#there have been a few moments it's surprised me. plot twists that were Almost cool.

[orcelito]

Guys I think the writing for fire emblem engage is somehow worse than fire emblem fates. Im a longtime fire emblem fan, I've played every recent game, and this... this is just Awful lmfao

Im still having plenty of fun & I have my handful of characters I love soooo much. But God fucking damn this writing is just some of the worst I've ever seen in a game

(Major spoilers in tags. Ran out of tags so I can't spoiler tag hfkshfj.

Final conclusion (since I ran out of tags): What Even Is This Fucking Game. Definitely my least favorite fire emblem game in many respects, but By God I'm going to finish this bitch and I'm gonna have plenty of fun as I do so. And I'm also going to make fun of every narrative choice it makes along the way bc the writing in this game is just SO fucking bad holy shit. I just need to finish this game and get on with my life already. God fuckin damn.)

[cupoftaae]

HII i'd like to request prompt 11 "give me time, give us time" for kookiee? and if its ok id like to give u a small plot just in case you dont know how to work with this if thats okay 🥺

so the tiny tannie lil ol plot for this wuld be: jk being a bit of a workaholic (very much so.) and y/n is quite tired of it.. note that this is non!idol and married! :D they had a talk and a cool plot twist wuld be how y/n was actualy planning to surprise him abt being pregnant!!!GASPAND THEN KOOKIE NEVER NOTICED THE SYMPTOMS CUZ HES BEEN WORKING TOO MUCH!!! and like yeah she getzz rlly emotionsl

AND IF ITS OK CAN U GIVE LIKE AN AFTERMATH OF THIS? LIKE 1 OR 2 YEARS AWAY FROM THE ARGUMET? hope this isnt too much 😭

Hello!! oh my goodness this is so amazing, no one has given me a plot to write by, this is really cool and I hope that I do a good enough job portraying this for you! Thank you so much for sending this in <3

La La Land (JK drabble request)

warnings- mentions of drinking, angst, mentions of pregnancy, swearing, couple fighting, fluff, kissing (nothing major) I think thats all?

enjoy <3

"I cant tell, is this a positive or negative?"

Your voice was shaky and frail, holding up the test to your phone camera, trying to show your friend.

"blurry, cant see, read the box y/n. instructions are there" Your friend sighed, in her defense, it was late, and you called her out of slumber- but only because you were totally hyped at the sudden realization that you were finally possibly pregnant.

You and Jungkook had not necessarily been trying, nor necessarily avoiding it.

You both wanted kids, but never really specified when. Considering the fact you have now been married for 2 years, and your relatives are up your ass about when it is that you will have a baby, even though its not their business at all.

You wanted this for you, and today might be the day you get what you wished for.

"You just took it, let it sit for a moment"

you nodded at your friends words as you placed the test onto the bathroom sink, moving your hands to rest on your hips as your teeth tugged at your bottom lip in thought.

"whats on your mind, hun?" she asked

"a lot..." you giggled, drawing your eyes back to her. "If I am, I just hope Kook is happy, thats all I want"

"mm his schedule is so busy"

"I know, work always comes first with him, thats why im nervous. Its not like he told me to take birth control or anything, and we have condoms he just refuses to use one" you snicker

She laughs, "well then yeah what did he expect?"

"but hes a head manager at the company he works at, hes spent so much time climbing the ladder to get there, what if this throws him in a loop?"

"y/n....girl...listen to me, he is partially responsible for this, so he needs to be accepting or I will personally come down there and make him accepting"

You laughed at your friend, thankful you had some humor relief out of all the tension.

"and listen, you are in your 30's, its not like you are 20 years old and unmarried, you know?"

"yeah...youre right...im gonna look now, I think its ready"

"okay"

You gently flipped over the test and held it close to your eyes, a faint blue plus sign appeared, making your heart thump so loud it was audible in your ears.

"holy shit, its positive!"

"its positive?" your friends voice shot up 3 octaves

"YES!!!" you jumped around, wishing jungkook was home right now to show him, instead bathing in the moment with your best friend.

"congratulations, y/n, oh my god im so happy for you!!!"

"thank you!" you wiped a few tears, gripping the test almost as if it wouldnt be real if you let it go. "oh jesus this is so....wow!"

"remember what I said, everything will be okay"

You nodded, taking a deep breath

"everything will be okay, yeah....your right."

-

Everything, in fact, was not alright.

It's been 2 weeks since that night you found out you were pregnant, and everytime you think you are ready to tell Jungkook, something happens.

"oh gotta go babe, they are calling me into work"

"too tired to talk tonight honey, i have to get up at 5am"

"not right now baby, maybe tomorrow?"

It never ended, he was in and out the front door constantly.

It was upsetting that the only time youve had to talk with him recently was when you both took a shower a few days ago.

"you look so tired" you frowned, pushing his hair back

"I know...I am"

"you need to sleep more" you kissed his chest, resting against it under the warm water.

He let out a soft laugh, "yeah...when is there time for rest?"

"its okay to take time off, you know? youre a manager, you have more control"

"I just need to prove to everyone that I am capable of handling the position" he insisted

"Obviously you are, they wouldnt-"

"y/n, just dont worry about it....okay?" he squeezed you softly, trying to change the subject and shutting you down, because you wouldnt get it

-

You wanted your husband, you wanted him more than anything, and this feeling only turned to anger as you sat with him at the dinner table one night.

You were now almost 2 months pregnant and still have not told him.

You planned a nice meal to eat, his favorite.

You cooked all the vegetables and spent hours slaving in the hot kitchen making sure everything was up to perfection for him, just for him to come home at 2am with no text in regard to him being late.

"its late, honey, im sorry, we can eat tomorrow"

You stood to your feet before he could leave the room, all of your dishes sitting on the stove, some now cold. "no, we are gonna eat now."

You know he smelled the food, and never did he once acknowledge the fact you made his favorite dish, or thank you for it.

His eyes widened, not used to hearing the sudden tone in your voice.

"please....please just sit" your voice cracked slightly as you watched him slowly walk back to the seat, sinking into it.

"are you mad at me?" he whispered, watching your back as you heated up the food into a plate for him.

"mad..?" you chuckle to yourself, trying to gather your thoughts.

"yeah, mad. are you?"

You took the food out of the microwave and handed it to him, sitting on the other end of the table and looking at him desperatley.

"jungkook...have you noticed anything...different?"

He smiled gently, confusion in his eyes, "what do you mean?"

Your expression softened from hopeful to dissapointment.

"you dont see...you dont feel like anything is different?"

"no?" he half smiled, looking around awkwardly.

You looked down at your plate, teary eyes overcoming you as you tried hard to prevent your breakdown- but its been a long time coming.

"wha-"

"jungkook!" you cry out desperately, leaving him shocked and confused at the odd behavior.

"baby why are you crying? whats going on? what is this?" he panicked

"You!! im crying because of you!!" you stood, covering your face as you felt the embarrassment fall over you.

"what did I do?" he got up and tried to come over to hold you, but you pushed him away.

He let you talk, not knowing how to respond to anything.

"you are never home, Jungkook. I fucking miss my husband, okay? I spent 4 hours in this kitchen, sick as hell, making your favorite dish and I dont get any type of thank you, instead you come home 3 hours late and decide its time to sleep, you reek of alcohol as well" you wipe you tears hastily.

He stood, looking at you as his eyes teared up

"I know work is important, I know it is, But I matter too Jungkook!! We are married, I am your WIFE! im not just the maid and chef here, you know?

"baby I never said any of that-"

"you treat me like one!!" you cry, pacing the room, "see, you still dont even notice anything do you?"

He looked helplessly, "Im sorry, honey, I really am, but I need work-"

"not this much!!" you looked at him sharply, "Ive been home alone these past few weeks, dealing with a certain situation ive been terrified to tell you about all by myself!"

"im here now, tell me! tell me! what is going on and how can I fix this?"

"I just want you, jungkook....One fucking day, one fucking dinner" you gesture to the table "When was the last time we even woke up together and cuddled, or had a fucking cup of coffee and talked? Months...MONTHS!"

"my angel im sorry ive been neglecting you, why didnt you say something to me sooner?"

"I was trying to understand, I was trying sooo hard to put myself in your shoes but damnit, jungkook, I cant hide it anymore" you sobbed, knowing how crazy you looked to him right now. "Its...its not fair!!"

He gently grabbed your arm, leading you towards him, his eyes searching deep into your own.

You sighed, trying to adjust your breathing, "g-give me time, give us time." you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked at him.

"us?"

You swallowed harshly, trying to steady your voice, "im pregnant, Jungkook. I found out weeks ago and since then youve left me home alone with not an ounce of time for me to tell you, which is now resulting in this"

He froze, his eyes softening at you as he tears up, "pregnant? baby..."

"yes!" you step back, "and...and you didnt even notice! I tried leaving clues, I left the test in your bedside nightstand and you never fucking saw it?"

"n-no baby...youre pregnant, oh my god, honey" he brought you back to him, a soft yet sad smile on his face

"Its been all me, im the only one who has to deal with it and its not fair. If you dont have time for me, how the hell are you gonna manage to parent our child?" you glared "I refuse to parent alone, this is a team effort, jungkook. Yes money is important, but I need you, I need you to stop being a manager first and my husband second"

He took a shaky breath, part of him scared to say the wrong thing, "I- I understand honey" he nodded, holding your hands as he cried "fuck- im so sorry" you let him pull you into a tight hug "Im so sorry holy shit...im such a fucking dumbass, how could I not know?" he ran his hand up and down your back, face hidden into your shoulder as you both cried.

"you need to understand, I am serious, things have to change!"

"they will! they will! I'll change right now I promise Im gonna be here for you, for both of you" his hands held your stomach, desperation in his voice "dont leave...." he whispered

"im not going to, jungkook. But you need to stop working so much, I cant do this by myself"

"you dont have to, im here for you, whatever you need, fuck I'll take the rest of the week off for you, just let me hold you" he squeezed you tighter

"I miss you so much" your voice was quiet

"I love you, im so sorry I never noticed, Im so dumb baby....I love you,I love you" he cupped your face and pressed a delicate kiss to your lips, forehead against yours, "thank you for all you do, im an ass for not recognizing any of it"

"I love you too....just please...do it for us...?"

He nods "anything....for you, i'll do fucking anything baby." he kisses you once more as you both gently sway in the kitchen. The tension of the argument still lingering in the air, thick and prominent.

This wasnt a fixed issue, more so a stepping stone to him proving his words.

If he wanted to be a dad, he needed to show you he was ready for it.

--

"he is crying again" you sigh, rubbing your eyes and sitting up to look at the baby monitor.

"I'll get him" jungkook immediately got up and walked down the hall, following the sad cries that led him to your baby's room.

"little man...its 4am...why the tears?"he frowned at his 3 month old who's arms flared around.

the first 2 months of Kaiylin being born, you kept him in your main bedroom at night but you wanted to test out how he would sleep on his own, and so far its not been good.

"you want mama, huh?" he picked him up, holding him close and gently bouncing his knees. He didnt smell, so it wasnt his diaper, and he had just been fed not too long ago, so it was easy for jungkook to know he just missed his mommy and daddy.

He slowly walked into the bedroom, you were about to fall asleep. "oh kai" you frown as your husband places him into the bed between you both, his body facing the smaller ones so he doesnt fall out or move around.

"aw baby" you rub his head softly, "its okay now, shh, shh"

Jungkook gives you an empathetic look, "I know you havent slept im sorry"

You shrug, "i'll nap tomorrow"

"I'll take him into my office, he can sit in his rocker while you nap"

You smile softly kissing your husband, "thanks, baby"

You had to admit, Jungkook has stepped up more than you assumed he would. Hes began to work from home, giving time for not only your little family, but especially you and him.

He has been such a help with everything, from watching Kai during the night, to cooking and cleaning for you, its been 100% teamwork since you gave birth and you couldnt thank him enough for it all,

Things were finally starting to even out and you could not have been happier, the man you married in the first place was returned back to you, in the form of a loving father.

"hes sleeping again, look" jungkook whispered

Your eyes darted to the newborn in between you and your husband, you slightly giggled, "poor thing"

"co-sleeping just works I guess" he smiled, leaning over to kiss you gently, "go back to sleep honey, ill watch him for a bit, its okay."

"I love you, thank you..." you looked at him

"I love you too sweetheart"

-

a/n- ahh! I really hope this is what you wanted, it was fun to write and follow the prompt. Thanks again for sending this in! -Nini

[stark-boys-simp]

common tongue: part 3 (aemond and aegon’s povs)

a/n: this is kind of short, but i had an idea for introducing the targs and wanted to get it out before i lost the motivation. it’s not Super plot relevant, but the next chapter will be a lot more story and a lot less setup. maybe from jace’s or robb’s pov?

taglist: @sanguinesaint-kaleidoscopeeyes

his head hurt.

admittedly, that might just be the fact that he had had to interact with his father, but it seemed particularly concentrated right in the place where his eye used to be. he rubbed it with the heel of his hand, his other eye shut tight.

“aem.”

her voice cut through the air. he turned over on the bed and looked up at her.

she was holding out a bottle of ibuprofen pills. he took it with quiet thanks and swallowed two quickly, leaning back on the bed when he was done. she still had those glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling that he helped her put up when they were twelve.

“do you ever feel like we shouldn’t be friends?”

she snickered. “have you been listening to otto rant about how i’m ‘not good for you’ and how i’m ‘dragging you down?’”

he propped himself up on his elbows. “you knew he says that about you?”

y/n nodded, turning herself around so she lay next to him. the soft music she was playing floated around the room on the golden glow of her fairy lights. “yeah, i know. it doesn’t really bother me. i know he’s trying to look out for you.”

he squeezed her hand. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, aemond. i promise. i love you. that’s what matters to me.”

his heart pinched slightly in his chest. she never meant it the way he meant it. “yeah. i love you too.”

aegon opened the door and flopped down on her chair, lighting the blunt he had no doubt stolen from arys’s room. “y/n, how could you?”

she held out her hand for the blunt and took a hit, passing it to aemond. he refused it with a wave of his hand and she handed it back to aegon. “what do you mean?”

aegon grinned lazily at her. “i thought you were in love with me, yet here you are cheating on me with my own brother. shameful.”

“mm. i guess i was just overcome by his masculinity and charm.” she got up and walked over to aegon, hugging him from behind and kissing the top of his head. “can you ever forgive me?”

aemond felt his stomach twist at the way his brother grinned up at her. “maybe. depends, sweetheart.”

“oh yeah? on what?”

“get a fucking room.” aemond cracked a smile in an attempt to hide his jealousy.

“later. got a hot date.” aegon stubbed out his blunt on an ashtray and got up. “bye, princess. later, bitch.”

aemond flipped him off in response, not bothering to look up. y/n lay back down next to him, curling up into his side. she had always been touchy. she was one of the few people he let touch him. lately, though, it was almost painful. touching her without being able to tell her. “are you guys fucking?” he asked. he surprised even himself with it.

she snorted. “nope. he’s a total slut. i’d get, like, four stds.”

he grunted.

she turned over to look him in the eye. “aem, i promise. i’m not fucking your brother. that’d, like, totally break the bro code. you can’t fuck my brother, i can’t fuck yours. bro code.”

he snorted. “i don’t think that’s what bro code means.”

“it’s what our bro code means.”

they lay in silence for a few moments. he could hear the song playing in the background. alex turner’s voice crooned softly. “secrets i have held in my heart, are harder to hide than i though, maybe i just wanna be-.”

she interrupted. “some new neighbors moved in.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah. they’re nice. jon and robb and theon are our age. margaery’s been talking to sansa. she’s a year younger than us.”

“nice.” he took a strand of her hair, twisting it between his fingers. “are they cool?”

she nodded. he looked down at her and saw her smiling, softly and distantly. she was even blushing a little. “yeah. they’re cool.”

there felt like there was a creature in the pit of his stomach, growling and twisting at the walls of his body. she still felt so soft against him, so soft and sweet. he could smell her shampoo. he wanted her, he needed her, he desired her, he lov-

“you want some pizza bagels? i’m fucking starving.”

he blinked. “yeah. you got the garlic bread ones?”

“yeah.”

———

his “hot dates” always managed to look like her.

the eyes, maybe.

the smile.

the hair.

he couldn’t get her out of his head.

aegon knew it was wrong. he knew that aemond liked her. even if he was too much of a pussy to tell her. he knew that she was a year younger than him, and his mom would give him shit for dating her. he knew that otto would tell him she would distract him from his “true future” as a politician, or businessman, or whatever the fuck he was supposed to be. he knew that he would be bad for her too. he was a junkie, he slept around too much, he always managed to be the greatest disappointment of everyone around him. even helaena sometimes looked at him like the very sight of him saddened her.

y/n never did, though. ever. he had known her for as long as aemond had, since she was in kindergarten. he didn’t think she had an unkind bone in her body.

as she grew up, as he grew up, he watched from the sidelines. what had been asking aemond casually when she was next coming over, or paying attention to her in the hallways outside their classes, became lingering stares whenever they were at the beach, became pulling her down to sit next to him under the pretense of being drunk. his first year at college had been hell. he hated that he didn’t see her laughing at her locker with aemond, or lying on the grassy quad with margaery. he hated that he didn’t have an excuse to ask her if she wanted a ride home from school. he hated that he didn’t have an excuse to take her to aemond’s track meets and sit next to her with his arm around her shoulders to keep her warm because they both always forgot their jackets. he hated that she was beautiful and she grew up beautiful and every time he saw her he wanted to kiss her, to pull her close and feel what her bare skin felt like under his hands. he hated that he couldn’t hate her, no matter how much he tried to be indifferent or forget how much she mattered to him. he hated that she wasn’t his.

the girl he was with was pretty, though. neon green hair and soft hands like hers. she was grinding on him, the low thrum of the music pulsing through his body. it felt good.

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

What I'm Watching: January 2024

New year, same monthly roundup. And off to a solid start with what can probably be summed up as Robert Englund month...

Zombie Strippers!

The exclamation point is important. This movie was like sticking real diamonds on costume jewelry. Which is to say, it's exactly what it sounds like, but contained some surprising gems. But then, horror comedies are just like that. There was plenty of ridiculousness (to be expected for a movie about a zombie outbreak infecting dancers at a strip club), but I'm still impressed at how well the humor landed. I mean, they really didn't have to try that hard. But no, it was genuinely funny and had more than a few existential moments, and I loooooooooove me some existentialism. Throw in some gore and so many boobs, and there ya go. Made for a niche audience with love.

Behind The Mask: The Rise Of Leslie Vernon

I need to study this movie. To be fair, you almost have to as a matter of honor, if you're a horror nerd, because there are so many goddamn references. Don't take that as me complaining, tho, because one thing about me is I'm a fucking nerd. I didn't think it was possible to get more meta than Scream without getting gimmicky, but this one pulls it off. I knew enough about the plot to know more or less where things were heading, but there was still enough of a mystery to keep me on my toes, and the twist is the kind that makes you feel proud of yourself for piecing together. Even if slasher movies aren't your thing, this is still a ton of fun.

Urban Legend

I live blogged this and had a great time with it. This is another one for the "best watched with friends" list, and one I'm going to have to come back to for sure. And in case you haven't heard, I love Professor Wexler.

Cowboy Bebop

What? You thought I'd watch the live action without it tripping the rewatch sensor for the anime? Besides, I've only ever seen the sub and I've heard the dub is just as good. And folks...IT IS. IT REALLY IS. I'm not quite mentally prepared for the spiral the finale will send me into, so I'm taking my time with it. But again, I'm not complaining. It looks beautiful, it sounds fantastic (THE MUSIC!!! HAVE YOU HEARD THE MUSIC!!!) and it's just so fucking cool. Joss Whedon can suck it, because Firefly can't touch this.

The Last Showing

This was a fun thriller. You gotta love it when you can see the love of the genre and the art of cinema itself so clearly in a piece. Stuart reads like Stanley Kubrick if he never made it as a director, and on one hand, I wanted the poor guy to finish his movie, but on the other...bro, you can't do that.

2001 Maniacs

Well, this sure was a movie that I watched. Not gonna lie, I wasn't sure I was gonna make it through this one, as it goes for the over-the-top Southern redneck stereotype that goes into caricature territory reeeeaaaaally fast and finishes it off with the usual horny douchebag mid-2000's protagonists that don't even try to make you like them much less invest in them, but once you realize where things are going, you wanna see how it plays out. I cannot emphasize enough how over the top and how horny the first half of the movie is, but the inevitable gore is so theatrical it's fun, and it has plenty of laughs once you stop taking it seriously. It's one of those where the ending recontextualizes everything leading up to it without everything hinging on the twist, which I always appreciate. And I was not a bit surprised to see Eli Roth.

Hereditary

In hindsight, there were better gifs I could have used. *shudder* This was the first rewatch of the year, and honestly, it's been analyzed, raved over, and talked about much better by people who actually like it, so I don't have much to contribute. Not that I hate it, really. It is a well made, nerve-wracking, gut-wrenching movie, but it's just not for me, and that's okay. Hard to pin down exactly where they lose me (I have an inkling, but it'll take more time to discuss than I'm willing to spend here), but the stuff that works, WORKS. Some bits had me shaking. Others had me trying my hardest not to burst into tears. It's excruciating to sit through, I tip my hat to everyone involved in it, and I never want to watch it again.

[folkloreguk]

French Class [6]

A/N: You guys might want to whack out your love song playlist for this one…I cried writing this BYE I'm posting this from my grave!!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, ANGST, smut

words: ~ 3.8 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @yeostars, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek

You: can I come over? I kind of need u

H/N: you need me huh…you’re lucky I’m home alone

It always starts differently. Some other question, or a subtle message of telling him you’re bored, or a flat-out confession of being horny. The ending is always the same. You, naked in his bed. You just had to get there, and things were easy when you were already on his dorm’s doorstep.

The moment he had opened the door, you had fistfuls of his hair between your fingers and attacked his mouth in a feverish kiss. He made a noise between a laugh and surprise but reacted quickly. His lips parted right away, letting you in, and you tasted mint from the chewing gum he liked so much.

“Let me- at least- close the door,” he mumbled. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you today?”

You stepped aside and mirrored his grin. He was acting surprised, but the way he instantly locked your lips after he had shut the door told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. You ran your hands down his torso and along the side of his thighs. His happy hum only poured oil into the fire, and you saw no reason as to why you should have kept your clothes on any longer. In minutes, in the middle of heated kisses and clumsy chuckles, your clothes were discarded, and you were left in your underwear. You stumbled into his bedroom in a tangle of arms and legs and heads barely pulling apart.

“Will you tell me about the date you had today or are we skipping over that part?” he asked, as he pushed you down by the shoulders onto his bed. You groaned a little, not even knowing where to start.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” he asked. Only a few nights ago you had consoled him after his failed date, now the roles were reversed.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said. He was climbing on top of you now, and the weight of him between your thighs still did the same things to you it had done the first time. There was one of his random playlists playing quietly from the speakers, but you were both too occupied to even consider switching the music off. You weren’t in the mood for a chat, not when he was biting and sucking bruises into your chest, pushing aside your bra just enough. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it go this easily.

“Tell me about it or I won’t take one more piece of clothing off your body,” he threatened. You shot him an are-you-serious-look while he only blinked at you innocently, like he was awaiting your response.

“Fine,” you groaned. “But hurry, now.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, before unclasping your bra and throwing it to the other side of the room. “Go ahead, I expect a story.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, but when he sucked on your nipple all of a sudden, and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud ever so perfectly, your eyes moved to the back of your head involuntarily. And, before he could complain, you started to retell today’s events.

“Alright. First of all, he acted all gentleman-y. Pulling back my chair at the restaurant, letting me have a look at the menu first, letting me order first, asking me if I was okay with our seats because they were in the sunshine, or whether he should have requested we get a different in the shade table, blah, blah, blah.”

With the lewd noises he was making, kissing your chest and fumbling with your breasts, you almost wondered whether he was paying attention to you at all.

“I’m waiting for the plot twist,” he chuckled. “If he had been this great, you wouldn’t be in my bed right now, would you?” He was now on his way to your lower regions. Your breaths came out shaky when he gripped your hips with familiar fingertips and placed a few kisses there, right above the material of your underwear. Nonetheless, you had to continue your story.

“Oh, it’s coming,” you said. “Because I suspect, the only reason he was acting that way was to compensate. For the fact that he was an hour late.”

He stifled a laugh, and you slapped his head playfully. “It’s not funny! I stood outside that restaurant on a busy street like an idiot for an hour. During exam season!”

“I wonder, if studying is so special to you- ,” he said. He tugged on your underwear, and you barely cared about his words when you were already imagining his mouth on your pussy. “Why aren’t you at home right now, doing just that?”

“Too frustrated,” you groaned, spreading your legs, practically inviting him in. “You don’t get it. That was only the beginning of the date. It gets worse.”

“Oh, damn,” he laughed, and you were going to slap him again. Harder, this time. But his tongue kitten-licked over your clit and you didn’t dare interrupt him further.

“First of all, he turned out to be boring. An economics major. And look, I’m not generalizing, I’ve met some cool economics majors. But when I said I never really understood the whole thing with inflation and deflation, I wasn’t asking for him to explain it to me. I know what it means, I just meant to say money is the root of all evil,” you said, little moans slipping inbetween your sentences. He laughed whilst sipping on your clit. You couldn’t be mad at his laughing anymore. In fact, at the sound of his chuckles, your own lips curled into a smile, too. God, he was so good with his tongue.

“But turns out he loved money. Like it was the sole reason he was doing anything. When he showed me his gold watch I almost yawned,” you continued.

“Dating a rich guy can have its upsides too, though,” he said, but you knew he was joking. He was running the tips of his fingers over your core, and you whimpered at how badly you wanted him to put them inside of you. You loved watching him, loved feeling his hair tickle the side of your thighs and having his free hand laying on top of your hipbone. The familiarity of it all, his little habits, made your heart heavy, so full of emotion, all of a sudden. But you had to snap out of it.

“Not this guy. He kept saying these lowkey sexist things I won’t repeat now. It’ll only make me mad again. He was one of those who thought money would buy him a girlfriend. And I was really trying to see the good in him…only there was none,” you said.

“Alright, I’m starting to understand why you needed some cheering up,” he said. “Good thing you’re at the right place. I know just the thing.”

At this, he slid his digits into you. You hummed and dropped your head into the plush pillow. Slowly, you exhaled, happy you finally got to relax after being so upset. But of course, he had to interrupt. Again.

“Did I say you could stop? Was that the end of the story?” he said. How did he expect you to form a coherent sentence? He fingered you gently, but the slowness of it all only drove you crazier. You felt every tiny sensation, every new bit of you he touched.

“No,” you sulked. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Go on, then,” he encouraged you, grinning because he was proud of your reaction he had caused.

“Fuck- okay. He was super shitty to the waiter. I’m talking about criticizing everything. This man had the audacity to complain about the food. I’m not a food critic, but I swear the food was amazing, there was nothing to fault at all,” you said, and then whined when he switched from licking your clit to sucking it between his teeth. You knew he was doing this on purpose. To make speaking harder for you.

“Oh my god, H/N. Wait, let me finish this. Not only was he horrible to the waiter in person, but he also made fun of the waiter’s appearance behind his back. And all along he expected me to find him funny. I used to think he had a sense of humor but not after today. Blech.”

“At least you got a free dinner?” he said, and without awaiting your answer, went back to work. Your head was spinning in pleasure, and you could only laugh sarcastically at his suggestion.

“Yeah. And after that train wreck of a date, he really thought he’d get to stick his tongue down my throat,” you said.

“Did he at least ask permission?” asked the boy between your legs.

“Mhm…but I told him I don’t do that on the first date,” you said. “Safe to say there won’t be another date, though.”

He looked up now, laughing more than before. You grinned, mainly because the sight of him was so cute. He folded his hands on your belly and put his face down onto your skin to giggle. In no way could you be upset or urge him to keep giving you head. In fact, you had forgotten about all of that for a while, as he seemed to enjoy your misfortune a little too wildly. You should have been hungry, eager to have the half-naked boy inside of you. Yet, you laughed at the way his breaths tickled your stomach and when he finally made eye contact, it was a wholly different sort of hunger which overcame you. Instead of the heat he usually made you feel, it was a comfortable warmth that was in your chest. It reminded you of a bonfire or of drinking your favorite hot drink on a cool autumn day.

“I want to watch you come,” he said, casually. “Were you close?”

You were so lost in his trustworthy, dreamy eyes, you almost forgot to reply. Quickly, you nodded and hummed.

“I would have already come, had you not pestered me to tell you all the details of my date,” you said. The way his cheeks beamed when he smiled made you feel as if your insides were turning into mush.

“I’m sorry. I’m your friend, aren’t I allowed to ask how your day went?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” you said. The word ‘friend’ echoed off every wall in your head until you wished you could have deleted it from the dictionary.

“I’ll make sure it feels extra good now,” he said, kissing your stomach. You shivered as you watched his gentle lips move lower, to your hips and the insides of your thighs. The touch felt like butterfly wings on your skin, and the tardiness of it made you impatient. When his tongue came in contact with your clit again, you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He tried to start slowly, but then you gripped his hair tightly, and carefully pushed him further. It was something you did often, a way to tell him you wanted more without having to use words. After all this time, he understood perfectly. Your clit was between his lips and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pleasure. It felt incredible, creating a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach. His fingers grazed over your slit until you were whimpering and shifting your hips, trying to make him hurry.

One of his digits slid into you easily, curling against your sweet spot, and it hit you only now how much you had missed him between your legs since he had stopped a few minutes ago. It made you feel as though you were suddenly overwhelmed with all of him, but you were willing to let the heat crash over you if it meant you could be close to him.

“Am I making it up to you now?” he asked as he pulled away merely for a breath. “I’ll turn your day into a good one after all.”

In a different tone his words would have sounded like the exact thing one would have expected to hear from a fuckboy in the bedroom. He could have boasted and bragged endlessly about how great he was with his tongue and fingers – he would have been right – but he didn’t mean it like that. You could tell from the uprightness and the authenticity in his voice that he really was doing his best because he wanted to make you feel better and turn your day around. Because you were special to him. Or so you desperately hoped.

Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as if you were trapping him between your thighs. But he was right there, and he would gladly stay for so much longer, and to say it puzzled you was an understatement. The boy who belonged to everybody, who was known by all of the campus, was treating you like you were royalty, and not the other way around. You moaned, his name inevitably falling from your lips. He added another finger and the slightest stretch made you lose your mind for a split second.

“That guy could have never made you feel this good, could he?” he suddenly asked. Your initial response was a helpless whine. You had been so close, and his talking had interrupted the otherworldly bliss for a moment.

“No, never,” you then whimpered shortly. ‘No’ was such a tiny word. It could barely encapsule what you truly meant to say. Which was that it would have never even gotten that far. That other guys couldn’t even have you at all. They didn’t get their turn to try and beat him. Not as of lately, at least. That you didn’t so much as dare to think about sleeping with other guys. That even before you had gone on the date, you had known it wouldn’t lead to anything. No guy could let you develop an interest on him in the same way the boy between your legs had done it. No other would be able to kidnap your brain like that. H/N was always there. Even when it was only you and your sex toys, you would automatically pretend it was him getting you off. You were so far gone that it was embarrassing how long it had taken you to admit it to yourself. But it was a colossal thing to confess to him, and you would never do that. Rejection would hurt a billion times more than whatever it was you two had now.

Your heart was racing as you closed your eyes. You had been so lost in thought, it was wondrous you hadn’t fallen yet. But you were right on the edge, making your breaths come out like puffs and a string of moans and swears sound from your lips. He too had stopped talking, concentrating on the task at hand, and judging by the way your back arched he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Oh my god- “ you whimpered. “I’m so close, H/N.”

This time he didn’t reply, which was for the best. Only a few seconds passed until you started to quiver and whine beneath him. You were going to outer space behind your eyelids as your high rushed through you. Your fingers curled and tightened in his locks while your legs clenched around his head. He was quick to pull your thighs apart again, still not being finished. For long seconds you swam in pleasure, with nothing on your mind but bursting stars. He was heaven, knowing precisely how far he could take it until you were too sensitive to take any more.

When you were at that point, he finally pulled away and looked up at your crumpled form. There was a lazy smile playing in the corner of your lips and your vision was hazy after having had your eyes closed for a while. He climbed up your body until his chest was against yours so he could really look at you.

“I get all of this without ever having been on a single date with you? I’m so lucky,” he said. You only smiled at him, at a loss for words. What were you to say? The two of you were clearly past the awkward dating stage already.

“I’m lucky you let me come over all the time,” you said. “I would have expected the campus fuckboy to be busier. To not have an empty spot in his bed every night.”

“Ah, shut up,” he said. “I’d rather have you here than a girl I don’t know at all. Look, I’m really tired so I don’t know how this will go…but can I?” He was on his knees, a tent visible in his boxers. With a questioning look, he was tugging them down his legs now.

“Of course,” you said. As you watched him roll on a condom, your ears perked up. Did that song have to come on shuffle just now? The coziest, most romantic love song you adored so much? You knew if you looked him in the eyes you’d be done for. But there wasn’t anywhere else to look when he settled between your legs and held up his weight with his forearms. His eyes were deep enough for you to get lost within a second. Distracting yourself was impossible. The one last thing you could do was to reach between the two of you and guide his length into you.

The song’s chorus came on, you looked at him once again, and suddenly you were all his. You didn’t need to tell him so. He thrust gently, almost carefully, like he had never done it with you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so vivaciously, you wondered whether it had turned autonomous and was now trying to jump out of your body, onto his skin and through it, so it could nestle next to his own heart.

Neither of you spoke. Yet, there had never been so much chemistry, such a heavy amount of uncommunicated emotions between the two of you. You were ready to hang on his every word, should he decide to speak up. In your head rampaged a billion sentiments you needed him to know, but there was no option to express them adequately. Perhaps there were simply no words in the English language to declare your feelings for him.

Small whimpers and moans left your lips only for him to hear. Sometimes he moved a little quicker, gifting you with the most perfect sounds he could make. And to know you were the cause for it sent you into overdrive. His mouth was right above yours. If you lifted your head slightly, you could have kissed his sweet, sweet lips. But you were so afraid. What would he think? You had never kissed him during sex. Not softly, like you wanted it so terribly.

Even worse, you craved so much more than that. You wanted to pull him in, envelope his mouth in your own, crawl over the edge of his lips and reside in his chest for safety. Because that’s what he was. Comfort. Reassurance. Home. How foolish you had been, pretending this little fling would lead to nothing more. You really had told yourself this would work. No feelings. Just fun. You couldn’t deny having fun with him. He was the best company you had ever known, and he had become your most precious friend quickly. It was as if you had only been waiting for the silly, flirty boy to sit across from you in the library and make weak advances towards you.

The love song tuned out slowly, replaced by something more sensual and sinful. In accordance with the new background noise, he gripped your hips a little meaner and went faster. You barely noticed how his breathing had sped up as he was getting closer to his orgasm. A trance had overcome you, transfixing you on his godlike features and how much it hurt to know you couldn’t call him yours. In your head you were made for each other. They always said to date your best friend, didn’t they? You could try to turn back time, go back to your first meeting place, at the party. See if things would turn out different. But you knew they wouldn’t. As much as your fear tried to suppress it – you would take the same path again, stumbling head-first into his arms and letting him into your life like a crashing wave of laughter and heart-crushing conversations.

Now you reflected in despair, how he had taken your heart in a storm, without having to try too hard. And worst of all, you were okay with it. Your heart was secure with him, you thought. The feelings yearned to be spoken out loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Always, so fucking good.”

He snapped his hips against yours, burying his cock deep inside of you and all you could muster was a hum of agreement. This is what you got for keeping him at arms-length from the beginning. Wasn’t it you who had challenged him to be friends and only that? Perhaps you would be okay, so long as no one else called him theirs either. You could go on like this, letting him use you for sexual relief and making him laugh when he needed it. Gladly, you would take the pain of not being allowed to love him with your whole being if it meant you could see him whenever you wanted. Exposing those silly emotions would wreck your friendship and you wouldn’t let it happen.

He grunted and only then, when he lowered his head into the crook of your neck and moaned your name, you realized he was reaching his high. Softly, you cradled his head in your hands, as if it was the last time you could hold him like this. When he put his forehead against yours, he had his eyes closed and his chest was moving steadier than before.

“You’re the best,” he whispered. “Stay the night?”

Should you have gone home, and missed him all night? Would you have regretted saying no while you curled up in bed with no Cheshire-cat-grin-boy to hold? Or were you to remain in his bed, and pray you would survive the torture of not speaking your mind? His skin radiated the most wonderful warmth and you wanted to trace his lips with your eyes until you fell asleep. That’s how quickly it was decided.

“Okay,” you answered.

[forthehpfanboys]

Christmas Break

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You liked Winter Break Draco. Unfortunately, he was replaced by Usual Dick Bag Draco who becomes ruthless. At least Harry is there to make you feel better.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), jealousy sex, dirty talk, swearing, spanking, short mention of slapping and hair pulling, sir kink and degrading a tad- fluffy ending tho. I may have taken the kinks too far but ya know-

Notes: Requested by @the-offical-yn​, who I must apologize too. A lot of my stories got away from me so I’m very sorry this is late- but um- enjoy getting railed by Draco guys! Yo, I made a shit plot for this. I’m so sorry if it’s baaddd.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

For years, he had this twisted mind against anyone not a pure-blood or a Slytherin. He had zero shame with cussing out Gryffindor's, spitting at Ravenclaw’s during quidditch games and tripping Hufflepuff's. But, suddenly, just before Christmas break, he changed and there was nothing blunt about it. He would help Ravenclaw first years pick up their books if they stumbled on the fake steps on the moving staircases, tutor third year Hufflepuff's in Herbology after hours and helped a few Gryffindor students fix their potions.

Draco changed faster than water turns to ice in a freezer. It was almost alarming. Even Snape seemed to be concerned, probably more than others. The greasy git kept yelling at Gryffindor's (mostly the Golden Trio [mostly Harry]) about what would happen when he found out who jinxed Malfoy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he changed, but everyone else could. To the day, infact.

It was just a few days before October, when it started. Draco was strutting down the halls, using Crabbe and Goyle as shields from the dozens of students who walked by him. They stood at his sides, knocking students out of the way, acting like Draco owned this bubble of space as they walked, but somehow, you slipped through. You were crossing in front of him, trying to hurry to class and ended up tripping over your own feet.

Your instincts kicked in and you tried to catch yourself, but instead you fumbled right into Draco, landing heavily against his side. He scoffed, shoving you off and getting ready to cuss you out when you began to apologize (even if you don’t like him) and gather your things off the floor. With your head tilted down you didn’t notice the Slytherin staring at you like you were a puppy. When you gathered your things, you scurried off, apologizing to more students as you went by.

Apparently, that day, he saw you tutoring a whole table of students, all houses included, and you were being so nice to them, so kind and your voice was soft and he heard you say “Hey, no! It’s ok! There is no such thing as a dumb question, ask away”. He had this urge in his chest to just be different, to be someone you would want to be around and be a friend, maybe even be more. It made him feel sick.

It took about a week to get your attention, then a quick growing friendship blossomed. Your relationship with Draco changed- just like he had. It changed from funny jokes, sassy remarks and late night games of exploding snaps to flirting contests, long hugs and what could be considered dates. 

By December, you and Draco were dating without the official titles. Everyday, you two were growing closer and the relationship was growing more rock solid with every passing event. Soon enough, winter break was coming around and everyone was genuinely surprised when they saw the blonde Slytherin strutting through the halls during Christmas break. Usually, the pureblood went home to spend the holidays in a cabin in a warmer climate with his family.

And it was weird for everyone to see him not bragging and tripping students and spitting at kids. But for you? It was a blissful few weeks. Even the Golden Trio got a break. They were some of your closer friends, so Draco gave them a bigger break. The blonde even went as far as helping Harry during potions. It was terrifying.

Until Christmas break was passing and Draco went through another change, which was what you were going to confront him about. 

"Malfoy!" You found him out in the courtyard, a teary-eyed (y/h) first year trailing behind you. The poor kid was shaking with fear and let out a sniffle. "You have some very good explaining to do!"

The blonde looked from Goyle to you, his eyes slowly dragging down your form before darting back up to your flaming eyes. His smile had dropped and was now replaced with a sharp frown. His nose scrunched up, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crisscrossed over his chest.

“I don’t have to explain anything to the likes of you.” He sneered. He looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with the first year, who scooted over to hide himself better.  He made a scoff and turned back to Goyle, shaking his head while snorting. “Look at this- he’s tryin’ to be a hero.” As if on a cue, his little posse of Slytherins broke out into laughter, forcing your face to heat up from humiliation.

“Seriously? Are you fucking five?” You called over the idiots laughter, which morphed into pathetic ‘ooh’s. “Draco, stop being a child and a douchebag and just apologize to the first year.”

“Why should I?” Draco stepped closer to you. His eyes, stance and voice all held a challenging undertone. He moved some blonde hair out of his face, but you didn’t miss how his eyes flicked down to your lips.

“Because you called him a mud-blood for bumping into you. Grow a pair, gain some manners and apologize to him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, putting on your best angry face. If Draco was pulling a prank, you were going to punch him, without hesitation. And how the hell did an asshole like this become a prefect??

“Oh, your right, I definitely should apologize when the kid bumped into me. But I think I have a better idea.” He brought a finger to his lips, tapping it in mock thought. Sarcasm and sass was radiating from him and it only served to piss you off more. “How about you fuck off and leave me alone, (L/n).” He smirked, turning to his posse and symboling them to leave with him for a dramatic exit. You took a deep breath, your hands balling at your sides. 

“I’m sorry for him.” You turned around and put a hand on the kids back and gave him a soft push back toward the castle. “Go tell the head of the house, ok? I’m gonna keep talking to him.” When he nodded and began to walk out of the courtyard, you hurried in the direction Draco left in. You found him heading across the bridge, in the middle of his group, who were effectively taking up the whole span of the bridge. His laughter echoed in the hollow build, which only had your blood boiling worse.

So, you called his name again, effectively getting his attention. He turned so fast you thought his head would’ve spun all the way around like an owl. You stared into his now burning eyes, walking closer to him. You could feel the adrenaline mixing with rage in your veins. You weren’t thinking straight, but you didn’t care. 

“Wanna explain why you're being an ass all of a sudden or are you just gonna insult me and strut off with your orgy party?” You glared at him, ignoring his irritated sneer. It was making your face red (or whatever hue, I wanna be as inclusive as possible) with anger.

“I don’t have to tell you a thing.” Draco was, naturally, turning defensive, even if he knew deep down how he was acting was wrong. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he knew he was actually being an ass or not.

“Ok. I get it. You stay the fuck here with your friends and I’ll just leave you alone then. Merlin, why did I think you’d change?” Your face showed disappointment before contouring back to anger and frustration and aggression. You ran your tongue over your teeth, a frown etching across your lips. “My mistake.” You turned around, still going off pure adrenaline. You felt a hand grasp your wrist and immediately tugged it free with all of your strength. “No, I really don’t wanna hear it, fuck off.”

You didn’t look back, and you certainly didn’t hear him say anything. Of course it hurt, but you didn’t care at the moment. Your heart was thumping in your chest and all you felt was anger. He had the audacity to befriend you, say he really liked you for fucks sake, and then do a complete 180. You were grateful it was the weekend so you didn’t have to sit next to him in class.

You stomped through the snow, hurrying across the school grounds to the library (can you tell I have no idea what Hogwarts layout is?). You pushed open the doors and decided to basically hide yourself in an empty corner to try to cool down. After pulling the seat out, you sat down, slouching and resting your forehead on the table. You want to know what happened, why it happened

Was it his dad? Was it his friends? Was he jinxed or something? You let out a sigh of frustration. The idea of his dad convincing him to start treating people like trash again brought your anger back. You rolled your neck and ran your hands through it.

Pulling your wand out of your pocket, you waved it casually, summoning a book from one of the carts beside the isles. You didn't care what it was. You just wanted a distraction. 

Luckily, for you, it didn't take long to get distracted. A few pages and more than a few dreadful minutes into your "reading", someone sat across from you. You looked over the rim of the book to see a smiling Gryffindor with big, round glasses slipping down his nose. He gave an awkward greeting while pushing his glasses back up. 

"Hi to you too, Harry. This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?" You smiled, shutting the book and crossing your arms over it.

"Well, I just heard about the Draco fiasco that took place a few hours ago-" had it really been hours? "-and I wanted to make sure you were OK." Harry scooted closer to the table, his cheeks a soft pink.

"I'm fine, man. You don't gotta stress about me." You stretched your arms over your head while leaning back in your chair. You were trying to give the illusion of calmness and it was sorta working.

"Oh, good! I'm- I'm glad you're ok!" He began to fiddle with his fingers, digging at the nails nervously. "Because I also wanted to ask.. Um.. If you are free? Like this weekend? To hang out?" His green eyes barely met yours and, instead, opted for staring right over your shoulder. 

"Oh, I'm n-"

"He's not free, Potter. We have plans covering every minute of the weekend. Scram."

Your smile faded as Draco's voice filled the small corner. You looked up, immediately catching his stern gaze. He was leaning against the end of a bookshelf, his arms crossed and one foot crossed over the other. He was clearly chewing on his tongue, not that he'd admit it. You gave him a glare, your arms crossing over your chest. 

"But, Draco. I thought I canceled our plans." Your voice was condescending and it only fueled his anger. Harry, noting the weird tension, ducked out of there quickly, swerving around Draco and speed walking to a safer, less awkward part of the library. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" The blonde hissed while taking long steps over to the table. He was still staring you right in the eyes. Draco moved the chair Potter was sitting in and put his hands flat against the table. He made eye contact with him. 

"Why should it matter to you? I thought I was just being a selfish hero." You narrowed your eyes at him, daring him to make a move. You could feel the anger returning from earlier.

"I never said selfish. Why are you making this so complicated? I have a reputation to withhold, (Y/n)." His eyes softened a bit. He looked down at the polished wood before looking at you again. Draco tried to give you a smile, but you didn’t return it; you just tapped your fingers against the table top.

"I don't give a rats ass about your shitty reputation! You bully pre-teens and they actually fear you and you think that's a good thing? That's what you wanna leave behind when you graduate here?" Your face was turning a deep shade of (insert skin color please). He knew he fucked up, not that he’d admit it, and his soft eyes hardened again.

"Remember who's in charge in this relationship, boy." His hand snaked around the back of your neck, tugging you forward. Your nostrils flared as you released a sigh. Was he really pulling out the dominant card right now?

"I told you there was no relationship." you shoved his hand away, standing straight up and walking past him. You didn’t get far before he grabbed the hood of your robe and tugged you back. He guided you so your back collided roughly with the end of the book case he was leaning against.

“I know you can’t quit me like that, love.” The pure-blood spat out the pet name as his thumb and index finger roughly grabbed your chin and tugged your head up. “We both know I infected you like a virus- I know you're obsessed with me, sweetie.” A menacing grin spread across Draco’s pale lips when your jaw dropped open and your mouth fumbled to find words to combat him.

He moved his leg between yours, his hands moving from the scrunched fabric of your hood to your neck. He leaned in, planting a rough kiss to your lips while his other hand untucked your shirt. He pushed his hand under the shirt, rubbing the skin of your hip while he deepened the kiss. He managed to push his tongue past your lips and ran along yours.

Draco angled his leg to brush against your crotch causing you to jolt in the kiss. He pulled back, his tongue licking your teeth while pulling back. 

“Told you.” He purred out. The hand on your neck gives you a squeeze around the neck while his icy eyes go from your lips to your eyes. He could read you like a book. You hated it. “Don’t be a slut, darling. Let’s head to my room, yeah?” He didn’t move until you nodded your head slowly. “Good boy. Come on.”

The walk to the common room was long, but the hand around the back of your neck was sturdy. It didn't take long for him to have you pressed against the wall of his prefect bedroom, chest first, your pants basically vanished from your legs and his hand wrapped around your hard dick. 

“You’re such a whore, aren’t ya, baby boy, hmm?” Draco’s voice boomed in your ear as his fingers interlocked into your skelp. You couldn’t help but sob. The hand on your dick was going faster, but refused to slide over the swollen head. Your nails scraped down the wall pressed against your front and Draco pressed your cheek harder against the brick. “Been such a bad boy- using that dirty mouth to talk so poorly about me and to flirt with my anime. If you wanted a three-some you should’ve asked Zabini. But Potter? You know that’s a firm no, baby.”

He was tsking before biting down on the side of your neck, the grip he had around your cock only tightened to the point of painful. Tears of humiliation and pain gathered in your eyeline, threatening to boil over. Your legs subconsciously spread when he began to grind into the bulge of your ass, his hard dick prominent into your crack. He licked a strip up from the bite to your ear.

“You know very well what happens to slutty bad boys who flirt with sir’s enemy, right, baby?” He was growling in your ear again, his hand coming to a tight hold at your base. He let out a mocking laugh when your legs clamped shut and your hips tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Draco!” You squeaked out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. It made Draco happy to hear your pathetic pleas, but his joy was melting away due to you still squirming in his grasp. He shook his head, tsking again. He tugged your hair, yanking your head back and forcing you to bow against his body. He gave you a firm slap against the cheek before cupping your cheeks together and forcing your lips to pout, his hand still in your hair.

“You know that’s not my name right now, kitten. Use the right one.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your voice was weak compared to Draco’s, the obvious authority he had over you made you shiver. Abruptly, he pushed you against the wall, letting go of your hair and he was backing away from you. 

“Not yet your not, kitten. Finish stripping then get your arse over here.” Draco spoke, sitting down on the bed, patting the top of his thighs. He smirked when you did what he said, tossing your shirt off into the corner and approaching him slowly. He reached out to grab your arm and tug you over his lap. 

He used one hand to push your face into the mattress while the other ran over your right cheek. He loved watching your hips try to duck and avoid the cold silver of his rings. He let out a mocking laugh, his hands grabbing into your bum, nails digging into the skin to leave marks that had your back arching. 

"Aw, baby. Is it too cold for you?" He laughed louder, feeling you nod against his left hand tangled in your hair. "Aw, poor baby. Wait until you feel them bruise your skin. Now, do you remember what you say?"

"Yes, sir." your voice sounded strained--like you were mentally preparing yourself for the bite of the rings, the puncture of his smacks. You were, in all honesty. He never held back during punishments. 

"See? It isn't so hard to be a good boy after all, is it?" he patted your head before brushing your hair back. "Remember the safe system, darling? Good. Color?" 

"Green, sir." your legs were clenching together and wiggling, but a swat to the back of the sensitive skin of your thighs made you stop. "I'm sorry sir." 

"Good.. Now, how many does a horny little whore like you deserve, hmm? Ten? Fifteen?"

You knew what he was looking for. 

"T-Twenty." You swallowed. The anticipation and degrading was making your head cloudy. 

"Twenty? Well, you must've been really naughty, huh?" His hand ran to your lower back, caressing the skin before dragging his nails back down, leaving a trail of red marks down your skin.

You nodded your head quickly, biting your lip to conceal a moan. You could feel the pre-cum going down your hard dick, which was pressing into Draco's thigh.

"No response? Maybe we should add another ten then, since you wanna be so bad." 

"I-I'm sorry, sir! Twenty is what I deserve." You said quickly, trying to turn back and give him the huge innocent eyes he always went weak for. 

"No. Thirty seems far more fitting." He chose now to start the punishment with a raised hand and a harsh slap over the perfect curve of your ass. He watched the skin bounce and groaned, gripping the flesh again.

"One! Thank you sir." You squeaked out, back arching at the familiar sting of the hit. The cold silver of his rings colliding with your skin caused your toes to curl. 

"Atta boy." he purred out, repeating the action on the other side.

“Two, thank you sir!”

By the tenth spank, tears were falling freely down your cheeks. By the fifteenth, your voice was breaking with each shout. By the twentieth, you were trying to crawl away. By the twenty-fifth, you were kicking your legs like a brat. Somehow you managed to count to thirty without losing track. 

"You did so good, baby. Even if you were being a brat." Draco chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. His other hand rubbed your cheeks, trying to sooth the deep red (or whatever tint shows up with your skin, I wanna be as inclusive as possible) marks on your skin.

You let out another sniffle, propping yourself up on an elbow and wiping the tears off your cheeks. His hand ran up your sweat thighs, his palms rubbing the already sore skin of your ass once he got to it.

“Color?”

“Green, sir.” You turned your head to look at him. Your legs shifted, creating a shattering hyper awareness of how hard and how wet your cock was against his thigh. You caught his dirty smirk before he flipped you over. Suddenly, it was stoic and he was tugging your lower half back onto his lap. This time, Draco was sitting back on his calves, and he was steadily putting your legs around his waist.

“Good. Now,” he paused to lick his lips, “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, got it?” His hands moved down your thighs before moving up to your pelvic bone. While you were responding with a polite, but breathless ‘yessir’, his hand was lazily wrapping around your cock.

He was still fully dressed, and the smooth fabric of his uniform pants rubbed against the sore spots on your ass. Your hips moved upward, trying to get more of his moving hand and less of the fabric against your bottom. You let out a breathy moan while his thumb idly swiped across the swollen head of your dick.

“That’s it.” He mumbled to himself over the sound of his zipper dropping. He mumbled a preparing, lubrication and cleaning spell, his hand still working you slowly. The blonde stuck his tongue out in concentration while pushing his own cock into your lubed ass. Draco let out a hum, his teeth clamping down onto his tongue. “Fuck yes. Such a good boy- my good little slut.” He let go of your dick and clamped his hands onto your waist and used the leverage to pull you down onto his cock.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the cry as he stuffed his cock into you. You felt the wind knocked out of you. You gripped the sheets, whining pathetically. The head of his dick nudged against your sweet spot while he sat there, waiting patiently for you to adjust. It had been a bit of time since the last time you guys had fun sexy time. Your dick was literally throbbing, occasionally twitching, at the idea of him literally fucking you stupid. Your eyes were staring at the top of his four post bed, lost in your own thoughts when he began to move.

He tested the waters with the quick thrust, which yanked a moan from you. When you finally looked at him, you realized he was watching you intently, a menacing grin spread across his face.

“How’s your arse?” Draco asked, his voice condescending and cocky as he gave another thrust. His hand snaked around to your sore ass cheeks and gave one a tough squeeze, his nails digging in.

A cry left your lips, this time pain filled instead of pleasure. You planted your feet flat on the bed and tried to wiggle away from his grasp, which only made it worse.

“Sore, you dick!” You reached around, grabbing his wrist and trying to pull his hand away. “Ow! Let go, Draco!” You dug your nails into his wrist, trying to show him a small level of the pain he was causing but he just laughed, mocking your voice.

“Owie, it hurts! Take it, babe. You can do it.” He let go, his hands coming to hold your hips again before moving you at a punishingly rough pace. His muscular thighs rubbed against your ass, not that he cared. The pain was somehow starting to make the pleasure stronger. Soon it was filling your veins and fogging your brain.

Draco relished every moan, every gasp, every little sound you made. He listened to you whine out his name and it only fueled him more. He watched the sweat bead across your forehead and felt proud of himself.

“Atta boy. Gonna cum soon? Gonna cum completely untouched, like a whore? Hmm?” He purred out, leaning down to leave hickies across your neck and scratches down your chest. Your back arched pathetically off the bed while a woeful affirmative left your lips- but it wasn’t good enough for him.

“Say it.” He snarled, his voice too close to your ear to be that loud.

“G’nna cum, please.” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but your arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him closer. He shifted so he could rail you into the mattress and fulfill his promise.

“Please what? How can I help you if I don’t know what you want? What do you need, kitten?” 

It was like he used the imperius curse on you. You bent to fit his mold and he couldn’t have asked for more.

“Please, sir. Please let me cum, please.” You whimpered, your toes curling in the air. Your ankles locked behind his waist and dug into him, effectively pulling him closer. His palm glided up your chest again and he gave you a smile.

“Course you can, love. Whenever you're good to go.” Draco didn’t ease up his hips, but his voice was softer and after a few thrusts hitting your prostate and a brush of his stomach against your weeping cock had you cumming. Your head tossed back and you didn’t bother to muffle the cry of his name.

It didn’t take much to follow you for Draco, it never did. He always thought one of the most beautiful expressions you could make was while you were cumming on his bed. That, and when he gave you candy and you smiled at him. He kissed every bruise he left on your skin before landing on your lips and laid next to you.

He pulled a sheet over the two of you- the room had gotten hot but he knew both of you were too tired to get cleaned and shower. He pulled you to his chest, kissing your temple.

“You did so good, baby. I love you.” He rested his chin against the top of your head, completely delving you in his shirt covered chest. He rubbed a hand down your back. Your boyfriend didn’t care about sweat. 

“I love you too, Draco.” Your voice was rough and raspy. You planted a kiss to his cheek and nuzzled deeper into him somehow. “I miss you. The nice you- not the mean Slytherin you. He can suck my dick.”

“I know, I know. I’ll work on it. I promise.” Draco spoke between laughs. He hesitated, his mind bouncing between two questions he wanted to ask at once. “Do you want me to get you a bottle of water and we go take a bubble bath?” His voice was soft, but a massive grin spread across his lips when you nodded.

“Can we take a nap first?” You looked up at him with those big innocent eyes and gave him that smile he loved.

“Of course, dove.”

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (3)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: none 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky stared down at the fresh coffee stained on the sidewalk; a caramel puddle nestling into the cracks and stretching along the lines until it spilled out into the street. He could smell the bitterness and the sweetness in the cream, the steam of it still warm as it filtered up into the cold, autumn air. He cursed at himself under his breath.  

You’d looked so beautiful, even with your eyes wide in shock and lips parted in a gasp as coffee spilled to your shoes. Dressed under an army green overcoat, a sliver of a burnt orange sweater peaked out from underneath. He’d seen that particular shade before, cast over a forest of evergreens and reflecting into the clouds, just above the sun as it set over the tree line.  

But he’d made a fool of himself in front of you and he could still feel the burning in his ears. He felt hot under his jacket and he found himself glancing down the street, wondering if he could make a run for it. Only, you were waiting for him inside and Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing you.

Gathering what remained of his courage, Bucky parted the double doors and stepped inside. It took a minute to let his eyes adjust, but when the dim lighting came into view, he noticed you were standing by the entrance waiting for him like you’d known he’d decide to follow. You beamed as he caught sight of you and his stomach twisted straight to knots. You were still clutching the donut box to your chest, almost as if you were afraid he’d knock that out of your hands, too.  

“Come on, you can help me set up.” You gestured down the hall to the room he met you in a few days prior. The library with no books on the shelves and cobwebs in the corners. “We’ve got to get you a book before the others show up.”

Bucky nodded, though he didn’t say anything as he followed you. It was pretty quiet without so many people lingering around, but everyone seemed to smile as you approached; perking up from under their clouds and called out your name until you waved back at them. It was like you carried sunshine in your pockets and comfort in your presence, breaking away stormy skies as you passed by.  

Before you could reach the library door, Bucky rushed out ahead of you and grabbed a hold of the knob. You paused, eyes catching his for a moment and a pink filtered into his cheeks. He cleared his throat.  

“Figured I could do one decent thing today after I ruined your shoes,” he explained, pulling open the door for you.  

“You showed up, didn’t you?” you added with a wink. “I count two decent things today, James Barnes.”

He chuckled at that, nodding. “Y-Yeah, okay.”  

You set the donuts on the coffee table and began to push the furniture around into a circle. You shouldered most of your weight into the couch to get it to budge and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips just watching you. Concentrated frown on your face, determination in your eyes, staring down the couch as if it were your sworn enemy.  

“You need help with that?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the couch that barely moved a few inches while you were out of breath.  

You glanced up at him over the spine of the couch, nodding gratefully. “This one always gives me trouble.”

“I’m sure if you waited for the others to show up, they’d help you move these around,” Bucky said as he placed his right hand on the back of the armrest, his knee digging into the center of the back. You stood next to him, hands on the frame to help push despite the fact that Bucky was strong enough, even without his left arm, to move the couch on his own. But he liked the idea of you beside him, so he didn’t say anything.  

“Oh, I’m sure they would,” you exhaled as they couch slid perfectly into place within the circle. “They all work so hard though, you know? It’s nice to have them just walk in and sit down for a change. Don’t need them thinking I’m expecting work out of them, too.”

“Ah, so that's why I’m here, then...”  

He was surprised by the teasing in his own voice. When was the last time he made a joke? He couldn’t even remember. But you started to smile, that brightness shining right up into your eyes, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d make a thousand jokes if you would keep looking at him like that.  

“Careful now,” you warned, a glimmer in your eye. “I might need you to help move this couch every week...”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”  

He didn’t know where this was coming from or how it slipped off his tongue so easily, but he liked the way it seemed to catch your off guard. You stilled for a second, a nervous laugh under your breath as you quickly tucked away a few strands of fallen hair. You were flustered. Shit. He was done for.  

“Haven't even seen one meeting and you’re offering to move couches for me on a weekly basis? Consider me eternally grateful, James Barnes.” You plopped down on the couch, reaching for the strap of your bag, though it was a few inches out of reach.  

Bucky leaned down and picked up the bag, surprised to find it as heavy as it was, and gently set it in your lap. He took a seat on the couch on your left, though he left considerable room between you. You started digging through the bag, pulling out book after book and setting them on the table.  

“We’ve got to pick your book of choice,” you explained, smiling at him and clearly eager to see what he would select. “Anything you want. I can get something else from the library for next week if you’re not interested in these. I’ve got some guys reading Harry Potter for the first time. Lang’s on the second Twilight book. Romanoff is halfway through The Odyssey. Barton’s about a few pages to the end of a murder mystery he guessed the plot twist of within the first ten pages, which is just downright infuriating...”

Your nose was all scrunched up and it was the damn near cutest thing Bucky had ever seen. He must have been staring for too long though, because you raised a brow at him.  

Bucky cleared this throat, quickly looking away. He scratched nervously at the back of his neck and tried to steer the conversation strictly away from how adorable he found you.  

“Isn’t the point of a book club to read the same book?”

“I suppose,” you shrugged, “but not my book club. The whole point is just to help these guys feel comfortable, give them a moment of peace, even if it’s for an hour once a week. Sometimes we’ll sit around the circle and talk about what we’re reading. Lang’s working really hard to sell the Twilight books to the rest of the group despite being about a decade late to the game. Most times though, we just read, listen to some music. It’s quite nice, actually.”

So that was what Sam meant by unconventional.

“I don’t know the last time I read anything,” Bucky admitted slowly. He could barely get himself to concentrate on a single newspaper article these days, let alone an entire book. He often caught himself staring at the TV and realizing an episode later that he didn’t have a clue what had happened.  

“A lot of the guys take breaks,” you offered, seemingly reading his mind. “That’s what the donuts are for. Oh, and the coffee, of course.”

You jumped up, making your way over to the pots sitting on the table lining the wall. The pots were already filled and he wondered who took the time to do that for you before you even arrived. You were so well liked around here, Bucky found himself wondering if he wasn’t the only one who felt like you could tell him to do just about anything and he’d oblige without question.

“You want some?” you asked, holding up an empty cup, but Bucky shook his head. He was already starting to get warm and adding coffee to the mix wouldn’t help things.  

You didn’t seem to mind as you shrugged off your jacket and draped it by the door. The orange sweater he’d caught a glimpse of under your jacket turned out to be a cardigan. It flowed long down by your thighs, draped over a simple, white tank top and black jeans. Gold jewelry sat over your collarbone and you had a sudden glow about you, like that hour just before sunset.

Golden hour, he realized. That’s what you reminded him of.  

“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” you asked, fanning yourself as you set the coffee on the table. “It’s not just me?”

It’s definitely you, Bucky thought. He’d never met anyone who carried such a presence as to melt the icy cold shards planted defensively around his chest. You were the epitome of warmth and kindness and the sweetest damn thing he’d ever seen... but a trail of sweat lined his hairline and he could feel the heat trapped under his jacket.  

“Not you,” Bucky confirmed, brushing at his brow. “It’s hot.”

“Here,” you stood up, holding out a hand to him, “I can take your jacket for you.”

Bucky froze, jaw clenched. He became painfully aware of the empty sleeve on his left side. He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew you must have noticed by now, but taking the jacket off made it obvious that a piece of him was missing, the stub at his shoulder the only thing left in place of an arm he could still feel most days.  

“I’m, uh, I’m okay,” he stuttered out, his eyes falling to the ground, hoping you didn’t notice the flush in his cheeks. He could feel your eyes on him and he was almost certain that if he dared to look up at you, you’d be fixated on his empty sleeve.  

Shame started to burn hot in his chest when suddenly he felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck. When he looked in search of you, he found you setting up a fan at the edge of the room, angling it just enough so that it was sure to reach him on every rotation.  

He swallowed as he watched you. You didn’t ask questions or push him to take the jacket off despite being clearly too warm to keep it on. Instead, you offered him a short smile as you sat back on the couch beside him, a little closer this time.  

“Any better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that's really nice. Thanks.”

You smiled for him and he wondered if he could stay inside that moment forever.  

***

Bucky selected The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Gilman from the stack of books on the table. It surprised you as his hand ghosted over the cover before flipping it over in his palm, a curious look on his features. It was one of your favorites, one not many would choose to pick up in fear of the publishing date in the late 1800s, but it was a short story, one he could finish within the span of the meeting today.  

As he stared down at the unusual yellow pattern on the cover, a frown pushed at his lips as he started to see the strange images hidden under the surface. You found yourself struggling to tear your gaze away from him. With such a reaction to the cover, you couldn’t wait for the end of the meeting just to hear what he thought of the story.  

Soon, the usuals started filtering into the room and you noticed that Bucky had barely said a word as the low hum of small talk and chatter filled the empty space. He kept to himself, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion like he might run at any second as you talked with one of the oldest VA members by the door.  

Upon sensing his discomfort, you quickly made your way back to the couch and you were surprised when you felt the cushion dip a little as he leaned in your direction as if he was using you as anchor; something familiar amongst an unknown. You tried to suppress a smile when he looked at you, but you really liked the idea of being something familiar to him.  

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” you told him quietly, nudging his side playfully with your shoulder. It drew a soft laugh from under his breath and he nodded, gripping tight to the book.  

“Yeah, me too.” He sank back into the couch and relaxed the tension in his body.  

Six on the dot. You turned to the group.  

Tony Stark sat in his usual throne, legs draped over the arm rest, sitting sprawled out over the single chair. Heir to Stark Industries, he’d enlisted himself in rebellion against his own father. He’d ended up in the Air Force for three tours and prided himself on the tattoo on his chest he’d gotten drunkenly off base in his early twenties.  

Natasha Romanoff found her place sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning up against the seat of Tony’s chair. She was a sort of a mystery to you, never spoke a word about her position within the military and how long she served, but she was exceptionally perceptive. Part of you wondered if she was some sort of super spy. Despite becoming a close friend, there was still so little you knew about her history. She rested a pillow in her lap.

Then, there was Scott Lang. He’d found himself in some trouble after his discharge, but he was turning his life around. He had a little girl to stick around for and he was trying desperately to find a job. You suspected his fascination with the Twilight books stemmed more from an unbreakable bond with his daughter than anything else. He took his place on the bean bag chair.  

Clint Barton sat on the table outside the circle. He was a sharp shooter in his time and found more comfort in the distance. He kept to himself and had an exceptionally entertaining habit of making quick remarks under his breath few were fortunate to hear. You were determined to hand him a book with a plot twist not even he could see coming. You resided to put Defending Jacob by William Landay on hold.  

A few others filled out the circle; familiar faces of men and women most would look past on the streets. Dark circles under their eyes, a hardened look about them. Some with tattoos and long beards, other’s draped in leather. Some, you could see the ghost of their former selves in their eyes, but they all seemed to lighten as they sat around the circle.  

A moment of peace. It’s all you could offer and they took it gladly.  

“Hey everyone. We’ve got a newbie in today.” You gestured to Bucky and he slowly lifted his hand in an awkward wave. “This is Bucky. Bucky, this is the group. Play nice.”

“What’s your rank, soldier?” Tony quipped from his chair; legs kicked out over the side. He never had much of a filter, or a sense of restraint. You shot him a glare he didn’t seem to notice, or rather he didn’t care.  

“Sergeant,” Bucky clarified, though you could hear the strain in his voice. He said it as though it burned him, like the very act of the title was painful just to speak.  

“Where’d you serve?”

“Tony, we’re not grilling the new kid today,” you warned, but Bucky cleared his throat.

“Afghanistan mostly.” He curled his hand into a fist, pinching at the pages of The Yellow Wallpaper in his grip. A hardness had swept over most of his features, almost in a protective layer, and you wanted to whack Tony upside the head for stealing the soft undertones in his expression.  

“And the rest?”

Bucky paused, releasing his fist. “Classified.”  

Tony pursed his lips, staring Bucky down over the top lens of his thick rimmed glasses. A testament of wills. A challenge. Then, he nodded, satisfied.  

“Great,” you groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. “Now that Tony here has finished interrogating our newest member, we can get started.”

“Hey, consider it my welcome to the group!” Tony hands thrown defensively in the air. Scott nodded from his couch, remembering his own initiation the day Tony demanded to know the extent of his robbery charges following his discharge.  

You shook your head, smiling spreading back to your lips and you were thankful to find that Bucky had sat back into the couch, relaxing as the attention moved back to you.  

“I think we’ll just spend today reading,” you said. “I’ll put on the playlist Tony recommended – and don’t worry, I did browse through to make sure he didn’t slip any rock anthems in again. We don’t need to give Dr. Selvig down the hall another heart attack when Back in Black starts blaring directly after Yiruma.”

The room laughed and you were purposeful in glancing over at Bucky to see if a smile caught on his lips. It was small, a little uncomfortable as his eyes flickered around the room at the other group members, but he seemed to soften as he landed on you again. You nodded at him.  

“Alright kids, hush up now.” You pressed play and the gentle strokes of a piano began to fill the room. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”

You waited until everyone settled in and opened their books. One of the older gentlemen in the back with a long and burly white beard and a leather vest draped over his shoulders set the open novel on his chest and promptly closed his eyes for his weekly nap. You smiled to yourself as you watched the heavy rise and fall of his chest – the man deserved one decent hour of rest a week, anyway.  

By the time you made your way back to the couch, you noticed Bucky had tensed up again. He was staring down at the book, harsh breaths pressing through his nose as he tried to keep the book propped open with on hand, losing his place as he tried to turn the page. His jaw was clenched so tight you wondered if he’d bite it clean off.  

He didn’t dare ask for help or so much as look in your direction, but it was a determination you’d come to expect from the people you met in these halls. It didn’t mean you couldn’t offer it anyway.  

You quietly opened a drawer at the edge of the room, pushing aside knick knacks and old ketchup packets until you came across a small wooden clip. One of the older members had used it when he was going through extensive PT for his hand and couldn’t pinch his fingers enough to grip the thin slip of the page. You pulled it from the drawer and quickly skirted your way back to the couch beside Bucky.

“Here,” you offered, extending the clip to him as the book fell closed on his lap for the fourth time. He looked up at you, confused. You wondered if he realized how cute he looked when his brows pinched together like that; made him look about ten years younger and wiped the evidence of the war clean off his face.  

You smiled at him. “It holds the pages down for you. Look.”

Gently pulling the book from his lip, you opened to the first page and set the clip at the bottom of the binding. When you released it, the pages stayed open, giving him free range of motion to turn the page without losing his place.  

He blinked a few times as he stared down at the book. It was clear he’d never considered a tool like this and you wondered how many times he had sat down with the intention of reading only to find he couldn’t even turn past the first page. He might have been able to figure out the skill in it if he’d had the patience, but you imagined his own frustration got in the way of that. He seemed to have little patience for himself, as soldiers returning home often did. 

There was a brief moment when the tips of his fingers brushed over yours as you pulled away. His hands were warm, almost feverish in comparison to the chill in your own. A blush warmed his cheeks and his eyes quickly darted down to the pages. Your stomach was in pleasant knots.  

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, a soft semblance of a smile rising sweetly at the edges of his lips.  

You nodded, settling in on the couch beside him and pulling your own book up into your lap. You listened to the gentle strokes of the piano carrying softly through the room until a page turned on your left and then, you let yourself sink into the bindings of the book perched upon your lap.  

***

“So! What did you think?!”

It was the first thing you said as the final group member exited the room. Barely even a footstep out the door and you were already anxiously awaiting his reaction. Bucky was busy pushing the couch back into its original position and he glanced back at you to see you biting nervously on your lip, hands wringing out in front of you. You were swaying onto your tip toes like a kid hyped up on sugar. It was the cutest damn thing he’d ever seen.  

“It was... a little creepy at the end?” Bucky chuckled, glancing down at The Yellow Wallpaper as it sat on the coffee table. “The woman went completely mad.”

You nodded vigorously, the smile on your face beaming and he had to watch himself to keep from mirroring your excitement.  

"It’s a critique on how women’s mental health was perceived in the nineteenth century!” you explained with that giddy look on your face, reaching down for the book and flipping the pages through your fingers, the soft brush of wrinkled paper touching over each thumbprint. “Women were believed to be weak minded and frail, unable to handle more than two hours of mental stimulation. The woman in the story was prescribed ‘rest’ by her physician to treat her depression, essentially restricting her to little more than staring at the walls.”  

You rolled your eyes, groaning dramatically, and drawing a smile to Bucky’s face that ached into his cheeks. “Slowly, it drove her to seek stimulation in impossible places, like the image of a woman she saw in the wallpaper! By the end of the story, that’s who she became. Wild, right?”

You shook your head, seemingly lost in astonishment. There was a slight crinkle in your nose when you smiled that wide, Bucky realized, like even the features on your face couldn’t hope to contain the joy bursting from your smile. Radiated like the fucking sun. Bucky was helpless in his stance, frozen, as he listened to you.  

“You know the author once said, ‘it’s not intended to drive people crazy, but to save people from being driven crazy,’” you continued, setting the book down with such a gentle touch, almost as if it were a living, breathing thing. You handled it with such care and Bucky began to wonder if you’d ever touch him like that – if he was worth such tenderness.  

The thought startled him and he quickly swallowed it back. Jaw clenched, right hand pressed to a fist in the pocket of his jacket. Stone cold expression. And yet – you were still talking about that book, all starry eyed and adorable, and a smile managed to crack through his lips. It was his new favorite book, he decided. Whatever could make you smile like that was his favorite. He’d sit there and read the fucking phone book if you asked him to.  

“She wrote it in retaliation of her own experience of a physician disregarding her depression. It's actually quite remarkable when you think about it. It's one of the earliest American Feminist works of it’s– ” You froze suddenly, hand clamping over your mouth. You winced at him, slowly pealing your palm away. “Oh God, I’m rambling. I tend to get a little excited about these things... You must be so bored right now.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile as it rose in his cheeks. He liked seeing you so flustered, caught up in a passion he so rarely saw these days. He didn’t know the last time he cared about anything as much as you cared for books. He could have easily listened to you talk like that for hours without interruption.  

“No, no, not bored at all,” he reassured you and you visibly relaxed, relief sweeping through your shoulders. You started to fold up the chairs when Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back. “I, uh, I did like the story, though. Has a lot of relevance today. I see why you like it.”

If he thought you were going to burst before, he should have waited to see how you were looking at him now. Chewing on the inside of your cheek in hopes of suppressing it, though it clearly did little use.  You planted your hands on your hips.  

“Watch what you say, Barnes. I’ll talk your ear off.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m already down an arm, what’s an ear, too?”

The second the words left his lips, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head; drenching his clothes, goosebumps on his ice, sinking into his veins and freezing him to stone. He woken up from a pleasant dream by the harsh ringing of an alarm. He'd been pushed off a cliff, stomach churning in the freefall.  

You knew. Obviously, you knew.  

You weren’t blind and he was certain you could tell there was a startling absence where his left arm should be, even with the poorly camouflaged sleeve hanging off his side. It wasn’t fooling strangers on the street and it certainly didn’t fool you either, even if it gave him an ounce of peace, like maybe he could pretend he was whole again.

But you’d brought him that book clip for a reason.  

You knew.  

At yet, this was the first time he mentioned it aloud. Actually said the words. Drew attention to the fact that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and now he was waiting for you to flinch, for the familiar shades of pity and embarrassment to cloud over your starry eyes, but he waited and waited and – it never came.  

Instead, you started to laugh.  

It filled the room and washed away whatever panic was surging inside of him within a matter of seconds. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard and he wished you didn’t shield your hand over your lips in an effort to contain it because – God – he could have spent his whole life sitting in that moment. Tears in your eyes, a smile on your face, looking at him like he was the man he was before the war, like he was something worth looking at.  

“You’re funny, James Barnes,” you said after you caught your breath again, a whisper of a laugh still lingering in your voice. You brushed the tears from your eyes.  

Bucky’s chest felt instantly lighter. His right hand was swinging down at his side and he brought it up to his hair to brush it from his face.  

“I could use a new book for next week,” he started, a little surprised at himself, and judging by the look in your eyes, it surprised you too. But you were smiling at him and it gave him the courage to continue. “Thought maybe you could help me find something?”

“Really?” you asked, practically glowing. “You’ll come back next week?”

He’d do anything if you kept looking at him like that.  

“Yeah,” was all he said, but you looked as though he told you he’d just told you he won the lottery. Maybe he had.  

“Well then, I’d be happy to! Just, um, hold on a second,” you scrambled around the room, looking for a pen and paper. You clicked a pen a few times before doodling in the corner to get the ink moving. When you were finished, you handed it to him. “These are my hours at the library. Come by anytime, okay? If I’m not up front, ask Mrs. Jefferson to page me. She’ll know who you are.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, staring down at the scribbled numbers. Did you talk about him at work? Butterflies swarmed in his stomach at the thought. He wondered what kinds of things you would say about him.  

“Walk me out?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the rack and gesturing to the door. Bucky looked up, not even realizing the room was already set back in its original formation, the empty box of donuts discarded.  

He nodded, following you to the door.  

“You know, I’m really happy you decided to come today,” you said as you passed into the hallway. Bucky kept an even pace at your side and tried not to let the butterflies in his stomach escape to where you could see.  

“Almost didn’t,” he admitted with a tired chuckle.  

“Figured by the staring contest you were having with the building before the coffee incident.”

Bucky winced, but you were smiling as he looked over at you and he felt the tension slip from his muscles instantly. “I am sorry about that...”

“Maybe you can just owe me a coffee,” you suggested casually, as if the prospect of spending time together, just the two of you didn’t make the butterflies crawl a little further up into his chest. “A real one. Not the shitty stuff we serve at the VA.”

Bucky swallowed, pushing the creatures back into his stomach. His throat was dry. “I can do that.”  

He pictured sitting across from you at a café, watching your hands curl around the outside of a mug, the steam of it brushing on your nose. Glistening in the reflection of the sunlight peaking through the windows, draped in the glow of the sunset. He’d buy you a thousand coffees.  

“Okay, well, I’ll see you soon then?”

Bucky looked around and realized suddenly that he was standing outside. The cold breeze had turned into a frigid autumn chill with the sun nearly set behind the skyline. Peaks of orange remained at the horizon, mimicking the colors in your sweater. When he looked down, he could still see the stain of coffee on the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, determined to push past whatever doubt etched into his way. It faded in an instant as he saw your lips curve up high into your cheeks. “I’ll see you soon.”

[randomshyperson]

Hi!! Hope you're doing good and drinking water :) May i request something? 😁 I was listening to "the 1" by Taylor Swift (queen) and got me thinking about a Wanda X Reader story where maybe idk they dated in high school/college but ended cause whatever reason but they never actually stopped liking eachother (yknow, like the song) and then they just meet somewhere and get to talk and you know... happy ending lol But only if you like the idea really. Have a good one!

Hello anon! Here it is, hope you like it. It’s short but is sweet, i hope you like it.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - The One

Summary: Prompt based “A story where Reader and Wanda broke up and never stopped loving each other. Inspired by the song “The 1″ from Taylor Swift.

Words:  2.531k    ///// Read on AO3

Warnings: None.

Marks: @mionemymind @wandamaximoffpuppy

Wanda Maximoff came into your life during autumn.

You were both in the same art history class, and she lent you a pen.

All it took was two dates, and you were completely in love. Unfortunately, as quickly as it started, your relationship burned out.

You wish you had a big plot justification, with betrayals and twists and turns to justify to your friends your emotional misery when it ended, but the only reason was the complete emotional immaturity you had.

There were fights, and accusations, and so much jealousy. And you wish so much that you had gotten over it, but you couldn't. And then Wanda was gathering the clothes that she had in your dormitory, and throwing the key at you.

You swore you wouldn't cry anymore, because there were no more tears after so many weeks, but you kept going. Until all that was left was the bitter feeling that you had ruined everything and lost the most important person in your life.

It had been more than two years since you two had broken up, and you still had the number saved on your cell phone with a heart emoji, even though the conversation had been archived a long time ago. And then you were walking out of the main building at NYU, and your friend Natasha Romanoff called out to you as she walked quickly toward you.

- Hey, girl! - she said with a smile. - How are you?

You shrugged as you walked with her around the campus toward the secondary building, where the Philosophy classrooms were.

- I’m surviving. - You joke with a weak smile, Nat looked at you worriedly, but you shook your head, trying to reassure her. - And how are you doing? 

- Fine, I think. - She says, entwining your arms. - I miss you, but things are fine.

You nod, looking forward. You knew that you had been absent in your friends' lives, simply because it seemed that things no longer made much sense since you were no longer with Wanda.

- Did you hear about Bucky and Sam? - she asked, and you let out a sigh.

- Yes, I... I don't know if I'm going to make it.

- Ah, Y/N, please. - She says. - It won't be the same if you are not there.

Natasha was talking about your friends' engagement party, which you were invited to a week ago. You hesitated, because all of Bucky and Sam's friends were invited. And that included Wanda.

You let out a sigh.

- I will make an effort to be there, I promise. - You assure her with a smile. 

- You don't want to see Wanda, do you? - Nat asks. And you look at the ground. - Look, I just... I never really understood why you two broke up. But maybe it will be good to see her, you know. Maybe you two need to talk after all.

You shrug, feeling the familiar sadness take over your chest every time you think of Wanda. 

- Let's talk about something else okay? - You ask her with a weak smile and Natasha nods, changing the subject as you two walk along the campus.

//-//

You straightened your clothes before knocking on the door. It had been almost two weeks since you had spoken to Natasha, and the day of the party had finally arrived. You saw many cars parked outside the Barnes residence, and were not surprised when one of the family friends answered the door instead of the owners.

You smiled and greeted the gentleman, saying that you were a friend of the grooms, and he smiled back when he let you in. You overheard someone say that it was better to leave the door open because of the number of guests, and you let out a small laugh. 

The house was full, and it took a few minutes for you to find Bucky, who looked extremely happy. He smiled slightly surprised when he saw you.

- Hey, you're here! - he said, walking over to you. - It's so good to see you!

Bucky hugged you tight and you laughed lightly, saying that it was very good to see him too.

- How are things going? - you asked as you broke the embrace. - Are you feeling anxious?

Bucky laughed, putting his hands in his pockets.

- Everything is working well. My parents are helping me and Sammy to organize everything. - he says, smiling. - And damn, yes. I can't wait for the ceremony.

You laugh, nodding in understanding. You talk for a few more minutes until Sam comes to check on the groom.

- Wow, look at you Wilson! - You exclaim when you see him, and he opens his arms toward you, grinning contently. You hug each other tightly. - It's good to see you, my friend.

- Yeah, it's great to see you too, stranger. - He smiles back, and then you part. - Glad you could make it.

- I couldn't miss the first wedding of the group. - You joked and made them laugh. 

And then they were talking about the preparations for the wedding, and the family members who had come from far away, and you were smiling and laughing at the stories. But everything seemed to slow down when your gaze focused on someone behind Bucky, the only person who always had the ability to capture your full attention.

Wanda had just walked through the front door, and was taking off her coat. You barely noticed Pietro standing beside her, as your heart started racing at seeing her again. Sam called out to you a few times, until you blinked and looked at him.

- Wow, you really haven't changed at all. - he teased. - Three years and you are still completely out of breath when you see her.

You blushed, telling him to shut up, but Bucky and Sam just giggled. And then you swallowed hard, because Wanda was looking around and her gaze met yours.

Your gas in surprise, and you told the couple in front of you that you needed a drink, then you rushed to escape the room.

You ended up on the balcony, trying to recover from the intensity of the previous moment, completely affected by seeing Wanda again. 

You thought it was the best to greet the people you knew at the party, and after talking to Clint and his girlfriend Laura, and also to Steve, Tony and Bruce, you made your way to the family circles. Bucky's parents and siblings were very friendly, and Sam's family was very warm, and they all hugged you and smiled. And then you were walking around the house again, and Nat approached you, two drinks in her hands, and one of them she handed to you.

- You really came. - She said with a smile. - Bucky just told me and I didn't believe it.

- The faith you have in me is touching. - You sneered with irony and she laughed before taking a sip of her drink. You looked at your own glass suspiciously.

- Is this champagne? - you asked, and she nodded, making you sigh. You put the glass on the balcony table near you. - Thanks but I'm driving.

Nat grumbled in understanding.

- You're running away from her, aren't you? - She remarked when she noticed your gaze wandering around the room.

- Is it that obvious? 

Nat laughed lightly.

- I suppose you are going to be uncomfortable for the next few minutes, since I just told her I was coming to talk to you and invite her to join me. - She tells you and you turn your face to her sharply with a surprised expression.

- Wait what?

But Nat is smiling past you and then you feel your body tense up as Wanda's voice sounds behind your back. Nat is saying something about how nice it is that everyone is together, while you turn around and you’re probably staring, but you can't react to having Wanda in front of you. Just as beautiful as she was three years ago.

- Hi. - She said a moment later looking up at you, a slight blush on her cheeks. It took a gentle nudge from Nat's elbow on your rib for you to react.

- Hi. - you exclaimed surprised and slightly uncomfortable. - How... How are you?

Wanda smiled awkwardly.

- Good, I... i'm good. And you? - she asked hesitantly. You nodded frantically, trying to smile.

 - Good, good. I... Good.

- Jesus. - You heard Natasha say as she looked at the two of you with a frown. - Okay. I'll put our names in the gymkhana, and you can continue with whatever this is by yourselves.

You scratched your neck uncomfortably as Natasha hurried to leave. 

- So... how are things? - Wanda asked, putting her hands in her pockets.

Ignoring your current anxiety, you assumed a thoughtful expression for a few seconds.

- Things are fine. I’m... I... I'm graduating. - You tell clumsily, running your hands through your hair. - Yeah, I... I'm graduating in a few weeks. 

- Wow, that’s actually really cool. - She comments with a smile. 

- I think so. - You say, laughing nervously. - What about you, Wands, how are you? Are you still studying?

Wanda blushes at the way you call her, looking away. You barely notice the nickname escaping your lips. But then she is smiling, so you don't notice much beyond that.

- Yes, I still have a year to go, but I'm doing well. - she says. You nod in understanding, but then Pietro is joining you two, a smile on his face.

- Wow, it's really good to see you Y/N. - He remarks as soon as he reaches you two and hugs you. You laugh lightly. 

- It's good to see you too, Pietro. - you say when you let go. - I like the beard, by the way.

- Thanks, I'm trying to look older. - He comments with a cocky smile, and you laugh, ignoring the nervousness of having Wanda looking right at you. - I didn't know you would be here today, I heard you were going back to California.

- Oh, yes, I... I am. - You say clumsily, gazing at Wanda quickly. - After I graduate, I'm going back home. I don't really have anything to keep me here.

- That's a shame, really. - Pietro says and you try to focus on his face and not on Wanda's frown. - But I hope you will keep in touch with everyone by skype at least.

He jokes last, and you laugh, nodding. And then he starts asking you about college and your parents, and you answer politely, trying to ignore the nervousness in your stomach that has settled with Wanda's attentive look on you.

- Pietro, would you get me something to drink, please? - Wanda asked after a moment, and you and Pietro looked at her in surprise, but she just smiled innocently, and her brother grumbled, before nodding and leaving. - Can we talk for a moment?

You blinked in confusion, but agree. Wanda took your hand next, and you bit the inside of your cheek, feeling your face flush as she pulled you around the yard, toward a farther area.

When she stopped walking, she let go of your hand, and turned around to face you, looking nervous and a bit anxious.

- Are you really leaving? - She asked with a almost sorrowful expression.

You straightened your posture, frowning slightly.

- Yes, I... Wanda, what is it? 

- Okay, I’m.. I'm going to say this once, because I have to, and then we'll go back to our life as before, okay? - She said hurriedly, closing her eyes for a moment as she took a deep breath while you just stare her. - I'm still in love with you. And I know we broke up two years ago, but I just couldn't move on. And I guess a part of me never will. - She confesses and you feel the air escape from your lungs. - And I need you to know this before you leave, because I almost couldn't come to this party because I knew you would be here. And I can't believe that we were this intense and amazing thing only just for me. - She says last. But you are in shock, so Wanda swallows dryly. - Damn, I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything and…

- I love you. - You confess interrupting her, listening to your heart pounding in your ears.

- W-what?

- I love you. - You repeat breathlessly as you are moving forward and kissing Wanda firmly. She stumbles back in surprise, but you keep your hands on her face, until she sighs in delight and kisses you back with the same intensity. It feels as good as you remember, but eventually you part breathlessly and start talking with your forehead touching. - I'm sorry I ruined things between us. I was stupid, childish and a bloody idiot. But I'm completely in love with you and i have always been. 

Wanda lets out a surprised laugh, her eyes filled with tears. And then she kisses you again.

- God, we are a complete disaster. - She comments as you separate, making you laugh lightly. And then she swallows dryly, stroking your face with her thumbs. - What are we going to do now?

You smile, hugging her waist.

- I'm not going anywhere if you ask me to stay. - You tell her, making her sigh with surprise and happiness.

- Be my girlfriend, then. - She asks, and you let out a giggle. 

- I'd love to. - You say, and then back away a little. - We'll make it work this time, Wanda. I'm going to love you the right way now.

Wanda nods in understanding, looking at you tenderly.

- You have always loved me the right way. - she says. - We just didn't know how to show it properly.

You sigh.

- I missed you. - You say, bringing your foreheads together. 

- I missed you too. - She breathlessly retorts before kissing you again.

The kiss intensified in the next second, and you ended up pushing Wanda against the outer wall of the house, and she sighed into your mouth. God, you missed her taste. Then she sighed against your lips, and you slowed down, because you are literally in an engagement party.

When you parted, you let out a breathless giggle.

- We should get back to the party. - Wanda comments, her face close to yours. You grumble in agreement, before kissing her again, your tongue running slowly and sensually across her mouth, making a warmth rise in the pit of your stomach.

- Wow. - You say breathlessly a moment later, breaking the kiss for breath. Wanda's hands are dangerously low. She lets out a breathless chuckle, her face flushed. You swallow dryly, clearing your throat. - We'd better go before I can't stop.

Wanda smiles, nodding her head in agreement. And then you took a step back, and it was easier to breathe and think clearly.

When you returned to the party, holding hands, Natasha stared at you two and sighed, taking a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and handing it to Pietro, who had a smug smile on his face. She complained that she had bet that you two would only get back together after the party, while Pietro had bet that it would be during. You and Wanda's faces reddened, but you laughed at the story.

Two years later, you visited Bucky and Sam, but now, the wedding invitation in your hand was yours.

[spunkpunx]

Bittersweet Bundle Of Misery - Graham Coxon

Plot: Reader is dating Alex James, and finds herself miserable, but finds comfort in a tumultuous affair with his friend, and guitarist, Graham Coxon.

I will probably do a part 2.

Word count: 5153!

Warnings: Drugs, Alcoholism, Smut, Angst, Smoking

April 1996

Alex loved France. Not only that, but the French loved him, specifically the women. I didn't need to understand his words to recognise the flirty tone in his voice when he spoke to the waitresses, the bar staff, in fact, basically any attractive woman who fluttered her eyelashes at him. I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Of course, I knew Alex well, so I was never under the impression that he would be a devout, faithful partner, but I also never expected him to be so explicit in his relationships with other women. We both considered the relationship open, but Alex was the only one who seemed to take advantage of that situation.

I found solace in hanging around with Graham. The tour was stressful. We both struggled. We all drank, but for Graham it was a necessity. I spent more time with Graham than with Alex, but of course he didn’t care. The words “jealous” and “possessive” were not in his vocabulary, but then again, neither was “monogamous”.

I was tired and miserable. The venues where the band played could be stubborn about sound-checking themselves. This resulted in a lot of arguments, as I was strictly instructed that the band were only to have their own sound technician (me). Alex and Damon could be rude. Since I’d been dating Alex, nobody took my work seriously. I stopped being a technician with almost seven years experience on tour, and became “Alex’s girlfriend helping out”. The crew could be horribly sexist at times. Even Ivan dismissed me when I brought him a problem.

“Get one of the other technicians to look at it,” he said, after I told him that one of the venue’s sound guys had wired the bass into a guitar amp and not the subwoofer. He must have turned up the volume to compensate for the sound and blown the speaker.

“I know what I’m doing! I’ve worked with this band for years!” I ended up snapping. I heard one of the roadies mumble something about a period and it sent me over the edge. Sometimes I got so angry it was like I didn’t have control over my impulses anymore. I told them all to fuck off and stormed out the room, kicking the door with a tremendous thud as I left. After I’d cooled down and returned, the crew tiptoed around me like I’d overreacted. After the gig, Ivan came over to speak to me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to undermine you. You’re one of the best sound techs we’ve had,” he apologised, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. I appreciated the apology, it was the first one I’d had since the tour began.

Alex and I had an argument that night. We argued often, but this was explosive. He came into my room, coked up and horny, sitting next to me on the bed and pressing wet kisses to my neck.

“Are you over your little tantrum?” he asked, kneading my breast a little roughly. I pulled away.

“Little tantrum?” I repeated, surprised at his tactless words. “Everyone has been treating me like shit recently Alex.” He shrugged, running a hand up my thigh over my jeans, toying with my top button.

“Whatever it was. Ivan was trying to help and you just went mental,” he laughed, like it was all a big joke. He pressed his lips against mine and I pushed him away.

“It’s your fault I’ve been feeling like this!” I snapped. “If I didn’t start dating you then people would actually treat me like a professional! All of a sudden Damon is asking the drum tech to check the mic volume before they go on!”

“All of a sudden it’s my fault?” he asked, voice raising slightly. “Just cause you overreacted and bit Ivan’s head off?!”

“You don’t get it Alex! If you were ever actually here you’d understand how I was feeling, but you’re always off snorting lines and banging these fucking French girls!” I shouted at him.

“Well maybe I’d be here more if you actually put out instead of just going off at me!” he yelled back. I stood up, walking across the room with my hair clenched in my fists. I wanted as much distance between us as possible.

“Put out?” I looked at him incredulously. “So you’re only here if you can have sex with me? This relationship only exists so you can rely on me having sex with you whenever you fancy?!” We were both properly shouting now.

“That’s what relationships are! That’s what love is! The only difference between friends and relationships is sex!” he replied, seeing this as perfectly valid reasoning.

“So all I am is sex to you?” I asked, my voice now dangerously softer but still dripping with venom.

“No... That’s not- Stop twisting my fucking words!”

I calmly picked up my cigarette carton and lit one, letting his point ferment.

“Get out,” I spat. He glowered at me, standing up and leaving the room, slamming the hotel room door behind him.

As soon as he left the room, hot tears started spilling down my face, not tears of sadness but of rage. I felt overwhelmed. I smoked a cigarette, then another, the deep inhalation subduing my frustration. I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Piss off Alex!”

“It’s not Alex,” came Graham’s gentle reply. I stood and opened the door, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand.

“Gra,” I huffed in relief at his presence.

“I heard you were arguing, I wanted to see you were okay,” he said. It didn’t surprise me he’d heard it. Graham’s room was just across the hall, and we’d not been quiet. “Pub?” he offered, smiling slightly.

“Yeah alright, I’ll just grab my coat.”

We found a small bar not too far away from the hotel. Neither of us spoke particularly good French, but Graham knew enough to order some wine. The Parisians didn’t drink the same way the British did, and both of us were a little too embarrassed to try and order two pints of beer and a pack of cheese and onion crisps. Instead, we sat with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and two glasses, hidden away in a back booth and laughing at our clumsy attempts at the French language.

“It’s so embarrassing walking round with Mr Culture speaking fluent French like it’s the most natural thing in the world, meanwhile I struggle asking the man in the shop for a packet of fags,” I complained, chuckling.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what were you arguing about before?” Graham queried.

“Oh, just...” I paused, unsure whether to tell him or whether he’d just agree with Alex. “Well you know how I lost my temper before?” Graham nodded, sucking his lips into his mouth like he always did when he was listening. “Well he made a joke about it, and it pissed me off. I dunno, I feel so tired and miserable recently, and the way everyone has been treating me like I’m totally incompetent at my job is so difficult. Alex is never there, he just swans around doing whatever he wants, meanwhile I just feel so overwhelmed,” I spilled, not even intending to share that much. Something about the build up of emotions in my life and Graham’s reassuring presence at the end of the table made me feel the sudden need to tell him everything. “I just don’t feel happy anymore.”

“I know how you feel, kind of,” Graham reassured, placing his hand over mine, while I took a large swig of wine. Looking back, I think that was the first moment I thought about kissing him. Of course I didn’t, we stayed out most of the night and then stumbled back to the hotel drunk. But I actually considered that maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad if I was dating Graham, not Alex.

October 1996

I never expected the knock at the door. It was a cold night in mid October, so when I opened the door wearing only a large t-shirt and odd socks, the biting breeze nipped at my bare legs. Graham stood there awkwardly, wrapped up in a fleece lined jacket and his eyes slightly glazed in his drunkness. I didn't ask any questions, just greeted him with a hug that lasted a few seconds longer than usual, then invited him in.

Graham wasn't a happy man, but I myself was hardly a ray of sunshine. I sat down next to him on my old settee, lighting a cigarette and refilling my wine glass. I offered him a glass but he shook his head.

"What's up Gra?" I asked him softly, reaching out to cover his hand with my own. He let out a dejected sigh.

"I can't do it anymore (y/n)," he explained. "The band. I'm starting to hate them all. The press, the tours, the people. It's way too fucking much. Damon won't change the music we do, he's being a controlling bastard, and then Alex, fuck." Graham pulled at his earlobe, something I noticed him do often when he was feeling nervous or stressed.

"What is it?"

"He's out living his playboy lifestyle, shagging around, doing lines, drinking champagne. Meanwhile, you just sit around pretending like everything is fine!"

I dropped my hand from his. I wasn't ready for this criticism, especially not from a man who was currently drunk every second of his life.

"It is fine, Gra."

"No it's not, because he barely gives you a backwards glance when he goes out and I have to watch it," he complained. He turned to me, looking over my face like he was drinking it in. "I think you're so beautiful."

"What?"

"So, so fucking beautiful," he repeated. Graham was bad at eye contact, but right now he was drunk, and looking at me with such a sinful look in his gaze. He glanced over my lips, and the small flip in my stomach as he did was my only sign. There had been moments over the past year where Graham and I had shared similar glances, but neither of us acted on impulse, until now.

I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. Immediately his hands slipped around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and as he deepened the kiss I pushed his jacket off of his shoulders. He assisted my movements, pulling it off to fall lazily on the floor.

His hand travelled down to my underwear, tucking a finger beneath the waistband of my knickers, pausing to see if I stopped him. I did, but only to pull his t-shirt over his head. I had seen Graham without a shirt before, but now I took in his lithe physique and broad shoulders. He slipped his hand to my clit, rubbing it in slow circles. I gasped at his touch and he leant down to brush his lips against my ear.

“You turn me on so much,” he whispered honestly, slipping two fingers inside me and curling them up. I moaned into his neck, pressing a kiss against it. Alex never really bothered with foreplay so this felt like heaven. After a minute he pulled his fingers out to push me down against the sofa, as I pulled him into another hungry kiss. He pushed his hips against mine and I let out another soft moan while he smiled into the kiss. Soon the desperation over took us and I fumbled with his belt, helping him remove the rest of his clothes before he pulled my t-shirt over my head, drinking in my body.

For a second he tucked his hands into my hair, holding my face behind my ears and stroking me cheeks with his thumb, before kissing me playfully on the nose. He pushed himself inside me with a slight groan, watching my face as I let out a satisfied sigh. I felt so appreciated, the way he looked at me was so tender. Unlike my day to day misery with Alex, this felt so raw, so right. He cupped one of my breasts with his hand, kneading it gently as he softly kissed and nipped at my neck. I felt sweat beading along my thighs, pressed into his body as we lay on the sofa, fully naked with the exception of our socks. He picked up the pace, and I could tell he was trying to control his urge to finish as quickly as possible. He rubbed my clit with the rough pad of his thumb, causing me to let out an unexpectedly loud moan as I clenched around him and my body shook. This brought him over the edge and he finished inside of me with a string of swears. He looked at me slightly panicked.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked, and I laughed, nodding, still out of breath and thrumming from my orgasm. He rested his forehead against my own and we lay there for a moment, panting, letting it register what had just occurred. I didn’t feel guilty at all, although I could tell Graham did. Alex had said so many things to me now that I couldn’t feel regret for sleeping with his friend, not when the moment was so sweet. Then he seemed to be pulled back into reality.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, standing up and looking for his boxers. “I didn’t mean to do that, it wasn’t the plan.” I furrowed my eyebrows slightly.

“The plan? What was the plan?” I asked.

“I was going to tell you I love you, but you weren’t supposed to... You were going to tell me to piss off and then I could lay it to rest. I’m sorry. I’m drunk.” He pulled his boxers up and started looking for his jeans, but I reached out for his hand, pulling him round to look at me. I was still naked, knees drawn up to my chest on the sofa. I saw his eyes soften, his behaviour calm.

“Gra, I don’t want you to go,” I pleaded, my voice coming out a lot quieter than i intended. Alex and I had had another argument, and I was already feeling so lost until Graham showed up.

He paused, looking at out two hands together. I held my breath, waiting for his response. I needed him to make the irresponsible decision. Eventually, he nodded, and I nipped to the bathroom to clean myself up. When I came back in, clean and wearing a t-shirt and knickers, Graham had settled on the settee with the telly on, he’d also pulled his t-shirt on. I came to sit next to him, and he rested his head on my chest slightly while I began to run my fingers through his hair and he hummed contentedly. The show was boring, a late night crime drama. Within a few minutes Graham was snoring softly on my chest. I sipped my wine and smiled to myself.

November 1996

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Graham rolled over with a groan of pleasure, panting with sweat on his brow. I turned on my side to face him and he pulled a stupid face, still lying on his back. I let out a sigh and turned over, away from him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned, moving closer and pressing a kiss onto my shoulder. One of his large hands rested on my waist and I suppressed the urge to sniffle.

“We don’t love each other though do we?” I said rhetorically.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, if we loved each other, then I’d leave Alex and you’d stop drinking so much.” I felt so bad saying it, but it was true. Even as Graham arrived in a better mood today, there was still an alcoholic taste on his tongue. We’d been seeing each other for over a month, and I knew I wasn’t breaking up with Alex any time soon.

“Maybe you’re right, but still, it feels nice to say, doesn’t it?” he pointed out, nuzzling his head into my neck as he ran his hand round to lay against my stomach, pulling my back closer to his chest.

Sometimes it felt like Alex must have known about me and Graham’s relationship, because he suddenly changed last month. Of course, we still argued. He still enjoyed champagne and cocaine and plenty of women, but god he was good at apologising. After arguments he’d always pull off the perfect apology. He’d me out to an expensive restaurant and completely overlook every gorgeous woman there. He’d make a point of telling the waitress that he must be the stupidest man on earth to have an argument with his ‘beautiful girlfriend’ and would try and show me off to every person in the room. Sometimes his apologies were less flashy, sometimes they came in the form of a home cooked croque monsieur in the morning, and kisses all over my face. Alex had the ability to make me feel both completely worthless and wonderfully special, but when he made me feel so special the guilt always tainted my mood.

In fact, it was at this moment a knock came at the door. I sat up in slight panic. Graham looked at me in confusion.

“It must be Alex,” I told him in a hushed voice.

“Shit.”

The knock came again. I pulled on a shirt from the cupboard, padding through my flat to the living room.

“Hey, (y/n). I know your home,” he said through the door.

“Can you come back later, Al?” I asked, doing up a couple of the buttons. “There’s someone here at the minute.”

“No, just open the door,” he persisted. I sighed, walking over and unlocking it. I stood there in a just the oversized shirt and some underwear I’d pulled on. My bedroom door was shut, Alex wouldn’t mind as long as he didn’t know who was in there.

“I’m in the middle of something,” I said slightly exasperated.

“Fucking hell, you look good,” he grinned, looking me up and down before pushing his way past to get into my flat.

“Hey, don’t come in!” I protested.

“It’s fine, love. I left my keys somewhere here, I just came to grab them,” Alex replied, going into the kitchen and picking them up off the side. He walked into the living, cheeky smile on his face. “Hey, can I say hello to whoever is in there?” he teased, stepping towards my bedroom door. I rushed forward, pushing him away while he teasingly stood his ground.

“No you cannot, it’s weird. If I come into yours while someone’s there you look like a philanderer, but when you come here guys think you’re my pimp or something,” I argued, managing to get him across the room toward the front door.

“Okay, fine,” Alex agreed, dropping his hands to around my waist. “Kiss goodbye?” he requested in a silly voice, tilting his head to the side. I rolled my eyes, but agreed. He pressed his lips to mine for a moment, dropping his hand to squeeze my arse jokingly, and I pulled away to give him a lighthearted smack on the arm and hurrying him out the flat.

When I walked back into my room, Graham was still nestled beneath the duvet, his head poking over the top.

January 1997

"You have to be joking, right?" came the surprised voice of Blur's bassist. Alex was stood in the doorway of a backroom at Groucho's. His pupils were like goddamn dinner plates, as per usual, but for once he was acting surprisingly sober for someone so off their tits. We'd been caught, and as Alex cast a disbelieving look between myself and his bandmate my heart dropped down into the bottom of my stomach.

I had been dating Alex James for just about two years, and had known him for four, and although our relationship wasn't defined as such, it was a rather open one. This, however, seemed to be a breach of our agreement. This wasn't a random person, or even a distant friend, this was Graham.

When Alex had walked in, he'd come across a scene that was a little bit more than over friendly. The guitarist had his hand underneath my skirt and was kissing my neck while we laughed drunkly. Of course, then came the interruption, and we had jumped apart at the arrival of my boyfriend. I sat awkwardly, chewing my lip, feeling like a naughty school kid. Nobody spoke. It was difficult to know what to say. There was no chance of convincing him it was less than he thought, I'm sure our guilty faces spoke volumes. After a pause that went on for way too long, I tried to speak up.

"Al-" I began to reason but my voice was cut of.

"No," he interjected. "I can't fucking believe it. You're my mate, Gra. You're in the band. Of course, the quiet, sweet one. Works for you doesn't it? 'Cause this whole time you've been fucking my girlfriend," Alex snapped. I saw Graham look down, his jaw clenched slightly. I wanted to reach for his hand but I knew it wasn't the time.

"Alex,” I warned but he scoffed at me.

"Piss off with that, (Y/N)," he scolded with an incredulous laugh. "Get your stuff from my place tomorrow, but don't come too early 'cause I'm bringing home that blonde girl from the bar tonight," he told me harshly, leaving the room, probably to go practice his lines in the bathroom.

I sat back down next to Graham, my frown mirroring his. I tipped my head onto his shoulder, and he pulled me into him with a comforting arm. It was difficult to pin down my feelings, although guilt was the presiding one. I felt especially guilty for not finding the ability to care that Alex had just split up with me. I felt tears prick my eyes, unable to stop myself from crying. Graham tilted his head to me, brushing the tears from underneath my eyes with his thumb, and pressing a kiss onto my forehead. I tried to pull him in for a kiss, to distract myself from my current feelings, but he turned his head away.

“Now’s not the time,” he told me gently.

February 1997

I didn’t expect to still accompany the boys on the American tour, in fact, I was aware Alex had greatly argued against it, but Ivan had insisted. I was under contract to the record label and familiar with the set up and how the band liked things. I rather have stayed in London to be honest.

Before we left, Blur released their self titled album, kicking it off with a 'secret' gig at the Astoria to a sold out crowd of two thousand people. The mood was so elevated, all tensions seemed to be erased. A huge after party went down. It was packed with Britpop royalty and went completely out of hand. That night I even stupidly assumed that things would go back to normal, water under the bridge.

I only listened to the album two days later. It was totally different to anything they'd done before. I recognised the influence of the underground bands Graham listened to, although the tone seemed slightly ironic. The album seemed fast paced, but then, halfway through the album came an unexpected softer number, Graham's soft voice coming into my living room through a layer of crackly voice effects. The first verse was despairing. I knew Graham was struggling with his alcohol, but I'd been doing so awfully myself that I didn't even realise how bad it had gotten. It was the chorus that really ruined me though; heartwrenchingly honest and bitterly optimistic. I didn't care if he'd written it about me or not, but that last line hit me somewhere deep in my heart and put tears in my eyes. By the time the song had ended I was a sniffling mess on my living room floor and brimming with such a strong sense of love.

We left to France two days later. The crew were acting strange with me. Everyone knew that I’d now slept with two members of the band, and there was lots of implication I was going to try a third. Damon was acting well off with me and usually I found myself sat with Graham receiving glares from both Damon and Alex. We had to go through Paris and then Tokyo before we arrived in the US at the beginning of March. Things were okay when we all got drunk enough, the boys tended to forget about my crimes against the band. We did sing alongs at our hotels. Alex got a bit arsey when Graham fell asleep with his head in my lap in Tokyo, but he’d happily bring girls to drink with us and happily snog them while I was sat there. I didn’t mind, the part of me that cared was so easy to shut off now.

I loved Japan, and the Japanese loved Blur. Damon was particularly popular with his blond hair, blue eyes and pretty face. The reception at the airport was always brilliant. There would always be a crowd of teenage girls desperate for a signature off their favourite band member, I think one of the Gallaghers already said it, but it was like a second wave Beatlemania. I usually sat back with Ivan, watching the boys deal with their fans, especially Graham. While Alex and Damon used a charming smile, Gra always seemed so unsure what he was doing was right. It was very endearing. I wanted to stay as far away from fame as possible.

Me and Alex’s breakup was extremely high profile. Of course, why we split up was a public mystery, only adding to interest levels. We kept our relationship fairly private, although I had experienced the odd incident with paparazzi, but the Blur management team saw great opportunity for promotion with our split. I was hounded by music journalists for weeks, and photos of me suddenly started appearing all over the gossip magazines. As much as I didn’t want to be stuck on tour with Alex, I had to say it was a relief to leave it behind.

Graham still came to my hotel room late at night, but for both of our sakes he left way before the sun rose. That part was the hardest, when he climbed out of bed to get dressed and leave. I’d watch him put on his clothes, peeking my head over the bedsheets and not speaking. He’d press a kiss to my forehead and tiptoe out the room, back to his own. Then I was alone. I think that fear of being alone was what kept me from ending things with Alex, because staring up at the ceiling after Graham left was the most saddening feeling in the world. I couldn’t say I love you to him anymore, even if I did. When I was still with Alex, it was just a phrase, but then it had become an empty promise. I was far too scared to bear my soul to him like that. I think it upset him slightly, when I wouldn’t say it back, but he never mentioned it.

It was moments like that, lying alone in bed and feeling totally isolated, with nothing but the rushing thoughts in my head, that I would have given anything for Alex to burst into my room and pick a fight with me again. Sometimes I wanted him to loose his temper, to see me across the room and to shout at me, to call me names. His willing acceptance of the situation hurt me most. His ability to move on like it was nothing.

March 1997

Things went downhill once we arrived in America. Everyone was jet lagged from the flight and we were mainly travelling around on a tour bus. Being in such close confines did have a habit of getting on everyone’s nerves. I was sharing a tour bus with some other sound technicians, which was a nightmare. I was the only woman on tour, and every morning I got up an hour before everyone else so I could get dressed without being stared at by a group of blokes. Unfortunately, I was also going to bed in the early hours of the morning anyway, so I was feeling twice as exhausted as usual.

Suddenly, Alex seemed a whole lot more pissed at me than before. Any time Graham and I were even in the same room, he would glare until one of us left. He couldn't help but leave snide comments.

The other issue with being on tour was privacy. I barely got a second alone with Graham. Damon had walked in on one of our few opportunities, while Graham had his head between my legs, and aside from it being very embarrassing, since the incident Damon had been twice as off with me as ever before. Eventually, Graham and I settled for cuddles and conversation, this seemed to cause the least tension.

One night in Detroit, we all went out to a bar. I found in America all anyone ever wanted to know was 'what you did'. Of course, this was in reference to career, but I'd recently found entertainment in replying "nothing much". I spoke to lots of American's, receiving regular compliments on my accent. We drank lots, Alex ended up taking a very attractive blonde girl to the tour bus, leaving the rest of us to continue our evening by drinking enough to knock out an elephant. At one point I wobbled outside for a cigarette and some fresh air.

I stood by the back door and the bins, inhaling the smoke and letting the cold sober me slightly. Then, a very drunk Damon stumbled out the pub, proceeding to bend over by the wall and vomit onto the floor and his trainers. I rushed over, putting a hand on his back and trying to shuffle his feet away to avoid where he was being sick. He finished throwing up and swatted me away.

"Piss off (y/n)," he slurred. "It's your fault it's like this." I stepped back, surprised at his words.

"What?"

"You cocked everything up!" he whined, leaning against the wall for support. "You broke Alex's heart, and now he's mad at Gra, and now Gra's in love with you and you're going to hurt him. Fucking hell, (y/n), look at him! Can't you see what it'd do to him!"

I couldn't help it. For what seemed like the millionth time in the past month, tears prickled my eyes. I never usually cried, but now all my emotions lay very close to the surface.

"I don't want to hurt Graham, Dames. I never wanted to ruin anything," I sniffled, taking a drag from my cigarette to try to calm my wavering voice. "I love Gra, I really do, it's just... complicated."

Damon's eyes softened slightly, and then he fell over into his own sick.

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 2. math

Previous | Next

[warnings: cursing, mention of smoking, mention of household abuse of a teenager]

"what a plot twist you were."

—

The next day, you'd wakened with dry lungs and an even drier mouth.

It was true that smoking was bad for you—but it hadn't been as horrible as you'd thought. You'd try it again, but you couldn't see yourself becoming addicted.

Your mother wasn't home, again. You were quick to understand that she worked longer shifts now and you wouldn't see her a whole lot.

Not like you cared. Michelle never really liked you all that well. You'd probably have been dumped on the street a long time ago had your father not legally obligated to pay child support.

You'd never known him. You weren't sure if you wanted to.

She doesn't use child support for your well-being. Probably uses it to continuously feed her crippling gambling addiction and buy more pointless flowers for the apartment.

You were nervous about today. You'd never been the new girl before—and you didn't know what to expect about these kids. You doubted they were as cool as people as Larry and Sal.

You showered and put on your boyfriend jeans—which had holes in the knees, but you couldn't bother to concern yourself whether or not that conflicted with the dress code or not— and your light grey hoodie. You added a flannel on top of that which was a little too big for you. Don't forget the white sneakers which you should probably replace.

You pocketed your flip phone and slung your bag over your shoulder. Stopping in front of the mirror, you passed a hand through your hair, decided it was adequate, and walked into the kitchen. You grabbed an apple—you never really found yourself hungry in the mornings. Besides, it wasn't like your mother was around to make sure you were fed—and left the apartment.

You locked the door behind you and shoved the keys into the front pocket of your bag afterward.

You met with Sal and Larry at the foot of the front steps of the apartments, like you'd agreed the day prior. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you opened the door and walked down the three stairs.

"Hey!" Larry greets you first.

"Hey, Larry," you smile weakly, as you're not fully awake yet, but it still means as much as a smile you'd give him when you were awake. You turn your eyes to Sal, waving shortly. You were momentarily startled when you realized he'd already been looking at you. "Hi, Sal."

"Hey," he says your name pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

It was sweet that he was concerned about your well-being. "Alright. My lungs hurt."

He hooked a thumb around the strap of his bag and slid it up and down. His hands were pale and veiny. His nails were painted black and the polish was chipped in a few places. "Yeah. You did a shit-ton of coughing."

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can he meets your eyes. His head is inclined slightly downward, tilted a bit. He peers at you through the shadows of the mask. Lash-fringed, blue angel eyes bore through yours.

His eyes are opalescent. It's almost as if every time you look at them they were a different shade of blue.

You're sure your gazes hadn't connected for more than 3 seconds but the feeling that spawns inside of you from that short contact is slightly jarring. You don't necessarily comprehend what is stirring in your gut and you don't have time to because Larry's speaking breaks through your reverie.

He begins to talk about the chaos the first day of school would be. You quickly forget what had happened before.

But nothing had happened. It was nothing.

When you'd arrived at school after a little bit of walking, you, Larry, and Sal received your schedules together.

"Fuck me," you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you look down at your paper. "Math is first. This always happens to me."

Larry laughs loudly. "Yeah. That does suck. Mrs. Packerton looks like a walking corpse."

Sal jerks his head upward from his schedule. "That's fucked, Larry. She's an old lady."

"I don't care. Pretty sure she's secretly evil anyway."

Sal looks as though he's done reasoning with how harshly true Larry is most of the time. He shakes his head and looks back at you. "Well, if it's any consolation—I've also got math first. So, you know. We could go together," he pauses. "If you want."

You grin. "Yeah. Sure. At least I'll know someone there."

Larry flicks his eyes between the both of you before stopping them on Sal. "Hopefully you won't have Travis again," His eyebrows twitch. "He always has math first."

"Travis?" You echo curiously.

The two boys exchange a glance.

"Just a guy we know who-" Sal starts, hurrying to finish the sentence.

He was rushing so Larry wouldn't cut in and say something but it happened before he even had a chance. "He's a little fucker we know who gives Sal shit. 24/7. He makes my blood boil."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What- why? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Sal replies. "Pretty sure he's really troubled. Not unlike the rest of us."

"Doesn't mean he should take it out on other people." Larry scoffs. "I know it bothers you, dude."

Sal doesn't reply—seems as though he's growing uncomfortable speaking about all of it.

"Hey, guys!"

A voice calls, having grown closer halfway through her sentence. You all turn towards it. A girl, leggy and taller than both you and Sal, with long locks and eyes greener than a spring clover. There was something homey in the way her chocolate brown hair brought warmth to her features.

A boy is beside her, with ginger hair with eyes a deep shade of the richest earth. His skin is pale and freckled. He carries himself with an air of bluntness and just a little bit awkwardly—his facial expression is very blank, you note.

"Hey, Ash. Shocked you aren't late," Larry grins.

"Ash" rolls her eyes at him and mirrors his expression. "You know Todd would never let that happen."

"No, I wouldn't." Todd deadpans.

Ash turns toward you after laughing enough to flash the white gleam of her teeth and a slight dimple in her cheek. "Hey!" She then says your name prettily and juts out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ashley."

You don't ask her how she knows your name. Instead, you sincerely smile, take her hand and shake it. "Nice to meet you," you return, and then turn toward Todd. "You, too."

Todd is already an interesting character. He doesn't smile but his expression is cordial. "Welcome to Nockfell."

Your smile widens.

"Have you guys gotten your schedules yet?" Sal speaks up after having been quiet for a moment. He must've been reading over his schedule to himself.

"Oh! Yeah," Ashley opened her other hand, the one she hadn't shaken your hand with, and unfolded a now very crumpled piece of paper. She passed summer green over the list. "I've got biology."

Todd didn't even look at his list. "I have history."

Sal looks at you. His gaze easily levels with yours. "Looks like it's just me and you then."

Your face feels hot. "Haha," you suddenly feel nervous. "You're right. Sit beside me, okay?"

His eyebrows jump—that much you can tell by the way his eyes move. Tucking a strand of loose blue hair behind his ear, he replies: "Will do."

His ears are double pierced.

The bell's shrill ringing floods the halls. You wince, and you and Sal's eye contact is broken. Before that happens, though, you see Larry grinning to himself.

Weirdo, you think lightheartedly.

Everyone parts after that. Larry and Ash walk away together. They must both have biology, you thought. Todd leaves by himself to his respective class and you and Sal head towards math.

For a moment, the silence is unbearable. You've never been alone with a boy. Well, you weren't alone, just not in a group with other people. The noiselessness begins to bother you so you fleetingly think of something to say and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

"The piercings," you say suddenly.

He turns his head toward you. You look up to him before looking straight. "What?"

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, you thought. All I do is make a mockery of myself.

"I like them!" you add, hurriedly. "They're pierced twice. That's really cool. Looks good on you."

He laughs shyly. "Thanks. I like your shoes."

"My shoes?" You look down and laugh. They were so worn. "Why?" You continue to giggle. "They're falling apart at the seams, haha."

"That's the best kind of shoe," he retorts. He jerks his chin towards his sneakers, a muted shade of cornflower blue. "Look at mine. They barely fit and they're- like, super constricting. Also super ratty—but I can't seem to get rid of them."

You laugh with him. "They look better than mine, at least."

You're glad the ice was broken so fast. You liked him.

The class was boring and uninteresting as any math class would be. You do work. You glance over at Sal a few times throughout the class—not to cheat, just to see how he was fairing—and he was writing answers down with a quick response time and humble confidence within the drawl of his handwriting.

Alright, so he was smart. Not much of a surprise there. You could tell just how perceptive of a boy he was.

You stared hopelessly at an answer on your sheet you'd yet to fill out and twirled the pencil around in your fingers.

Suddenly, a pale hand with black nails has nimbly reached over and hastily circled what you assume was the correct answer to the question with his pencil. You look up to Sal in surprise and appreciation, who's already back in his seat as if nothing had happened.

You giggle before you can stop yourself when he raises a hand and raises a finger in front of the prosthetic's mouth, to tell you "shh."

Mrs. Packerton slowly pivots away from the chalkboard and passes her eyes over the class. You and Sal quickly break eye contact and look down on your papers. Sal's shoulders shake in your peripheral vision and you press your knuckles to your lips and force a bored expression on your paper.

Before the bell rang, you noticed a blond boy with tan skin and caramel eyes in front of you and Sal, occasionally shooting your friend bitter looks. It left a sour taste in your mouth, but you didn't mention it.

You find Ash and Larry before your next class. You think you've burst a blood vessel from how hard you'd laughed when you left the classroom.

"I thought I'd cracked a rib," Sal states over your laughter. as you walked up to Larry and Ashley.

Larry and Ashley exchange a look. Larry is the first to state the obvious. "What the hell happened to you two?"

You and Sal look toward each other and make eye contact. That's the last straw. You cover your mouth and try and hold it in.

"I-" Sal inhales. "It doesn't matter," he breathes out, an amused lilt in his tone. "How was class?"

"Bad," Larry and Ashley reply, in synchronization.

"Really?" You ask, surprised. "Biology can be fun."

"This biology isn't," Ashley sighs. "Not when you're just staring at cells and organisms for 20 minutes and then being expected to do work on it and understand what's happening."

"Well, math wasn't any better," you reply. "If it's any consolation—I don't think I got any answers right except for the one Sal did for me."

"I thought math was fine," Sal chimes in.

"That's because you're fucking Albert Einstein reincarnate," Larry squints. "Please have mercy on our mortal souls, Math God."

"Oh my god," Sal looks down. "Please don't make this into another nickname."

"I like it!" Ashley grins.

You know they're teasing but you can't find it in you to join in after he helped you out in class. Instead, you resign into silence and watch as countless students filter through the halls, bumping into each other as they pass and chatting with their peers.

Through the crowd, at the far end of the hall, you see him. The blond boy who'd been eying Sal in class. He was looking at him in the same way he had been then, with threat and resent shadowing his polished amber eyes.

It looks as if he's readying himself to approach.

You glance toward Larry, Sal, and Ashley. They seem occupied well enough, so you slip into the crowd and head towards who you've now pieced together to be: "Travis," you state, as you stand in front of him. "That's you, right?"

He regards you with distaste. "Do I know you?"

You suck your teeth. "No," you tell him your name. "I came to ask you something."

Despite himself and his embitterment, his eyes shine with hesitant curiosity. You take that as your answer. In spite of his stance over you and his general advantage of being bigger, you hold his gaze with blunt intent.

"What were you planning on doing when you walked over?"

"Why do you fucking care what I do?"

You shrug. "I don't know, Travis. I just think you need to learn how to pick your battles."

"Pick my fucking battles.. you know what? I think I will go over there-"

As he takes a step forward, you raise your hand and your palm roughly hits his chest, stopping him in his tracks—not because of strength (he's at an advantage, and he could easily walk right through) but because of the views he had, or rather—the views pushed upon him.

You saw the golden cross swinging off of his neck as soon as you approached. You'd also seen the gnarly black eye he wore on his face.

It was safe to assume he was being beaten at home and by a parent. And, most of the time.. when an adult is religious they will use several methods to further push it upon their child. Like sinner's guilt. And abuse.

If Travis' extremely religious guardian were to ever find out he'd harmed a girl, especially under the eyes of many others—it wouldn't turn out very well for him.

Yes, maybe you were being manipulative. But you were being manipulative for the good of both Sal and Travis.

"Step down," you advised. "This won't go very well."

You steadily meet his eyes. The stare between the two of you lasts for an even amount of time. Finally, he breaks that contact, jerks away with you, huffs, and walks his way around you and down the hall.

After that, you returned with the excuse of exchanging books from your locker, after Larry had asked you where you had wandered off to. No one seemed to have noticed Travis standing ominously at the end of the hall or your altercation with him.

At the end of school, you were beat. You said goodbye to both Ashley and Todd. Afterward, you, Larry, and Sal head for Addison's Apartments.

"You know, we don't have to go home yet," you say.

The boys turn to you curiously, as you kick a pebble as you walk along the side of the road. The beginnings of the sunset blossom in the sky—orange and fruity like tangerine jelly and amaranth pink like homemade strawberry frosting. like home. It fills you up inside and makes you feel so sweet.

"You guys wanna see a movie?"

Larry grins. "We don't have money."

"Who says we need money?"

When you'd arrived at the movie theater, all three of you had circled to the side exit. After a few moments of waiting suspiciously, an older couple exited through the doors. Larry caught the handle before it closed, and you brushed past them and quickly entered the theater. Before the doors closed, you heard them mumbling about "pesky children," or something.

Once you'd gotten in, you scanned each screening room and what movie the doors said it was playing.

You and Sal decided on a scary movie. Larry was not amused. Whatsoever. Apparently, horror is not his thing.

Before you entered, you frowned.

"We have no popcorn.."

In moments, Larry was reaching into a nearby trash can and pulling out an empty bucket that improbably had popcorn inside of it at some point in time. He then walked away, holding this empty popcorn bucket. It was so bizarre and you would have laughed had not been extremely confused.

"What.." Sal murmured, looking to you. "You think he'll come back?"

"I don't know where he would even be coming back from," You admitted.

It wasn't very long until he'd returned, with the empty bucket he'd taken from the trash now full of popcorn.

"Mandatory free refills," He said to your baffled face, pointing toward the poster on the wall above the trash can which read exactly what he'd just said. "You can never forget the hustle, kids."

"Oh my god," Sal mumbled and you barely heard him beneath Larry's laughter.

The movie was horribly made, and it still somehow scared the shit out of Larry. It may as well have been a comedy with how hard you'd laughed. Multiple other people in the theater had told you to shut Larry up but that was impossible when he was screaming every time a shadow would come on screen or the scene would change.

You, being between Larry and Sal, originally thought you'd had the best seat. You were wrong. Not only was Larry cowering into you and screaming directly in your ear, but Sal had simultaneously begun to throw popcorn at Larry's face to shut him up. That only resulted in popcorn. All over.

Needless to say, you left before the movie ended because of the fear of being escorted out by the employees.

"I'm never seeing a movie with you again," Sal squinted towards Larry. The three of you were now on the way back to the apartments. The night was thick and pearly moonlight bounced off old the white of his prosthetic face. "I think my eardrums are bleeding."

"It's the horror movies! This isn't my fault. Both of you ganged up on me and chose it."

You giggled to yourself.

Sal, beside you, suddenly stopped. "Wait, Y/N."

You stopped, and Larry halted a few feet away, as he'd been walking a bit ahead. Sal leaned forward and reached toward your face. Your body felt as though it had been zapped and you stood still.

He reached into your hair and pulled out a piece of popcorn.

"Huh." You said, dumbly. "How'd that get there?"

Larry's approaching footsteps were fast and leggy. He reached into Sal's hand, plucked the piece of popcorn between his fingers and fucking ate it.

"Jesus Christ, I can't do this anymore," Sal shook his head.

"What? It looked okay."

Recovering quickly from whatever had happened to you, you laughed.

You also inwardly denied what your body was feeling because you knew it was much too soon.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Nightmare

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader (NSFW)

Part 4

Read Part 3 here

Summary: Asa has a nightmare, then you have a waking one. This is a sexy little interlude with a smidgen of plot.

Warnings: Biting, creampie, Stockholm Syndrome

@little-lily-w  @quiveringdeer

 ~~

             You awake with a start, your half-formed gasp dying on your tongue. You’d dreamed of bloody mouths with no teeth and…. The details are already slipping away. You will your pounding heart to slow.

            Morbid fascination overtakes you and, unable to stop yourself, you glance down at the huge, circular stain on the floor. It looks inky black in the unlit room. Asa had cleaned, disposed of the body, but the evidence is still plain to see splattered on the floor and the walls.

            You wonder who the man had been before he’d found his way here. Did he have a family? What had he done for a living?

             The mattress shifts behind you and you whip around, panic surging. Immediately, you calm, and disbelief takes the place of fear. Asa’s wide shoulders face away from you. He’s stretched out on the bed, on top of the comforter like he had laid down to rest for a moment but fell asleep instead. Can he really be asleep?

             Timidly, you push yourself to sitting and peer over Asa’s shoulder. His eyes are closed, lips parted, chest rising and falling rhythmically. He’s either asleep or a fantastic actor.

             You jump when he twitches. A quiet noise leaves his lips, like a mix between a whine and a word you can’t make out. He’s asleep, and he’s dreaming.

             Asa’s brow furrows and another pitiful noise leaves his lips along with a few shallow breaths. A nightmare, perhaps. You’re in awe; you doubt anyone else has ever seen him this vulnerable. He’d never allow it.

             You reach your hand out to wake him but you pause, fingers hovering just over his shoulder. He would be furious if he found out you’d witnessed him asleep and mid-nightmare. He’d punish you, reassert his dominance.

             Quickly, you pull your arm back to your chest. Instead, you rest your head on the pillow once more and, gingerly, you scoot toward him until you’re curled up against his broad back. You hear his breathing even out and feel his shoulders relax under your palms.

             So, he’s human after all. You were beginning to wonder if he was a monster manifested from your worst nightmares. It’s reassuring, in a strange way, to know there’s a soul in there somewhere, the wretched, twisted thing it must be.

             Asa is incredibly warm, comfortingly so. Your eyelids droop, the steady pace of his breathing lulling you. Your last thought before sleep claims you is of his childhood; who raised him? Who warped him like this? Who created the Collector?

*

             You startle awake to the feel of a calloused palm tracing the curve of your waist. A tiny, panicked whimper escapes you, your sluggish brain struggling to comprehend where you are.

             “Shh,” Asa whispers in your ear and you calm, relieved it’s him and not another of his creations. Teeth graze your neck and goosebumps instantly raise across your skin. Your fingers curl into the sheets when Asa’s hand dips between your legs to tease your inner thighs, and it is then you realize your hands are free. He’s never left you unrestrained before.

             You’re rolled onto your stomach and Asa rolls with you, pinning you under him with his own body. His hand sneaks between you and the mattress, slipping down your abdomen to stroke you through your already damp panties. You bite your lip when you feel his mouth curl into a grin against your ear.

             You raise your hips off the bed only for Asa to grind you back into the mattress. His hand finds your neck, fingers curling around your collar before rutting his hard, clothed cock into your ass. You whine, forcing your hips to still.

             “What do you want?” he murmurs against your ear, husky voice sending a shiver down your spine. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. He’s going to make you say it?

             “Y-you,” you mutter, sucking in a quick breath when his fingers push your panties to the side to brush against your dripping entrance.

             A quiet chuckle, then, “You’re going to have to be more specific.” Why does he have to be so fucking talkative today?

             “You, Asa. I want…I want you to f-fuck me,” you admit, clenching your eyes shut with shame.

             “Better.” His weight leaves your back and you hear his belt clink, feel the cold metal of the buckle brush against your ass as he works his zipper open. Asa’s fingers hook into the lace of your underwear, dragging them down your legs and off before he’s climbing back over you.

             Tentatively, you lift your hips again. He allows it this time, cockhead pushing against your slippery entrance. You drop your head to the mattress and sigh when he eases into you, settling his weight against your back once more. His fingers return to your collar, the other hand bracing itself on the comforter.

             You focus on his knuckles, covered in jagged, white scares and bloody lacerations new and old. A couple of his nail beds are black, bruised from some trap or another. Is the rest of him this beat up?

             The leisurely roll of his hips pulls you from your reverie and a surprised moan leaves your throat. You were expecting to be hammered into oblivion, as usual. The way he thrusts into you now could almost be described as tender. Are you the one dreaming now?

            Asa bites back a groan. You can hear the way it strains in his throat, trying to escape, and that sends heat roiling in your belly. Your own mewl tumbles, unchecked, from your lips and Asa responds to the sound with an insistent thrust.

            The fingers in your collar move to your hip, tilting you how he wants before fucking back into your welcoming cunt. You dig your nails into the sheets, holding the angle so his hand can return to your neck. Without fail, he finds that perfect trigger within you that has you quivering and moaning your appreciation.

            “A-Asa,” you beg, letting him know that you’re quickly approaching that beautiful precipice. He growls, deep in his throat when you say his name. The sound goes straight between your legs, the possessiveness behind it making you throw your hips back against him as if you’re agreeing.

            “Fuck,” he groans, teeth sinking into your shoulder. That does it for you. You careen off the edge, tumbling into ecstasy with what you think is a, “Thank you,” on your lips, but what you say instead has your eyes flying open in horror.

            “I love you.”

            This is a dream. A nightmare. That phrase could not have left your lips.

             Asa freezes behind you. He inhales deeply, hand on your neck going to your jaw, mouth returning to your ear.

             “Say it again,” he orders, no trace of levity left in his voice. He’s all business now. Asa’s hips return to their task with gusto, now bucking fervently into you.

             You can’t say it again.

             “I-I love you,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Apparently, you can.

             With a strangled groan, Asa cums, hips erratic as he fills you with sticky warmth. He pulls out of you a few moments later, flipping you onto your back and holding your face in his hands.

             You don’t want to look at him. You’re reeling, shock, horror, and a million other emotions churning in your tumultuous mind. Asa tips your chin up so he can examine your teary, mismatched eyes.

             There’s something in his own eyes, just barely noticeable under the cool apathy. If you didn’t know him so well you doubt you would have noticed. It almost looks like….

             Triumph.

[diaco1968]

Payback is as cold as steel

Mini nsfw stories where you take your revenge on the boys (Bakugou, Izuku, Todoroki and Shinsou), for this

WARNING! nsfw, smut, a bunch of kinks like biting, orgasm denial, overstimulation.

Everyone is aged up and are adults.

Bakugou Katsuki

How did he manage to land in this mess? Agreeing to wear this stupid quirk nullifying collar to be on fair grounds with you for physical training, like a total idiot. You had fooled him.

His arms ached from being stretched over the chair and tied up behind his back by nothing other than his own belt. His neck and shoulders were wet and stinging, littered by your little bitemarks, red and purple.

Panting and sweaty as a string of muffled swears and threats left his lips, from his 5th denied orgasm when your hips stopped moving over the bulge in his undone jeans once again.

"Looks like the biting and barking roles are reversed, Katsu. Are you ready to say it now?"

He glared up at you as you looked down on him affectionately with your smug smile, running your fingers through his hair, almost soothingly. As if he'd believe your false sweet demeanor. Mean little demon, you.

Your fingers undid the muzzle behind his head and let it fall off his mouth and chin, around his neck and onto his chest, him taking in a deep unfiltered gulp of fresh air.

"Well?"

He bucked his hips up into yours but you didn't budge at all, moaning playfully and rolling your hips onto his teasingly, knowing his latest orgasm was too far gone already for him to be able to chase it like that. That only added fuel to his fiery rage, even if there was a chance he was going to open his mouth to beg, it was gone now.

"I'm gonna get my hands on you eventually, (y/n), and when I do, I'll make sure that by the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk straight for a month."

The somehow none yelling calm way in which he said it actually shook you to your already dripping core. But it was too late to back down now anyway.

"Wrong answer." You rolled your eyes and put the muzzle back over his mouth, strapping it tightly behind his head. He hissed and growled as you leaned in scraping your teeth over his neck, hips beginning to move, grinding over him roughly, before suddenly sinking your teeth into his shoulder, hearing the sound of his sharp inhale from between the little gaps of the muzzle.

Shoto Todoroki

At that moment, he should've known. The look of utter betrayal was what was written all over his mostly expressionless face as he watched the plot unfold in front of his eyes, the moment your fingers wrapped around his tie delicately, undoing it, very slowly pulling it off of him, letting it slide around his neck softly.

Then you didn't discard it like you usually would. Pure mischief flashing behind shiny (e/c) eyes as you straddled his kness tightly smirking down at him, while he was absolutely helpless in his position on the bed, half sitting, back leaning on the headboard, his hands cuffed up aboved his head keeping him up right.

How many times has it been already? You edging him on till he was more than ready to cum, but couldn't and then you stopping to let him cool off a bit. He hadn't bothered to keep count, hoping his negotiation with you would work each and every time, but as he glared at you panting and sweating and gritting his teeth it was obvious you had other plans.

"What is it Shoto? You want something?"

You hummed dragging your thumb over his slit, smearing the precum around, his shaft throbbing under your touch, an angry red and ready to explode at any time. Only if the tie wasn't wrapped around the base so tightly as a makeshift cock ring.

In yet another futile attempt to reach you, he jerked his arms forward, the metal of the cuffs clinking and the headboard creaked before hitting back on the wall with a loud bang. "Fucking hell..." he hissed as you laughed and grabbed his cock again and started stroking it "these quirk cancelling cuffs are pretty amazing, huh?" His negotiation patience flew out the window as he resorted to threats "when I get out of these cuffs, I'm going to hold you down and fuck the shit out of you, till you can't form a single coherent thought, (y/n)." He growled out and you only grinned at him, a shiver running down your spine knowing he would hold true to his words, you leaned in whispering right into his ear in a breathy voice "If you get out of them Sho~" you tightened the tie around your wrist and pulled it a little tighter.

He let his head drop back in between his stretched up arms on the headboard, glaring at the ceiling before shutting his eyes tight and moaning when you resumed your onslaught on his poor overstimulated cock, bucking his hips involuntarily into your touch.

Izuku Midoriya

The moment he stepped in through the doors, you had pulled him inside by his collar and shut the door, slamming him back into the wall.

The way his green eyes turned wide with worry before he realised what was going on when you crashed your lips onto his, added to your desire to mess him up even more.

He looked relieved only for a second, before his expression twisted into a knowing one as you slapped his hand away harshly when he reached out to hold your hips. He whimpered at the sting of your teeth on his lower lip as you bit and tugged on it when you pulled back from the kiss, your hand reaching down and cupping his dick through his pants roughly, him letting out a surprised mewl.

"You will be touching what I tell you, when I tell you  to. Got it, hero?"

He looked at you through half lidded eyes, pupils dilated, already breathless and panting for air "But!-" you gripped his jaw with your free hand forcing him to be quiet "you're going to be a good boy for me, Deku, right?"

He watched you and your eyes intently for a few seconds before nodding his head. That was a couple of hours ago. Now he was leaning back full weight on the wall behind him, dishelved and a hot mess, with your lips wrapped around his cock, sucking his soul out, again and again with no break.

His thighs quivering and legs were shaking, barely able to hold himself up, his head dropping back and hitting the wall with a soft thud as he let out a high pitched exhale that turned into a long loud moan, his hands turning into fists on the wall behind him , knuckles turning white as he came again with nothing coming out, dry as they come.

"Shit! P-please (y/n)! I c-can't anymore... please!" He begged once again almost sobbing from the intense pleasure as he looked down at you for mercy, with you enjoying the number 1 hero, Deku, turning into a loud begging moaning mess under your touch.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Your silence was killing him, crushing his hopes with every passing moment and every time your evil grin faded from his watery vision due to the intense pleasure. Before it all got ripped away from him before he could grasp his now much desired release. "Ah! Fuck! Come on!" He whined and groaned as he tried catching his breath, defeatedly looking at the ceiling before his eyes snapped back on your grin and your unusually quiet chuckle.

Why would you not slip and make a sound in his reply!

It had been a simple request he would have never thought to result in this outcome of all things;

"Hitoshi? Can you do me a favour?" You had kindly hugged him from behind and was now playfully tugging on his arms, to make him turn around, he assumed.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Keep your eyes on mine to the end and it will all be over."

You had said just as you pulled both his arms behind his back, tying them tight and pushing him back on the bed.

That was the last thing he heard you say.

No matter how he prodded at your pride, your conscience, your logic. You wouldn't budge to reply to him, as you gave him a sweet smile while placing the little vibrating buds on his cock securely before walking away, swaying your hips as you showed him the controller between your thumb and forefinger.

"That's a coward move you're pulling, kitten. Never took you for a- Gah!"

You turned the vibrator on, straight on it's highest setting, shrughing your shoulders and smiling at him innocently when he glared at you.

That was an hour and quite a few denied orgasms ago. The thought made him huff out loud.

"You will regret-Ngh! I'm sorry!"

He whimpered as the buzzing sound filled his ears again. He had forgotten threatening was no way to go. It was a simple request; He would have to keep his eyes open and keep them on yours the whole time. He had never thought eye contact with you would be such a hard task to complete.

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - Chapter Seven (nsfw)

Hopefully you’re as excited for more of this as I am to share it! It’s nsfw pretty much straight off the bat, so please make sure you’re old enough to consume that (18+).

We have some feels ahoy before the plot picks up again.

I’m envisaging maybe two or three more chapters, but it might go longer. I’ll do a full re-edit before I post it up on AO3, so you folks are technically my beta-readers! Thank you :D

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six (nsfw)

___

When dawn came creeping in through the still-open curtains of Draco’s soulless bedroom, Hermione rolled over, just barely-surfaced from sleep. Naked — which was unusual for her in bed — and better rested than she could ever remember being, she sighed and yawned like a kneazel in the sun.  

Her breath caught a moment later when she glanced to her left and saw the way Draco lay fast asleep on his back, his lips softly parted, white hair tousled, and with the duvet pulled halfway down to expose his gorgeous, marble torso. His left hand rested on the pillow beside his face with his fingers softly curled, and his right lay splayed on his stomach. Chest rising and falling softly, he didn’t stir as she shuffled to place her head on his shoulder, but about fifteen minutes later, while she was trailing her fingertips across the uppermost scar on his chest, he inhaled deeply and blinked awake.  

With a wordless hum, he smiled, raised his right arm for her to duck beneath it, and drew her close to him. “Wasn’t sure you’d stay, Granger,” he mumbled, and oh, his voice was delicious like that — all husky and vague with sleep.  

“Why ever would I leave?” she chuckled. “Comfy bed, nice apartment, great view of the city…” she looked up at him and added, “Oh, and only the most handsome man in all the world beside me…?”

To her delight, Malfoy flushed hot and looked away, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She popped up onto one elbow, chasing after him, and kissed the slight indentation in his cheek that was almost a dimple, until he turned his head back and kissed her shyly, almost affectionately. It suddenly felt as if he were trying to fend her off with a barrage of little retaliatory kisses, and she loved it.  

“You want some breakfast?” he asked when she drew back, still giggling like a teenager.  

Breakfast had definitely not been the first need to which her body had drawn her attention, and a moment later, he blinked again and saw it too. Hermione sank her teeth into her lip and tried not to squirm under the new intensity kindling in his silver eyes. 

“Oh,” he smiled, and this time it was a broad, sly, confident smile that made her insides twist in anticipation. “Oh I see,” he purred, and he stroked his left palm down from her shoulder to caress her bare breast, thumbing teasingly over her hardening nipple, and then he leaned over to take it between his lips. He sucked and then raked his teeth over the sensitive bud, and she yelped and bucked, falling helplessly back into the pillows amid a wild mass of curls.  

For a while, Draco did little more than simply worship her all over with his touch, peppering in a few kisses and sucking a mark on her collarbone that would last for hours. Finally though, his fingertips found their way between her thighs and she parted her legs for him.  

“Oh, Granger,” he whispered in reverent surprise when he discovered how wet she was. “Look at you. You’re practically dripping…”

She whimpered when he ran his fingertips through the wetness around her sex, and reared her hips up until he pressed her back down into the bed. “Shh, Granger,” he crooned. “I’ve got you.”

Then, resting his head on his right hand to create the impression of casual nonchalance, he propped himself up on one elbow and began to work her gently with the fingertips of his left hand, all the while watching her intently.  

She could feel the power of his gaze on her body as she writhed and gasped, chest heaving, magic sparking along her veins in response to his touch. “God, Malfoy —” she choked when he eventually slipped two fingers inside her, only to withdraw them again a second later. “Tease…” she griped.  

Draco raised his eyebrows and didn’t stop his slow, decadent, teasing rhythm. He didn’t speed up though either. “Mmm?”  

She cracked an eye open and stared at him. He looked like a vision — a reclining Classical statue come alive — and were it not for the intense, watercolour flush creeping up his icy chest and neck to give him away, she might have thought him utterly indifferent, utterly unmoved by what he was doing to her. As it was, he kicked the duvet down a moment later to reveal just how interested and how hard he was, and rolled half atop her. There was a darker spot in his tight boxer-briefs that made her mouth water.  

With her left thigh clamped between his, Malfoy leaned over her, pressing his lean, muscular body against hers and rolling his hips against her for a little friction. He dipped his fingers inside her again, and this time, he stayed there, buried knuckle-deep inside her. With his fingertips pressing against her inner walls, he began to pulse the pressure against her, matching it with caressing circles with the pad of his thumb against the underside of her clit. In no time at all, heat began to wash through her, over and over, building with the speed of a great wave.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” he crooned right before he bit her earlobe none too gently.  

A guttural grunt left her and she arched upwards into him. One handed, he shucked his underwear down just enough to free his flushed cock. A cool bead of pre-come dripped down onto her inner thigh almost immediately and she almost sobbed at the sensation. “Please, Draco… please,” she gasped, shaking, teetering right on the edge but needing just a little more.  

“Come for me then, Granger,” he said, picking up the speed of his fingers inside her just a little and brushing his thumb across her clit in a circular motion until she thought she was going to die from the intensity of it.  

White hot tendrils coiled around her spine and between her legs until it all crashed over her and she arched and came with a broken cry.  

Draco didn’t wait. He slid her legs further apart while she was still convulsing with pleasure, and seated himself inside her. “Oh… Fuck… Granger,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Oh fuck, you’re perfection… gods, you’re so tight, you’re —”

“Move, Malfoy,” she murmured. “Please… I want… I want you to… to… oh gods, yes, like that…”

Malfoy held nothing back. What began as a languid roll, deep and intense, rapidly gained momentum until he was sweating, and with each thrust, she clenched tighter around him as sparks still danced across her vision. He bowed his head, slamming into her, and as she hooked her knees up to let him catch her even deeper, he choked out a grunt and his hips faltered. Pressed tight against her, he spilled deep inside her with a near-silent snarl of pleasure.  

When the peak of his orgasm had rolled through him, he slumped forwards onto her chest and braced his weight on his elbows. Through the crackling of her magic along her nerves, she realised that he was kissing her collarbone and shoulder, and then when his breath tickled her neck, she giggled and squirmed and he drew back with a soppy smile on his face.  

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t realise that the great Hermione Granger was ticklish.”

“My biggest weakness, Malfoy,” she whispered dazedly. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Really? And I thought First Editions were your greatest weakness.”

She laughed. “Close second, perhaps.”

“Well, at least your birthday present will be an easy one,” he said, making no move to withdraw from her or to stop kissing her shoulder and what he could reach of her chest.  

“I think I’ve found your weakness, Draco Malfoy,” she murmured quietly a few moments later.  

“What’s that?” he asked, even as he pressed his lips to her jaw and raked his teeth over her pulse.  

“Kissing.”

“Not just kissing,” he said, rolling his hips one final time before sitting up and withdrawing. “Kissing you.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that.  

Draco's eyes dropped between her legs and she twitched as he ran a fingertip around her entrance. “We made a mess,” he murmured, apparently fixated by the sight of his seed slowly sliding from her onto the sheets.  

“Shower?”  

He nodded and she followed him from the bedroom to the en suite, tying her hair up in a bun and locking it in place with a fairly hefty charm. At the tingle of magic in the small, icy bathroom, he glanced back and his breath caught audibly.  

“What?” she asked, freezing with her hands still raised at the back of her head.

Draco looked like he’d been thunderstruck for a moment and then he relaxed and laughed, stepping back over to her and taking her waist in his hands. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered fiercely, kissing her mouth and then bringing his palms up to cup both breasts, kneading them gently, rolling her nipples briefly between his thumb and finger before holding her close. “That’s what.”

Their shower took three times longer than it should have done, and Malfoy came once more, and Hermione twice, before they were drying themselves off and thinking about breakfast.  

“I don’t have anything other than my dress from last night,” Hermione pouted. “And before you suggest it, I’m not wearing nothing, Malfoy. Your flat is bloody freezing.”

“You could borrow something?” he said. “I keep a few spare shirts here at least.”

With a smile, she crossed to where she’d bared his beautiful body the previous night, and picked up the crumpled white shirt from the pale carpet. “This will do for now,” she said and watched his eyes darken.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to wear then?”

She shrugged. “One of those spare ones, I guess?”

After she’d tugged it on, she drew the collar up to her nose and inhaled. The fabric skimmed just down to her hips, and once she’d pulled her underwear on, she looked up to find that Draco had rather pointedly busied himself in the wardrobe.  

“What’s for breakfast then?” she asked. “I have to be honest; it doesn’t look like anyone lives here… Do you even have any food?”

“No.” He chuckled and turned around as he slid his arms into a cornflower blue shirt that did startling things in contrast to the grey of his eyes. “I don’t come here often, it’s true. If you give me a few minutes, I’ll apparate home and grab some ingredients.”

“You’re going to make me breakfast?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.  

Instead of being offended, Malfoy twitched his lips into a lopsided smirk. “I have it on authority that I make the best pancakes in England, Granger.”

“Oh? And whose authority might that be?”

“Scorpius’.”

“Well then,” she said, and turned to head into the living room while he finished buttoning up his shirt. “I can think of no higher praise. I’ll help myself to a book, and await your return, if I may?”

“Make yourself at home, Granger,” he called from the bedroom. “I won’t be long.”

The air warped, and he vanished a heartbeat later.  

Alone in Draco Malfoy’s flat, Hermione took a deep breath. Effervescent excitement suddenly coursed through her and she bit her lower lip. She’d had partners and a few one-night-stands since leaving Ron, but she’d honestly never had sex like that in her entire life. It wasn’t just that Malfoy clearly knew what he was doing, and had been only too happy to focus on her pleasure as much as his own — if not more so — but there was a rightness to it all that she couldn’t define. Gone was the self-centred, noxious youth he’d been at Hogwarts, and in his place stood a quiet, thoughtful, sincere man in his thirties. He’d always been pretty — even back at school — but Malfoy had truly matured into something exquisite that left her dizzy and, she realised with a jolt, happy.  

Her magic felt comfortable here too, as though it had found its equal in Malfoy’s own magic, and was perfectly content in its presence. The constant vigilance of the War had long faded, but as the ex-minister for magic, she had had some run-ins and security issues before, regrettably even in the bedroom. Now, however, her magic seemed calm, restful, almost sated.  

To distract herself, she meandered around his flat for a while, though she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told him it was cold. Goosebumps shivered up her legs and she cast a quick warming charm as she crossed to a bookshelf in the living room and paused to peruse the titles. To her surprise, there was a single Muggle volume among them; Great Expectations.  

It fell open willingly in her hands to a page in chapter eight, and her eye was drawn down the page to a slight darkening of the paper. It was as though a fingertip had been traced over the text repeatedly. Had Malfoy thumbed through to this passage repeatedly then? Her eyes skimmed the paragraph and she inhaled softly.  

Under her breath, she read it aloud, “Though she called me “boy” so often, and with a carelessness that was far from complimentary, she was about my own age. She seemed much older than I, of course, being a girl, and beautiful and self-possessed; and she was as scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen.”

Hermione stared at the passage and pondered its significance to Draco.  

The soft shimmer of the air in the living room behind her made her jump and she whirled around to find Malfoy standing there with a small cardboard box in his hands. “Ah,” he said when his eyes took in the book she held. “An old friend.”

Hermione goggled openly at him, the open book held loosely in her fingers. “You’ve read Great Expectations?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, turning away and moving into the large kitchen. “Many times.”

“But… why?” she blurted artlessly as she closed it with a snap and slid it back onto the shelf. “I mean, Dickens is a Muggle author. You didn’t even know who Emile Brontë was at Theo’s!”

“Oddly enough,” he said from the kitchen with evident sarcasm, “I find a lot that’s relatable in Estella as well as Pip. And I found that copy in the library at the Manor. I believe it belonged to my mother.”

“Well,” she exclaimed from the doorway in a dry, playful tone. “Though I find myself compelled to point out that Estella’s behaviour isn’t exactly her fault. Pip himself says she was raised by Miss Havisham to hate men.”

“True,” Malfoy said, shooting her a pointed look over his shoulder before he stooped to fish out a frying pan from a low cupboard.

Ah.  The knut dropped and she admitted, “Ok, yes — I can see how being raised to hate an entire group of people just because your parental figure told you to might have a certain resonance for you…”

Malfoy’s lips twitched in wry confirmation.

“Have you ever seen the 1946 film?”

Malfoy paused at that and then frowned. “No.”

“Next time, we go back to mine. I’ve got it on DVD. It’s a classic.”

“If you say so,” he said, looking a little anxious — probably due to the mention of unfamiliar Muggle technology, she reasoned — but there was a curious light to his silver eyes too.  

“Unless, of course,” she said carefully as she came over and peered into the box without looking at him, “You hadn’t intended for there to be a ‘next time’…”

Already pale, Malfoy somehow managed to go a shade lighter — or perhaps greyer — and he swallowed thickly when she glanced sidelong at him. “I… I had hoped…”

Guilt shot through her chest and she smiled. “Good. So had I. Now, what can I do to help with breakfast?”

Malfoy closed his eyes and drew in a long breath through his nose, as if steadying himself.  

Instantly, she rounded the corner of the kitchen island where he’d plonked the box down, and brought her hand gently to his hip. “Draco?”

“Mmm?”  

He looked down askance at her through his white-blond eyelashes. Evident relief mingled with the last remnants of his uncertainty, and she thought vaguely that it was like being stared down at by some kind of mythical creature. Wary and defensive, he observed her hopefully, and her heart cracked a little.  

“I’m serious about this,” she said and laid a hand flat on his chest. “I never would have expected it, given… everything, but… this feels right, Malfoy.”

He shifted his attention from the box of ingredients and turned to face her, bringing both his hands up to frame her face before sweeping them back over her wild hair. Wordlessly, he stooped and kissed her.  

When they drew back, his eyes were bright, pupils huge and dark, and he was smiling again. “You can make tea then, Granger,” he said in a rough voice. “Top cupboard to the left of the sink.”

He watched her walk away from him, eyes lingering on the hem of his shirt where it skimmed her thighs. He obviously enjoyed the sight of her wearing nothing but her underwear and his rumpled clothes from the night before, but then, to her slight surprise, Malfoy collected himself and proceeded to make pancakes from scratch, and the only magic he used was to heat the pan.  

Leaning on one elbow, seated on a bar stool beside him at the kitchen island, with maple syrup, lemon juice and sugar, and a stack of thin, delicious pancakes between them, Hermione let her fork dangle between her fingers and looked up at him. He hadn’t touched the maple syrup, but he had made significant inroads into the stash of lemon juice and sugar.  

“So…?” Hermione said carefully. “Are you going to tell Scorpius about us?”

His jaw clenched momentarily at that, and he sighed. “I should,” he said. “I don’t want him hearing it from a tabloid or another student. He should know that his father is seeing someone, but…” He broke off with a little wince that had nothing to do with the sharp lemon.  

“You’re worried about how he’s going to take the news?”

Malfoy nodded. For a while he didn’t speak, but she could see words brewing and left him to figure it out. Eventually he croaked, “For eleven years, it’s just been us two and the house-elves, and my mother. I… He’s had so much change with starting Hogwarts… I’m afraid he’s going to think I’ve abandoned him or something.”

Hermione’s vision swam as tears swelled in her eyes. “Oh Draco,” she breathed, spine slackening in sympathy for him.  

He offered her a tight-lipped, slightly watery smile, and said, “He’s everything to me, Hermione.”

“I know,” she said. “I know. I don’t want to come between you and your little mandrake…”

Draco snorted. “If you ever call him that to his face, he’ll probably sneak a flobberworm into your dinner…”

“Let him try,” she laughed. “Seriously though, Draco, take your time. I obviously want to meet him properly, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure, alright?”

Draco reached across the table and took her other hand in his. Again, she noted the nicks and scars on his fingers and the slight spatter of stains that Snape had after years of being potions master. She didn't bring it up, but she wondered all the same.  

“Thank you,” he rasped. “I…” he took a huge inhale, held it for a moment, and then released it. His shoulders slumped and he bowed his head a little without letting go of her. “I really want this… this thing between us… to work, Granger.” Looking vaguely nauseous though, he added, “But… I’m terrified of fucking up.”

Sliding off the stool, she abandoned the remnants of her breakfast and came to stand behind him. Resting her cheek on his back she snaked her arms around his middle where he still sat on his stool, squeezed him gently, and to her relief he laughed softly.  

“Just be honest with me, Malfoy. Whatever it is, promise you’ll always be honest with me, and you won’t fuck up.”

He nodded. “I promise.”

Chapter Eight

___

To be continued! Don’t forget to let me know what you think, and help a relative newbie (at least to contributing anyway) to the fandom out by reblogging!

writing masterlist | Ao3

[cuquitalocita]

kids and car rides- feysand

AN: hi yes hello there- again, it’s been a hot minute since i’ve written anything so here’s something i’ve been pushing myself through for these past couple of days. this is my first time writing feysand so i’m sorry if this sucks- i have to wake up for school in... five hours... so... yeah. if there’s any typos or the plot is kinda... ?? just... cut me some slack :) anyway, hope you enjoy!

part two

~~

Feyre was going to murder her boyfriend.

No- mutilate was more like it. How and where were truly her only thoughts as she glanced around her at the full bleachers of screaming students covered in black and blue face paint. 

Dating Tamlin Hybern had been nice at first- surreal if anything. When the star lacrosse player had taken an interest in the quiet girl at the back of the class who spent her free time in an art studio, Feyre had been flattered. He had asked her out in between classes a few months ago and Feyre had managed to stutter out a blushing, yes, still reeling that the handsome blonde had even noticed her. 

But her relationship was dull and boring, lacking in color, and gods, Feyre needed to end it. 

Tamlin had dragged her to the football game, practically begging on his knees for her to come with him. Feyre had relented, not even having enough time to shower after her art class before Tamlin was picking her up. But the second they had pulled up to the school and gotten out of his truck, Tamlin had disappeared with Lucien and left her in the bleachers with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek and a promise to find her later. 

It left Feyre seeing red. The crowd raged around her as the Bats scored a touchdown, and Feyre glanced at her phone. Shit. It was seven-thirty, meaning Nesta had already left on her date with Tomas, leaving Feyre without a ride home. Elain was out with her friends, actually enjoying her Friday night as a teenage girl should, and Feyre was left alone and ready to leave. 

She had been at the game for thirty minutes, in which the sun had gone down, blanketing the sky in a twilight full of stars. Feyre would stay if only to watch them a little longer- her favorite thing to paint. But as the crowd raged again, Feyre stood up from her spot on the bleachers and began pushing her way through the crowd and back to the parking lot, ready to walk home. It was only a few miles, really, and she had her sneakers on. She could manage. 

“Feyre!” A kind voice broke through her thoughts before she was halfway through the crowd, and she turned to see the familiar face of Morrigan from French class. 

Feyre’s lips turned up into a smile at the sight of the girl and her racing heart calmed a little as Mor came closer, stopping in front of her. 

“Hey, Mor.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you hated football.” Mor’s question was innocent, lacking the judgemental tone that most people would have added on. 

“I do,” she snorted. “But Tamlin wanted me to come, so here I am.” 

Mor’s smile turned down at the mention of her boyfriend. The girl had never tried to hide her dislike for Feyre’s boyfriend, even if the two of them weren’t very close and although she should have been offended, Feyre relished in her honesty. “Either way, I’m ready to go. See you Monday, Mor.”

“Wait, do you need a ride?” Feyre smiled, shaking her head at her easy kindness. She knew she liked Mor. 

“Thanks, but it’s really fine. I only live a few miles down the road- I’ll be fine to walk. Besides, we’re not even halfway through the game. Stay.” Mor bit her lip, clearly deciding whether or not to pick a fight, but Feyre fixed her with a look that eventually had her sighing. 

“Ugh, fine. But text me when you get home. Who knows what kind of creeps are wandering around here.” Feyre nodded, squeezing Mor’s hands in thanks, and left the bleachers, stopping only when she was back in the student parking lot.  

She pulled out her phone, remembering that she came here with her boyfriend. 

>> Hey wasn’t feeling well. Getting a ride home from Nes. 

It was five minutes before he responded. 

<< sure thing- see you later babe

Feyre scoffed, shoving her phone into her back pocket. Unlike Mor, he had not asked her if she was okay and to text him when she was home safe. She had told him that Nesta had a date too- which he obviously hadn’t been paying attention to. 

Ready to start walking, Feyre patted her pockets, looking for her ID, just in case anything happened, only to find them empty. 

“Godsdamn it,” Feyre muttered under her breath, realizing she must have forgotten her wallet back on the bleachers. Turning back to the field, Feyre almost tripped on her own feet when she heard a little voice behind her say,

“That’s a bad word. And my mommy says you shouldn’t say bad words.”

 Spinning back around, she was surprised to see a little girl- no older than six staring up at her and twisting her little fingers together. Her jet black hair was pulled back into two short ponytails and Feyre swore she was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. Bewildered, Feyre stared for a moment before shaking her head. 

“Uh- yes. You’re right- I… I shouldn’t have said that. And neither should you.” The little girl just continued to look at her in silence, causing Feyre to raise her brows. Who was this girl? And why was she by herself? What kind of parent left a little girl alone at a high school at almost eight o’clock?

“What’s your name? Are you lost?” 

“My mommy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.” At that, Feyre smiled a little bit. She bent down, putting her weight on her knees so she was eye level with the girl, and mustered up her friendliest smile. 

“That’s very smart of her. Well, how about this?” Feyre stuck her hand out to the girl who eyed it warily but didn’t back away. “My name is Feyre. I go to school here. There, now we aren’t strangers anymore.” 

The girl’s eyes widened and it was then that Feyre noticed their unique color, unlike any she had ever seen before. Her eyes were a beautiful violet, and in the reflection of the moon, she swore she could see stars in her eyes. 

The little girl took her hand, practically dwarfed from the size of Feyre’s, and she gave Feyre a small smile that had her melting just a bit. 

“My name is Thebe,” she finally said, her voice small. 

“Well Thebe, are you lost?” She nodded, looking at the ground. Feyre gently took her small hand, forcing the girl to look at her, and smiled again. She could see small tears beginning to form in the little girl’s eyes. 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’ll help you get back. Who are you here with?” 

“My brother,” she responded, and Feyre clenched her teeth. What kind of brother left his little sister alone? With all the fighting she did with Nesta, Feyre knew her sister would never have left her alone in a public place, let alone at night. Once again, Feyre was seeing red. 

“Okay then. Is he at the football game?” Thebe nodded, and Feyre deduced that she must have snuck off into the crowd, bored with the game. She couldn’t say she blamed her.

Taking the girl’s hand in her own and trying not to sigh when little fingers wrapped and her own, Feyre led the little girl back to the raging football game. 

“Do you think you can show me where you were?” Thebe nodded and gripped her fingers tighter, pulling Feyre through the bleachers, using her as a shield from the crazy teenagers. 

Feyre saw Tamlin through the crowd and quickly averted her gaze, focusing back on the girl in front of her until they came to a stop on one of the bottom bleachers. It was surprisingly empty, other than being filled up with athletic bags and water bottles. 

Feyre frowned, following Thebe as she sat down next to one of the bags and pulled out a small jacket that was clearly her own. 

“Thebe, where is your brother?” It was then that the little girl pointed out to the field. “Your brother is playing?” Thebe nodded, leaning her small head on Feyre’s shoulder, her hair tickling her neck, and Feyre admitted that maybe she could stay at the game a little longer, even if she would eventually have to deal with one of the loathsome jocks. But her blood still boiled at the fact that her brother had left her alone. Gods know what could have happened to her if someone else had found her.

“Why did you let me walk you back?” Feyre wondered aloud. Thebe shrugged. 

“You’re pretty. My brother says you can always trust a girl with pretty brown hair.” Feyre blushed, the compliment warming her to her toes. 

“I think you’re pretty too Thebe,” she whispered. 

It was only then that Feyre realized how cold it had gotten. She shivered, running the free hand that wasn’t around Thebe up her arm, which was barely covered with a paint-stained t-shirt. Thebe only reached into the bag in front of her and pulled out a much larger jacket, one with the familiar school colors. She handed it to Feyre, who quickly realized it was a varsity jacket. 

“This is your brother’s jacket Thebe. I can’t-”

“He would share.” Feyre fixed her with a look which Thebe returned with a more convincing one. “Trust me- he would.” Another shiver ran through her and Feyre, sighed, relenting, and shoved her arms into the jacket, immediately warmed. 

They stayed there for a while, watching the game in silence as Thebe began to doze off on her shoulder. Feyre hid her smile as the bleachers creaked, announcing that another person was coming to sit. She looked up to see Cassian Guerra lifting himself onto the bleachers, a carefree grin on his all-too handsome face. The football player’s hair was pulled up in a bun and Feyre vaguely remembered Nesta saying something about him. She doubted it had been positive. 

Feyre remembered Tamlin mentioning how Cassian had gotten injured and was out for the season. It was cool of him to come and support his team. 

His hazel eyes glanced over the little girl next to him and he grinned. 

“Hey, Thee, I thought you were with Az. New babysitter?” Feyre scowled and the little girl seemed to brighten as she looked at Cassian- then at Feyre. 

“New friend,” was all she said, bringing a smile to both her and Cassian’s faces. It was then that he truly looked at her, and a spark of recognition flashed through his eyes. 

“Hey, you’re-”

Cassian broke off as a buzzer sounded through the stadium and the crowd erupted into cheers. He was grinning at her, and Feyre managed back a small smile as Thebe shoved her head into her shoulder. The crowd began emptying out, and Feyre turned to Cassian, meaning to ask what she should do with the little girl. Not that Feyre was too eager to part from her. But he had vanished, finding somewhere else to be, and Feyre huffed, waking the little girl. 

“Alright, I think it’s time we found your brother.” Feyre got up from the bleachers, taking the little girl down to the field where most of the players were still talking to each other and clanking helmets. “Okay, tell me when you see-”

“Rhysie!” 

Feyre’s heart dropped into her stomach as she realized who the little girl was pointing at. Because not ten feet from her, looking impossibly attractive in a way that shouldn’t be possible after sweating for two hours straight, was the bane of her existence. With his jet black hair and twin eyes to Thebe’s, he looked like a god made man. 

“Your brother is Rhysand Knight?” Feyre practically screeched at the little girl holding her hand. 

Thebe nodded excitedly as Rhysand jogged over to his little sister who had quickly abandoned Feyre’s hand and met him halfway. He scooped her up into his arms easily, the grin on his face much too gorgeous for a high school boy, and Feyre grit her teeth. 

Maybe it was just her, Feyre realized, that had to have some sort of connection with the most popular boys in school while managing to remain in the background herself. Rhysand was the captain of the football team and unsurprisingly, loved by most of the people in the school. If he wasn’t so infuriating, Feyre may have even liked him.

But from debating her points in English class to attempting to speak to her afterward, Rhysand Knight was nothing more than a massive pain in Feyre’s ass. A handsome pain, coincidentally, but Feyre refused to acknowledge that at the moment.

“Hey Thee,” he smiled, placing the girl down. “Enjoy the game?” 

It was only then that he noticed Feyre standing behind his sister. It seemed that widening eyes ran in the family, as Rhysand did the same thing his sister had as he gazed at her. 

“H-hey,” he stuttered, the sound strange coming from his usually smooth lips. “Feyre, right?” 

She awaited the inevitable words that always came after the sentence. Tamlin’s girlfriend, right? 

“From English. With Suriel?” Feyre started in place. So he had remembered her. 

But as Thebe ran up to her and tugged at her hand, Feyre ignored the flipping of her heart in her chest at his nervous smile. Instead, she nodded, her movements jerky and final as she arched an angry brow at him. 

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked, smiling casually again. Feyre huffed. 

“I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I didn’t have to worry about something happening to your sister. I found her wandering around alone in the parking lot,” she snapped. 

Rhysand frowned, glancing at Thebe quickly before looking back at her, pinning Feyre in place with his gaze. 

“What are you talking about? I left her with Cassian and Azriel. They’re like brothers to her and they were watching her the whole time.” Feyre fixed him with a look that said they clearly weren’t and Rhysand’s gaze turned frustrated as he seemed to realize what had happened. 

He sighed, kneeling down until he was eye level with his sister who seemed to be looking everywhere but at him. The sight brought a small smile to Feyre’s face. 

“What did I say about running off Thee? And what did Mom say about talking to strangers?”

“But she said her name is Feyre, like the one you and Cass and Az talk about all the-” Rhysand cut off his sister’s rambling with a playful hand over her mouth and Feyre could have sworn she saw bits of red dotting his cheeks. She pushed away from the thought of how cute she found it. 

“Alright, I think it’s past your bedtime you little menace.” Thebe narrowed her eyes and bit at her brother’s hand, causing him to leap back with a curse, earning an instinctual laugh from Feyre. 

His gaze snapped to hers, softening at her laughing face, and his own turned into a small grin that sent her heart fluttering. 

Shit Fey, you have a boyfriend. 

Her cheeks colored as she noticed Rhysand’s gaze conspicuously running up and down her body and she realized she still had his jacket on. Feyre cursed under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear as she fumbled for the zipper on his jacket. 

“Sorry, I was freezing. Here-” 

“No!” Rhysand cut her off and the blush returned to his cheeks. “I mean- it- you look- uh, you’re just gonna be cold again. Keep it- for now.” Feyre shook her head, unzipping the jacket and handing it to him.

“I should head home anyway. Good game.” She tried for a friendly smile. She had never given him one. Feyre leaned down until she was eye level with Thebe. 

“Thanks for being my game buddy,” she whispered. Thebe beamed, throwing her arms around Feyre’s neck. She hugged the little girl back and tried not to look at Rhysand, whose gaze she could feel on the two of them. 

“Feyre, do you need a ride? I saw Tamlin leave and didn’t know...” His voice rolled over the words like midnight and Feyre shook her head. 

“Thanks but I really don’t live far-”

“It’s going to start raining soon, and I’m not letting you walk home in the dark. Just take the gesture Feyre.” He sounded exasperated, running a hand through his hair. Her eyes narrowed.

“And what, Rhysand, makes you think I want anything from you?”

“Rhys.”

“What?”

“People call me Rhys. Especially people who let me drive them home from football games.” Feyre shook her head in disbelief. 

“Gods, you’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“It’s one of my best qualities darling,” he smirked. 

And there it was, that insufferable charm that had every girl at school drooling over him. Feyre couldn’t say she blamed them, even if it did slightly annoy her. She finally smiled, reaching over to cover Thebe’s ears with her hands. 

“Only second to being a prick?” 

“If I say yes will you let me take you home?” Feyre rolled her eyes and Rhys’ grin widened, both of them knowing she had long since relented. Rhys handed Feyre his jacket and she grumbled, shoving her arms through.  

“Give me a second to find my wallet, then I’ll meet you at your car.” Rhys practically beamed in triumph, scooping his sister back up in his arms and heading back to the parking lot. Feyre loathed admitting that she watched them until they were out of her line of sight. 

She sighed. It was those damn eyes. It had to be.

And it was because of those eyes that ten minutes later, Feyre sat in the passenger seat of Rhysand Knight’s jet black ford fusion. Thebe was in the back, kicking her feet to the beat of whatever song was playing on the radio- one that Feyre couldn’t hear over the pounding of her own heart, and Feyre eyed the little girl through her side mirror so not as to look at the boy beside her. She was keenly aware of the small amount of space between them.

Rhys drove safely, unsurprisingly through their small town, and Feyre gazed out the window until Rhys cleared his throat. She turned to him. 

“So… how are you liking Bronte so far?” Feyre frowned before realizing that he was talking about the book they were reading in English. The book he had argued with her about to no end. 

“I think you know the answer to that Rhys, considering you make it your business to disagree with me.” Surprisingly, the words held no bite to them, and Rhys smiled without taking his eyes away from the road. 

“Well, darling, if you didn’t make it so easy to disagree with you, maybe I wouldn’t have to.” Feyre gaped at him and it was purely instinctual as she reached over the center console and shoved his shoulder as if they were best friends that did it all the time. Gods, what was she doing? She hated him. Maybe.

But if Rhys was surprised by her actions, he didn’t show it as he let out a laugh. Damn, that sound would be staying with her. 

“Look, I’ll give it to Catherine-”

“If this ends with any Heathcliff support I will jump out of this car Rhysand,” she cut him off, tone deadly serious. 

“No!” Thebe called from the back, causing both of the teens to laugh, catching each other's gazes before Feyre quickly looked away. She couldn’t be more grateful for how dark it was in the car so Rhys couldn’t see the blush attacking her cheeks. 

“So, what brought you to the game tonight? Not that you don’t seem like that type of girl but you… don’t seem like that type of girl.” His chuckle sent goosebumps up her arm even though she was still wearing his jacket. Feyre fidgeted her fingers and gazed down at her lap as she shrugged. 

“Uh, Tamlin asked me to come so… here I am.”

“Here you are… in my car.” Feyre sucked in a breath, glaring at Rhys from the side of her eye. The rivalry between the two athletes was no secret, and Feyre had yet to figure out where it had originated.  

“It’s not like that, Rhys. He thought I left. I had… until I ran into a certain black-haired beauty.” Feyre smiled at the side mirror where she could still see Thebe singing along to the radio. Rhys finally smiled too. 

“That’s fair. I know I can be a lot to look at once.” Feyre shoved him again, both of them laughing, and Feyre questioned when her life had turned so off-kilter. 

“Shut up, prick.” She didn’t joke with Rhysand Knight. She didn’t even talk to Rhysand Knight outside of class. So what in the gods was happening?

“Turn here,” she directed, shoving herself out of her thoughts. Rhys obeyed, moments later pulling up in front of her dark house where clearly none of her sisters were home. They sat there in silence for what seemed like eons. Just… sitting there. 

“Well-”

“I-” 

The two laughed as they cut each other off and Feyre shrugged off Rhys’ jacket, shoving it into the open athletic bag next to Thebe, who grabbed her hand before she could pull back. 

“Are you leaving?” she pouted. Feyre gave her a kind, tired smile, and nodded. 

“Sorry Thebe, it’s past my bedtime. But I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?” The girl nodded excitedly and Feyre almost startled back when she turned to see Rhys looking at her with a strange expression on his face. 

“What?” Rhys shook his head as if erasing the thoughts.

“Nothing… you just… surprise me.” Feyre snorted, ignoring the blush that had risen to her cheeks. 

“Yes, well, my kid whispering does tend to floor men at times.” But Rhys didn’t smile, or say anything in return, leaving Feyre to raise her brows and clear her throat. “So, I guess it’s my turn to head out.” Feyre placed her hand on the door handle before turning back to the boy next to her. “Thank you. For the ride.” 

Finally, Rhys smiled, his eyes betraying something that looked almost like… anxiety. 

“Hey, Feyre?” The car door had just shut behind her when she heard his voice again.

“Hmm?” 

“Would you want to…” Rhys scratched at the back of his neck and Feyre arched a brow. 

“Would I want to…?”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Go over art notes sometime?” Feyre frowned, fully turning back around and crossing her arms in front of her body to shield herself from the night chill.

“I didn’t know you were in art.”

“Yeah uh- new class.” Feyre nodded, tapping her foot on the ground as she stared him down. Rhys stared right back, clearly unsure of what her answer could be. And she couldn’t help it as a small smile graced her face. 

“I’ll think about it,” was all she said. “Goodnight, Rhysie.” 

Feyre laughed at the sound of Rhys banging his head on the steering wheel and approached her house once more, using her phone flashlight to find the spare key Nesta had hidden somewhere. It was for that reason that she was still outside when Thebe’s little voice spoke to her brother. 

“I like her hair. With the colors. She looks like a princess.” A frown graced Feyre’s lips once more as she subtly inspected a strand of her hair, wondering what the child was talking about. Sure enough, the strands crunched under her fingertips and Feyre had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming in embarrassment.

Of course, Feyre had forgone taking a shower before going to the game. And of course, she had been using her last period of the day as a free period in the art studio. And of course, she had mistakenly dyed her hair with acrylic paint that she had now kept while being in a car relatively alone, with one of the most attractive boys in school. Not that she cared about that, of course. 

Cheeks burning, Feyre finally found the key and rushed into her empty home, wishing for nothing more than a black hole to swallow her whole in her embarrassment. 

But if only Feyre had waited; had paused for more than a moment or tried to hear over the raging sea of emotions inside of her head, she would have heard Rhys’ dazed voice speaking words she wouldn’t even conjure up in a dream. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

~~

hope you liked it :)

[sithsecrets]

sacrifice | din djarin x reader

stranded in the tatooine desert, din and his crewmember (lover? girlfriend?) must make the long, impossible journey back to mos espa on foot.

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4.2k words

mentions: near-death experiences, severe sunburn, sever dehydration, emotional conversations with a loved one, reader and din are not doing well at all, lots of talking about sand and the desert, minor medical procedures (kind of??)

this is part 4 of my valentine’s week special! you can see all the other parts here!

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The deserts of Tatooine are legendary, the sandy dunes and rocky canyons teeming with tales and myths. The Tuskens are a spectacle all their own, with their banthas and covered bodies, and there’s not one person on this planet that hasn’t had the displeasure of doing business with a Jawa. Countless greats have passed through this planet’s cities, negotiating deals and perpetrating plots that will have an affect on the galaxy for years to come.

To you, though, Tatooine is not some great, propped up location from a fairytale. No, this place is your home, or was your home until you made the decision to leave. You were born here, and now you will die here, sucking in the same hot, dry air you breathed on your first day of life as you take your final breath.

Din had promised that it would be a quick mission, in and out. Mando lets you call him that now, lets you call him by his first name. He whispered it to you just a few days ago, revealing this piece of his identity in the darkness of the Crest’s hull. What you wouldn’t give to be there now, cool and fed and sprawled out naked beside him…

Din had said it would be a quick mission, that’s what he said. Just you and him on a pair of speeders out in the desserts, in and out and easy. He needed you to watch his back, wanted you to do surveillance from up high— that’s why you came in the first place. Peli said she’d keep the baby, she was thrilled to have him for a day or two, and so it wasn’t a problem—

The baby, oh Maker… Who’s going to take care of the baby?

Things didn’t go to plan once you left the city, not at all. One speeder went dead halfway to Din’s coordinates, and so you the two of you were left with one vehicle. You made it alright, though your time was worse with both of you weighing down the machine.

It was hot out there, so hot, but you knew it would be that way. You had water in your pack, and some food, and you’d be fine. It was only supposed to be a day or two, right? And the suns would set eventually, and then you might even be cold...

Din made you perch high up on some rock, and you watched for hours through the binocs looking for the quarries. Two spice smugglers, that’s who Din’d been tasked with finding, and they were supposed to be stupid, too— that’s what Greef had said. “These two clowns are idiots.”

The two smugglers did come, and they were idiots as promised, but their friend was not. The third man found your lookout spot somehow, and he snuck up on you. Din was down in the sand, and before he had time to fly up and stop him, the man had already cut your side. It was meant to be a stab, but you avoided that, thank the stars. Even still, the wound was no minor scrape, and you panicked when you saw just how much blood was coming out of you.

Being who he is, it didn’t take Din long to subdue your attacker and the two quarries. He propped their bodies in a cave and said he’d come back for them with the ship later on, and you thought that was a fine idea at the time.

A bad feeling set in when you saw what had been done to you and Din’s singular speeder. One of the smugglers had disabled it while Din was busy murdering the man that hurt you, and now it lay useless in the sand. The crew of criminals had been riding on some kind of pack animals when the violence broke out, and all the commotion sent the three of them off in all directions. Din’s jetpack seemed like a viable option, but the instant he tried to pick you up, you screamed in pain. There was no way for him to hold you that didn’t hurt you terribly, and it’s not like you could latch onto his back. After that conversation, it took you and Din about five seconds to realize that you were fucked. And then… And then it was time to start walking.

The first day wasn’t bad, but it certainly wasn’t good either. The rationing of water began almost immediately, and you worried every time Din declined his share.

“You need it more,” he had said to you, “you’re hurt.”

And you were hurt. Your side smarted all the time, and the heat of the sun caked your own fluids to your skin. The bleeding did eventually stop, but the pain never subsided, and it wasn’t long before you were trailing behind.

When the suns set, it was time to stop walking and start shivering. Din made a small fire, and you did have an extra shirt, but none of it was enough with the damage you’d sustained earlier in the day. Sleep did come, but it was fitful, and you’re not sure Din so much as closed his eyes that night.

The heat came back with the dawn, and after several hours, it was all you could do to keep moving. Thirst burned your throat, and the dull ache of hunger twisted your insides. Din acted like he was fine, but you saw it. You saw the change in his gait, saw how his head drooped from time to time under the weight of exhaustion.

That second night, you insisted Din sleep while you took watch. It as hard to stay awake, and even harder to focus on looking for threats, but you did it anyway. You’d known many people who got lost in the dunes, heard more stories than you could count of what happens when you perish out in the sand. And as you sat there staring into the distance, you marveled at the idea that you yourself would soon come to experience these things yourself.

This will be your third day of walking, walking and walking and walking… You and Din have been making your way across the desert for hours now, and you’re growing more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. Gone is the ache in your stomach, gone is the burn in your throat— all you want now is rest, rest and reprieve from the sun’s relentless rays. Yesterday, you took to imagining yourself anywhere but here— tropical locations, the icy surface of Hoth, a planet where fresh, drinkable water fills every pond and lake and river— now, though, all you picture is rest. Oh, if you could just rest…

It takes you a long time to realize that you’ve fallen, longer than it should. You’re face down on the ground, sand filling your mouth, your nose… The granules aggravate the sunburn you’ve developed after days and days exposed to the elements, though you hardly even feel the sting as you lie there. It’s so good to stop walking, so good to close your eyes…

“Stay awake, cyar’ika. You can’t go to sleep, not right now.”

Din’s voice rouses you, it makes you pay attention again. He’s picking you up, he’s holding you in his arms—

“I don’t want to walk anymore, Din,” you say, voice cracked and broken. Once again, you think of water, but the thought is fleeting at best.

“You don’t have to,” he says at once. “I’ll carry you. We just have to get back, mesh’la, and then we’ll be okay.”

In some deep recess of your mind, you decide that Din’s saying this to comfort himself as well as you.

“You’ll get back to Mos Espa,” you croak, shaking your head. “This is— I’m not going to make it.”

“Yes, you are, cyar’ika, don’t talk like that.” Din spits the words out as if you’ve insulted him, half offended and half terrified and entirely unlike himself. Some small part of you wants to laugh— you’ve always wanted him to be freer with his emotions, and all it took was being marooned in the desert to get him to do it.

“You have to leave me, Din,” you insist, wriggling in his arms, trying to make him drop you. But Din holds fast, clamping down on your body like you’re all that tethers him to this world. And maybe you are, at this point. “I’m slowing you down. If neither of us gets back, we’ll— The baby, Din, the baby. You have to go back for the baby. You’re all he has, he’ll… he’ll…”

You want to cry, but your body has no tears to offer you. Through the fog in your mind, you picture the Child playing with Peli and her droids, waiting patiently for you and his father to return. The thought of how he’ll feel when the both of you never do is almost too much to bear, and you redouble your efforts, pleading.

“Leave me, Din, leave me here so you can go on. I’ve been slowing you down since the start, and now— The Child needs you. I’m not important, Din, but you’re his father. Just put me down and let me—”

“Stop talking,” Din cuts, exhaustion and frustration warping his broken voice. “Save you energy, mesh’la, we’re almost there.”

Except you aren’t, and you know that. But even still, you do as Din says, too tired to argue with him any further.

There is more walking, and more feeling the sun on your face, and then your eyes are slipping closed. Far off in the distance, Din is telling you to look at him, to stay awake but you just can’t anymore. It’s so hot, and you just want to sleep…

The last thing you see before you fall unconscious is the sun, bright and blinding and all-consuming above you.

---

No one is more surprised than you when you open your eyes again.

Beige is all you see in front of you, beige like the color of the dunes. For one fleeting moment, you think you’ve died, that this is all there is for someone who’s succumb to the desert— the sand has swallowed you whole, and now you’ll lie here under it for all of eternity. But then everything comes into focus, and the fog lifts from your mind. Sand dunes aren’t held up by supports, and they certainly don’t billow in the breeze.

A tent, you say to yourself, dizzy as you try to sit up, I’m in a tent.

Someone’s attended to your wound, bandages and dressings where dirt and blood should be on your side. It still smarts when you try to stand, but you find yourself stronger overall. Somehow, someway, you’ve been revived, and even your sunburn doesn’t seem as bad as you know that it should be when you reach up to touch your face.

Carpets keep the sand off, three or four strewn on the ground in a patchwork. You’ve been laid out to rest on some sort of makeshift bed as well, nothing more than couple of pads and a blanket under your back, and not for the first time do you wonder where you are. Not for the first time do you wonder where Din is…

Heat envelopes you the second you pull back the flaps of the tent, but the temperature isn’t as high as it was when you collapsed. Sure enough, one look at the horizon tells you that it’s sunset, the sky purple-orange-pink as Tatoonie’s twin suns sink down further and further.

All around you are tents just like the one you emerged from, simple, beige structures made of coarse, thick fabric. You begin weaving your way through the complex, too afraid to cry out and ask for help. In any case, you’re not sure it would help, for you feel eerily alone, almost like everything around you is empty. That’s why it’s such a shock when someone jerks on your arm, the action catching you so off-guard that you cry out.

Cold fear is all you feel when you come to face the man that grabbed you, the dark eyes of his mask almost boring into you as he shouts and kicks up a fuss. You wait to be hurt, wait to be struck down and murdered, for you know how the Tuskens feel about outsiders, but the violence never comes. No, the man is actually leading you further into the camp, pulling on your arm, gesturing to more tents and beyond. The sounds he makes mean nothing to you, but if you could understand, you’re sure you’d hear, “Come with me, come on!”

And what else can you do except follow the Raider? What other choice do you have? He leads you past three or four more dwellings, and then the two of you stand before a larger, grander tent, one that makes the others look almost tiny. The Tusken calls out to whoever’s inside before you can so much as catch your breath, and then you’re being jerked through the flaps without a word of warning.

The first thing you see is fire, the smoke from the little blaze escaping out of an opening in the top of a tent. Small lanterns light the space inside, everything bathed in a warm, orange glow. There are carpets on the ground just like in your tent, layers and layers of them keeping the sand off everyone inside. Several Tuskens sit around the fire, but you barely see them after you notice the way the light glints off someone else.

When you told Din to leave you, you meant it. The baby couldn’t be orphaned a second time, and the idea of both of you dying under the sun didn’t bear thinking about. But to know that he didn’t abandon you, that he really was going to carry you back to the city…

All conversation ceases the second Din gets up from the ground, and then it’s like the two of you are the only people in the whole fucking desert. He asks you if you’re alright, one hand on the side of your head as he murmurs through the modulator. You say yes and ask him the same thing, worried something happened after you went out of commission. He’s all armored and covered, face concealed like it has been since the moment you met him, and yet still you worry. You worry he fell down like you did, worry that he’s been sick from not eating and drinking. But if Din did collapse or become incapacitated for a period of time, none of it’s had any lasting effects. He tells you that he’s eaten and drunk plenty since the Tuskens saved both of you, urging you to stop fussing and come sit with him beside the fire.

Only when Din turns around do you remember that you have an audience, and you feel all eyes on you walk around the pit in the center of the room. You feel vulnerable before your hosts, keenly aware of the fact that you stand before them with your face and hair and hands bare. Thankfully, you’re not the only woman present, several veiled Tusken women dotting the circle of people. They’re beautiful in their own way, draped in beads, some of their masks ornately decorated with embroidery and mental embellishments. You know little of Tusken culture, but you think that this is a tent reserved for important members of this clan, for even most of the men have on small bits of finery.

Din keeps you close, uncharacteristically affectionate in front of these strangers. He holds your hand as he leads you to your place in the group, urges you to tuck up against his side by the fire, and you wonder why he’s showing you off so openly. He either trusts these Tuskens, which would be a bold move, or this whole ordeal’s shaken him badly. Either way, you’re not about to complain, relieved to be here with him at all. You really could have died out there in the sand, and the fact that you didn’t is still sort of blowing your mind.

The first thing you do when you get settled is express your gratitude to the Tuskens around you, thanking them sincerely for saving your life and treating your injuries. Din translates for you and the man who speaks next, and then you’re told one of the most incredible stories you’ve ever heard.

For the better part of half an hour, Din and the Tuskens tell you about how they slayed the great krayt dragon, working in tandem with a small group of villagers from the middle of nowhere. Din downplays his role in it all, but you know that he was the one who really took the beast down. That’s why the Tuskens consider him a friend in the first place, and it’s the only reason they saved the both of you— otherwise, they would have let you die, a fact they admit openly.

You reprimand Din for not telling you sooner because seriously, he slayed a krayt dragon and made an alliance with the fucking Tusken Raiders, but all he offers is a humble, almost embarrassed, “It never came up, mesh’la.”

All you can do is huff at that, amazed not for the first time by how casual Din is about everything he does.

After the story’s done, a woman comes into the tent with a tray of thing for you. Because of their customs, the Tuskens won’t eat in front of you, and it’s not like Din’s about to take of his helmet for a meal, but you’re served food regardless. Neither the meat nor the hubba gourds taste very good, but you couldn’t care less— after days without food or water, even the bitter juice tastes like fine wine.

Din and the Tuskens talk as you eat, everything they say completely lost on you as you sit before the fire. Outside, the suns continue to set until it’s dark, and you feel yourself growing tired. You’re not sure if it would be rude to fall asleep in front of the Tuskens, the fear of offending your saviors forcing you to keep your eyes open every time they droop shut. Eventually, though, they take pity on you, and you and Din are given the Tuskens’ blessing to leave.

Back in your own tent, you and Din kneel on the carpets before one another, a single lantern lighting the space above your heads. He looks almost ominous like this, the dim, warm light casting him into shadow while simultaneously glinting off all the angles of his armor. Once again, you find yourself astounded by the fact that the two of you made it, that you’re here in Tusken encampment instead of dead out there in the sand somewhere. More and more often these days so you wish you could see Din’s face, but once again, you just can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want.

“I know you’re tired,” he says, fishing around in your pack until he produces a small jar, “but you have to put more of this on your hands and your face before you go to sleep. That’s what the women told me.”

“Do it for me?” you ask, knowing just how childish you sound without caring one bit about it.

Miracle of miracles, you make the Mandalorian laugh. “You just want me to touch you,” he huffs, but he’s taking his gloves off anyway.

Everything is quiet for those first few minutes, Din bending to his work diligently. The salve in the jar isn’t bacta, but it soothes the burning and the itching almost like magic. And maybe it is some kind of Tusken sorcery. You should be covered in blisters and sores after so much time in but Din says your face is merely peeling when you ask how bad it is. You haven’t actually seen yourself yet, but the backs of your hands don’t lie, and anyway, why would he? The fact that you’re not in debilitating pain alone is enough to convince you that this stuff is a miracle cure, and you’d be content to put it on eight times a day for the next month if it means you won’t be disfigured by your sunburn.

“There,” Din declares softly, putting the lid back on the jar, and then the two of you are lying down on the little pallet bed together.

“Are you going to sleep?” you ask him, knowing how Din feels about resting when he’s not on the Crest.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, reaching out across the padding to hold your hand. “But you definitely should. The Tuskens are going to drop us off near the city tomorrow, and I still have to go back and collect the bodies.”

You’d nearly forgotten about that, about the quarries and how Din left their corpses sitting in the cave.

“We get the baby first, though. We said we’d be back days ago.”

You’re not one to make demands, but after all that’s happened, you need to hold the Child in your arms. You know for a fact that he misses Din, and you worry that he feels abandoned by the both of you after all this time apart.

“We get the baby first,” Din affirms, and only then do you feel like you can close your eyes.

---

Everything is hectic after you and Din finally make it back to Mos Espa. Peli wanted to know what happened, the baby wouldn’t stop clinging to either one of you, and then you still had to fly back out on the Crest and pick up the quarries…

All of that took hours, but now you’re finally back in the safety of hyperspace, your little family whole once again. The Child, after hours of holding fast to you and his father has decided that he’s tired now, dozing in his pram contentedly. You think it would be alright to leave him in the hull for a while, clicking the lid of the little bed shut before you climb up to the cockpit. Din, in his usual Din fashion, has been up here since takeoff, no doubt picking at the inner workings of his vambrace or studying one of those maps he loves so much.

You’re surprised to find Din unusually unoccupied when you make it up there, though, the dark T of his visor staring off in the blue streaks of light before him. For a moment, you think he might be sleeping, but that option’s crossed off the list the minute he turns to look at you.

“Everything alright?” you ask softly, coming around the pilot’s chair to sit beside him.

Din hums. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

A long moment of silence follows your question, everything so definitively quiet around you. It’s always like this in hyperspace, like the physics of sound don’t apply. You always feel like you need to whisper, half-expecting no noise to come out of your mouth whenever you do decide to talk. After all these months of living on the Crest, it’s the only thing you haven’t gotten used to.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

Din’s words catch you completely off-guard, the sentence striking you across the face as hard as any slap. He’s never spoken to you like that before, never told you not to question him or whatever the fuck he means by that. You don’t—

“I mean—” Din blurts, huffing through the modulator like he’s frustrated. “I mean, just— the way you spoke to me in the desert. The things you said. Don’t ever talk about yourself like that, not in front of me or anybody else.”

Everything clicks, but words fail you. All you can do is sit there before Din and stare at him, trying to find the words over and over again.

“When we were out there,” Din begins, filling the void when you cannot, “when you fell down and I picked you up, you told me to leave you, cyare. You wanted me to abandon you. You told me that you didn’t matter.”

“I wanted you to live,” you clarify. “Someone had to go back for the baby, and you’re his father. He needs you—”

“And he needs you too, mesh’la.” Din pauses, voice breaking when he goes to speak again. “I need you. So don’t ever ask me to do something like that again. You’re very important, more important than you know, and I don’t think I could handle hearing you talk to me like that again. Do you understand?”

You stand up to hug him, suddenly hit with the realization that you’re crying.

“I understand, Din.”

And then you’re holding each other like it’s all you know how to do— holding each other like you’re the only two people in the whole fucking galaxy.

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye X — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

The entire house descended into an ominous silence. Yoongi could hear murmurs coming from through the door where Saito and Belle were still conversing. No one could really hear what they were talking about. He had a few ideas however. Taehyung sat down at the small dining table while Jungkook had his back faced to everyone, leaning over the study table.

Time was running out. In only a few minutes those doors were going to burst open and Yoongi knew he had to keep his heart hardened. Exposing and arresting Jungkook was not just an act of heroism but it broke so many manipulative ties. So many dens used vulnerable people as bait, Taehyung being one of those victims. The countless amounts of people who died or were severely damaged while Jungkook made money off of that suffering.

Those thoughts provided him with a new boost of determination. He was doing this for good. It was a heartless act for a broken hearted man but it was the right thing.

Glancing over at Taehyung, Yoongi tried to give him an apologetic look knowing this was not the right time to be adding more stress. But they both knew this was for their freedom.

Heat erupted like a volcano from his toes right up to his head. Hands trembling and eyes burning as Yoongi reached into his holster, carefully hearing the rustling outside of the house.

Heartbeat pounded in his ears muffling all sound for a moment but his chest felt the thud.

The door burst open as a small crowd of police officers marched in almost like an army of cockroaches except more organized. Dark uniforms contrasting with the soft warm tones of the house design.

One of the officers pointed a gun at Taehyung making him stand up from the chair and raise his arms in defense.

“Stand down, he’s not the one we want. Niether are the two women inside the bedroom.” Yoongi ordered simply glancing over his shoulder as he pulled the gun out of the holster. He watched Jungkooks’ movements carefully but the younger male stayed still. Almost like a statue of sorts. Even Yoongi grew convinced that the world finally froze for a moment to give them time to breathe except he could only hold his right now.

Then Jungkook turned his body around, reddened gaze and an unreadable expression adorned on his broken features. Eyes merely glanced at the officers as if he already expected their presence…or was just too heartbroken to really care. Finally that same eerie gaze fixated on Yoongi. “Suppose I should’ve guessed it. No medical apprentice would know how to work a gun that well.” He smiled sadly, eyes still a little glossy.

“Jeon Jungkook…” Yoongi sighed, tightening his grip on the gun and pretending he was dreaming for a moment to make it easier not to shake. “You’re under arrest. Don’t make this harder on yourself and just come with us.”

“I’ll go.” Jungkook nodded a lot longer than Yoongi was comfortable with.

He could recognize that silence from far too many arrests already. Not a single person went so willingly, even the innocent ones.

Before anyone was prepared, Jungkook grabbed the gun from the table and shot the guard next to the older male.

Almost like machines all the standing officers raised their guns while injured officer groaned, bleeding on the floor.

“No! Stand down!” Yoongi ordered in more of a growl now ensuring no shots were fired from the police officers to prevent casualties. Especially since Taehyung was still standing there, breathing heavily. Raising his own gun at the Jungkook, both men now had their weapons pointed at each other.

None of them made a move for the trigger nor were they determined on lowering their guns either.

-

Belle and Saito jumped at the sound of a gunshot from the other side. The younger womans’ memory now jolting to what was to be done today, she pushed herself off the bed. Pain shot through her entire lower body as she moved her legs to the side and got to her feet. Belle leaned onto the wall with a light groan.

Saito immediately held onto her arms to keep her from moving any further. “You need to stay here if there’s danger happening.”

“No—” She shook his head, gently patting her hand. “He’s not going to listen. I need to talk to him.”

“If someone pulls the trigger accidentally—”

“Then I’ll get shot.” Belle replied simply, walking past the woman trying to be as kind as possible. There wasn’t really anything else that was going to surprise her anymore. If death was the next option for her continued torture then it didn’t look too bad.

She opened the door harshly causing a gust of wind and dust to flow through her hair and dress. Belle’s heart dropped when she saw Jungkook and Yoongi pointing a gun to each other. She hated not knowing which side scared her most. Either way her trembling feet moved forward.

If both Yoongi and Jungkook were stubborn before, it quickly faded to a numbing feeling when they saw Belle stand smack damn in the middle of them.

Yoongis’ eyes widened seeing his gun pointed right at her back and Jungkook lost all his anger for a moment seeing the end of his weapon aimed at his wifes’ forehead.

“Belle, what’re you doing?” Jungkook asked in a breathy voice, immediately putting his gun down as Yoongi did too not wanting to have that view ever again.

“Turn yourself in.” Belles’ lips quivered but she stood her ground, not wanting to succumb to the pain anymore even though it felt so easy to do so now.

Jungkooks’ mouth moved in a subtle manner attempting to form words, eyes momentarily glancing over at Saito who stood at the door before looking back at Belle. “Yoongi betrayed us—” He leaned in as if to try and reason with the woman in an attempt of a private conversation.

“You—” Belle corrected. “He betrayed you. Not us.” Her features twisted welcoming another brewing sob as more tears gathering at her stinging eyes. “He’s helping me.”

Jungkooks’ expression deflated. A disquiet silence plunged into the warm room. “No…n-no you’re just tired, you’re saying things.” He forced out a chuckle but it quickly faded into a confused frown. “Just go back to the bedroom.” He reached out to hold onto her arms.

Belle pushed his arms away and shook her head. “It’s over, Jungkook.” She gulped down the lump in her throat. “Please let it be over. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Tears overflooded and streamed down her cheeks, voice crackling at every word. “It hurts too much now, I tried—” She gasped lightly. “I really tried to be good for you but it has to end. Let it end.”

It didn’t take a mind reader to see Jungkooks’ whole world crash and shatter right in front of eyes when his lips parted and he lost control of his tears again. As his body shook and his heart clenched until it grew ten times smaller, the grip on his gun loosened. Metal clanged onto wood making Belle jump a little.

Yoongi gestured over to four officers making them immediately rush over to where Jungkook backed away and grab him by the arms.

Belle stood frozen as she watched her husband being dragged away out of the house. Letting out a drawling breath, the girl had to stop for a moment to ensure this wasn’t some kind of sick dream. Looking over her shoulder she saw Taehyung slowly walking towards her.

Immediately the older male engulfed his sister into a warm hug.

As if another dam broke down when Belle let out a series of sobs, a strange mixture of hurt and that little tingle of relief that she so longed for. It wasn’t fake anymore. Her sobs muffled a little into his shoulder. For a few seconds the woman could take a breath and quite happily cry her suppressed pain out without the pressure of smiling again.

She was hurt, broken and deeply damaged. But she survived. That was all that mattered in this moment of heartwarming vulnerability where a brother and sister could finally walk towards freedom.

-

A week almost flew by without Belle fully realizing her world changed overnight. The sun shone a bright golden high in the sky as she sat in one of the biggest law firms in the city where divorce papers were being filed and signed. Cool air brushed through her grey bodycon dress, the extra swell on her belly still poking out when she sat but it definitely dialed down significantly after all the check-ups and treatments.

Saito seemed to lose her smile for the past few days finding out the unfair game her biggest customer had been playing with none other than own protégé. A part of her felt guilt settle in her upset stomach letting all this happen under her nose without, even for a minute, checking if everything was okay.

Once Belle’s signature etched onto the paper, the papers were enveloped and made to be sent to the prison where Jungkook was held. Apparently the now convicted drug lord specifically asked to have a private cell as far away as possible from the city.

No pleas for bail. Nothing. Just quiet acceptance of the fate given to him.

Standing up from the chair after bidding farewell to the legal team, Saito guided Belle out of the office to the elevator.

With a pleasant ding, the doors slid open to reveal that the elevator was empty and the two women walked inside in silence.

-

As the doors closed and Belle felt a lift in her stomach as it descended down, she heard Saitos’ voice break the silence.

“I’m sorry, Belle.” Saito murmured not facing her but looking at the blurry reflection of her figure against the doors. “I should’ve known something was wrong from the beginning. Maybe—maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

Belle turned her head to face the older woman immediately shaking her head. “I’m the one who accepted the deal. And I’d do it again if I had to.” She spoke with any confidence mustered in the past few days.

All the daily interrogations really built a wall of confidence over her. Investigators really liked asking questions about the impregnation ritual and miscarriage on how it was not technically Jungkooks’ fault she said yes to him.

Even Namjoon, Yoongis partner, in all his ability to be patient, grew frustrated at the inappropriate and misogynistic questions thrown at her which really did not bring them closer to thickening Jungkooks’ case.

Both officers were struggling to find a decent number of years fit for Jungkooks’ sentence. That would only work if the investigators were not trying so hard to make Belle look like the real personification of Lady Macbeth, using her wit and beauty to ‘trick’ Jungkook in to committing the crimes he did.

Eventually that mindset was debunked considering how long Jungkook and his whole family had reigned over the city.

-

Out the elevator, Belles’ thoughts seemed to come to life when the two women were welcomed by two familiar officers at the lobby.

Namjoon and Yoongi stood waiting, with coffees in hand and badges flashing from their belts looking utterly out of place in an area infested by people wearing suits.

To her though, the familiar look brought a smile across her face.

“Can I say I’m out of the woods now?” Belle chuckled nervously looking at Namjoon and Yoongis’ expression twist into a mixture of a smile and some splashes of disappointment. “What was the verdict?”

The two men met each other’s gaze for a few moments before Yoongi took a breath to speak.

“Five years.” The answer lingered amongst the group with an eerie note.

Belle’s smile disappeared as she shifted where she stood, trying to immediately reassure herself with any comforting words that could be conjured. A lot of things could happen in five years. Which brought a sink in her belly wondering whether the life she makes at that time would be interrupted by a ghost of her past.

“You’ll be under court protection so he can’t come near you whether in prison or not.” Namjoon explained in the calm tone.

“It’s not him I’m worried about.” She smiled sadly. The couple were ripped apart in the heat of swirling events that overwhelmed the both of them. Despite the brush of freedom Belle now felt, there was still the nagging feeling at the back of her mind that something needed to be said. Like a chapter unfinished or a song stopped smack damn in the middle.

“There’s no need to worry about something that long away now.” Saito patted the younger womans’ back. “I’m going to work. You are going to get a whole day off and try not to think about anything else but yourself.” A comforting smile spread across her lips.

Belles’ gaze flickered over to Yoongi, her heart jumping a little to see his eyes already fixated on her.

-

Walking out of the firm building, the heat was pleasant on her skin after the chill of the air conditioners for hours. Saito took her own car to drive her around because Belle started getting a bit too jumpy to drive for a while. The younger woman was not so sure why because she had already seen and heard so many things that no person should in their lifetime.

Saito walked to her car and climbed inside.

As Belle tried to follow her, Yoongi lightly touched her shoulder to bring attention back to him.

“There’s something I need to show you.” He murmured, his tone serious.

Belle looked over at the male, confusion gripping her features but she did not argue much further.

Giving a quick farewell to Saito, she opted to climb into the SUV the two officers drove in. Apparently police protection had to be done in the subtle way possible to prevent spies from getting way too observant on when they were coming to watch Belle.

Climbing into the vehicle, the AC once again bursting throughout as Namjoon already started the engine while Yoongi got into the car. They drove off almost immediately and kept a strange level of silence in the air. Not that Belle was in mood for any kind of conversation, it still brought a small tinge of discomfort.

-

Passing the building at a somewhat snail pace as the traffic thickened, Yoongi finally built up some kind of courage to structure the words in his mind. The piece of paper in his hands itching to be given to the woman. The letter that could have potentially determined Jungkooks’ fate that night. If anyone found out that the man handed this confidential document to someone so close to the criminal, he would lose his job almost instantly. But it had to be done. Despite all the things happened Belle deserved to know Jungkooks’ plan prior to his arrest.

“What did you want to show me?” Belle broke the silence out of pure lack of patience with the thickening quiet.

Yoongi let out a deep sigh glancing over at Namjoon who kept his focus on the road rather than any of them. Pushing himself to a jolt of courage, he held the folded piece of paper behind him gesturing it closer to her. “This.”

Brows furrowed, Belle gingerly accepted the paper and unfolded it revealing handwritten words that only went through half the page.

“It’s the last letter he wrote before getting arrested.” He stated. Somehow the exchange proved to be a thousand times easier when Yoongi could not actually face the woman. However the deafening silence very quickly grew unbearable.

Eyes scanned across the words carefully written with the extra ink spreads at the end of most of the letters. Little dots scattered after a sentence because he was probably thinking up the best way to say something. Then the words themselves. Jungkook planned to give everything up to raise their family. He chose to give up his riches, power and reputation for family.

It was a lie. It had to be, right?

Why would he lie to his parents however? There was no reason to dramatically announce giving up his empire for his wife and child for people who were not even in the country. His parents wouldn’t want him to give up the empire. Jungkook didn’t say what his parents probably wanted to hear. Nor was there any use to lie to them about how much he cared about his own growing family.

It couldn’t be the other thing.

That wasn’t real, remember?

Belle felt her eyes sting and burn forcing her to rip her gaze away from the letter. Staring out the window, the buildings began blurring into one another either from her teary vision or the speed of the car. “Did you find this before or after the arrest?” She asked in a mixture of a murmur and whisper.

Yoongi pursed his lips together. “Belle—”

“Before…or after?” She emphasized her words in a more firm tone.

The male glanced up at the ceiling feeling a light constraint in his chest. A part of him prepared for this very moment where he would tell Belle the truth about Jungkooks’ intentions. Maybe his need to abide by duty overpowered it. Or maybe it was something a little more selfish than just his job. “Before. I found it before the show.”

Belle let out a shaky sigh, body deflating into the leather seat as she hugged the paper to her chest. “Why—why did you keep it from me?” Her voice cracked a little.

“What would you have done if I had told you?” Yoongis’ stomach may have dropped the slightest thinking of a very different turnout if Jungkook actually went through with his plan.

“You still shouldn’t have hid it from me.” Her heart began pounding and racing so hard, they could almost crack through her ribcages at this point. Did she do the wrong thing helping Jungkook get arrested? “He was—” Belle tried to let out a deep breath but it all collected in her throat preventing any of her nerves to calm down. They only grew more frazzled, tightening and numbing any ability to hear things clearly. “He was going to stop.”

“People like that don’t just stop.” Yoongi replied simply. “Give him three years of keeping his promise and he’s going to be back at it again.”

“That still didn’t give you the right to go behind my back like that!” Chest rose and fell as the woman struggled to gain a normal pattern of breathing. Her body burned like a volcano erupted from her belly, shooting uncomfortably through each vein.

“I was undercover, that was my job.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“I was helping you! The whole time I thought—” At this point all Belle could do was heave as all the heat rushed through her head, tears melting down her cheeks and dripping onto her chest.

“He—”

“Yoongi!” Namjoon finally spoke up glancing over at the older male before indicating to the left. “She’s getting anxious, stop it.”

Yoongi had no stubbornness to fight any further anyway except now he wished there was anger to at least numb down that twisting feeling in his stomach. He could hear the way the girl heaved to get a deep breath out while the car slowed down gradually coming to the side emergency lane.

Namjoon puts the car to a complete stop and Belle immediately climbs out before Yoongi could mentally prepare himself for it.

The fresh breeze of air felt new as if Belle had not been breathing it a few minutes ago. Her body cooled down although it merely touched the surface; heart still beat far too fast to really think in a proper pattern. Everything felt like a kaleidoscope of emotions. Reddening from anger, then blue splotches of deep rooted sadness, deep maroon when she found the space next to her bed empty and her own apartment looked foreign all the while accompanied with a vibrant yellow to reassure her everything was going to be okay. The best and worst feeling that brought confusion to her vulnerable, healing body.

These momentary crashes of panic were happening a lot more often than she liked to admit. Belle remembered the first time was two nights after the arrest. Her whole night completely spent with Taehyung trying to help her regulate her breathing until at an ungodly hour of four in the morning, they managed to get some shut eye. Although not enough to keep them alert the next day.

Being in the car usually caused the worst of it and it didn’t help with the letter now swirling in her mind. It was so much more easy to think that Jungkook was a horrible, tyrannous drug lord who didn’t care for anyone but himself and his empire. To think that he had other priorities in mind while Belle helped his enemy brought an unwelcome twinge of guilt.

After a few moments’ of leaving the woman alone to her space, Yoongi climbed out of the car into the cool air. Sighing, he spoke up to break the silence. “Belle I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“I would’ve stayed with him.” Belle answered hugging herself as tightly as she could before nodding briefly. “If you told me about the letter, I would’ve protected him.” Her features twisted, not a face of pride for a loved one but one of submission and desperation. “At first it was because I was pregnant, I couldn’t raise the baby on my own, I knew that, I knew that my baby deserved a good family away from the world he was in. So if Jungkook ever told me he was going to give the whole life up…I would’ve gone with him.” A long drawling breath passed through her lips as the words seemed to loosen a few knots in her body.

For a minute she tried to searching deep into her mind wondering if the words coming out of her mouth were true. But there was nothing. “Why didn’t the police ask me about this?” Belle held up the paper not really knowing she was still holding.

“I am the police.” Yoongi shrugged. “I just didn’t give it to them. They had enough evidence to ensure Jungkook was the culprit for all the drug dens. The assassination on the mayor was more information for the mayor only.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “About you going with him…” He let out a brief sigh. “Is it just for the baby?”

Tears dried up from the wind, her face feeling a little tight. She shook her head. A part of Belle still grew so used to pretending like she had to sugarcoat things or make it sound like she was in control. However once you allow something to feel broken, it’ll feel like falling and falling into an endless abyss until all you can do is get back up again. “No…it wasn’t just for the baby.” Belle’s bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t want to…I really didn’t want to—” She closed her eyes before hanging her head. “But I do.” Shaky hands held onto the letter again.

Yoongi could almost feel a dark cloud over them. Belle should have been moving towards a path of healing, not wondering what it would been like all her life. Granted there was no way to know whether she was going to continue helping him after reading the letter but it still didn’t give him any right to keep this truth away from her. The last thing she needed was getting played into another lie.

Belle took another deep breath as her body now slowly calmed itself down. “It’s okay though, right? You did it to protect me and other people.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “There’s no reason to cry about it now.”

“Belle…” He murmured taking a small step closer.

“It’s okay, Yoongi.” Reddened eyes met his gaze. “Just take me home please.” Belle padded past the male and climbed back into the car leaving Yoongi with a question of whether he just helped the woman or rushed through a mission just so he could get what he wanted.

-

The drive back to her apartment reverted back to its original silence. Belle placed the letter into her purse despite a few sensible sides of her advising she get rid of it. It would only hurt more to keep it and wonder but her body seemed to grow weak whenever the thought crossed her mind.

Namjoon parked in front of the apartment building and Belle gave the two officers a quick ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’ before climbing out of the car.

Up the elevator and through the hallways, Belle felt a rush of relief coming back to her home again. At least she tried to call it her home now. It almost felt like coming into a hotel or just a really strong déjà vu as the old memories of her time here seemed so long ago.

Walking through the entrance, Belle tossed her purse on the kitchen island, leaning against the edge of the counter, fingers ran through her hair only to get a little caught in the middle. Pulling them out, she merely pushed the strands back and grabbed scrunchie from her purse to tie it back up into a loose ponytail. “Tae?” She called out softly.

The apartment was fairly silent at least until she heard ruffling on the spare room. Belle had moved most of her designs from the room to her own while some of her steel stands scattered around the living room.

Eventually the door opened with a half-naked Taehyung padded out of the room, ruffling his hair as his lips pouted out, eyes squinting into the light. “Hey…how’d the signing go?”

Belle shrugged, rummaged through her purse and seeing the piece of paper just sitting there. “I guess the same as any other divorce.”

“If you marry a mob boss, sure.” Taehyung stopped near the edge of the counter.

“What were you doing today?”

Taehyung rubbed his face trying to hide the wide smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Despite the exhaustion across his expression, there was still this aura of joy. It was not hard to guess who may have caused that smile. Seokjin had created full freedom for Taehyung to visit Angel without any rules involved but for her protection against her ex-husband, she had to publicly stay married to him. That is until some solid legal actions were made to properly keep Angel protected so they could think of something more serious with their new blooming relationship. “Little this, little that.” The struggle to keep his smile failed terribly as the biggest damn grin graced his features.

Belles’ heart swelled, a more comforting warmth spreading across her body compared to the one she felt during the drive. For a moment she could remind herself that things were actually more okay now. Taehyung looked so much happier and she even saw him sketching the other day. Things were looking to be normal again. Except for the secret in her purse. Gulping down, she pulled the paper out. “Tae…” Eyes stared down at the folded paper before placing it on the table.

The older males’ smile faded away into one of curiosity when he saw the paper in her hands. “What is it?”

“Yoongi gave me this…” She murmured, fingers caressing over the surface. Much to her slight shame Belle could imagine caressing Jungkooks’ cheek. How warm he felt and he would almost always lean into her touch naturally. The thought made her abruptly stop the action, gulping those feelings down. “It’s a letter…from Jungkook.” Belle took a deep breath. “It says that he was going to give everything up for me…” Her stomach twisted. “For the me and the—the baby.”

It didn’t take a genius to feel the heat of anger already radiating from her older brother as he tightened his jaw. “He’s just lying.” Taehyungs’ voice grew dark, making it even more raspier than it already was.

“It was a letter to his parents.” Sharing the same thought as the other male would have been comforting but Belle knew better than to lie to herself just for the sake of making things easier to bear.

“Doesn’t matter. He’d never do that, he loves his power too much.” Taehyung shook his head.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t care about his family.” Belle glanced down at the letter.

“There isn’t any family now.” He corrected. “You’re divorced, he’s not your responsibility and the kid—” Taehyung immediately pursed his lips to calm his frustrations down before he said anything he was going to regret.

Belle stayed silent staring down at her dress, lump growing in her throat. With the whirlwind of things that had been happening in such a short time, the miscarriage seemed a distant memory. At least until she was reminded of how fresh the wound still was. “I know all that.” She murmured.

Taehyung immediately padded closer to the younger standing next to her. His arm moved over her back, rubbing up and down her arm while his forehead pressed against her temple. “I’m sorry…” He whispered. “I know everything hurts right now but it’ll be okay.” He tilted his head to try and search her expression. “You gave up so much to take care of me. Let me take care of you.” Long fingers brushed back a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

Chest fell and pushed out with a small sob passing Belle’s lips, the heat from Taehyungs’ body in such close proximity providing her comfort. “Okay.” She whispered. Turning her body around with a light sniffle, she buried her face into his bare chest, arms hooking back and hands gripping at his shoulders.

How freeing it was to be able to curl up into Taehyung’s arms whenever her mind decided to play tricks on her. Belle knew she was strong, so many people including the reporters on the news continuously tried to tell her. But it never reassured her. Strength was what got her into this mess. For once, Belle truly felt happy knowing she was strong but could still rely on the people she loved when her strength wasn’t enough.

-

Tonight had exactly been that night where Belle’s mind opted not to give her a break. Hazy visions of running around the dark Jeon mansion, not even the guards were present. Then it faded to the house she grew up in with her parents celebrating Taehyungs’ birthday party while she peeked out from her bedroom to watch it.

Then her bedroom now in this current apartment. She forcefully looked to her side and saw a familiar sleeping figure, blurry phoenix tattoo on his chest. His large hand came over to rest of her belly but now she wore a white dress. As he raised his hand up, blood spread from one point all across until the color changed.

Pain jolted in her head when she heard a gunshot.

Belle’s eyes opened.

Everything stilled, light ringing in her ears like she just walked out of a club. Sweat layered in on her skin as if she was really running before passing out on her bed. The ringing got louder. Belle realized it was not coming from her ears but from somewhere in her bedroom.

Exhaustion still pulling at her form, she pushed herself up from the bed to look at her nightstand. Her phone lighting up the entire room as it vibrated against the wood and sounded a ring. A familiar name on the screen: Yoongi.

Brows furrowed, Belle turned on a lamp since going back to sleep again after a dream like that was not likely. She pressed the green button and put the device to her ear. “Yoongi? What’s wrong?” For a moment it felt strange hearing her own voice, still raspy from her slumber.

“Sorry I know it’s late.” Yoongi murmured through the phone.

“It’s alright, I’m up anyway.” Belle scratched the back of her neck lightly, eyes still closing but her mind still too frazzled to let her be pulled back in again. “What is it?”

“Could you—could you come outside? Bring your stuff with you.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, it’s important. I can’t do it during the day so—” Yoongi cleared his throat.

Belle pouted looking at the clock for a moment to see that it was two in the morning. “I’ll be down in five minutes.” She replied quickly before completely getting off her bed and walking to her closet. Leaving her deep blue pajama set on, she merely draped a big coat over her body. Messy hair tied up in a somewhat decent bun as the girl stared in the mirror with a subtle pink tint on her lips to make her look less exhausted. Though the puffiness under her eyes spoke the truth.

Tiptoeing out of her bedroom, she glanced around before seeing the door to Taehyung’s bedroom closed. A part of Belle wanted to let him know that she was going somewhere but at this point, the older male wouldn’t really wake up so it didn’t seem necessary.

So giving one more look over her shoulder the woman placed on some shoes and walked out of the apartment as quietly as she could.

-

The crisp night air was both refreshing and unwelcoming as the moon still smiled onto the world from where Belle was looking. Across the path from the building to the curb where Yoongihad his van parked, she noticed the dew on the grass glimmering under the silver light while the trees whistled in the wind.

Eventually Belles’ gaze fully set on the van where Yoongi had his lights on to ensure she could confirm it was him and not someone trying to lure her. There had been a lot of looming danger for Jungkooks’ enemies to try and put the woman in danger despite their end in marriage. Which was also why the police protection was put in place rather than just keeping her safe from her ex-husband.

Walking to the passenger seat, she opened the door and climbed in without a word spoken until her seatbelt was fully fastened.

“Where’re you taking me?” Belle asked in a calm tone though the lack of information made her heart beat a little too fast for comfort.

“Somewhere I’m not allowed to.” Yoongi answered simply, turning on the engine and letting it purr for a moment before driving off into the street.

Silence took over the cool air of the vehicle adding more fuel to the confusion filling Belle. The streets slowly faded into main roads and then it turned to a highway. She pulled her knees into her chest, looking out the window wondering whether to ask again or just figure it out when the car stopped.

But then Yoongi spoke up for her. “You deserve closure.” His eyes were completely focused on the road, finding it easy to explain himself when he wasn’t meeting her gaze. “We got our jail sentence for Jungkook.” He shrugged. “That was all we wanted. To break his empire down in a status that was manageable. But you—” He glanced for a second after gaining some courage but looked at the road. “Your relationship with Jungkook is more personal than anyone else who wanted him down.” Yoongi took a sharp right turn.

“Aren’t you going to get into trouble?”

“Not if you can keep a secret.” He smirked.

Belle couldn’t help but smile a little. Although now there was a light sink in her belly having to prepare for a meeting she never thought she would have. Police and even her lawyer reassured that she would never see the male again but somehow it didn’t reassure her as much as seeing him on more time did.

-

The car drove into a dark yard, the building towering over the car park with some bright white lights shining inside the cement fences. Yoongi drove towards the metal date, letting the guard at the booth know who he was. A piercing clang echoed through the air as the gate slid open, creaking terribly in its journey.

Slowly inching into the car park, the male drove closest to the building before turning the engine off.

Belle climbed out of the car and stepped towards the entrance. Footsteps crunched against the gravel until the older male stood next to her.

Through the entrance, the two were already welcomed in by the guards. However welcomed was a strong word for blank expressions and monotonous voices. Yoongi was told to stay outside while Belle walked in because only one person was allowed to visit at a time.

-

Past the dank looking halls, Belle walked under the greenish light, all the while hearing howling and moaning from the other side. Indistinctive words but it wasn’t hard to tell they were all expressing misery. Her mind now filled with the vision of that wide sweet smile and warm gaze stuffed into this crowd.

The guard opened a door for her revealing a room with a line of seats. A glass division in front of it. It was mostly empty aside from an elderly woman sobbing while talking to a younger prisoner on the other side.

Belle was gestured to sit in one of the center booths. Hugging her bag to her chest, she did as she was told. Eyes flickered over to the guard on the other side keeping a close on the younger prisoner at the other side. A metal door closed next to him. In the slight silence the girl attempted to take a deep breath and organize what she could say.

Then the metal door clanged open making her jump back a little.

A figure wearing bright orange padded in and sat on the center, eyes not meeting hers yet. He slouched down on the chair, hair mostly tied up except for large piece handing over the side of his face.

When his gaze flickered up, his expression softened and his posture straightened. Jungkook stammered glancing around the room before looking back at Belle almost convinced that this could be a dream. “I thought you weren’t allowed to be here.”

“Do you want me to go?” Belle gripped at her purse tightly, heart pounding against her ribcages at the anticipation of his answer.

“No.” Jungkook pursed his lips together.

Silence plunged between them. Whether it was comfortable or disconcerting was up for debate.

Belle leaned in a little resting her elbows on the little table before her, eyes momentarily glancing down at the little holes made to be one of their ways of clear communication. “I saw the letter.”

It didn’t take Jungkook far too long for his face to soften into one of recognition.

“Were you lying?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I was?”

Belle let out a shaky sigh, another small lump growing her throat but she swallowed it down. “No.” She shook her head slowly. “I want the truth.”

Jungkook shifted in his position causing the handcuffs around his wrists to clink. “That day I yelled at you…” He stayed silent for a few seconds to take a deep breath. “I realized my priorities were muddled and I needed to figure out what was more important.” Adams apple bobbed up and down as his glossy eyes met hers now. “What I loved the most.”

Lips quivered as the lump only grew in her throat until she had to hang her head. “I didn’t know.” Belle whispered, breathing shakily. “I thought—I thought you didn’t care about us and then I saw Yoongi and—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He answered simply. “Yoongi was going to expose me with how close he was anyway. The new mayor was at my tail, it was bound to—”

“It’s not about the mission.” Belle closed her eyes and emphasized her words, fingers trembling a little. “I hated your job. I hated everything about it but I didn’t hate you.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “When I read that letter that you were going to give everything up for me, I felt—I—”

Jungkook searched the beauty’s expression, leaning in a bit more to maybe catch some warmth from her body or her scent. “What did you feel?” His voice came out in a whisper.

“I felt like I just—gave up something. Something that might’ve made me happy.” Belles’ eyes flooded with tears making her irises blurry before a single drop escaped down her cheek. “I kept thinking about how different it could’ve been if you weren’t who you were. Maybe if you were just… Jungkook and none of this happened. Maybe we’d be happy together.” She chuckled sadly before briefly covering her mouth.

“Would I have made you happy?” He sniffled lightly. “Even after all I did?”

His question floated in the air freely for a few moments as Belle wiped away the escaped tears staining her skin. “Maybe…” She shifted closer. Eyes flickered down at the holes again. Shaky fingers slyly hooked onto two of them not looking back at Jungkooks’ gaze rather looking at down her digits and sighed. “But I can’t…do this all over again on a ‘maybe’.”

Jungkook almost had his forehead pressing against the glass just to feel her close again. Instead the woman initiated the second best thing by putting her fingers through the opening of the glass division. His own rough fingers reached in to caress her soft skin before hooking them on top of hers.

Belle couldn’t help but feel a jolt in her belly feeling his familiar fingers on her again. It was a subtle action but it brought so many long slumbered feelings through her body. They both know this electric magnet between them was a ruse to hide the real truth. What they needed to say but could never admit in real life.

Until now.

“Do you feel happier now?” Jungkook asked, breaking the warm silence.

The real truth. The reason why Belle wanted to come here. Was it a real feeling of longing? Or just a strong attractions towards the comforts she created in the fantasy of her past? No matter how heartbreaking. It was a moment of weakness where the woman could only remember giggling under the sheets with Jungkooks’ warm hands all over her body, eating ice-cream late at night or giving each other reassuring words.

It was at this moment, Belle needed to remember that was only part of the story. Part of the beautiful fantasy they built together but now the show needed to end before anyone else got hurt.

Belle now spoke out the truth.

“I do.” She nodded, smiling through her light tears. “I do feel happier.”

Jungkook couldn’t control a wide smile of his own stretching across his lips hearing those words. “That’s good.” He let out a faint chuckle. “That’s all that should matter to you now, okay?”

Belle hummed lightly in agreement. “I hope you feel happier soon too. Once you’re out of here.”

He nodded finally succumbing to pressing his head gently against the glass, breath fogged up the surface as he spoke. “I’ll try.”

That was all they both needed to hear.

The curtains had been lifted and the fantasy dissipated. All that could be seen now was two broken individuals in their rawest form, making their slow but healthy path to a happier life. One they could finally choose for themselves.

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