lips against yours.

Larissa’s kisses were just like she was. Demanding and yet loving. It felt like the world had stopped spinning and you’d been propelled against the windshield at an incredible speed.

God, she was kissing you.

And so you kissed her back, with all you had. And whenever one of you would pull back to catch their breath, the other one was quick to steal another kiss from their lips. You kissed and kissed and kissed again. You kissed until the windows were all fogged up. Until your lungs began to burn and your head spun from the lack of oxygen. And even then you didn’t stop kissing.

“Do you want to come inside? For a drink?” You asked when she eventually pulled away.

“Don’t push your luck.” She chuckled softly, her lips plumped from your gentle biting.

“I offered a drink, not a quickie.” You rolled your eyes and watched as Larissa’s mouth shut closed. No doubt her cheeks had turned pink but you couldn’t tell in the darkness of the car.

“Next time. Whenever you and I don’t have classes the next day.” She smiled.

You gave a small nod and froze for a second. Were you allowed to kiss her again? Before you could give it a second thought you cupped Larissa’s cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“I will see you tomorrow.” She whispered as you pulled away.

You nodded again and took a last look at her before getting out of the car.

You weren’t sure what all of this implied, you thought as you turned the key inside your door lock. What it meant for the future. What it even meant for tomorrow. All you were sure of was that Larissa Weems had kissed you and you had kissed her.

And little did you know, it would happen again.

————————————————————————

taglist: @weemssapphic, @im-a-carnivorous-plant , @dingdongthetail , @azu-zu, @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @barbarasstar , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @agathaandgwenslesbian , @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental , @raspburrythief , @fictionalized-lesbian , @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr , @winterfireblond , @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @vendocrap8008 @jkregal @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @xuukoo @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @dumbasslesbi @larissaoftarthweems @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @thesamesweetie @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @bitchr-mkay @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

When the Levee Breaks

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

tags / warnings: friends to lovers fluff then smut, mutual pining, smoking weed (be responsible irl), high sex, explicit descriptions of oral (f receiving), fem!reader

NSFW notes: A LARGE PORTION OF THIS FIC IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS; DO NOT READ IT IF IT ISN'T APPROPRIATE FOR YOU! HOWEVER, because such a long portion (like 2/3) has no sexual material (except for the implication at the very beginning), i have clearly marked where it becomes NSFW in case any age-appropriate readers want to read only up to that point (i know some people just want fluff not smut even if they're of age, and that's so chill); i will say there is drug use before then, so still adult material, but fluffy around that; please please be responsible for your content consumption

random notes: set in the late 70's / early 80's, following canon of when the marauders would've met but the rest of the world building (e.g. au) left ambiguous title inspired by a song on one of the albums mentioned idk why this turned out similar to The Prettiest Star with Sirius Black, but i guess my fantasy is just to listen to music intensely with someone then fuck lovingly lol

word count: 6.4k

hope you enjoy! thank you if you read it! 🫶

You watch as his long fingers, practiced and adept, roll the spliff. You liked this part. You could stare at his hands under the guise of watching the rolling. Remus didn’t have to know how far from pot your mind wandered when you did. He didn’t have to know it made you wonder every time what else he could do with this fingers. Imagine how they would feel on you. In you. 

At the thought, you squirm where you’re seated on his settee next to him. He chuckles in a low tone. 

“Antsy?” 

“No.” 

He can tell you’re lying. You can tell he can tell. But you don’t care. As long as he can’t tell why you’re lying, it doesn’t matter, and you can keep wriggling.

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.” 

Your wringing hands catch his attention, and his eyes fix on them even as his hands continue their work. 

“Next time, you’re rolling it,” he says through a smile. “There’d be nothing left to smoke by the time you finished shaking it everywhere,” he laughs, too amused with himself, giggling as if he were already high. 

“Remus?” you start, and he shakes his head and chuckles, loving how you get when he teases you. 

“What?” he smiles, eyebrows shooting up at you, both a welcome and a challenge for you to say whatever you’re about to. 

“Can you remind me who provided this wonderful gift on this wonderful afternoon?” You shake the baggy you brought to his flat not 15 minutes ago. 

He laughs, now nodding, and concedes, “You’re right, sunshine. I should be so grateful.”

Remus brings the spliff to his mouth to lick the edge of the paper, and your retort gets caught in your throat as you fixate on his tongue. 

A bit too late, a bit too quiet for your usual banter, you say, “You should be, Moons. I can still take it home and smoke by myself.”

“Oh now I’ve rolled it for you, yeah? Didn’t realize you were just here for my services. Should’ve known you were just pretending to love me till you got what you wanted.” He holds up his finished work — a beauty really — in front of you as he finishes his joke. You hum affirmatively, taking it from him and looking it over. 

You inspect it exaggeratedly and with a theatrical sense of casual satisfaction tell him, “Hm, not bad. I was starting to regret the long con, but I think this was worth it.” 

He’s giggling as he gets up, bumping his body against yours before he does, going toward his record collection. He walks over lazily, unhurriedly, his bare feet quiet on the floor, his hand coming up to mess with his hair. His loose, comfy clothes do a lot to hide the muscles you know are lean but strong underneath.

“Come help me choose,” he says over his shoulder as he falls to one knee to scan a lower shelf. Almost a whole wall of his small apartment is covered in shelves, boxes, stacks of records. It looks a mess, but it’s actually meticulously organized by release date.

You follow him, come up just behind him. You crouch, too, not all the way down like him. You lean on him, resting your head atop his, bringing your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

He moans casually, seeming happy, and grabs your arms where they fall across his chest. 

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up at you. You look down at him, seeing his warm smile upside down. 

“This is the real reason I’ve pretended to be your friend all these years,” you fake seriousness as you nod toward the records. Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile stretches further across his lovely face. It pulls on a long scar that runs down his cheek. 

“And may I ask how you knew when we were eleven that one day I would own such an epic collection?” 

“Easy. You wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt one of the first days we knew each other.”

He’s taken aback by your giving an actual answer. 

“Did I really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling down at him. The warmth of reminiscing about those childhood years softening you. 

“I think I remember that shirt,” he smiles nostalgically. “How do you remember that?” He twists in your embrace, coming to sit on the floor and pulling you with him. You’re sitting close to each other, and he’s watching you, rapt. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I remember being so nervous and lonely at the beginning. Wanting to make friends. And you seemed nice, so I noticed you.” You shrug again, look down for a moment, not wanting to express embarrassment at a more honest recollection: you had a crush on him immediately, even back then, even before you were really sure what it was you were feeling — that came with the years that followed. “The day you wore that shirt, it was like something familiar I could latch onto. Someone who liked something I liked.” Remus is smiling adoringly at you. Listening as intently as he is, looking as giddy, he looks like a child at the greatest story time ever from his seat on the floor. 

“I even tried to talk to you about it,” you confess, cringing teasingly at yourself.

“Yeah?” He sits up straighter like a puppy hearing someone at the door. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“I don’t remember that happening.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” you laugh. “I said tried to talk to you. I got too nervous and ran to hide before I could get the words out.” 

He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his smile still plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed you yet.” Remus looks especially contemplative for a moment then hums, biting his lower lip. “It’s crazy. Trying to think of my life before you is like remembering a blank canvas.” 

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart. 

You’re smiling a beaming smile at him but say, “There wasn’t much to notice. I was pretty quiet. And besides, your attention probably couldn’t handle a single thing more given you were getting to know Sirius and James.” He laughs lightly at the good memories but shakes his head at you a little more pronouncedly. 

“I’m sure there was a lot to notice. I was just an idiot. And quiet, too. By comparison to that lot anyway. They spoke enough for the three of us. I probably would’ve wimped out if I’d tried to talk to a pretty girl like you back then.” The edges of his entrancing brown eyes crinkled from his smile. “I mean… to be honest… I’d get nervous for a while, talking to you at first.”

“You didn’t,” you tease but secretly really want to hear more.  

“I did, yeah. Of course I did,” he laughs at himself. “I had a big crush on you. James and Sirius wouldn’t let me live it down for ages.” 

You’re shocked at this news. And maybe your face shows it. What it doesn’t show is how desperately your mind is racing, questioning: “Wait, could things have been otherwise? Did he actually like me as more than a friend at some point? Did I ruin it somehow?”

Remus tenses slightly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes, which are attentive at your reaction. 

“That was a long time ago,” he jokes to fill the silence that is beginning to stretch too long, his tone awkward.

“What happened?” you whisper, unable to help it. 

He takes a second to answer, like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s searching your face, and you’re not sure how much he can read there. 

He shrugs. His face gives an “I don’t know” scowl. He’s trying to escape answering, but you don’t let him.

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully. 

“I don’t know,” he giggles. “I don’t know. Then I got to know you I guess. And we became friends.” 

You give a scoffy laugh. You know he probably didn’t mean it that way, but your stomach sinks at the idea that getting to know you would remedy him of his crush. You’re staring at the floor when his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey, you okay?” He’s trying to keep the playful atmosphere, but you hear true concern in his tone. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”

You want to say “yes,” but you wouldn’t be able to tell him which part. So, you don’t say anything.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, after all these years,” he says more softly.

“No, Rem. Of course I don’t mind.” You shake your head as if dismissing the idea, attempting a laugh that still comes out strained. “I was just surprised is all.” 

He’s watching you, nodding subtlety, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Let’s choose something, yeah?” you nod next to you toward the wall, desperate to redirect attention.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Remus turns toward the records, skimming across his stacks. A thought catches him, and he moves purposefully toward a different shelf.

“What are you thinking?” you notice, your interest piqued. 

“1971,” he says as if it’s an answer. It is to you. 

1971: the year you met. 

He pulls out a well-worn record, and the strain on your smile finally dissipates to easy delight. You come stand next to him, and he hands it to you. 

“Do you remember how much we listened to that then?” he asks. 

“How could I forget,” you smile, your fingers tracing the cover of Led Zeppelin IV. 

It came out November 1971, but neither of you could get it till at least a month later, during Christmas break from school. When you finally did, the two of you listened to it nonstop. You absolutely loved the album, but you knew you listened to it that much because it was an easy excuse to hang out with Remus. You’d been listening to music together, often just the two of you, ever since.

“Fuck, I remember we’d listen to it in my room,” Remus reminisces. “And even Sirius, the biggest Zeppelin fan of us all, couldn’t take it anymore,” he laughs. “He’d turn it off when he found us listening to it, scolding us for ‘abusing a sacred thing.’”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Oh, look at this,” Remus startles you, excited. He pulls another record off the same shelf.

“This is too perfect,” he giggles. “I didn’t remember this came out then,” he muses, looking it over. “Probably didn’t get my hands on it till much later, I guess. But it’s like it was made for us. For you.” He hands you Just As I Am by Bill Withers, but you still don’t get what he’s saying. He sees your confused look and chuckles. “Second track,” he hints. Your eyes land on “Ain’t No Sunshine.” 

“Sunshine”: Remus’s nickname for you for years. You had Sirius to thank for it actually. He’d said you and Remus were like yin and yang. And since you all already called him “Moony,” you had to be “Sunny.” The other three of you cringed at the sound of that, so he tried “sunshine” instead, conceding it was close enough, and it stuck. Over the years, Sirius and James used it less and less, Remus more and more.

“It’s your song,” Remus urges, knocking his shoulder against yours. “There literally can’t be sunshine when you’re gone because you are sunshine.” He sounds too excited, and it’s adorable. 

“You sound like Sirius saying he’s serious,” you tease. He just laughs and takes the record back.

“Whatever, grumpy. It’s an epic song, and you know it, and now it’s yours, and I don’t care if that’s cheesy.”

“I love it,” escapes you, teasing tone gone. His eyes snap to yours, and he looks at you warmly.

“Alright, sunshine,” he whispers. A beat. “Wanna listen to it?” he asks, voice almost normal again. You nod gladly then go back to the sofa as he sets it up.

Remus soon comes back and joins you. He grabs the spliff from between stacks of snacks you’d prepared for the afternoon then looks over at you.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

“You do the honours.” He hands it to you and grabs the lighter. Rather than handing that to you too, he lights it for you as it dangles from your parted lips. 

You take a long drag, feeling it enter you and welcoming it. You cough lightly as you exhale slowly. You are no novice but are still always a cougher. Remus still always giggles when you do, but it’s never mocking. He has a glass of water ready for you, knowing you well, always looking after you. You trade him the water for the spliff, which he proceeds to hit with equal enthusiasm and less wheezing.  

You pass it back and forth for a little while. It’s strong stuff and just three hits in, you feel it engulfing you. The settee feels softer; the music sounds better. 

“Ain’t No Sunshine” is playing, and in your dazed state, you’re sure this is going to be the peak of the album even if it doesn’t coincide with the peak of your high. You close your eyes, and you can feel the music on your skin. 

Remus chuckles next to you, and your face turns to him.

“You look so stoned right now,” he explains, giddy. 

“That’s because I am,” you laugh. Once you start laughing it’s hard to stop; once Remus joins, it’s almost impossible. 

You chat easily, observations and jokes from both of you greatly benefitting from the induced assistance. Remus has a revelation about your listening to HI-fi while high. Your mind is blown multiple times at how deep the lyrics are. 

“They’re all talkin’ at him, but he doesn’t hear a word they’re sayin’, Moons! Not a word! I should do that,” you tell him as if it’s the most urgent thing in the world. He cracks up. “He’s so right, you know? Gotta keep the sun shining through the pouring rain, you know?”

“Uh-huh, I know, sunshine, I know,” he just laughs at you.

“You have such a nice smile, Moony,” you observe, dazed just as much from the feelings perambulating through your system than the pot doing the same.

“Yeah?” he asks, exaggerating it till he’s all teeth and squinty eyes. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It looked funny upside down over there,” you remember. “Watch!” 

You flip over on the sofa till your feet are up where your neck should rest and your head is dangling off the edge where your knees would normally be. You smile up at him. Remus doubles over laughing with you, bringing his face much closer to yours as he leans into it. 

“You’re right. Looks funny,” he tells you much more softly than you expected after his cackling. He watches you intently then brings a hand to your upside down face. He traces your features lightly, and it’s warm and tingly. His long finger travels down your nose, across your eyebrows. 

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

“Where?” he whispers back, his voice a gruff chuckle again. 

“Down here!” you whisper-yell. 

You pull his shoulder down and start kicking his legs up as he contorts until you get him in the same position as you. You end up side by side, upside-down on the sofa. 

Each of you giggles at the other as you steal side glances. Your faces, pulled the wrong way by gravity, softened more than normal by the smoking, look even goofier through your incessant giggles and pointless efforts at holding those back.

You listen, and laugh, to at least a whole song like this. You kick each other’s feet throughout. As one of your kicks brings you closer to Remus, he rolls over to tickle you. You laugh so loud you can’t even hear the record over it. 

“Stop, Rem! Stop!” you plead. “I’m already too dizzy.” 

He keeps it up a moment but soon takes pity on you and helps move your body the right way around, his strong hands manipulating you easily. 

“Alright, dizzy. Enough upside-down,” he says as he fixes your now crazy hair. 

You just nod and shift closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shuffles to a comfortable height for you, laying his own head on yours. 

A primary reason you enjoy getting high with Remus: you both get snuggly. You’re touchy normally, even more than most best friends you’ve seen, but not overly so. When you’re high, it’s overly so. But it somehow doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it feels wonderful. 

So, it feels wonderful, not weird, when you absentmindedly reach over for his hand. He gives it to you easily, and you begin caressing it. 

“Your skin is so soft, Rem.” You pull his hand closer to you, bringing it close to your face, looking it at like you’ve never seen a hand before. Remus takes the opportunity and quickly grabs at your nose playfully. You giggle at this as he responds to your initial comment.

“In between all the scars maybe.” He sounds matter of fact. There’s a lot less pain in his voice now when he talks about them than when he did in your younger years. You look forward to the day when you hear no pain there at all. 

“No, the scars too,” you correct him gently, and you bring your thumb to a scar that runs from the top of his hand up to his forearm. You trace it with reverence, and he shivers at your touch. You know for a fact you’re the only person in the world he allows to touch them. You’re so grateful for his trust, and in this moment, your emotions heightened, your inhibitions lowered, the vibrations of the music moving through you, you feel the need to tell him so. 

“Thank you for letting me touch you, Moony.” 

Remus has been watching where your hands are connected until now, but at your words, he looks into your eyes. He just looks at you for a long moment. You can’t tell how long, time elongated and indeterminable in your current state, but you’re completely comfortable to sit in it through its entirety, looking straight back at him. 

Eventually, the softest grin blossoms on his face. You mirror it. 

“Thank you for not being afraid to,” he whispers. You genuinely don’t understand. 

“Why would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” he tries to explain. He looks down in shyness but back at you before continuing, “Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s ‘disgusted’ or something…” 

His voice is fading to a low whisper by the end, like the louder the words are the truer they’ll be. 

Without hesitating, you tell him the truth: “Remus, you’re the least disgusting person in the world. You’re beautiful.” He grimaces like he can’t believe you, so you go on. “You are.” 

You turn your body even more toward him, bringing your connected hands to your almost shared lap and bringing your other hand to caress his cheek. 

“Silly Moony. You’re so sickeningly beautiful,” you chuckle. Your hand runs up through his hair. “This hair is ridiculous,” you inform him, tousling it. He leans into your touch like a content puppy. “These eyes.” You trace circles around each of them, first skimming his eyebrows then looping around. “They’re the easiest thing in the world to melt into, no pot needed.” You feel them crinkle as they smile into your compliments. “This nose.” You trace it slowly. “These lips,” you say more softly. You feel his gasp when you touch them then feel nothing, his breath held as you trace them. “And your scars,” you say with some finality. You trace a prominent one across his face. He closes his eyes while you do, opens them again when you reach its end. “You beauty isn’t one to be ruined by scars, Remus Lupin. Your beauty is the kind that incorporates the scar and makes that beautiful too.” 

Remus squeezes your interlaced hands. Your faces are so close to each other that you could see his eyes moisten as you tell him all this. He closes them before full tears form and moves his face that tiny bit closer till his forehead rests on yours. You nuzzle his nose, and he nuzzles yours back. 

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, breaking the silence — noticing the silence. You didn’t notice when the album ended.  Remus just hums in response. 

The silence is loaded but peaceful. You don’t want to pressure him into having to say something back after you let yourself get so intense with him. It wasn’t about what he said back; it was about his understanding how you saw him, how you hoped he would see himself. 

So, with his eyes still closed, you give the scar that runs across his nose a light kiss, do the same to another larger one across his jaw. Then you bring your head back to his shoulder, snuggling into him to mark the end of the moment, no further pressure necessary. 

Remus shifts his body closer, as close to you as possible. He brings his arm around your shoulders without letting go of your hand. He’s holding you close, and your arm crosses your chest to keep your hands intertwined. He kisses the top of your head — new, sweet — then rests his own there again — familiar, warm. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of his hand. 

You sit together in the quiet a long while. You close your eyes, breathe Remus in, let his body, his presence envelop you then just bask in it. Everything feels pleasantly heavy — the air, his body where it touches yours.

You settle into him, and without your noticing you’re doing it, your hand on his stills. 

“Don’t stop,” he whispers. 

“Hm?” you need to ask, unsure what he means. You look up, and he looks down, and your faces are a breadth away from each other. 

“I liked how you were touching me,” he whispers. “I always like how you touch me,” he adds like a secret. 

He brings his hand that’s not holding yours up to your face. First, the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheekbone then he rests his hand there. His fingers hold your jaw; his thumb caresses your cheek. Like you tend to do, you lean into his touch. 

His gentle, soothing touch flutters your eyes closed. Your inability to see his face makes it less scary to respond, “I always like how you touch me too.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, his hand holding you a bit more tightly, his thumb coming down to graze your bottom lip. You nod slowly, his hand moving with your head.

“Do you ever think about other ways we could touch each other?” he whispers. Your eyes fly open at this and land on his: lidded, dilated, gazing into your own. 

“Do you?” 

“I asked you first,” he giggles. “And I’ve already told you a secret today. It’s your turn.”

“What secret?” Your voices are still soft, whispering even though there’s no need for quiet other than your intimacy demanding it. 

“About my crush.” 

“I had a crush on you too,” you tell him. “So now we’re even.”

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he smiles. You smile back. 

Then, after a moment, like he can’t help it, “You did?” 

“Of course I did.” 

“What happened?” he echoes. 

“Nothing,” you confess. 

His eyebrows furrow, unsure how to interpret this. His eyes hold hope and trepidation at once. 

“I got to know you… And we became friends…” you continue. His expression falls, and you’re pretty sure you recognize this look as disappointment. But you go on, “And it made me love you all the more.” 

You’re ready to read his expression closely this time, but you don’t get the chance before he’s kissing you, before you’re kissing back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s slow. Deliberate. His lips push on yours; his arms bring you closer. His tongue teases your lips, and though they part in response, his tongue traces them rather than push in. You whimper at the feeling of it, and he moans at your reaction. He breathes you in, covers your whole mouth with his, devouring the sound, devouring you. 

Now his tongue enters your mouth, exploring, playing with yours. You’re not sure whether his movements are slow or whether they just feel slow because you’re still high. You are sure you have no desire to speed any of it up. 

You bring your hands to either side of his face, holding him gently but pulling him to you. He follows easily, and when your chests are almost flush, you trace your hands down to his shirt and pull him on top of you as you lean back, lying down on the sofa.

You keep kissing a deliciously long while then Remus goes beyond your lips, kissing along your jaw leisurely. He mouths at your skin, licking, nipping his way unhurriedly down to your neck. Here he languidly runs his tongue along the length of your neck, kissing your pulse point, nipping behind your ear. 

Everywhere he touches is buzzing, and you shiver at the sensation. When his breath blows cold air on your now wet skin, you shiver even harder, your body shuddering against his above you. He chuckles into the crook of your neck and continues. 

After another while of his working his way down, he has to pull the neck of your shirt down to reach further. You bare your neck to him, loving his exploratory path. 

When his mouth leaves your skin for the first time in several minutes, your impulse is to immediately pull him back to you.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers sedately, gruffly, tugging at your top. 

You pull it off and don’t waste time unclasping and sliding your bra off as well. Remus looks at you, dopey and delighted, but without further ado, pushes your chest so that you lie back again. His hand stays on you and begins lazily kneading your breast as he brings his mouth back to you.

He kisses the base of your neck and continues his previous ministrations across your collarbones. He seems to be on a mission to trace the entire surface area of your skin with his wandering mouth, and you have every intention of letting him and enjoying every long second of it. 

As he makes his languorous way down your sternum, you arch your back, pushing up into him, and bring your hands to his messy hair, holding him close. You scratch and tug, needing somewhere to release some energy, every part of you he’s touched left humming warm and electric. He groans into your chest, and you’re certain you feel the vibrations move through your skin, across your chest cavity, and into your heart, where they ricochet within it, making it beat faster. 

“Remus,” you whine adoringly. He hums into your skin again in response and speeds up his southward trajectory just the slightest bit. 

His face comes between your breasts, and he runs his teeth down the valley, then licks his tongue up the same path. You shake a little, and his hand squeezes your breast tighter. The other one he mouths across until his tongue traces a slow, wet circle around your nipple. This shoots a hot, jolting current straight from where his mouth is connected to you down to between your legs.

He’s gentle for a while, moving back and forth between your tits, often agonizingly slowly, his hands kneading at your chest all the while. Without your expecting it, though, he bites one of your hard, sensitive nipples and tugs lightly. You squeal and push your chest into his mouth. He keeps going, switching as he fancies between rough and tender. 

At a bite of the side of your breast, you rut up into him, and the movement has you feeling how wet you are. You’ve never been this wet before before direct stimulation. 

Remus holds your hips down to the sofa but moves from your chest to your stomach. His roaming mouth proceeds at its perfect, maddening pace. It meanders to your ribs, down your sides, not following a straight path down. 

Once he eventually reaches the threshold of your pants, he looks up at you. 

Remus looks higher than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks elated, in awe. 

“I want to spend hours and hours on your body like this,” he tells you, nuzzling his face into your lower stomach, kissing it as he detaches from you.

“Remus,” you whimper, running your hand into his hair and inadvertently thrusting your hips up. He chuckles, still sounding high, but his voice is as low as you’ve ever heard it.

He takes your trousers and underwear off in one efficient but slow tug. He pulls his shirt off much faster, and you touch all his skin you can reach before he’s repositioning himself.

Your thighs feel cold now uncovered, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of fresh air on your soaking cunt. As you adjust your body, you feel a thick wetness drip from your entrance down to where your arse meets the sofa. You feel the coldness of that wetness even more as Remus pushes your legs further apart to position himself between them. 

You’re completely sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, but you’re not sure if you could possibly be as wet as you feel, thinking the high could be heightening your sensation of it. You’re worried it’s too much, worried you’ll put Remus off. 

“I can clean up a little if —“ you start, but you’re cut off by Remus diving in, running his flat tongue slowly, firmly up from the base of your puddle up to your pubic bone. A strangled, prolonged gasp functions as the end of your sentence.

When Remus licks you again, your thighs shake on either side of his head. You feel him laugh into your cunt, and this time you imagine the vibrations shooting all the way up your body, following the chaotic roadmap his mouth left lingering across it.

Remus pulls back from you and rests his chin on your pubic bone, looking up at you. 

He informs you simply, “You taste delicious, darling.” He looks drunk on it. 

“Everything tastes better when you’re high,” you tease.

“Then I’m really going to enjoy this,” he smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll get me high just by letting me do this other times.” 

“Other times?” 

“Well, yeah…” he giggles. His eyes bore into yours even though he’s the length of your torso away. “I though this was a first, not an only…”

“Good.” You sound giddy. “Just checking.”

“Silly,” he shakes his head at you. You thrust your hips up and laugh at the expression he makes when you bump his face, like he’s dazed. He squeezes your thigh harshly where he’s holding you. 

“Behave, sunshine. It’s feeling dangerous down here.” 

“I thought you were enjoying it.” 

“I am.” A bite at your hip. “And I’m seriously getting the munchies, so just…” You don’t understand the end of his sentence, the words muffled against your skin as he starts eating you out.

It’s heavenly. High as you are, in love as you are, you think you’re on cloud nine. This gets you wondering where such an odd expression even comes from. It seems so random. 

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

“Why do you think it’s called being on cloud nine?”

He pulls back. The whole lower half of his face shines in your slick. 

“Why are you thinking about that right now? Am I that bad at this?”

“Bad? It’s amazing.” You ruffle his hair in your groping hands. “Which is why I’m on cloud nine, which is why I’m thinking about that right now. Your hair is as soft as clouds, Moons.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

“Can you keep going now? It felt so good. Your mouth is ridiculous.” You thrust your hips up at him again.

“Ridiculous and bossy,” he complains, but he’s smiling hard, and before you can even think of a retort, he does as you bid. 

His mouth takes its time between your legs. He spends eternities teasing you: mouthing at the tops of your thighs, licking up your bikini line, nipping at your clit without giving it the attention he knows you want from how loud you whine every time he gives it the slightest graze. He loves all over your vulva, not leaving any part untouched, unworshipped. His tongue fucks into your entrance languidly; it swirls there. He licks your labia, sucks on it, gives the same attention to your clit when you moan loud enough. He travels back and forth, seemingly enjoying all of it too much to stick to any one attention too long. The next time he lands on your clit, he prolongs it.

Your legs shake; your back arches; your whines grow loud before turning strangled, and Remus takes his cue to reserve the relaxed approach for later. He picks up his pace, gripping your thighs tightly and shakes his whole face into you, alternating between licking and sucking rhythmically at your clit. You cum hard, and it feels like it goes on for minutes. 

With your eyes closed, you truly feel like you’re floating, your only anchor to the world Remus Lupin where you feel his body attached to yours. 

You’re laughing in pleasure, and the laughs turn to pants as you slowly, slowly come down. You love coming down to an already high baseline, and you giggle at the sensation of relaxing into a still heightened state. 

It suddenly strikes you it feels like it’s been years since you talked to Remus, heard his mellifluous voice, and you startle your eyes open searching for him. 

You see him immediately. He��s gazing at you with equal parts ardor and adoration, but when he sees your expression, his shifts to concern. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” He rushes to hover just above you. His face is close to yours again, though it’s scanning all over your body. His hand holds your face gently, his other arm holding him up. “Did something feel bad? Does something hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m fine, Moons, I’m fine,” you rush to reassure. “I just missed you,” you explain.

“Missed me?” His eyes shoot to yours. “I’m right here, love; what do you mean you missed me?” He can’t help a subtle giggle, and his adoring expression takes back its rightful place on his beautiful face. 

“I just thought I hadn’t seen you in too long.” Your hands caress his face, thread through his hair. “Or heard your voice…” 

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m right here. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” you smile. 

“I love you.” 

You’ve heard them before, but never like this, and they’re the best words in the world, in the universe. 

“Remus,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes intensely of you, and you laugh into the kiss. “I’m sorry I got you so… so slicky.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “Means it was good, right?”

“Beyond. ‘Good’ is like… like one colour out of a whole rainbow for how that just felt.” 

He’s beaming down at you and kisses you again, lingering there. 

When he finally separates from you, his caressing thumb comes to wipe some slick at the corner of your lip. You grab his hand and kiss each of his fingers lightly. Then you lick down his long index finger, your tongue finding and following a scar up his hand to his wrist.

You look into his eyes, and he’s staring at you, transfixed. 

“I was thinking about your fingers when you were rolling the spliff.” 

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh. 

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

“How beautiful your hands are. How they’d feel touching me… How your fingers would feel inside me…”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wanna find out?”

“Yes,” you moan. 

“Get them nice and wet for me, and I’ll show you.” They’re already lingering at your lips, but he slowly pushes them in. You welcome them enthusiastically and lazily suck on them, swirl your tongue around them.

“Fuck.” His voice is low. “Fuck, I want to feel everything there is to feel with you.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your mouth still full. 

Remus takes his fingers out, kisses you, and lets his mouth stay on yours as his fingers trace down your chin, your chest, your stomach steadily, leaving a wet path. When they reach between your legs, you squirm in anticipation. 

He rubs a couple of tight, slow circles on your clit. You’re so sensitive, and it feels amazing. You mewl into his mouth where it still hovers just above yours. 

“Ready, my sunshine?” 

“Mmhhmm.”

Remus pushes two fingers into you ever so slowly. You release a low, slow whine the whole time he takes to press in. He gives you gentle kisses, eating it up. When his fingers are in to the hilt, you wonder how you didn’t feel devastatingly empty every moment of your life before this one. When he adds a third, you’re sure you will every moment after.

You clench purposefully around him, and he moans into your mouth. Closing your eyes again, it’s the easiest thing to let yourself be consumed by the sensations, by Remus. 

When he curls his fingers inside you, you clench again, this time automatically. You grip his hair and clutch his back, your arms pulling his body close to yours. 

The spot he starts massaging feels like it’s a blazing fire, but everywhere else you’re connected, your chests, your mouths, is scattered scalding embers.

You’re savouring every second, every sensation, already feeling another high building but relishing in the time it’ll take to get there. 

You run your hands down Remus’s back, feeling the bumps of his scars, the grooves of his defined muscles. For the first time all afternoon, you feel a desire to hurry… 

You start moving your hips to meet his rhythm, eager, even more than for your own climax, for your turn to take your time on him. 

[diremoone]

“how i wonder” | r. sukuna

it’s been ages since he’s celebrated any sort of birthday or holiday. but here he is, with the girl that’s best friends with his little brother, at her apartment with Chinese takeout and watching a Halloween movie on Christmas. and it’s nice, until the power goes out and he’s left with his own thoughts.

part one | part two | part three

w — modern! au, fluff, age gap, older man/younger woman, Sukuna is 36 & Reader is 22/23, slowburn, pining (on Sukuna’s end), Sukuna thinks too damn much in this one but he’s so intrigued by reader he can’t help it haha, celebrating Christmas solely to feel happy and not lonely (sorta; on both ends), this was originally named “snow sparrow” but then was unhappy with it lmao, and many other tags I may have forgotten lmao

[ divider credit @/inklore ]

A man as wealthy as him shouldn’t be seen outside of the fancy home and set of cars he owns. His bank account is big, too big to be standing in the elevator of a simple apartment complex. Although the place is nice, he thinks. It’s not older than him and dilapidated and run down like some awful things he’s seen, nor was it built fresh and fancy and made to be super expensive. It was simple, and a despite liking the finer things in life, he found the simplicity rather… nice for a change.

This was only half-scheduled: meeting you at your place for the holiday. You’d been with Yuuji for a final essay assignment before the school break. Nothing major, just helping him edit grammatical errors and fix his repetitive word usage. That was two weeks ago; two weeks have passed since you made an offhand comment about “two bored people being bored together” for the the holiday.

Sukuna would never deny he wouldn’t outright admit it either that his little brother living with him brought something great into his life: a woman that he enjoyed challenging him, bringing him a new sense of vigor for life beyond the seven sins he was accustomed to.

His hands seem to be sweaty, though he’d like to think it was because of the several bags of Chinese takeout in his large hand. His left? Probably from having his phone in his hand too much. Yeah, that sounded right. He has no reason to be nervous. Why should he be? No need to dwell on it any further.

He passes by only maybe four or five people on his way up to your apartment that’s on the top floor. The few people he does encounter don’t meet his gaze; instead either intimidated or dumbstruck by his monstrous height and imposing aura and can only make a quick glance at him, probably wondering what such a person like him, especially as big as him, was doing in such a simplistic, plain apartment complex.

Sukuna eyeballs the door numbers, even on the left and odd on the right. Yours is four doors down on the right, 407 if he remembers correctly.

No, he remembers perfectly. Why wouldn’t he?

Sukuna knocks twice and readjusts the bags of warm food in his other hand. He catches himself shifting his feet underneath him like a nervous schoolgirl and almost cusses at himself, had it not been for the tiny metallic click of a lock.

You seem surprised, bewildered slightly that he’s really standing in front of your apartment door. Like you hadn’t actually expected him to take you up on the half-joking offer of spending the holidays together as two “lonely people.” You’re essentially a deer in headlights.

But a beautiful deer in headlights.

He can smell the subtle scent of lavender from you, a smell he hadn’t expected, but was certainty… entranced by it, and with a hint of something fruity mixed in there as well. The soft, navy blue sweater leans slightly more off of your left shoulder, revealing the black bra strap underneath. The black leggings you’re wearing make images go through his head that he’s tried to keep in behind the doors of his office and bedroom. You don’t even have to wear makeup, even try in the slightest to look as beautiful as you do. You’re natural, and you’re not afraid of it. You’re already confident in your own skin, even at your younger age. And heavens, does he love it.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.” Just like he thought. “But come on in. That’s smells good.”

Sukuna doesn’t get to see the cartoon cow slippers you’re wearing until he’s taking off his own shoes at your front door. His mouth quirks up in a small grin.

Adorable.

“Food can go on the table,” you say, gesturing to the low, long and flat coffee table in front of the couch. “I’ll get drinks. Sorry if you don’t like tea, but that’s all I got.”

“That’s fine.” His voice sounds almost foreign to himself as he stands in an unfamiliar place. But at the same time, he thinks it fits. Like he belongs here in this simplistic but nice apartment of yours, here with you having dinner and spending- You know what, he can stop thinking for a moment and focus on the present.

He’s in deep thought as he takes in the expanse and decor of your home further. It’s nice, definitely nicer than what he expected. His eyes take it all in, but finishes when his eyes land on the cute little Christmas tree tucked away in the corner beside the door to the patio, with tiny, glittery ornaments twinkling as the interwoven, multicolored lights shine against them.

God, you’re almost too cute.

But he couldn’t help but wonder for a small moment how you were faring expenses for this place, alongside groceries and going to school most of the time.

“You must manage your finances well to live here,” he hums.

“I’m not as dirt poor as I used to be, I’ll say that,” you reply. “But even then, being stingy will always be ingrained into my DNA.”

“Even if you have the world at your feet?”

You point to him with the index finger wrapped around your cup of tea, smiling. “Keyword: always~ World or not, the bare necessities are fine for me.”

He swallows down what your words do to him and tries to keep a straight face. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the way you inadvertently say you’ll always feel like you’ll never have anything to desire or genuinely want outside of pure necessity. Sukuna doesn’t like how natural it sounds, how uncaring you are towards wanting more than what you have now. He knew you were like this somewhat, but not to this extent. It makes him… a little angry.

So, now he knows the diamond necklace he bought you won’t be received like he wants it to be.

Guess I’ll have to save it for another time, he notes tactfully, watching you settle the food on the table and hop onto the couch and get comfortable.

The ambience of your home is a change of pace Sukuna didn’t know he needed. Until now.

He’s a giant, giant man, so he takes up most of the couch, even with it being relatively large in itself. You don’t seem to mind however, with the way your feet are barely a centimeter away from touching his leg.

“Any movie or show preferences?”

“Anything but Yellowstone.”

You snort. “What do you have against Yellowstone?”

“Dialogue’s too goddamn fake.”

You toss your head back and let out a boisterous laugh, giggling like a madwoman.

“So, the Powerpuff Girls then?”

“You’re not five.”

“Everyone has an inner child.”

Sukuna grumbles. “Just put it on fuckin’ Yellowstone.”

You throw your hands up in mock surrender, right hand only a few fingers lifted from holding the remote. “How about… Squid Game?”

“For a Christmas show? You’re weird as hell.”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

Sukuna chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ll let you decide.”

The spooky movie is ultimately what you choose, and Sukuna finds it nothing short of amusing. He’s not fully interested in the movie, mostly interested in you and the quirkiness that made you choose such a movie on a day like this. His eyes flicker between you and the movie, watching you munch down on the lo mein.

It’s been ages since Sukuna has allowed himself to indulge in relaxation, allowed his mind to think of absolutely nothing but the childish movie in front of him that was picked out for him.

One would think a man like him would let his attorneys and the supervisors directly underneath him do all of the thinking for him while he bathed in his own riches. Sukuna did, yes; he used to. But he knows that one step too far into indulgence could mean the end of everything he put all of his blood and sweat into. And that was why he was so involved in his business, rather than let someone else handle it.

But here he was: indulging himself. (But it wasn’t the same as being on a yacht with women somewhere in the Caribbean.) Perhaps the difference was it wasn’t indulgence of sin, but rather the indulgence of peace and quiet; the desire for more than the company of a one-night stand.

You certainly deserved better than any sort of degrading, essentially whore-like treatment the women he used to be around were given and treated themselves as. You were nothing like them, not even slightly; you would never willingly to jeopardize your morals and dignity, not even for a chance to be with someone like him, as wealthy as him. That kind of interest was on the back-burner. As much as he hated it, he respected it just as much.

Sukuna half-watches the movie as he eats the takeout, not having seen it since one of his first girlfriends as a teenager introduced him to it. It was never important, never intriguing enough for him — nothing but a waste. But now, since you chose it, now it was enough for him to watch it. He finds he enjoys Jack Skellington, amused by his desire to take over Christmas Town. He also feels some sort of similar between him and Jack, regarding Jack’s interest in Sally and him… with you.

“You want a refill?” you ask suddenly, drawing the man from his thoughts. Sukuna looks down, seeing that he was almost out of the tea. Had he been so deep in his own thoughts he didn’t know he’d been sipping away at the drink? He almost scoffs in disbelief.

“If you don’t mind,” he replies. But he figures he’s going to need to use the restroom soon.

“Bathroom’s first door on the left,” you say, getting up after pausing the movie. He’s dumbstruck for a moment. Were you a mind reader?

Sukuna watches you in the reflection of the television. Even just refilling the drinks, you manage to enamor him. You seem so poised, yet so uncaring that someone of his status was sitting in your living room, watching a corny Halloween movie for Christmas. Perhaps being so uncaring went hand-in-hand with how poised and calm you were? There shouldn’t be any other explanation than that.

But why? He wondered what made you unlike the other women, even ones at your age that were nothing but a flustered mess at the mere sight of him. Why weren’t you the same?

He excuses himself to the bathroom and makes it quick. He sees the bottle of lavender body wash, then notices the shampoo, conditioner — the fruity smell he inhaled earlier. With a quick glance, Sukuna sees no perfume either, which perplexes him.

There’s no way she could possibly… Sukuna ponders, but doesn’t finish the thought. And all of a sudden, the lights flicker, hard. It’s something that’s been happening for the last hour or so, but it’s been something he’s ignored until now.

Sukuna ambles back into the living room, seeing the lights dim just as hard as a few seconds ago. Your still in the kitchen, but narrow your eyes slightly at the darkened lights.

“I didn’t see this place as having bad electricity,” he hums, sitting to face the TV, continuing to watch you in the reflection.

“It doesn’t,” you reply. “I suspect the snowstorm’s fixing to get bad enough to knock the power out soon. Now would probably be a good time to leave. I can still see a few snow plows out.”

“I’ll pass,” he replies coolly. “Besides, two cold and lonely souls are better than one.”

He doesn’t know why you let out a tiny snort and giggle, but you do. (A little flower of pride wants to bloom in his chest.)

You lift the lid to the slow cooker and stir. The smell of chocolate reaches his nose after you seal it.

“It’s almost done,” you suddenly speak, “if you’re done watching my reflection in the TV, would you like some hot chocolate?”

Busted. Sukuna knows that he’s now the deer in headlights; his heart thumps harder in embarrassment like a schoolgirl’s would.

“How sweet is it?”

“I’ve no idea. I fucked around with the recipe, so we’ll just have to find out.”

A sudden click is heard, and all the lights fade instantly. It’s completely dark, pitch black almost that neither you nor Sukuna can see in front of yourselves. He moves to stand, but you interject. “Sit, please. I don’t need your big ass knocking my shit over. Nor you getting a concussion.”

Sukuna laughs. “You have it covered then?”

“Could walk this place if I was blind,” you joke with a small snicker.

He watches you find four different candles to light up your apartment, one each for the kitchen and bathroom, and two for the living room. You disappear into your bedroom down the hall for a few moments, then you come back with a surprising, heaping mess of blankets hiding your form from nearly head-to-toe.

“Help me, please? Don’t let it fall on the food.”

Sukuna stands and his big arms wrap around the bundle of blankets, lifting them from you with ease. You pluck one from his grasp and quickly put it over the couch for extra warmth. You’re not about to freeze your ass off with him here.

You get under the blankets fairly quick. It takes nearly two king-sized ones you’ve had tucked away to cover the colossal man that is Ryomen Sukuna.

“Think the food is still warm?”

“Barely.”

“Are you gonna finish the lo mein then?” you ask.

“You can have it.” He half wishes he hadn’t eaten before he came so he didn’t seem so… uninterested in the food.

You have absolutely no shame devouring the remaining food as much as you possibly can in front of him. You eat as much as you can, but there’s still enough of the food left for him if he wants it. It just a matter of it getting cold, you think.

The temperature drops faster than you anticipate though. When you chuck the empty box of noodles into the trash from the living room (you made it, huh, that’s weird) a gust of wind rattles the patio doors, seemingly almost shaking the foundation of the complex. You hear a hum of surprise from the older man next to you as you huddle under the covers more. You shudder from the onslaught of the cold.

Sukuna sighs heavily. He pulls his arm from the blankets “Come ‘ere.”

He almost laughs at the blanched expression on your face. But after a few moments, you cave, scooting yourself closer to him until you two were practically touching thighs.

You squeak as he lifts one of the blankets with one hand and you with the other, trapping you under the second layer.

You shake your head and snort. “God, you’re shameless.”

Sukuna belts out a boisterous laugh. “Shame has never come easy for me.”

You scoff playfully. “I’m sure it hasn’t.”

“Nor does it for you,” he retorts.

And then you admit something that’s going to be on his mind for the rest of his time here. And perhaps for days after this, too: “Mine is more of a learned habit.”

Another gust of bitter cold shakes the patio doors again. You shiver. “Jesus, I didn’t expect it to get this cold.”

“Or for the power to go out.” He huffs. Like second nature, for both of you, he pulls you closer, and you lean into his massive body, taking in the heat his body.

Goodness, you think, closing your eyes, he’s a furnace…

Today certainly hadn’t gone as he expected. The last thing he was anticipating was a snowstorm blowing out the electrical system for several cities, snow falling several good feet and keeping him in the apartment of the woman he’s fallen for.

But you’re what is consuming his mind.

You’re on his lap, eyes closed and resting your head on his chest. You’re so small. Regardless of height, virtually anyone would be smaller than him; he’s a behemoth of a man, yes he knows it.

You, compared to him, are simply tiny, like a bird in the hands of a giant. So delicate, so small and cute. But as delicate as you are, you’re not glass. You’re small like a sparrow, but at the same time you desire freedom, using your wings to fly wherever and do whatever, regardless of how hard life would make your wings have to flap. Your soul isn’t easy to chain down… It’s beautiful.

“Does your brain always run a billion miles a minute this late?”

He grumbles. “Sleep, would you?”

“Your brain has no depth, does it?” you say. Then you ask, “Are you even okay with me sleeping on you?”

“If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be in this position, would we?”

You yawn in reply, nestling your head comfortably on his torso. A small “okay” leaves your lips, and you seemingly have no problem steadying your breath and falling asleep against his chest. It’s nice, being that way for a good few minutes. Well, until you prove you’re not asleep like he thought.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Sukuna almost jumps and cusses, “Goddamn it.” You seem to know that you’ve startled him and laugh in return.

You keep conversation easy; although the two of you talk anything but what is on his mind. That’s not something he’s ready for. He’s still sorting out his own feelings, seeing if they’re beyond just being enthralled with you and your personality. Seeing if what he’s feeling is just high intrigue for you as a person, or whether what he’s feeling is going to lead to something more, beyond intrigue and fascination.

Because he knows that you won’t be able to stay forever. He knows that you, your soul, isn’t going to be easily bound by just anyone. He knows that you want to be unbound, he sees it in your eyes and hears it in your voice; he sees the desire to live freely in the way you carry yourself, the way you act and behave. But holy shit; does he want to be the one to change that.

You carry conversation easy, but eventually you fall asleep on him. The hot chocolate in the slow cooker is forgotten, but he’s sure it’ll be just as good in morning.

Sukuna, as he closes his eyes, wonders about the things you want. Where you’d want to go and the things you want to do. That kind of talk, however, is reserved for a time where there’s a deeper connection between the two of you. It’s reserved for a time where your walls are down and you’re no longer on guard, no longer having your walls built higher than heaven and deeper than hell.

For now, you two are two lonely souls celebrating Christmas, cuddled up to one another for the sake of warmth and nothing more during a sudden blackout.

It would be ludicrous to wonder if you’ve ever wanted to be loved and cherished, married to someone that would cradle your head and tilt it back to kiss you with the utmost devotion a human heart could give.

Now wouldn’t it?

a/n: I know that this is slowburn and everything, but it feels… superbly subpar? pls let me know if you guys think otherwise. this went about 85% of the original plot I had in mind so that’s a plus haha. I have full intent of picking up a bit on the romance aspect (of reader beginning to develop feelings) of this series in the next chapter, which briefly takes place after this one (I promise there’ll be at least one kiss)

—

taglist: (basically everyone that rb’d and commented on the first [for those that tagging worked on] ;; closed)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

can you make a fic about yan!fboyjk and yan!cheaterjk for me? i don’t have a specific plot in my mind so you can do anything to your liking :))

Pairing | cheater!fboy!yan!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 4.242

Warnings | +18, talk about marriage and cheating, smut, dubcon, fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (f. receiving), Jungkook is sweet but also scary, angst, forced relationship, manipulation

Yandere genre is very strong, if you don't like it, don't read. If you are not of age, don't read. I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You want to leave Jungkook, but he is not of the same opinion, It doesn't matter if he did wrong, you are his.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Thank you for the request! I hope you like the story, please ask me for more stories, I am happy to write for you 🥰

You and Jungkook have been always sure about your future, you would get married and live happily ever after like in the most beautiful fairy tale. So why are you crying? Why do you refuse to take your eyes off that scene? Your brain refuses to recognize those angelic features that had caught you in a dense network of colorful, sparkling dreams as a child. That cannot be the same man who swore to you in front of all your relatives eternal love, with a ring in his hand and a wonderful, sweet smile drawn on his lips. Yet who can it be but Jungkook, the man who at that moment holds in his arms a woman unknown to you? You went to the gym to surprise your boyfriend, he had been disappearing for hours for some time under the guise of training for the wedding, he wanted to keep in shape to be perfect for you… just for you. But there he is, at the entrance of the gym whispering something in the ear of the blond-haired woman, who in return smiles cheekily at his joke, running a hand over his strong, trained chest. They seem very close, there is definitely confidence between them. You finally look away, feeling incredibly wrong, and take a step back, then another and another.

You start running in the opposite direction, all to forget that scene, to forget Jungkook's smug eyes staring at a woman who is not you. When you get home you feel incredibly weak, you sit almost collapsing on the bed, in your brain a bunch of ideas start swirling around in your head, ideas that block your breath in your throat. It's not even the first time it's happened, you realize, it's happened before that you've noticed something strange in your relationship, but you've never given it any credence. You don't want to think anymore. Forget, forget, forget.

"Smells good, love," the man leaves a sweet kiss on your neck, pressing his soft lips to caress your skin, "Is my girl getting ready to spoil me yet?" Jungkook holds you tightly in his arms, practically purring against your body. You find yourself smiling between his cuddles, continuing to stir the meat stew simmering in the pot. "You're just saying that because you're hungry," you chuckle gently. You found yourself shaking like a leaf in anxiety for days, believing that sooner or later Jungkook would come to you to tell you that he was leaving you for another woman, but none of that happened, Jungkook is still the same, showering you with attention and adoring you, and still wanting to marry you. Perhaps you had misunderstood the situation, that blond woman must be a friend and you jumped to conclusions, you should have asked Jungkook for explanations, but you still feel something holding you back from doing so. It is fear, a deep and treacherous fear.

"I say this because you are too good to me," he whispers seriously, causing you to turn toward him. His serious eyes chain yours and you feel lost, watching the wonder of that glittering obsidian staring at you encompassing you with possession, Jungkook licks his lips, the rosy soft tip furrowing those inviting petals before he moves closer to you, the electricity between your bodies bursting into lightning bolts as your lips meet, softly joining in an adoring kiss full of dominance. Somehow Jungkook manages to turn off the stove behind you, grabbing your head in a grip that forces you to deepen the kiss under the pressure of his hot tongue pressing repeatedly on your lips to demand access to your mouth. In each touch of Jungkook you lose yourself, accepting the force with which he takes your lips moaning and grabbing a few wavy strands of hair between your fingers. His tongue entwines with yours creating a wet and sensual dance, feeling him slow and hot inside your mouth turns you on in an incredible way. His taste is dope and Jungkook thinks the same of yours, sucking your tongue like delicious candy and smiling. It is always like that, if he wants something, he takes it. And you at that moment happily offer him your body, your feelings and your soul. They are all his.

He grips your hips in his hands, pressing you against his hot body, he needs you and with trembling legs you leave him in charge, he takes you to the couch where he makes you lie down leaving behind a trail of light, soft kisses along your jaw and neck, he stares at you now with half-closed eyes, the man finds himself thinking that you probably don't know how much you are actually giving him. With your clothes now on the floor and your panties lowered to your knees you let your head fall back, clenching your lower lip between your teeth, gentle waves of pleasure envelop your body, Jungkook with one hand travels up your belly to stop at your breasts, which he squeezes possessively as he wraps his tongue around your swollen clitoris, licking and sucking it repeatedly before poking your soggy slit with his fingertips, entering it only slightly, just enough to let your sweet essence out and lick it away with his tongue and enjoy the taste of you that has always driven him wild. You're getting closer and closer to your first orgasm, and you know it won't be the only one; you squeeze his head between your soft, smooth thighs, but he forces you to stay still by pushing his palms on your delicate skin, continuing to eat away at your quivering folds until a wonderful, satisfying sensation grips your belly and explodes into millions of tiny stars behind your closed eyelids.

"Jungkook! S-stop!" you shake your hips trying to make him stop and he stops only after sucking your sensitive pearl against his palate one last time. Kissing your folds and moving up your skin he stops at your belly, licking slowly down to your navel and you shudder still shaken from your orgasm, he only begins to remove his pants and boxers once he reaches your breasts, where he breathes in the scent of your soft skin and takes a delicate nipple in his mouth, attaching it and beginning to caress it with the tip of his tongue, sending delicious shivers throughout your body. "Open those beautiful legs for me, sweetheart," he gives you two light pats on the knee and makes you spread your legs wide, satiating his hungry, smug eyes. He loves the power you let him wield over you. You lick your lips at the sight of his straining, cum-shiny cock, wanting to taste it, to feel that length filling your mouth and leaving you breathless, but Jungkook pushes you back against the couch firmly, shaking his head amusedly. "Later, love," he murmurs finally taking off the tight t-shirt he is wearing, you find yourself gazing at his defined and gorgeous abs with the driest of throats, he doesn't let you touch him to your disappointment, you want to caress his chest, play with his sensitive nipples, but with a firm, hard kiss he guides himself between your legs, sinuously sliding into your wet entrance with his thick, hard cock, you widen your eyes and a deep moan leaves your throat. Your sensitive folds vibrate delightedly with each of his slow, firm lunges, your arms wrap around his neck and your hips move with his, in the room you can only hear the sounds of your bodies coming together and your wheezing moans, Jungkook grunts in your ear something after a particularly hard thrust and your eyes narrow, the thick tip of his cock is hitting a particularly sensitive spot that makes more moisture gush from your pussy.

"Jungkook, I'm coming again," you whimper softly inhaling his scent, the man nods as he continues to press into that sensitive area, and you move his hair behind his ear before leaving a kiss on one side of his neck. Then something makes you miss a beat. You hadn't noticed it before because it was hidden by his rather long hair, but just below his ear is a mark. It looks like a mark- a hickey -the color is tending toward purple and your heartstrings tug painfully.

You drive your nails into his shoulders with frost enveloping your limbs, you don't want to look any further, tears accumulate in the corners of your eyes and Jungkook blames your oncoming climax, he kisses them drying them with his lips and that gesture makes you scream internally, why is he so sweet and attentive? It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. With his free hand he reaches down between your bodies beginning to circle with his thumb around your clit, his pelvis moves faster, he is coming, soon he would fill you with his cum and for the first time ever you find yourself faking an orgasm with Jungkook, your delicate walls tighten around his cock, accompanying him to the end of his pleasure, but you feel nothing more. Jungkook collapses on top of you, kissing your forehead and cheeks, then finishing with your lips, but your heart is shattered. The man you love does not actually love you. "I love you, Y/N," he says, a lie you are no longer willing to believe.

There was always something wrong with the attention Jungkook was getting at school, you often attended the same classes and you always got the evil eyes of the other girls on you, you had even tried to ask the boy why, but he had always explained that they were simply jealous of your relationship and you were not supposed to pay attention to them. And you had believed him, after all, you always believed him. But now you regret giving him all that power.

"Jungkook, do you have another woman?" Your wedding is only a month away, and you can't marry a man who doesn't love you. Jungkook from his side almost chokes on his energy drink, he stares at you as if you had two heads instead of one, you are in the parking lot of his gym, you went to pick him up and you can tell he had recently showered, the ends of his hair are still damp and curled. "Shit, Y/N! Is that something to tell your future husband? We're getting married in exactly one month, heck no! I don't have another woman!" he blurts out seemingly speechless, you tighten your lips in response. "Hey ... Baby, what's going on?" he whispers softly, trying to take your chin between his fingers, but you quickly flinch away from him, who rolls his eyes in response. "What's going on is this, Jungkook," you growl, suddenly lifting some dark locks from his neck, exposing a small but remarkable detail. There are slight bite marks that are healing, you had noticed it a few days before, but you didn't have the courage to point it out, until now.

You're tired, you don't want to put up with such a situation anymore. "Stop teasing me, I hate it when you're so sweet to me, when it's clear that you're having fun behind my back with who knows how many other women!" you shout with glazed eyes, Jungkook immediately losing the confusion etched on his face, finally letting a serious and icy look shine through. "This is not the place to talk about this, Y/N. Let's go home," he hisses, not even trying to deny it one more time. This shocks you deeply. He doesn't seem to care that you finally know the truth. "I really think this is the right place, instead" you don't want to cry, so you hold back your tears by chasing them back, "You lied to me and betrayed me, I don't want to marry a man like you" the disgust in your voice makes him wince, if he thought he was going to solve things by using some bullshit catchphrases, well, he was very wrong. You make to get out of the car, you would have taken a cab rather than be with him again in that cramped and stifling space, you want to vent your emotions in a more secluded place, but Jungkook tightens a hand around your wrist.

"Don't you want to marry a man like me? My love, you may not realize that you have no other choice! We have always been together and we will always be together! You swore it to me more than once and you even did it in front of our parents!" he exclaims fiercely, tightening his grip painfully, you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. "You're hurting me," you murmur terrified by his sudden change. "Well, maybe you deserve it, don't you think?" he asks cruelly. You know Jungkook particularly cares about his parents' judgment, but you didn't think he would go that far to make them happy, so a worse doubt germinates in you. "You never loved me! You only want to be with me because our parents always wanted it that way" you want to vomit, were you really that blind? Jungkook quickly shakes his head, "Of course I love you, even though you're making me angry with this absurd talk of yours." "You don't love me, if you really loved me you wouldn't cheat on me with other women" you find the strength to break free from his grip, your pulse is red and pumping blood quickly. "I-" he freezes, his eyes dark with fury, "You don't understand, you can't blame me alone for all this!"

Jungkook knows he was wrong; in fact, he wouldn't have even wanted to start. But when you got together you were young and you had insisted on losing your virginity only once you had reached adulthood and thus the necessary maturity, you did not want your first time to be driven only by the pure hormonal instincts of two teenagers, and Jungkook had never had the courage to insist, because you seemed quite convinced about your ideas. But he needed what you were unwilling to give him, and so he cheated on you for the first time in a school bathroom after class, and he had hated himself no matter how many more countless times, but the more he got the more he wanted more, and even when you had finally given yourself to him, cheating had become an impossible vice to let go of, and the idea that you would always be left waiting for him was particularly tempting. But now it no longer seems that way; you want to leave, to leave him, and he cannot allow it. "You drove me crazy with your constant 'We're too young' or 'Let's wait a little longer'!" You open your mouth wide in shock, "No, don't blame me! You never told me you were against my ideas, and anyway, that's no reason to betray a person you say you love."

You have to get out of that car, you can't wait a second longer. The situation is worse than you thought, he has been cheating on you since the beginning of your story, you are nauseated. "You disgust me," you say before you open the door, you turn to get out, but suddenly your vision goes black, you feel Jungkook press his hand against your nose and mouth, before wrapping an arm around your neck.

When you wake up you realize you are no longer in the car, but you are not even in your house. The only thing you remember is Jungkook making you faint, then nothingness. You look around and what you see is a small room, the walls are lilac and it's littered with puppets of all kinds and colors, the mirror in front of the single bed you're lying on makes it clear the way you've been dressed. You're wearing a high school uniform and your hands are tied to the headboard, you widen your eyes and try to free yourself by pulling at the fabric used to hold you like that. "You've woken up." Jungkook makes his appearance from the bathroom connected to the small bedroom, he is adjusting his dark blue tie and you also notice his attire, he is dressed in a school uniform just like you. "What does all this mean, is this a joke?" you hiss less than amused, but Jungkook doesn't flinch. "I've come to a conclusion," he says as he approaches the bed, you try to get as far away from him as possible by bringing your free legs to your chest, you don't recognize the man in front of you, "I don't want to cheat on you, ever again."

He seems sincere, but you don't trust him. He has broken your heart too many times to deserve trust from you again. "I don't believe you, you're a liar," you say in fact, Jungkook tightens his lips. "I have my conditions," he says anyway, ignoring your words, "You'll still marry me and we'll make up for all the moments you made us miss," he murmurs dangerously, sitting down on the bed and letting a hand approach your thigh, you become an ice statue instantly, finally understanding the reason behind your uniforms. "You're crazy, I'm not going to marry you and we're not going to get anything back at all, to be honest I haven't had an orgasm with you in weeks, just the thought of a traitor like you touching me makes me lose the will to fuck," you murmur angrily, jerking away from his hand in a stinging manner. Jungkook narrows his eyes into two slits, he wanted to be nice to you, but you just don't understand. He's going to use forceful manners, then. "Why must you force me to hurt you, my love?" You look at him terrified, what does he mean?

"Jungkook, don't do anything you might regret, please." He grips your face hard in his hands, staring at you with those deep, dark pools you've always loved, pinning you in place before snapping a deep kiss. You stubbornly keep your lips tight, but Jungkook bites your lower lip forcing you to scream, his voluptuous tongue immediately making room in your mouth and groaning in protest as he plunders your oral cavity. "You'll change your mind, Y/N, by hook or by crook," he hums in your ear with a veil of amusement shining through his voice-who the hell is this man? Jungkook studies you carefully before running his hands over your hips, you shudder at his touch and his fingers stop above the buttons of your school blouse. "You will have only my body, Jungkook," you say in a colorless voice, trying to escape from that absurd reality, the boy opens your blouse, showing off the lace of your pink bra, he observes the graceful shape of your breasts longingly before returning his gaze to you. "I will have everything of you: soul, heart, body -- everything," he whispers before leaning over you, inhaling your scent straight from your bare skin.

"Where have you taken me?" "Haven't you figured it out yet?" You frown, then finally understand. It is his room from when he was a child, that means-. "We're at your parents' house." Jungkook nods. "Do you remember what happened in this room, Y/N?" Yes, you remember, but you don't want to say it out loud, that would make what Jungkook wants to do real. "You rejected me," he hisses suddenly, ripping your blouse off once and for all, you squeal in fright at his force and widen your eyes. He looks furious, his hands are shaking and his shoulders have stiffened under the weight of his fury, "I wanted you and you walked away! No matter how many times we did it when you made up your mind, you still rejected me and forced me to beg from other girls!" he exclaims, totally delirious before attaching his lips to the visible skin of your breasts, you wriggle trying to push him away, but he is too strong, Jungkook is not there with you. He is lost in his memories and blaming you for his betrayals.

Bitter tears accumulate in the corners of your eyes, it's not your fault. It's not your fault at all, but maybe... maybe if you had been more attentive to his needs, too, you would have been enough for him? When he grabs your pussy from above the fabric of your panties you arch your back against your will, his strong and powerful presence still has its hold on you and you tremble trying to stop yourself, you don't know if you are more scared or excited. "Jungkook-" "Say you're sorry," you widen your eyes. "What?" you gasp, his index finger going under the fabric and circling your slit. "Say you're sorry for rejecting me so many times, say you're sorry for all the times you made me feel like an ugly, worthless little boy!" You shake your head, "I never-" you groan, his index finger penetrating you and gently moving a few inches above your soaked entrance, you stiffen at the flame that suddenly invades your limbs. How does he still do this to you? After weeks spent in total apathy, it is now lighting you up in more ways than one, why?

Then you remember, " I don't want to cheat on you, ever again," are such simple words enough to get your body to react? Your body is corrupted by Jungkook, vibrating under his forbidden touch and practically purring, more moisture gushes from your slit, which widens to envelop the second finger Jungkook adds to his penetration, you are trembling trying not to push your hips against the boy, but it is harder than you thought. "I don't want you," you murmur, shaking your head, Jungkook looking at you firmly, tickling sensitive spots that only he knows and is able to reach. "Say it again as you come on my fingers, my love." An unsettling feeling of warmth swells in your lower abdomen. You deny it once more with your head, trying to stop your trembling legs, but it is too late, your walls tightening around his long, deft fingers, exploding in an orgasm you have longed for. "Why are you doing this to me?" you cry, moving your arms forcefully; Jungkook stops you, preventing you from hurting yourself with the ribbons that bind you.

"I wanted to make you pay for all the times you said no by making me feel like a poor, inexperienced fool," he says clutching your skirt with fingers smeared with your liquid pleasure, "But things got out of hand," he stammers, a stinger reaches your heart and your stomach sinks. You don't want to think about how many times he has devoted himself to another woman's body, it hurts too much. "You never told me about it," your words come out in a breathy voice, you try to hold back the sobs. Jungkook moves on top of you, "We will be happy, Y/N" he kisses your forehead moving between your legs, you feel him unzip his pants and enter you with one thrust, it is easy to enter you, you are completely wet and close your eyes listening to his rough, lustful sighs. His swollen cock moves penetrating you repeatedly, the bed moves under his precise and direct strokes and you squeeze your eyes shut, your clitoris throbbing and quivering seeking more direct stimulation and a sigh escapes your lips when the man presses his pelvis against your pubis, crushing your sensitive pearl while with the tip of his cock he reaches to stimulate a particularly receptive spot, you watch the strands of his hair sticking to your sweat-dampened forehead and his eyes begging you not to leave him.

"Y/N!" he moans your name while squinting, "Y/N!" he pushes harder between your soft walls and pulls with his arms on the ropes that keep you tied to the bed. "Jung-" you bite your tongue, refusing to moan his name, but the boy disagrees and demands that you look at him. "I'm sorry, I'll never cheat on you again, I mean it," he whimpers into your ear, "I only love you, only you," he moans and you find yourself closing your eyes, not wanting to give in, not really wanting to, but... "I'm-I'm sorry...for rejecting you" you stammer, pleasure rising once again and the hope of mending your relationship dancing in your chest, "I'm sorry for making you feel unfit." "The others... I just wanted to prove myself" thus confesses his feeling of inadequacy, you know you shouldn't forgive him anyway, but you love him too much, "But now I realize it's only to you that I have to prove something, forgive me" and so you let yourself be corrupted even in your soul. Just a gesture of your head is enough to allow him to come deeply inside you, your breath quickening as you reach for him clutching him in the deepest part of you, throwing your head back. Moments later he unties the knot that binds you to the bed and kisses your wrists softly, murmuring about how perfect you are for him and that once we were married, all would be forgotten because he only wants you. A tear slides down your cheek.

[ghcstao3]

marine biologist/diver!ghost x selkie!soap au Thoughts

marine biologist ghost who, whenever he has spare time, will go diving with some colleagues to collect trash from the ocean—because maybe it doesn’t make a huge, immediate impact, but it still means something is being done.

then one day while diving, ghost is accompanied by a seal. at first it only observes, and ghost is plenty happy to admire from afar, but then the seal is cozying up to him. it latches onto his leg, nudges him with its snout—even directs ghost and his group to trash that’s otherwise pretty well hidden, wedged beneath coral and rocks and sand.

it saddens ghost, just a little, when the sky starts getting dark and they have to head back. he doesn’t want to abandon his new friend—it’s rare they have wildlife hang around for this long—but unfortunately it’s not safe to wait any longer before going home.

but then the next time they’re able to go diving, the seal is there again. it plays at the same routine, helping out and goofing around, sticking dutifully by ghost’s side even when there’s others along with him. and time after time, it’s the same thing. no matter where the group is, the seal somehow always finds him. they end up lending it the nickname soap, after the odd amount of empty bottles of cleaning products the seal seems to locate for them.

it’s maybe a few months later that soap doesn’t show up, and it’s an instant cause for concern; there’s no reason soap should be missing. they’re in a similar area that the seal likely frequents, there’s no reason for soap to have moved or be huddled away with other seals to have pups.

the group worries, but there’s nothing they can do but theorize and assume as they carry out their regular chore. it’s only a once-off, by this point. maybe soap just didn’t feel like coming out to play just this one time.

but it happens again and again. soap doesn’t appear once, and it has the group of scientists worried sick. but without a tracker, or even a real idea of where soap might frequent when he’s not helping the group, there’s nothing they can do.

they return to shore later than usual one night. it’s completely dark by the time they dock, and ghost waves everyone ahead to go home because they’re all tired, he can manage clean-up by himself.

ghost is just about finished packing up when he sees the figure at the end of the dock. the marina is like a ghost town otherwise, nothing but the sound of turning waves and boats gentle bumping up against the port. ghost approaches slowly, not knowing what other business one could possibly have at the water this late.

“you lost, mate?” ghost wonders cautiously.

the figure steps closer, silver moonlight revealing some of his features. the man looks about ghost’s age, maybe younger—only it’s hard to tell with the haggard look on his face, as he nervously wrings his fingers and avoids ghost’s gaze.

“i’m… sorry i haven’t been around,” he apologizes, and ghost frowns. “someone… someone took my coat.”

ghost’s brow furrows. “i don’t… your coat? i’m not sure i underst—“

“my coat,” the man affirms. “i need it to swim. which is why i haven’t been able to help lately.”

not certain how it’s possible, ghost grows even more confused. he doesn’t get it—a coat to swim? being able to help? nothing makes sense.

“you’ve lost me,” ghost says, shaking his head. “wish i could help, but—“

as ghost tries to push past, the man seizes his arm. he peers up at ghost pleadingly, and while ghost had wanted to conclude the man was drunk or high or something—he hesitates, seeing that look.

“have you ever heard of selkies?” the man asks, an edge of desperation in his voice.

ghost shrugs. “sure i have.” he’s hardly well-versed in mythical creatures, but he knows the gist.

the man doesn’t say anything—just continues to look at ghost with those sad eyes, a plea for understanding like an explanation couldn’t be spoken aloud. so ghost thinks on it a moment.

the coat, the inability to swim without it. not helping out and not being there starting to sound like a reference to soap. to the seal.

ghost’s eyebrows nearly raise to his hairline in disbelief.

“you’re not really saying you’re soap, are you?”

maybe-soap frowns. “who’s that?”

right. “i mean the seal that’s been following our diving trips,” ghost clarifies. “and you’re saying… because your coat is gone—“

“taken,” soap corrects, “i couldn’t go. i wanted to find you, but i didn’t know how, and… and…”

soap looks frazzled, like his brain has disconnected from his mouth and hands in empty gestures in words trying to convey what he’s thinking.

ghost tentatively sets his crate of gear on the wooden planks of the dock before placing his hands on either one of soap’s shoulders. maybe the story isn’t all there, and maybe there’s still doubt in ghost’s head about any of it being the truth—but ultimately, ghost believes the man. believes it’s soap.

slowly, ghost says, “calm down, and tell me how i can help. we’ll get your coat back, yeah?”

soap offers him a shy, watery smile—but a smile nonetheless. he nods and begins to tell ghost everything.

it doesn’t take long before they’re hatching a plan to win back soap’s freedom.

[enwrites]

Cloud Nine (p.sh)

parings: brother’s bff!sunghoon x afab!reader

warning: 18+ MDNI !! not proofread (sorry for mistakes)

genre/cw: smut, e2l, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, sunghoon is a creep kinda, brother’s best friend trope, spit play, oral (male receiving), pillow riding, degradation, size kink, strength play, choking, breeding, spanking, sunghoon is pretty mean to reader, one year age gap, jay is your brother (lmk if anything was missed!)

synopsis: You and Sunghoon have never gotten along. Ever. Constant bickering and fights to the point your brother is fed up as well. What no one knew was how badly you wanted Sunghoon spewing those same words to your face in your bed. What happens when he sees something he shouldn’t have seen?

wc: 3.6k words

a/n: hi hi !! this is my first ever fic on here !! pls let me know how this was and im happy to receive any feedback <3 a hee fic is currently in the works, i just had sunghoon brain rot so i needed to let this one out LOL (update: part two coming soon ;))

[ masterlist ] [ part 2 ]

From as long as you remember, you have always hated your brother’s best friend— Park Sunghoon. Nothing about him amused you and you especially hated the way he always seems to be at your house every weekend. You couldn’t escape him. From his annoying laugh to his stupid ego, you hated everything.

But you couldn’t help but be so attracted to him. Yes, he was annoying but man was he just everything in a package. Tall and gorgeous… not to mention his insanely fit body. You couldn’t help but wonder how big he’d be, hovering over your small frame. But everything disappears in an instant the moment you hear loud knocks on your door. 

“Y/n can you get that! It’s Sunghoon!” your brother Jay yells at you from the kitchen. The knocks persist as you stay put, pretending to ignore your older brother as it was his friend anyways. Why should you open the door for a monster? “Y/n please, I’ll make you something to eat too,” your brother begs you. With a loud groan you mutter a “fine” and drag yourself off the couch, heading to the door to open it. Before he could loudly bang on the door once more, you pull the door open. He looks at you with a disgusted face. 

“Ugh, did not wanna see your face at the door,” he spits, walking past you making sure to bump your shoulder with his. You slam the door shut giving an annoyed smile back at him.

“If you had forgotten, this has been my house forever, you’re lucky I even open the door for heathens like you,” you spit back, your voice laced with venom. He squints his eyes at you, sticking his tongue out as he makes his way towards the kitchen. “Jay, can you tell your annoying little sister to shut the hell up for once oh my god,” Sunghoon complained to Jay as he walked into the Kitchen.

“How about you both shut the hell up,” Jay annoyedly said rolling his eyes as he put the pizza he’s been working on in the oven. He was never fond of the both of you constantly barking at one another. He thought maybe he was insane for thinking he felt some sort of tension between the two of you. He loved you both but seriously wished he could sew both of your mouths together whenever he felt like it. 

“HE STARTED IT!” You yelled in protest. You crossed your arms as you stood at the kitchen doorway, Sunghoon sticking his tongue out at you once again before turning to Jay. 

“I don’t care who started it, can you both just give me a single day of peace!” Jay exclaims letting out a sigh. A migraine was surely going to form sooner or later for him. Before you both can protest, he ushers the both of you out so that he can finish making the pizzas with some sanity left. You both grumpily make your way to the couch and sit on opposite ends. To your surprise, at least your favorite show was playing when you got back to your seat on the couch. 

“This show is so stupid, I’m changing it,” Sunghoon says as he reaches for the remote on the coffee table. Before he could get it, you immediately jumped up and grabbed the remote first.

“NO. This is my favorite show and my house, I’m not letting you change anything,” you loudly said to him. But he wasn’t going to let you go easily. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck if this is your favorite show or not, I wanna watch something else,” He spits back. With that, he lunges at you towards the remote. You hurriedly crawl back to where you were, making sure he couldn’t take the remote away from you. 

“Sunghoon stop it,” You struggled to let out as he was enclosing you on the couch. Your breath starts to hitch the closer he gets to you. You could feel him breathing on you. He pins you beneath him, his arms longer than yours as he reaches for the remote you try to hold behind your head. Sunghoon didn’t realize how compromising of a position you both were in until he finally reached for the remote in your hands and looked down at you.

There you were, under him, staring back at him with your doe eyes, crop top hiked up just a bit to where your bra was showing. He didn’t realize how short your shorts really were until now. Eying you up and down, he licks his lips. His thoughts were interrupted with you trying to get him off of you. You have come to your senses and realized how turned on he had just made you, immediately trying to push him off. He just pins your arms down more, inching closer to your ear.

“Stupid girls like you don’t deserve to do things they wanna do,” he whispers. His hot breath sends tingles down your body and you swear you get a little wetter. You try to push him off once more but he doesn’t budge. “Are you going to apologize to me for being so annoying now?” he asks. He looks at you, finding it amusing the way you’re struggling under him right now. He can’t help but think how you’d look naked under him. Sunghoon has always had a thing for you.

“Apologize for what? For your mother raising a dickface, that's you?” you bite back, rolling your eyes at him. Before he could say anything, Jay yells from

in the kitchen the pizzas are done. Sunghoon loosens his grip which gives you the perfect opportunity to push him down and onto the floor, scurrying your way towards your brother. Sunghoon gets up shaking his head… this wasn’t over for him.

Hours passed since your little altercation with Sunghoon earlier in the living room. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Your mind was racing and it didn’t help that he wore his stupid gray sweatpants once again. Thinking about the way he pinned you down and whispered in your ear was enough to get you excited again. With that, you take your shorts and crop top off, leaving you in just your lace undergarments underneath. You just so happened to put on a white matching set— Sunghoon’s favorite color.

To the thought of Sunghoon, you lean back down onto your bed and start to rub small circles on your panty covered clit. It’s embarrassing how wet you already were just thinking about him. You rub just a bit more, sliding your fingers up and down your pussy, feeling the wetness that pooled down there. But this wasn’t enough. You were so desperate and in need of something to satisfy you. You sit up, grabbing the second pillow beside you, putting it beneath you. 

Folding it just a bit, you straddle it. Slowly grinding down onto the pillow under you, imagining yourself riding Sunghoon. You hump the pillow in desperation, trying to get off. You grind and grind, wishing Sunghoon’s cock filled you up instead. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jay had fallen asleep to the movie he and Sunghoon were watching. Realizing that his friend was asleep, he decided to make his way to find you, just to mess with you again. He always found it so cute how annoyed you’d get to his teasing. But today was different, he wanted more. If it weren’t for Jay, he swears he would’ve taken you on the couch right there and then. Making his way down the long hall towards your room, he notices a faint light coming from the small crack of your door. He carefully steps closer and to his surprise, the sight before him was nothing he ever expected to see in a million years.

There you were, on your bed, wearing nothing but a skimpy lace lingerie set, grinding down on a pillow so desperately. He watches you, making sure he stays as quiet as possible to not get caught. There you were, humping a pillow, your hips grinding over and over, letting out the cutest sounds he has ever heard. Did you know your door was a bit cracked? Who cares, he was enjoying the view. 

Sunghoon palms himself as he watches you, not wanting to even blink in fear of missing the show. He just couldn’t believe this was happening. Before the realization of him being a creep watching you pleasure yourself through the crack of your door, that’s when he hears it. You had moaned his name. His dick twitched in his pants, painfully hard and needing to be released.

“S-Sunghoon, you feel so good,” you moaned, increasing your speed on the pillow. He swore he was gonna explode right then and there. He had to have you. But he knew he had to punish you as well. He pushes the door open even more and to his surprise you hadn’t noticed yet. Hell, you haven’t even noticed the fact that he closed the door before him as well.

Loss in your trance, Sunghoon watched you just for a bit before making his move. He clears his throat to get your attention. Startled, you urgently grabbed your blanket to cover yourself, shocked to see Sunghoon in your room. There he looked at you with a smug smile painted on his face.

You swore you saw evil behind those eyes.

“Oh don’t stop now, I was enjoying my show,” he pouts, walking closer to you, standing in front of your bed. “Go on, I’m here now, isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked in a cheeky tone. Your face was red and embarrassment washed over you. You wanted to run away. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“I’m not gonna tell you again, go on, continue what you were doing,” he demanded, pulling your blanket off of you. You were at a loss for words. But something in you gave into him. You start to straddle the pillow again, grinding your pussy against it. Embarrassed, you tilt your head down, trying to avoid any eye contact. You can’t help but get so turned on as he watches you. You hump your pillow desperately letting out whines and moans, trying your best to not be too loud.

“Hoonie~,” You moaned loudly, humping your pillow as you grew wetter. You felt so dirty. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. You felt like you were on cloud nine and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Sunghoon smirks, he takes in the scene in front of him, he couldn’t take it anymore and slips his pants down, freeing his hard on. He starts to slowly stroke, watching you as you pleasure yourself. His tip was red and angry, leaking a bit of precum already. He wanted to see more of you. 

“Take your bra off,” he demands. You look up at him, shocked to see him pleasuring himself. The sight of his cock making your mouth water. He was huge. No way you can fit that in you, you don’t even think it’ll fit in your mouth. Nevertheless, you obliged and took your bra off, your boobs slowly falling out of the cups. Embarrassed, you try to cover yourself again. He takes his pants and boxers off right away, signaling for you to get closer to him. He needed to feel your mouth on him. 

“As much as I love to see you getting yourself off, I need your pretty little mouth on my cock right now,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside you. He pushes you off the bed and onto your knees right in front of him. Watching you carefully, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your face against his cock. 

“Open wide,” he instructs, hand still in your hair. You reach your hand up to his shaft, opening your mouth to finally get a taste of him. His tip was already leaking. You put his tip in your mouth. He lets out low groans, guiding you as he grips onto your hair even more. As you expected, he definitely could not fit into your mouth. So using your hand that was on his shaft, you start to stroke him as you suck him off. Getting lost in the pleaser, he needed to be down your throat and that he was gonna do. 

“Hands behind your back now,” he firmly said, the tone of his voice catching you off guard but you obliged, your panties getting stickier as the seconds passed. You put your hands behind your back and he starts to buck his hips, his tip reaching further and further down your throat. The sound of him groaning fills the room immediately. You just prayed to the lord your brother was sound asleep. 

With his dick down your throat, you can’t help but feel so turned on. This was dirty, you’ve never deepthroat a dick in your life. Well dicks as big as Sunghoon’s. He watches you, making sure to keep eye contact.

“I’ve always known you were a little whore, but letting me fuck your little mouth while your brother’s asleep down the hall?” he grunts out, slamming his cock in and out of your mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking in the pleasure. He felt as if he was in a dream. Your eyes teary as all you can let out are moans against his dick. Being too turned on, you snaked your hand from behind your back and into your panties. You attempt to rub your clit as he fucks into your mouth. Now it was your turn to close your eyes from the intense pleasure. Your moans intensify, catching Sunghoon’s attention.

There he saw you, touching yourself. As much as he enjoyed watching you get off, never did he allow you to pleasure yourself as you were pleasuring him. He forcefully tugs you by your hair and off his cock, shaking his head at you as if he was disappointed. You take this time to catch your breath, puzzled at why he suddenly stopped. He then pulls you up by your hair, making sure you were eye level with him. He takes his other hand and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks to make sure you were looking right into his eyes. Chills ran through your body.

“Did I say you can touch yourself?” he quietly asks, you can feel his breath on your face. You shake your head, looking pitiful in his eyes. “Did I say you can touch yourself?” he repeats, that venomous tone coming back to his voice. You were nervous. 

“N-No…,” you shakily said. Your breathing intensifies. Sunghoon lets out an almost evil laugh. “I guess this little slut needs a punishment.” 

With that, he tosses you onto the bed. With your backside up, he drags your body to the edge. Standing right behind you, your legs hanging off, he starts to caress your cheeks. Taking in the beauty of your backside, it took everything in him to not take you right there and then. 

“Take your panties off,” he demands. You angle your butt up just a bit and reach behind you, slowly pulling them down, making sure he sees everything. He was watching you as if you were his prey and he was about to get ready to feast on a meal. The glistening sheen of your arousal stares back at him as you fully remove your panties. He couldn’t wait to have you. He makes his way closer to you, one hand on your ass and the other sliding up and down your folds. You were soaking, practically dripping down your legs.

“Please… touch me Hoonie…,” you softly spoke, the lack of physical action killing you on the inside. Still painfully hard and turned on, he swore he was going to explode right there, hearing your soft voice begging for him to touch you. Before you could speak up again, he spanks you. Caught off guard, you let out a yelp, the action turning you on even more. And then again, a spank lands onto your cheeks. His other hand’s still feeling your wetness, teasing you in an agonizing way. “I wanna hear you beg.”

You shiver a bit as his voice drops even lower than before. You couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you in the first place. Feeling a sense of pride wash over, you were getting a bit fed up and were about to protest until yet another slap landed onto your cheek. This time harder than the previous two. 

“I said– beg,” he leaned down and whispered in your ear. You gulp, feeling trapped beneath him. 

“Hoonie please… need you so bad,” every sense of pride and dignity was thrown out the window as you let those words out of your mouth. “Sorry I can’t hear you. What did you say?” he snickers back, egging you on. With one hand now on your waist and the other rubbing his tip up and down your slick folds, he needed to hear you say it one more time. Too horny to even fight back, you crumbled beneath him, just wanting his cock in you as soon as possible. 

“Sunghoon please fuck me already, I need your cock in me right now!” you loudly said, he leans back down and into your ear he whispers a “good girl.” He pushes his tip into you, already feeling like your pussy was sucking him in. You both let out a moan. He felt so big in you and it was just the tip. 

“S-So… big …,” you muttered. He chuckles. “It’s just the tip baby, can’t handle my cock already?” he presses. You shake your head letting out a tiny squeal and he enters you even more. Fully into you, you felt as if you were being stretched out to the max, no way could you handle this. Yet your pussy was craving more.

Sunghoon couldn't handle it, without giving you any proper time to adjust, he starts stroking into you. Grabbing onto your waist with both of his hands, he fucks you hard on the edge of the bed. Seeing your small frame beneath him and the way your body was just engulfed by his hands, he gets even more turned on.

“So fucking tight Y/n, so fucking wet and all for me– is that right doll?” he grunts out as he slams his cock into you, trying his hardest not to cum. But your cute little moans were making it so hard for him, he felt so lost in the pleasure. 

“Y-Yes all y-yours Hoonie~,” you moan loudly, not a single worry in your body. Just you and Sunghoon. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see your face. In a swift second, Sunghoon flips you over, still standing at the edge of the bed, he puts your legs over his shoulders as he pumps deeper into you. Fucking you into your bed, he leans down, grabbing your face he pulls you into a heated kiss. Your lips mesh together like they’ve been dying for this moment all their lives. He reaches down to your neck, giving it a small squeeze, startled, you open your mouth which gives him access to stick his tongue. Your tongues dance with one other, Sunghoon starting to feel drunk off of you. After what felt like forever, he pulls back, hand on your jaw, holding your mouth open. He spits in it. You let out a loud whiny moan, feeling more aroused than ever before in your life. You instantly swallow, making him lose his mind. 

“You’re such a filthy little slut, swallowing my spit, letting me fuck you like this, is this what you wanted– huh?” He speaks to you, all you could get out were little yelps of “yes.” With your arms snaked around his neck, he pushes your legs off from his shoulders, shocking you he lifts you up off the bed and starts to pound into you harder and harder. You knew Sunghoon was fit but you didn’t know he was that fit. Taking you by surprise with this new angle, he holds you up as he fucks you hard, his pace increasing. You start to feel a knot in your stomach form, getting so close to your climax. Your pussy clenching around him, so tight and pulsating, he knew he was getting close as well. Room filled entirely of moans, skin slapping, and the smell of sex, you needed him to fill you up.

Before you knew it, with one hard pump, you screamed, cumming all over his cock. Overstimulated, he sets you back down onto the bed, helping you ride out your orgasm as he was soon to reach his. The feeling of your wetness and your cum all mixed into one was enough for him to unload right into you. With a few more strokes, he releases, holding onto your body as he rides out his own climax, pumping his seed into you. You felt so full and exhausted. He carefully pulls out, watching as his cum spills out from your pussy. It was a sight he never wanted to forget. He quickly grabs his phone to capture the moment, fingering his load that was spilling out of you back into your hole. You couldn’t help but blush, feeling a bit embarrassed. Sunghoon lays beside you, as he trails kisses along your neck. 

“Fuck– you’re all mine,” he said against your neck. Before any realization could hit the both of you as to what you guys just did with one another, the distinct sound of buzzing came from both of your phones. Your faces went pale.

*Jay added Y/n and Sunghoon to a group.*

Jay: You guys are fucking disgusting.

© enwrites // tumblr

[hxney-lemcn]

Affections + First Kiss — General! Scarecrow, Riddler, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Catwoman x gn! reader

summery: affection and first kiss headcanons.

tw: mentions of abuse (physical and verbal), mentions of toxic dynamics

a/n: I've never wrote headcanons for multiple characters in one thing before, so enjoy! I love them all.

wc: 2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Scarecrow

❥Jonathan wasn’t used to a kind touch. Being bullied growing up, being beaten by the bat. No, all he knew was the harsh touch of a fist. The relentless shoves. The purpling of bruises that always showed after. The red blood that would drip from his nose. The burning hatred that steadily grew towards those who wronged him.

❥So when you came into his life, he would flinch if you raised a hand. He would unconsciously back away. The warmth in his heart that you stirred was unusual to him, a feeling he’s never felt towards anyone. He was used to the bitterness after an interaction, not longing. 

❥You eased him into it. Only when you two started dating did he ever think twice about your touch. He knew you held back your affections. He watched you lift a hand up, only to bring it back down to your side. And to Jon, that meant the world. He felt relief when you didn’t push him into uncomfortable territory, and he respected you all the more for it.

❥Although a part of him wished you would hold him. Touch him. He wondered if your skin felt as soft as it looked. Though he also feared that your touch would sting, and the comfort you brought would be no more. No, he would never reach out first.

❥Starting out slow, he let you hold his shoulder. No matter how careful you’ve been for however long, you slipped slightly. It was a gesture not many think twice about. Holding onto someone's shoulder as you look over them, holding onto them for balance. It was only when you felt him tense under you, his ramblings pausing, that you realized your mistake. Yet, Jon had only reassured you that you did nothing wrong. 

❥Having realized that Jon seemed to open your touch, you continued. Lightly brushing your hands, shoulder touches, even just sitting closer. It was like you were single handedly rewiring Jon’s brain, teaching him that not all touch hurts. That he too deserves a kind hand. The flinching had dulled, and he would even look forward to you being near him. 

❥So when you finally got to kiss him? He was a dead man. You got him hook line and sinker. I hope you weren’t expecting to leave him any time soon, because after you opened him into a world of warm affection, he doesn’t want to let go. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Riddler

❥Touch is a big no no. Similar to Jonathan, Edward had been bullied from a young age. Teased and ridiculed, shoved and hit. If not from his peers, then from his own father. His world was cruel for as long as he could remember. In fact, his brain started to warp, perceiving the hits as a form of love, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

❥Edward Nygma is a touch starved man. He longs for the comforts others seem to get so seamlessly. Yet at the same time, he doesn’t want anyone touching him. Tap his shoulder if you dare.

❥You were no different, at first. You quickly caught on to his distaste of touch when he reprimanded someone for getting a little too friendly with him. But you managed to weasel your way into his estranged heart. With how respectful and kind you were, he quickly found himself ensnared with your affection. Even hands free you managed to boost his ego and make him feel, should he dare say, loved for. You gave him praise that he had longed for, which earned you a seat right by his side.

❥It was also partly to keep a closer eye on you. Part of him preened at your praise, and another was weary. Why were you so kind? He was a well known criminal, he knew better than to just believe you were doing it out of the kindness of your heart. Y’know the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

❥I honestly don’t know how you deal with it. He always tries to catch you off guard with a riddle or puzzle. He pushes you away by ridiculing you and belittling you. Yet you won’t stop. You keep spilling his praises, and it’s so baffling to him. Yes, he is the smartest man in the world, but you managed to become a riddle. Good luck now.

❥When you first touched him, it was an innocent hug. He had managed to pull off a heist and got away from Batman without a scratch! Of course he had no doubts about his success, you didn’t either. When he got back to the hideout, you were clapping while singing his praises. Edward felt on top of the world, adrenaline rushing through his veins. When your arms wrapped around him, your scent clouding his thoughts, your warmth leaching into him, he found himself reciprocating.

❥Now, whether your dating or you’re just friends, it matters little to the green clad man. You had given him a taste of a touch he’s always longed for. And he realized that he’s more comfortable around you than he’d like to admit. He never reaches out first, but he’ll never turn you down if you want to hold his arm. 

❥His teasing towards you turns lighter, just as his heart feels. So when you finally seal the deal with a kiss, he’ll make sure you never slip through his fingers. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Harley Quinn

❥She will smother you with affection right out the bat. Hugs, hand holding, kisses, you name it. You don’t even have to date her for her to leave a smooch on your lips. Harley Quinn easily trusts people, and you’re no exception. She finds comfort in touch, so why should she deny herself it? She also finds it expresses her genuine affection for you in ways she couldn’t verbalize. 

❥If you don’t like PDA, please tell her right away. She doesn’t understand it, I mean why wouldn’t you want to show your love to the world? But she also doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you wanna keep it behind closed doors, she’ll try her best. But don’t be too surprised if she sneaks in a little smooch or hug if no one’s looking.

❥Harley Quinn is one of the most affectionate rogues out there. But it’s not always sunshine and rainbows with her. She had been in a seriously abusive relationship, and you have to help her remember that she doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around you. That no matter the argument, you won’t raise your hand to strike her. It takes her a long time to come out of that headspace, if ever. It’s a good thing you’re by her side to help coax her into healthier practices. 

❥If we want to get a little darker, Harley may try to treat you like the Joker treated her. It’s scary to see her go from bubbly to dark. Her features twisted into a wicked sneer as she asks that you’ll never leave her. That no matter what, you’ll always love her. During these moments, you gotta stand up for yourself. She’s trying to gain a sense of control she never felt in her previous relationship, and you have to make her snap out of it. When she comes to and realizes what she just did, the look of utter terror in her eyes is the most heart wrenching thing. She’ll sob, pleading that she didn’t mean to, that she never wanted you to go through that, that she’s terrified of becoming him.

❥Please hug her, kiss her, squeeze her gently. She loves it. All Harley wants is to be loved and to love, and getting affection shows her how genuine you are and is the biggest comfort for her. Feeling your warmth, feeling the softness of your skin, it brings her peace. 

❥The first time you made the first move to kiss Harley, she nearly did a backflip. Her little sugar plum made the first move! I hope you didn’t have anything planned, because Harley won’t let you go for the rest of the day.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Poison Ivy

❥I’m not sure how you weren’t just killed or turned into one of her goons. She’s not one for humanity. She keeps a sharp eye on those who dare tread into her territory. There’s no way to beat around it. She drugs you, finding out what your true intentions are. It has to be something she deems worthy enough to keep you around. She barely puts up with Harley as it is. 

❥Once you gain your free will again, you have to continuously prove your loyalty. Of course she can guarantee it herself if she has to, but you’ve managed to catch her eye. So prove your worth to her, prove that her interest in you isn’t just a mistake. It will take a long time. She’s been wronged one too many times, and she won’t make that mistake again.

❥Even if you manage to gain her trust, she won’t drop her walls around you. Though she’s a bit nicer. Ivy knows that a person works better with praise, but she also means it deep down. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean, so don’t take her words for granted. Not that you really can when her perfume scent always seems to cloud your senses. 

❥You let Ivy make the first move when it comes to touch. For a seductress, she won’t touch you if she doesn’t have to. Not to mention the toxins that fill her blood. Who knew if one tap on her shoulder meant your certain doom…but maybe that was a bit of the thrill you loved when being by her side. Though you’ve seemed to find a small soft spot in her heart, right next to Harley Quinn. She wouldn’t tell you that though, best to leave you on your toes lest you get too comfortable. 

❥After going so long without a single touch from the green goddess, when she started playing with your hair, you found yourself seizing up. Ivy brushed her fingers through it so gently, yet all you could wonder is if it was finally over. If she grew bored of you, or if she started to find you bothersome. But her gentle reassurances lulled you. Her warm voice and gentle hands relaxed you. It was then that you realized her affections for you ran deeper than she led on.

❥You’re first kiss was electrifying. That underlying thrill that your life was held in her hands. That she killed men with the very action she committed tenderly with you. Yet deep down you knew she wouldn’t hurt you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Catwoman 

❥It's not easy catching her attention. She won’t settle for less than perfection. She is catwoman after all, she has a reputation to uphold. So when she looked at you, and I mean really looked at you, she decided why not have a little fun? Whether you’re a villain, anti-hero, vigilante, or civilian, she’ll take time out of her busy schedule to drop by.

❥She likes to give mixed signals. It keeps you far enough for her to feel in control, yet it also satiates her hunger. She’ll lean in real close, only to grab something from behind you type of beat. She loves to watch you become a stuttering mess, but she doesn’t mind if you banter back. It’s all a part of the fun.

❥No matter how close you seem to get, you’re somehow still a mile away from Selina. She slips away from your affection without you even realizing it. She always turns the moment into a suggestive one. If she left it tender, then it would be too real. It takes time for her to warm up to you and really trust you.

❥If anything, the first kiss happens before anything truly tender. The kiss catches you both off guard, neither sure who started it. Selina tries to wrap it into something that doesn’t make her heart stutter. Tries to turn it suggestively like she always does, but with the way you tenderly hold her cheeks, she feels herself melt. Finally, she succumbs to these feelings you managed to stir within her, and she isn’t sure if she wants to thank you or curse you out. Maybe she’ll settle for a dinner, tab on you of course.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

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[tightjeansjavi]

My Dearest,

A/N: so, while I was in Galena for my girls trip this weekend…my friend and I went into a bookstore and that’s where the inspiration struck! Ulysses Grant wrote letters to his wife (My Dearest Julia) from June 4th, 1844 to February 2, 1854. Of course I immediately had to throw Joel into the narrative, with a twist ;) please have your tissue boxes at the ready for this one and remember, fiction can’t hurt you! Also, big thank you and kisses to @beardedjoel for sobbing along with me while I wrote these series of letters 💘 P.S I know California wasn’t founded as a state until 1850…but let’s just pretend!

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: a series of letters written by Joel Miller, a hopeless romantic yearning for your embrace once more.

Pairing | forbidden love!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: angst, allusion to smut, infertility, pining, hopeless romantic, unrequited love, forbidden love, major character death, alcoholism, death by alcohol poisoning, yearning, no age gap, mentions of social status, somewhat historically accurate language, no happy ending, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is my dearest, +18 minors dni! (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealously drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel.

-

July 13, 1844

My Dearest,

California is beautiful and my eyes are seeing the ocean for the very first time. I wonder what your view is? Last I heard you were moving to New York. Is it true? Please tell me it’s a lie. I would be naive to think that what is written in the papers to be false, but my heart is still holding on. Are you moving to New York because of me? I’m so sorry, my dearest. We should have been more careful. I can still smell your perfume, and feel the ghost of your lips on my skin. I am no poet, but if I was, perhaps your father would think highly of me.

I dream of you even in the daytime.

Please write to me, dearest.

J.M

-

September, 7th 1844

My Dearest,

There is a sweetness on my tongue that I have not felt the indulgence of for many moons and suns. I worried that I would never hear from you again, that I would become another distant memory fading into ash. I forbade this from happening, dearest. We are thousands of miles apart, and all I wish for is to see your face once more. Do you wish for the same, dearest? To see your Joel, to feel his warm embrace? Please don’t forget me, please. I know in your heart that you still feel for me. California calls your name as it did mine. Come back to me, dearest.

Yours most affectionately,

Joel

-

January 12th, 1845

My Dearest,

I have not heard from you in months and my heart cannot bare it any longer. Why do you not write to me, dearest? I’ve enrolled in classes, maybe I’ll even become the next great American author! Would your father accept me then, if I was no longer a penniless man? I think he would. Your father is a very simple man in those regards. If only my status in society didn’t matter. Do you lie awake in bed and think of me, dearest? Does your dream state float off to the thoughts of your Joel? My dearest, my love for you has not changed, only grown stronger. Has yours for me felt all the same?

Joel

-

July 11th, 1845

My Dearest,

I write to you with a heavy heart and an anger that has never once possessed me. Please tell me it isn’t true. That you have fallen for another, the rich banker's son? It cannot be true. The papers lie, dearest. Your heart belongs to me, does it not? It must. You promised! You said that no matter what happened, no matter the consequences, we would end up together. You spoke those words so sweetly upon my ear when I laid beneath your sheets, dearest. Back in Texas, in your abandoned home, the stench of me still lingers. When you receive this letter, close your eyes and imagine me there with you, wherever that may be. I’ll come to New York, I swear it. I’ll come find you!

Please, write to me soon, dearest. Do not allow this to be the end of our story, I beg of you.

Yours always,

Joel Miller

-

October, 1845

My Dearest,

This morning I write to you about the thoughts of reminiscing on our love. Something so sweet, fresh, ripened, but not yet spoiled. Do you remember the night we first met? We were just children then. All bright eyed and filled with curiosity. I remember the bows in your braided hair, your mother scolding you for them, slapping your cheek and yanking them from your braids. You wept with your face buried in your hands, and I comforted you. Your mother taught you how to curtsey, how to engage in small talk and forced you to wear those unbreathable garments that you hated so. I showed you how to run, to make mud pies and swim in the river. Do you remember the night of our first kiss? The first time our lips touched and my life held a meaning again? The foul mouthed, stable hand boy winning the affections of a girl such as you. If I bring my fingers to my lips now, I can feel your kiss there, too. I moved back to Texas, dearest. I wanted to feel closer to you. Write to me soon, and in your letter tell me that you wish for me to come to New York to be with you.

I am inconsolable without your presence at my side.

Yours devotedly,

Joel Miller

P.S. Every night I pray to the moon and stars that we will be in one another’s embrace very soon. I have never been a religious man by any means, but I find myself praying for you, my dearest.

-

March 29th, 1846

My Dearest,

It is spring once again, and everything is in bloom! A new family has moved into your abandoned home, and I am back to my roots. I have given up my dreams to be an author, but I write to you, still. I missed being around the horses more than you could possibly imagine. There’s a piece missing here, and that piece is you. The new family I work for has a daughter around your age. She’s pretty, beautiful even, but she’s not you, my dearest. She’ll never be you. Her hair isn’t the right length, her eyes the wrong shade, her laugh isn’t yours, her mannerisms are all wrong. She yearns for my affections, but my heart belongs to another. I will not commit adultery against you, my sweet. Even in my loneliest hours, I will not give into my sins against you. She would make a fine wife, and her parents are unlike your own, but she will never be you, and she will never possess my heart.

I yearn for you.

Your Joel

-

July 2nd, 1846

My Dearest,

I write to you with sweat dripping down my brow. I cannot sleep, the Texas heat has played a cruel trick upon my mind. I awoke to your voice, whispering my name through the billowing curtains. I taste your sweet kiss and the oncoming summer storm, but you are not here. Am I going insane? I fear that I am. What is the weather like in New York? Write to me soon, I beg of you.

Joel Miller

-

September 23rd, 1847

My Dearest,

I am facing my loneliest night yet, and I picture you laying beside me beneath my sheets. I have scrapped up enough money to finally buy you a ring! Isn’t that the most wonderful news? Tomorrow evening, after supper, I will head into town to the jewelers and buy you a ring that shines more brilliantly than the heavens above. You’ll wait for me, won’t you? Promise me that you will.

With love,

Your Joel

-

January, 1848

My Dearest,

Today is the day where I wish I never awoke. I wish to stay in a sweet slumber where my dreams are filled with you. You cannot marry him, please. Tell your father that you don’t accept the banker's son’s hand in marriage! He will never know you as I do, my dearest. He will never satisfy you the way that I can. He will turn his nose up at your politics, your drinking habits, your antics and wildness. But I love you as so. Come back to me, runaway with me. I can give you so much happiness if you only let me. How will your husband to-be react when he finds that you cannot bear him children? When the marriage is to be consummated, and he strips you of your skirts and touches you where only I have been, how will he feel? I worry for you, my dearest. I remember the night that we first became one. Do you still think of the way I moved in you? I still feel the phantom crescents of your nails in my back. I wish the marks left there were permanent, so I would always have a piece of you with me. Tell me that you remember the way that my kisses feel, my taste on your tongue, my voice, my body moving with yours. There was a time when you wanted to bear my children, and begged me to fill your womb with my seed. We waited and waited, but your womb never swelled with life no matter how many times we tried. You assumed my feelings for you would sour, but they only grew.

If you accept the banker's son's hand in marriage, I wish to never see the sunrise again.

Joel Miller

-

May 7th, 1848

My Dearest,

I have never wept more than I have this morn. I shredded the papers, I pounded my fists into the earth and spooked every horse in the stable. Even the heavens weep with me, my dearest. Can I even call you that any longer? You wear his ring upon your finger, awake beneath his sheets, smelling of him. I’m sorry, my dearest. I’m sorry I could never be enough for you. I have tried so hard, and have continued to fail. My heart aches, and I wish I could rip it from my chest and stab it till all movement ceases. I wish to not feel any longer. I have lost all hope, and I fear that my attempts to hear from you have been fruitless. My devoted letters are out there, somewhere. Or perhaps you have collected them. Perhaps you did not awaken in his sheets. Perhaps you are on your way back to me. I’ll wait for you, my dearest.

Undoubtedly yours,

Joel Miller

-

June 4th, 1848

My Dearest,

In my loneliest hour, I write to you. If you ever receive this letter, do not weep for me. You and I were cut from a separate cloth since birth. I was not born into wealth. I was not fed from silver spoons. My clothes are tattered, the soles of my boots are worn down. All I have to my name is my penmanship and my memories of you. Think of me sweetly, will you? I wish you only happiness and love. I have turned into a drunk, my dearest. Alcohol soothes my mind, woes, and ailments. I hear your voice so vividly when I am in this state. You’re here beside me now, watching as I write my final letter. I can reach out and touch your cheek, soft, supple. You smell of saccharine honey and lavender fields. Your laugh is my favorite tune, and I can hear it now. Sing me a lullaby, my darling as I close my eyes and dream of you for a final time. If another universe exists, I hope I am rich. I hope I am the wealthiest man who is adored by your mother and father. I hope that on the night we meet again, I present you with a ring forged from my heart, a piece of me that has forever belonged to you. I hope I am fed from a silver spoon, dressed in the finest garments, attend every gala with you on my arm as my lady, my wife, my reason to live. I hope to bless you with as many children as you so desire. I have always loved you, my dearest, from the moment we met, I have been yours.

Farewell,

Your Joel.

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