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muntitled · 1 year

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𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

: ̗̀➛ Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader | Brief!Harry Potter x fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ Summary: Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: Alcoholism, Dark!fic, Ravenclaw!reader, Bullying, Unrequited Love, Shy!reader, Toxic Relationship, Jealousy, Narcissism, Weaponizing!Harry (sorry boo), Fluff, A bit of Angst, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DubCon, Semi Public sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Dom/Sub, CNC, humping, Spitting, Degradation, Dacryphillia, Choking, Gagging, Subspace, Slapping, Sadism, Breeding Kink

5k words

A/N: Hell truly is empty. I apologise in advance.

You have made peace with the incomparable fact, long ago, that if the muggle God existed - if he is known to shepard Muggles and Wizards alike, then he was far too busy to attend to you. There is just too much going on all at once. The wizarding world is caught in its archaic intolerance of Half-Bloods. On the mortal side, you were informed from your private tutoring with Professor McGonagall that their smartphones are threatening devolution.

“It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a wand, Lovie, so we can’t really fault them on that, can we?” 6 years into your schooling at Hogwarts and you would continue to shadow Professor McGonagall, hoping you might one day soar to her heights of academic prestige in the wizarding world. You needed to be a Professor as much as a mortal needs to breathe….

You cannot let him, of all people, ruin things. Your reputation is a fragile, flammable thing - and he is freaking Kerosene.

It's difficult to pinpoint when it started or how your sensibilities rushed away from you so swiftly. One moment you’re planting your textbook on the face of a wooden desk - the sound reaching the rafters in the highest peak of the deserted classroom…

“A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration.” Mattheo read the title aloud with a tedious uninterested drawl. “Seems a bit presumptuous to shove this down my throat so early on. Shouldn't we be starting from the beginning?"

You ignored him promptly, using the silence to arrange your colour coordinated stationery on your desk beside Riddle's,

“I had no idea," You began, brushing off your blue lined robes and flattening the invisible creases on your skirt, "-That the person residing under my tutelage would be a first year."

Riddle stabbed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your face remained passive as you continued, "You are a sixth year, correct?” You asked with a snide tilt of the head before planting yourself on the desk beside him.

“You are a big boy capable of understanding big boy books,” Unbeknownst to you, your words managed to stir something foreign within Mattheo but he conceals it with his usual veneer of arrogance as he swings his head lazily in your direction.

"May we begin?" You asked, with your back straightened - inches away from his hand now hanging on your chair.

"In a bit…" he says, "Just..." his voice trails off as his eyes scan over your visage, likely assessing it like an unseen tapestry. The truth is, Riddle did not know you prior to being forced under your tutelage. His droopy brown eyes appeared even more so as he broke the distance between you two and studied you closer. A tense silence grew pregnant in the ancient classroom, and your resolve was beginning to slip. Only one thought inflated a puddle of anxiety in your stomach:

Could this be your first kiss? Is this what first kisses looked like? Could this be your very first brush of intimacy overall?

Your brain failed to rationalise and compartmentalise his attraction, but your heart pushed your head closer.

"Call me a big boy again..." He had whispered… which evidently led you here.

Your lesson had ended with your hand covered in his release and a breathless smirk painted across his face. "This goes without saying," he breathed out with a satisfied smirk, "But tell anyone about this, and you're dead."

Ever since that day, your tutoring has been but a veneer of something much more sinister. When you were thrusted into the light of day, Mattheo overlooked you as did lots of his Slytherin friends. Besides the occasional threat and vague insult, you mean nothing to him.

When you two are alone, however, as you are right now, he would enchant you into servitude, lightly pushing your head down while he kissed you silly until your knees were planted on the hardwood floor.

Mattheo briefly opens his eyes to peer down at you. It is then when you notice the fresh bruise dotting the side of his face, and his pillowy lips split by a small incursion. He had very clearly gotten into another fight..

“Your mouth feels so fucking good when you're not using it to be a smart ass,” His words illicit a bubble of heat inside you.

Despite all this, you are clearly aware of the fact that you should not be enjoying this at all. Not one bit. For starters, you can feel the old wooden floors digging into the meat of your knees and the crisp winter chill is unkind to your scantily dressed state. Your shirt is unbuttoned because Mattheo was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to your ample breasts and his hand is buried tightly in your kinky curls, forcing his cock even further down your throat. The very bones of Hogwarts seem to be in vehement protest of your blatant whorishness.

3 silver chains hang from his neck as he plants his other hand against the wall behind you, blocking your kneeling frame between both him and cold, hard stone. You crane your neck back, keeping a half lidded gaze on the jewelry that drives you feral with lust. You are content imagining that perhaps, when he is getting ready in the slytherin common rooms, he wears the silver for you. A fanciful thought but one that consistently has your intestines weaving themselves into knots.

That, paired with his striking, jet black blazer, which is discarded somewhere in the abandoned classroom, has you keening and fighting to take even more of him into your mouth. Perhaps you were peacocking a little - flatting your tongue so his cock slid seamlessly to the back of your throat while you fought to ignore the pain blossoming on your scalp. He had turned you from an inexperienced nun to something you're not quite ready to examine yet.

"You're finally putting this head of yours to good use…" Despite his feigned arrogance you're utterly delighted knowing that only you can bring Mattheo to such an utterly restless state. He does not really know what to do with himself.

Not when you took so much of him, so well.

You clench your toes.

Feeling himself get too close, Mattheo eases his cock fully out of your mouth, languidly stroking himself but still assuming a firm grip on your scalp. He is operating on that very specific plain of narcissism that was special to Mattheo. He is aware of your presence, physically, but his words are spoken into the open air, like you are an inanimate object. A glorified toy.

"Are all Ravenclaws as compliant as you are?”

You bring a crisp white sleeve up to your lips, wiping away the excess drool as you remain kneeled in front of him, knowing he has yet to finish.

"If you ever think of finding out," your voice is hoarse, "this will be the last time I offer you any free study sessions."

"Is money all you seek?" He attempts to feign composure, continuing to languidly stroke his cock. "How utterly greedy. I thought- fuck… - I thought you were far more philosophical than that"

You watch hungrily as Mattheo bites on his pillowy bottom lip. He is prolonging the release, taking his time as he usually did... "If you plan on edging yourself in my mouth instead of actually finishing the job, I do have other commitments to attend to-"

He ignores you... his brows furrowing and smoothening at odd intervals as he continues to touch himself while studying you.

"We may not be studying… but I still intend to pass Transfiguration, hope you're aware." He punctuates his sentence with an breathless laugh- it blossoms across his usually stoic visage, raising his buttercup cheekbones towards his smiling eyes.

As he talks, you examine his scars and feel the slow essence of admiration seep into the pit of your stomach. An arguably pathetic feat, given that your feelings will not ever be reciprocated.

Brewing inside you is the need to take care of him. You knew the rest of the student body viewed Mattheo as a glorified parasite. Something that is only capable of thinking within the capacity of its own means. Something that takes, and takes, and occasionally jokes around, and takes. But how could he know anything different? You suspected that his home life was built on the foundation of survival, on needing to be the loudest, and proudest, and worst of them all.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The sharpness of his words slice through your thoughts, bringing you back to yourself. Mattheo's gaze is placed firmly on something down below. Throughout his mindless tirade, your hand had taken to rubbing soft, comforting circles against the leg of his pants, quite literally on its own accord. Mattheo is bent over, head tilted as he watches you questioningly. Seconds stretch to a minute, and your stomach sinks as time passes.

Eventually, he dismisses you. He shakes his head. "Whatever," He says, tilting your head back and lining your mouth with the head of his cock once more. His visage darkens into a cruel sadistic grin. "Tell me you want me to come in your mouth."

Almost instinctively, you do as he orders and like clockwork, you swallow his cum, wondering if he knew how deeply and truly your words actually were. There was a moment, perhaps imagined, in which his fingers gripping your hair, melted to the side of your soft, supple cheek. It stays there for longer than necessary, leaving bits and pieces of your composure scattered in its wake.

Mattheo soon straightens his posture, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his pants before making himself as presentable to the student body as they know him to be (which admittedly is not a lot) And before he turns to walk away, he leaves you stranded on a glacier with his ice cold words cutting deep into your beating heart.

"Tell anyone about this-"

"And I'm dead," You interject, "I know."

And with that, you pull your ruffled collar over your lint-free school jersey and check your reflection to assess the damage Mattheo and his iron grip might have left. You needn't wait for an extension on the conversation because your job here was done, (pun so malevolently intended).

As far as Mattheo is concerned, you are an easy conduit to release his frustrations through because your unpopularity makes you so incredibly inconspicuous. You blend into any given crowd at any given moment, your name seldom reaching the heights of ridicule among his group because you are so unforgettable… There had been no reason to point out your flaws, not because you did not have any, but because you were simply invisible.

It is particularly strange to have any social interaction beyond the bounds of group projects and class discussions… so Harry Potter gifting you even a sliver of attention had been violently unorthodox. So unorthodox, in fact, you failed to look up from the weathered pages of your novel when his gentle voice wafted in your direction during a rare free period in Study of Ancient Runes. Your professor has been summoned quite promptly by the headmaster and has yet to return. The class has been in a state of havoc ever since.

"I don't know if you're aware of this but…" A deep shadow over the pages alerted you to his presence, "They both die at the end."

It was incredibly rare that Potter, who sat at the desk directly in front of you, ever felt the need to strike up conversation that was not purely academic. Gryffindors made use of Ravenclaws as often as Slytherins.

So naturally, you peer curiously up at him…

"Sorry?"

"Y-Your book. It's a muggle book, isn't it? I haven't seen anything with a cover like that around here. It's refreshing. Everything in the wizarding world is ancient and leatherbound." He mumbles as his index finger slides into the collar of his red quidditch jersey. He finds himself suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment even though there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about… he turns his chair slightly in your direction, his eyes darting to the door and the empty teacher's seat before meeting yours once more.

"'They Both Die At The End." He says, pointing towards the title.

"Oh…" You affirm, rocking your head back and forth, "You were making a joke?"

"No," Harry snickers before waving a large hand in dismissal, "Evidently, the only thing I 'made' was a complete and utter fool of myself."

You're not sure when it happens but you feel the lower half of your face melting into what you suspect is a smile. You can feel your shoulders relaxing and your novel lowering imperceptibly.

"Work on your delivery next time and maybe we'll be getting somewhere."

"Is that how it is!?" Harry asked, pleasantly surprised by your banter, "- I could've sworn I had a shred of dignity before the start of this conversation. Now I'm not quite sure where that went."

Mattheo's feet pass over the threshold as soon as the sound of your laughter rushes past him. It is almost charming in its familiarity but incredibly curious in its rarity. He can't recall ever seeing you with your head thrown back while the instinctive sound of amusement races through your throat. He does not know he's staring until Draco shoves past him, to get to their own seats in the front of the class.

His eyes remain on you as he makes his way to his desk, hoping, perhaps, that you would turn your head infinitesimally, in acknowledgment of his presence.

You do nothing of the sort, and it not only fills him with a weird sort of dissatisfaction but it bubbles into full blown vexation when he realises who is capturing your attention so viscerally.

Mattheo has never prided himself on his patience or tolerance.

Overthinking is something he consistently lives without.

Most of his actions were spurred from things he felt in the now, and he was really fucking uncomfortable with what was happening now.

His glances at the front of the class before finding you once more in the very back corner of the class. He notices that Harry is stationed in front of you but the seat beside you is completely deserted.

Did you not have friends?

And more importantly; how did he never notice until now?

What if…

Perhaps if he…

"You didn't let me know we were having a picnic," The sound of a chair scraping against the tiles had both you and Harry rallying into silence. Mattheo appears at your side, pushing the chair against yours so he, too, sits facing Potter - who suddenly appears incredibly uneasy. Gone is the comfortable atmosphere cooked by easy and amicable conversation. Mattheo injecting himself into your little bubble created a suddenly charged and suffocating atmosphere. You cannot keep your wide eyes off Mattheo as he lowers himself to his chair beside you with his legs spread as he slouches down, like he always does.

"Don't stop on my accord," He exclaims, completely oblivious to the fact that your professor might walk in at any minute. "What were we talking about?" Your heart wrestles in your chest as you see him turn to address you. His slouching puts him a level lower than you, but it does nothing to lessen his intimidation.

"Maybe I should ask, Potter?" Mattheo turns his attention to the front, "What were you lot talking about?" There is not a trace of friendliness present in Riddle's tone. In fact, it's the very opposite. Your nerves, swelling with anxiety, only escalate into full-on panic when you feel him place a large hand on your skirt under the table.

Harry's voice is low and his eyes are trained on the floor, "Books-"

"Books!" Mattheo cuts him off with sarcastic fervour, "How utterly fascinating!" The hyperbolic wonder in his tone is utterly rude and unbecoming, but you look down at your desk in blatant anger. Refusing to be a part of whatever this is.

"And tell me, Potter, how many books have you read so far?"

It is then that Riddle's once stationary hand begins the faintest trace of movement. He begins slow and tame, his callouses barely registering on the soft fabric until his fingers prod the lining of your skirt…

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Never had Mattheo ever displayed a desire to touch you. Not in the way he made you touch him. It was made explicitly clear that only he would benefit from your secret rendezvous' and so you were left to deal with your aching cunt alone, with the image of the face he made when he came, still burned into your mind. It had never been about you.

"A couple,'' says Harry, fighting to show this bully that he was unaffected by his intimidation. If only he knew that with every advance Mattheo's palm made, you were slipping farther and farther away.

"A couple books?" Asks Riddle for clarity. He remains lax and languid on the inside, but the nature of his wandering hand underneath the desk tells a new story.

He finally slips under your skirt.

His palm connects with the softness of your thighs and he seems utterly pleased by it. His hand is immediately restless to explore how far you would let him go. Which isn't very far.

Not at all.

If he thought he could suddenly touch you after myriad occasions of using you like a discarded toy… he had another thing coming.

The tips of Mattheo's fingers make gradually increasing strokes along your thigh until his fingers prod the stretch marks on your inner thigh. It is there when you stop him, clenching your legs together, blocking his hand from any further movement.

Mattheo's voice is strained as he says, "And you like reading, Potter?"

Sensing something brewing between the two of you - your withdrawn, hazy gaze, staring directly through the desk and Mattheo's overabundance in questions, has Harry reeling backwards.

"I asked you a question, Harry."

"I like reading."

"Good! That's really good!" Quite suddenly, Riddle tilts the ends of his half-moon nails into your thigh. His nails bite into your skin, forcing them to weaken and unclamp. Before you're even able to think, his palm is cupping your cunt through your panties- forcing an indecent yelp from your throat which you quickly (and very badly) disguise as a cough.

Mattheo is utterly pleased while he continues mindlessly stroking your cunt. Not for the purpose of any glorious stimulation. His hand is just there to show you (and perhaps maybe himself) that he has access to the most private part of you.

That thought alone has an unforeseen and sudden wave of lust coursing through his veins and surging straight to his hardened cock. He thinks of all the things he could have done to you but failed to do. He thinks about how, up until this point, he had ever been satisfied with using your mouth alone, not when he was denying himself the softness of your pussy all along.

He felt angry with himself, for being so fucking stupid, he is angry at Potter for seeing whatever it is he saw in you, way before he did and, possibly most harrowing of all is the fact that he is angry with you. And he can't help but be angry at you. How easily you whore yourself out to any and every man. If this thing with Potter had gone far enough, would you replace him? Had you even fucked Potter before?

You bite down on your lower lip as your head bows even further into your book. The words blend into one another, and all you can feel is a rise in temperature and Mattheo's suddenly restless fingers, pressing rudely against your clit - for the sole purpose of ripping an orgasm out of you right then and there, at the very back of an unsupervised classroom, with Harry Potter still very much a part of the conversation.

"You've got so many books to read in your lifetime," Says Mattheo. He sits up slowly, likely spurred on by the dampness seeping through your panties. "Don't cut your long life short by trying to entertain other people's girlfriends, yeah?" Gone are any traces of feigned friendliness. "Fucking Mudblood,"

Your skin feels like you are bathing in magma and you hope Potter could not see the slight tremor in your hand as you gripped the sides of your book with more force than necessary.

Mattheo's words… they have you shifting forward and widening your legs minutely. You crave for nothing more than to roll your hips in tandem with the circles he's pressing against your clit.

"Understood?"

Your orgasm is dangerously close, with the promise of sheer, disgusting shame and embarrassment if he continues. You feel Harry give you one final curious look, perhaps pleading for an interjection of denial at some point but you've taken to bouncing your knee under the table, hoping the vibrations might create enough friction to aid Mattheo's hands. He is keeping you trapped in a space of wanting. So much so, that this almost feels like a punishment.

Once Harry is turned back around and facing the front of the class, Mattheo lowers his lips to your ears. The damp smell of firewhiskey floods your nostril and you realise that he is completely drunk. In the second lesson of the day.

However, you're so completely stimulated, even the warmth of his breath as you fight the urge to hump into his hand like a lost little puppy until you make a mess all over his hand.

"You're such a fucking slut, you know that?" Your book drops to your desk - muffled by the sounds of the classroom cacophony. "You like being humiliated like this?" He asks, almost in complete awe. It takes everything in you not to moan outright.

"Fuck," You whisper to yourself, blinking your eyes shut, warding off the need but to no avail. His fingers are long and limber, and they have you nearly cumming right there, in front of your entire fucking class. Had it not been for your Professor's haphazard arrival into the class, and the swift removal of Mattheo's fingers from between your legs… you might truly have become the slut he labelled you as.

Instead of moving to his designated seat, Riddle raises his hand for the professor… the very same hand that has previously been in between your legs.

"Yes, Mr Riddle?" Asks the Professor, his voice as lacklustre as his appearance.

"May we be excused? We were excused by Professor Slughorn to assist him in-"

"Fine, fine," Says the professor with a wave of dismissal before turning his attention to the rest of the class. "The rest of you, open your textbooks to page 56."

Riddle's hand is clamped around your forearm, already leading you swiftly out the door in a long and wide stride. Had it been any other teacher at all, they might have recognized this for what it so clearly was.

"Here," you have barely made it fully into the boy's bathroom before Mattheo is stuffing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and yelp at the sudden intrusion. "Tell me how good you taste." He doesn't even bother to make sure you're truly left alone in the bathroom before pushing your front against the bathroom sink.

"Is that good?" His voice is as sweet as honey as he forces his fingers deeper down your throat, causing you to cough and gag around them.

Mattheo has half his sense to pull his wand from his back pocket, and without turning around, whispers "Colloportus," and the heavy doors snap shut.

You're supposed to be afraid because you've never seen him like this. Mattheo is always a ball of sarcastic energy between trysts, but it's usually an energy he can somewhat contain.

You don't know what to do with him, not when he's watching you choke on his fingers through the mirror, while his other hand fondles at your breasts and rips your bra down until your nipples are poking through your school shirt.

The figure in the mirror distorts as your eyes begin to water. Thick beads of tears grow pregnant at the ends of your eyes before rolling down the side of your face.

"My girl," Mattheo presses his face into your hair, breathing you in, pressing his body into your side. His hard cock in unmistakable through his school pants, "My messy little girl,"

You finally moan candidly while your fingers grip the countertops and your hips buck into nothingness. Your eyes plead with him in the mirror, hoping they relay how utterly useless with lust you have become. It would not take hard work to make you cum, you're sure one more flick against your material-clad nipples might send you over the edge.

"Fuck, why didn't I think of this sooner,"

This is all new, even for the two of you.

"Spread your legs." He commands, even though his feet are already kicking them apart.

"Come here," you break eye contact in the mirror to face the boy behind you. Mattheo removes his fingers sitting in your mouth, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake before replacing it with a long and messy kiss- one that has his tongue forcing itself inside.

Mattheo weaponizes your distraction to reach around and slide your panties to the side with one hand while he rubs your soft nub with his other, spit-coated hand.

You break away from the kiss, neck craning back and mouth hanging open while your eyebrows dissolve into crescents. You cannot look away from him, as you hump his hand.

"You wanna cum?" You nod enthusiastically. "And what if I told you, you can't cum until I've fucked that little pussy of yours? Hm? What then?" His words have you mewling from the sheer pleasure they bring and your orgasm threatens to snap once more.

"Fuck," He hisses, feeling unable to remove his hand from your wet cunt but needing to, in order to undo his belt and pull his aching cock out. "Don't you dare fucking touch yourself," He says in a deadly quiet voice before bringing his hand up to your mouth. "Spit." You don't ever think of disobeying him, not when you're swimming so deeply in your subspace, not when he's the one to bring you here.

Mattheo collects every bit of saliva you offer him before coating his cock in the stuff.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, he does what his body is screaming for him to do: he bends you over the bathroom sink and pushes cock right through your slippery folds. It's tense and painful and your voice is hoarse from doing all that screaming but the sudden contact strokes a deeply sated part inside yourself. His curved and pretty cock rams your insides with reckless abandon, all while he delivers small slaps against your cheek. Riddle keeps a firm grip on your throat. His mouth is inches away from you while his hips rut into yours. His words are being delivered through clenched teeth.

"You think you're so fucking smart but you're just my little whore, arent you? A little whore thst fucks anything that gives her the slightest bit of attention?" It doesn't even register that Mattheo wrongfully suspects that there had been something between you and Harry but you keep your mouth shut. For all his indifference in the past, this is how you would make him pay.

"Oh~ fuck." His cock bruises your cervix, leaving him balls deep and feral inside you. "Fucking Potter?! You wanna give what's mine, to fucking Potter?!" His voice is utterly depraved and animalistic and it has your orgasm cresting.

He is panting, while he mumbles into your ear.

"What would Potter think? If he saw you like this? What would he think? Would he still want your slutty pussy knowing I've been inside it? Knowing that I've cum so deep inside you? Completely ruining you for anyone else, huh?"

"You…" The tears threaten to spill, "It's only ever been you, Mattheo -oh my god! I'm so fucking close!" You fight down tears as the lava begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach.

"S-Say it again. Tell me you want me!" He exclaims, "Tell me you fucking need me."

"Oh my God, Mattheo, I fucking need you." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His voice wavers after your confession. His strokes became sloppy. His mind is flooded with the tightest of your cunt around his cock- how someone so smart could possibly ever say they need him. It has a flood of heat pooling at the base of his cock. "You're so fucking pretty… my pretty girl - my pretty whore," He nods to himself while his heavy cock finds purchase in a specific clump of sensitive tissue inside your cunt. It has you clamping your own mouth shut, your arms wavering while your back arches towards him, only allowing him better excess.

"I need you," You say once more, swallowing a ball of saliva as you nod towards him through the mirror, "I need you to cum inside me."

"Oh my fucking god," Mattheo's eyes soften in their desperstion, "M'gonna fucking breed pussy right here- fuck!" His grip on your throat grows tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. You hump his cock until you feel it twitch inside you.

"Y-Youre making me cum, baby- fuck-" You feel his hot cum spurting inside your walls, triggering your own orgasm that has you gripping his cock like a vice.

"So… so pretty" His hips stutter against yours until you've completely drained him of his cum. A sharp tremor settles over your bones and you gasp in vague increments, waiting for the overwhelming state of euphoria to subside… but it never does.

The weight of what you had done comes crashing back down but you are unable to feel anything besides an immense wave of satisfaction at having your deepest need satiated.

"I think I nearly killed Potter today." His voice is a hoarse echo within the school bathrooms.

"There is no Harry Potter," You say, watching him through the mirror, "In my whole world, there is only ever you, Mattheo."

And a part of him believes you, but he refuses to affirm something as emotionally stifling as that. Instead, Mattheo's eyes flutter shut as his nose finds your hair once more. His cock is still buried inside you, and you hiss as he moves his hips slowly, almost insitinvely. He loves being so wholly enveloped by you. He loves feeling you everywhere.

5K notes · View notes

adragonprinceswhore · 2 months

Text

Soft & Hard

Aemond Targaryen x Ex Girlfriend

Summary: How do you forget about Aemond Targaryen when he’s everywhere you look?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, emotional infidelity, descriptions of self-hatred, situationship, intoxication, smut, heavy petting, drunk sex, P in V, (some) size kink

Word Count: 4000

A/N: This has been plaguing my mind for weeks now, so I really needed to get it out of me and into the world. This can be read as a continuation of my Hockey player Aemond drabble, but can also be read as a standalone. Aemond is a hockey player in this modern AU! 🩵

You prop your feet up to rest on the sides of your bathtub, angling the shower head just right so it hits that spot that sends pleasurable shivers rippling through your body.

Your eyes are closed, and you’re desperately trying to visualise the hot guy from the TV series you’d just binged; mind racing through any arousing scenario you can come up with.

It’s not an easy task; keeping yourself occupied enough to not drift towards the very man you’ve vainly tried to erase from your memory.

You don’t want to think about him.

Thinking about him always leads to missing him.

It leads to longing for him.

No matter how badly he hurt you. No matter how much you rationalise your reasons for leaving, your stupid heart yearns to fill the hole he’s left behind.

Pathetic.

You shut your eyes with more force, thinking of the hot TV character. Upping the pressure of the shower head, you imagine it’s him going down on you that’s causing the pleasure building inside. Your hips begin to shallowly sway back and forth, and low whimpering moans slip from your lips.

As the pleasure builds and builds, the image in your head morphs; the hot TV guys’ hair turns silver, no matter how hard you try to stay focused.

You’re close, so close, and just as you’re on the edge of pleasure, you hear him,

“You’re so pretty like this”

And you cum so hard you drop the showerhead in your grip, legs shaking as your hips jerk upward aggressively.

Water sprays across the bathroom as the shower head falls, but you’re too lost in your own bliss to truly care, giving yourself a moment to just disappear into the fleeting, fierce pleasure consuming you.

After a while, when your legs have stopped shaking and your cunt has stopped clenching around nothing, you turn the rampant shower head off with a sigh.

The satisfaction of your orgasm is short-lived, promptly followed by the lonely reality of you chasing pleasure alone in your bathroom. You could stay in the tub and make yourself cum 10 more times and it wouldn’t change the loneliness residing inside of you.

You could try to picture that hot guy from the show fucking you for hours, still you’d feel the same.

Still, visions of him would cloud your mind. And the chill of loneliness would penetrate your bones, as it does right now.

Because no one kisses your forehead afterwards, or holds you tight, or whispers sweet things into your ear.

You're alone, and the warm water quietly splashing around you doesn’t stop the cold porcelain of your bathtub from chilling your heated flesh.

You shiver.

Sick of yourself; of your self-pity and hatred, you leave the tub and throw on a dressing gown, already on a search for a new distraction.

Anything to take your mind off Aemond Targaryen.

Forgetting Aemond was nearly impossible.

Not only did your mind remind you of your heart’s longing for the man that broke it. The world did as well. Like when you overheard your colleagues discussing his latest game, and how skillfully he tackled his opponents, landing a blow on them so precise yet hard that they flew into the rink. Or when you got home after a long day and turned on the TV, greeted by him giving a post-match interview all sweaty and panting.

The only way you knew him.

Being restricted to seeing the man you’d spent countless nights together with through the TV screen has brought you to the conclusion that ultimately, your relationship hasn’t changed much.

Sure, you don’t send him nudes anymore. Nor does he fuck you into the mattress of whichever hotel room he brings you to.

But the distance is the same. The loneliness isn’t new; it always existed between the two of you. He never really cared to let you in.

You were convenient.

Pliable.

An easy fuck.

You should’ve realised it sooner. Like that time when Alicent Hightower, Westerosi socialite and Aemond’s mother, stopped by one of his practices. You were helping him lace his skates when she appeared, and as soon as he noticed his mum approaching, Aemond’s large hand gently but firmly pushed you away.

Ms. Hightower’s curious gaze had asked about you, and her son huffed out, “She’s an acquaintance”

An acquaintance.

Not even a friend.

To you, Aemond was the first thing you thought about in the morning, and the last thing you thought about before going to sleep.

To him, you were an acquaintance.

Pathetic.

That should have been the last straw. But you kept seeing him. Not even the humiliation and hurt you felt as you excused yourself and ran to the bathroom with tears in your eyes could stop you from craving him. That was the power he had over you.

The power he still has over you, even in his absence. Even if you blocked his number 6 months ago and haven’t seen him once since.

The actual last straw was a message you’d gotten from an unknown number, asking if you’d send more of those “hot slutpics in dat black thong”. For a second you thought it was Aemond having a laugh, but the message didn’t sound like him, and he isn’t exactly known for being a guy that appreciates humour, or ‘pranks’.

Turns out, the number belonged to Aegon Targaryen, Aemond’s older brother and notorious fuckboy. Word around King’s Landing was that every girl who’d slept with him had gotten chlamydia, and still he seems to find a new conquest to throw his arms around each weekend.

Perhaps the sleaziest guy in the Seven Kingdoms.

Turns out, it runs in the family.

You blocked Aemond’s number that night. After swearing to never let your desire for him get the best of you again, you begged your friends to take you out and get you so shitfaced the humiliation Aemond had inflicted on you would be washed away.

It didn’t work.

You’re still tainted by his touch.

So you switch tactics. You look for someone else.

About a month after you’d called things off with Aemond, you thought you’d found a good replacement. A nice, inconspicuous guy who was eager to please; eager to make you like him. You would’ve felt guilty, really, if the dark hole of lonely self-hatred in your chest didn’t outweigh your selfishness.

And still, Aemond Targaryen was everywhere.

You’d find him in that adoring look your new partner gave you as you sucked him off in the shower. You’d find him in bed, when you couldn’t sleep and imagined it was Aemond’s heavy arms holding you tight. You’d find him in your fantasies, seemingly incapable of coming with your new partner unless you closed your eyes and pretended the short, curly strands greeting your hand between your legs were actually long, silky and silver.

Ultimately, your conscience caught up with you, and you broke things off with the new guy as well. He had told you that he loved you, and the sweetest of confessions felt like the sharpest of needles prickling your heart.

Aemond never said it.

Oh, how you wish it was him saying it.

Sometimes, even after six months of not seeing him, you’re still surprised by how incredibly piteous he’s rendered you.

Yearning for a man who only saw you as a plaything. Who only ever cared for you when you were conveniently there for him to do as he pleased with. Who refused to expose your relationship to his mother, and shared your nudes with his brother.

Fucking prick.

Today’s Friday.

Single and lonelier than ever, you beg your friends to go out dancing with you. It’s become your new weekend ritual; go out and dance until your feet hurt and you’re so tired you collapse on your bed, mind delightfully empty.

Now, you're back on the dancefloor, drink in hand, eyes closed as you sway to the music.

You always drag your friends to the same place, The Three Towers, a nightclub of the slightly more exclusive kind, with proper DJs and strong drinks.

They must’ve figured out by now that it was Aemond who introduced you to this place. You see it in the pitiful looks they give you every time you insist on coming here instead of going to any of the many other places in Oldtown. Their eyes say what you’ve known to be true for over six months;

Pathetic.

It’s not like Aemond likes to go out anyway. He hates crowds, dislikes strangers, loathes the fake people gathering around him to tell him empty words of adoration.

But that one time you’d wanted to go dancing, he’d brought you here.

Maybe he brings all his “acquaintances” here.

You tell yourself that you don’t come here for him, that it just happens to be a great place, but still, every time you catch a glimpse of something silvery in the corner of your eye, dread punches you in the gut.

Why do you seek him out when you know actually meeting him would destroy you? What if you saw him here with another girl? Maybe one of the models his brother so often gifts his infected cock to?

Tumultuous thoughts swirl in your mind until you notice that the flash of silver isn’t Aemond’s hair at all, and ease settles over you. Well, something akin to ease. The self-hatred is still there,

Pathetic.

Your feet quickly carry you to the bar, eager for more of the numbness only alcohol provides. You order another G&T and almost spit it out after the first sip; it’s basically all gin.

Good.

You take three large gulps and move back to the dancefloor, searching for your friends who you’ve lost in the crowd of intertwined bodies.

You scan your surroundings, and then it happens again. A flash of silver. Only this time, it’s him.

You remember the first time you saw him. TV appearances and watching him on the ice doesn’t do him justice. In person, his ethereal beauty’s blinding. Just like it is now. One of the spotlights over the sofa he sits on hits his hair, causing it to glow like the beacon of a dark night at sea.

Calling you in.

Your feet work by themselves as they walk towards him. You panic, desperately searching for any excuse to talk to him.

What do you say?

Suddenly you’re right before him, drink in one hand and the other nervously touching your hair as you dumbly stare at him. He looks up from the drink in his hand, a whiskey on the rocks you’d guess, and meets your eyes.

His gaze is cold and stoic.

Unimpressed.

He raises an expectant eyebrow.

And yet you say nothing. All the witty, insightful, hard-hitting truths you’d wanted to tell him for the last six months vanish as you stand before him frozen in panic.

Pathetic.

Pathetic!

You have nothing. Your mind’s empty, the only thing you can do is feel. Feel the self-hatred, the loneliness, the insecurity he’s inflicted upon you.

He rolls his eyes. Aemond’s not known for his patience, “If you’re looking for that new boyfriend of yours, he’s not here”

“I don’t have a boyfriend”, you blurt out, prompted by the shiver running through you caused by the venom dropping from his words. He sounds so hateful.

He stands abruptly, forcing you to take a faltering step back as he tower over you,

“Come”

He takes the drink in your hand and places it on a nearby table before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the rowdy club. The chill of the night air hits your scarcely clad body as he drags you towards a cab waiting outside, your ears still ringing from the loud music in the club.

He opens the door and pushes on your arm to get in. His touch is still impossibly warm; just as you remember it.

He slams the door shut and walks around to the other side, getting in and grunting an address you’ve never heard of to the taxi driver.

You know your friends would be furious if they knew who you left with, so you send them a quick text stating that you’ve left ‘cause you didn’t feel well.

You place your phone back in your purse and look outside. It seems like you’re driving towards the north part of the city, a place you hardly know.

The deafening silence in the taxi is so tense, any sane person would ask the driver to stop and get out in a heartbeat.

Aemond, sitting next to you with his jaw clenched and fidgeting with his customised black and red lighter, sends nervous ripples of fear through your being. You know he’s contemplating something, yet you wouldn’t dare ask.

Any sensible person would get out.

But you can’t.

Because he still smells the same. And it’s everywhere in the stuffy cab. And your heart hurts, a tear threatens to spill, because you’ve missed it all so much; his smell, his hair, his voice, his touch.

Him.

The silence persists, until you're finally freed as the taxi driver stops and Aemond hands him a few copper stars.

You get out and take a deep breath of the late summer night's air. The buzz of alcohol still clouds your judgement somewhat, yet you feel more aware of yourself than ever before.

You look around and see Aemond approach the entrance to a sleek building in that brutalist, modern design, and you follow in tow. He still hasn’t said anything, and neither have you.

You get in a lift, go up to the top floor, and enter a dark flat with only a small table lamp lit by the entrance, obscuring your view of the place.

Just as you make way to move further into the room, Aemond hinders you.

He doesn’t allow you entrance to the rest of the space, cornering you against a low side table by the entrance door. He’s so tall, and so broad, you disappear into the wall as he steals all the space around you.

“Why did you agree to come with me?”

He’s so close you feel his breath tickle your skin. It’s too dark to truly see the expression on his face, but the shadows cast on him makes him look stern. The smell of him intensifies. You feel warm.

This is all you’ve wanted. All you’ve feared.

You still desire him so.

“You told me to”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you know it’s because your reply’s caught him off guard. He’d assumed you’d fight back, jab at him in some way. He tries again,

“My mate saw you at that club last week, you know”

Is he keeping tabs on you?

“What happened to your boyfriend?”

How does he know about that?

You swallow, “Nothing. It just wasn’t right”

“Hm”

Your eyes are locked together, his mismatched gaze just as alluring as you remember it. Without looking away, he brings a hand up to gently stoke the cold skin of your arm.

The harshness of his stare falters,

“Did you miss me?”

The retort leaves your lips before you register it forming in your head. Can’t give in to him that easily. Can’t make your suffering known to the person causing it.

The harshness reappears.

“Did he fuck you the way you like?”

His tone is cold, yet heated with anger. The same hateful tinge from before.

Your drunk mind works without you operating it,

“He wasn’t you”

The confession slips out, and so does the pitifulness. The loneliness. The pathetic mess you’ve become.

Aemond didn’t expect your admission either, eyes narrowing in suspicion,

“What do you mean?”

Is this the time?

To tell him how utterly devastated you’ve been without him? How he plagues your mind? How your entire being is tainted by him?

No.

“Why did you bring me here?”, you ask, foggy mind finally cooperative enough to let you change the subject.

“Because you wanted me to”, he replies, the gentle hand on your arm suddenly travelling down to caress your exposed thigh before harshly cupping your cunt.

A startled gasp espaces your lips.

His touch is so nostalgic it travels from your aroused core to your heart, and squeezes it painfully.

His hand is big enough to cover you entirely, and with the heel of his palm, he pushes harshly where he knows your swollen clit lies obscured under your panties. His long finger taps against your hole, and he huffs a quiet, condescending laugh as he feels how moist the fabric is.

When did you get this wet?

You feel the heat of his touch radiate from his palm to your cunt, so persistent it finds its way through your underwear. He only moves his hand to stroke you over the fabric and press at your clit, but the gratification of finally being granted his touch works you towards release at a speed you’d thought impossible.

“Still a little slut for me”

He brings two fingers up to press right over your clit, rough circles demanding that you obey his touch and come for him.

His breathing hard through his nose, the look in his eye is hard to decipher,

Arousal?

Fury?

Fuck it feels good to be pushed against a wall by him. To be subjected to his rough treatment. Anything to feel his touch on you again.

Your hips move upwards to meet his fingers; you’re so close to falling apart.

“You missed me. And that fucker you were seeing couldn’t compare to me. Isn’t that right?”

He spits out the words, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he leans even closer.

Your arms have been hanging limply at your side, and you have to fight the sudden urge to grab him and press him against you. To feel him closer.

“Did he make you this wet?”

Aemond’s tongue licks the sensitive spot behind your ear and you moan loudly, fully consumed by the way his fingers push you towards release.

You angle your face so that his mouth is right by yours. With parted lips, you look up at him pleadingly, begging him to kiss you.

Something in his eye shifts, and a victorious smirk breaks out over his face,

“Come”

And you do. So hard you see stars and your legs give out. The pleasure is intense, it steals everything from you; your breath, your senses, your self-discipline.

Your hands fly to Aemond’s biceps, anchoring yourself to him as your body twitches forcefully in the pleasure rupturing you. It’s cathartic; a long awaited release only his hands can coax out.

When you come back to reality, to the dark hallway you're trapped against Aemond’s body in, the dreaded self-hatred you’d gotten to know so well makes itself known again.

The brutal reality of exactly how far your pathetic infatuation with Aemond has driven you crashes over you like an ice-cold wave of regret. You feel hot tears well up in the corner of your eyes as they stay casted down, refusing to look up at the man who’s greatest pleasure in life seems to be to torment you.

Why had he brought you here? Why did he enjoy hurting you? Why had you fallen for it?

“What did I do to make you hate me so?”

It’s the alcohol talking. Or maybe it’s the last thing you need to hear from him before you can finally let go. The last shard of your heart crushed in his grip.

Silence is the only answer he gives you, and without looking up, you push him to move so you can get away from him. Instead of allowing you to leave, he brings one hand to your cheek, engulfing it in warmth, and drags your face upwards to meet his eyes.

Before you can read his expression, he ducks his head down, letting his lips graze over yours. His tongue comes out to swipe over your lower lip in a slow, gentle caress that feels more sensual than anything you’ve ever experienced, and in retaliation your greedy arms pull him closer, eagerly kissing him back. There’s a slow urgency to the way his tongue seeks out yours, bending your body backwards to taste you deeper. You relish in it.

You want him to eat you up. To devour you completely. You’re his anyway.

Without breaking the kiss, Aemond leads you down the dark hallway and into a dimly lit room. The only thing you register is a large bed in the middle, where he takes a seat and keeps you standing between his legs, still kissing you.

His hands roam over your body; over your exposed arms and legs. They find the zipper at the back of your dress and pull it down, slowly undressing you until you're completely bare.

He stands for a brief moment to rid himself of his own clothes, and then sits again, guiding you to climb onto his lap.

You follow his every command in enchantment. You grant him every kiss he seeks, allow him every touch he craves. He can have it all.

He guides you to sink down on him slowly. You’re still so wet, yet he’s so hard your insides are forced to mould after his stiffness.

Once he fills each part of you, he wraps your legs around his waist, sighing in satisfaction as he presses your body so close to his the skin of your torso sticks to his.

“I won’t last long-”, he whispers into your ear, “-a 6 month wait is excruciating”

The touch that you’ve known as harsh and demanding is now so soft. So delicate it slowly picks up the shattered pieces of your broken heart and mends them together again with each gentle caress.

Your hands cup his cheeks, gazing into his lilac and blue stare as you slowly begin to move.

Aemond doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say that one phrase that you want him to, but the look in his eyes is mesmerising. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable. It’s intimate.

He’s giving himself to you.

You wrap your arms around him, accepting him. You want all of him, all to yourself. You’ve wanted him for half a year. You’ve wanted him since the first time you met him.

He meets your hips each time you sink down, and the otherwise carnal pursuit for pleasure feels dreamlike as Aemond’s arms envelop you and you disappear into him.

You want to say it, but not yet. You don’t dare. Would he retreat again? You know it to be true, but it’s too early. Maybe someday.

Instead, it’s Aemond who speaks over the moans and sighs of pleasure,

“Don’t leave me again”

You don’t know how long you fuck, but each orgasm feels more consuming, more powerful, than the last. Ultimately, you collapse together on the bed, legs and arms still intertwined. The familiarity of Aemond’s heavy arms over your waist soothes you, yet the soft sheets of the bed provide a stark contrast to the stiff, clinical sheets of the hotel rooms he’d always brought you to before.

There’s nothing left between you, no more layers to shed, so you ask him about everything that had led up to your separation. About how he dismissed you in front of his mother, and about the text from his brother. The latter seems to genuinely surprise him,

“I’ve never shared your pictures with anyone, especially not him”

Guess Aegon Targaryen isn’t above snooping through his brother’s stuff.

You talk all night, and Aemond tells you about his strained relationship with his family, “My family has an ability to ruin things for me”, he confesses, “I didn’t want that to happen with you”

As the rays of sunrise begin to seep through the window, you admit to the loneliness that’s been eating away at you since parting from Aemond.

He cups your cheek again, thumb stroking your cheekbone,

“I fucked up. I’ve missed you more than I thought possible”

Your loneliness hadn’t been solitary. He’d felt it too. You’d shared it.

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the slow drum of his heart. Before it lulls you to sleep, you remember the last thing you’d like to ask him,

“Aemond, where are we?”

“My place”

A/N: I never know if I should write it as come or cum? After some studious research (not), I decided that come is the original and therefore works better! Thank you for reading, I write these drabble for fun to improve my writing, so don't be too harsh please 🫶🩵

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #modern aemond #modern!aemond #my fics

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aklaustaleteller · 4 months

Note

Could you make an imagine where Klaus Mikaelson is the father figure to the reader despite not being her real dad? And her birth father came back trying to take her but Klaus wouldn’t stand for it and wouldn’t let him take the reader?

Home

Klaus had just been taking a stroll through the woods when he finds himself walking towards the sounds of a beta's broken sobs. Seeing the little abandoned wolf, Klaus takes her home with him, hoping that he'd be able to become her safe place -- which he very successfully does. But what happens when Y/n's biological father returns after ages in hopes of getting her back?

Warnings - None really, other than the fact that it's quite sad (but with happy outcomes I promise <3) Word Count - 4.0k

I'm so so so sorry for my absence the past whole week but hey, this is quite literally a 4k worded fic! So hopefully that makes up for it? (Also, thank you for the request, lovely anon. Please do tell me if you like it!!)

Also! I took the idea of Y/n's wolf being a little out of control from this very very amazing fic written by the truly talented @klausysworld Please do give the fic a read, if you haven't already that is, hahah <3

Klaus had been taking a stroll through the woods, his feet carrying him just about anywhere while his mind sped through thoughts a million miles an hour. He made plans, then backed them up with another one, and then made another one, just in case. And he'd just lifted his leg to cross over a fallen tree when his body came to an unnatural halt.

He was never caught off guard, but right now, as he heard hushed sobs and a heart that was beating in a painfully broken rhythm, he couldn't help but gently continue his stroll – in a particular direction with an aim, this time.

His head tilted as he neared the source of the sound, his nose picking up on a beta scent. It had been way too long since he had come across a beta, his major interactions occurring with either other Alphas or Omegas, or Vampires. As well as some other species that rather got on his nerves, such as the witches. It intrigued him.

From quite afar, his eyes finally caught sight of a rather small frame crouched against the rough bark of a tree, a jerk shaking their body every time their back accidently met with it, followed by another painful but gritted howl.

But what made Klaus' frown deepen even further, was the sight of wolf ears growing from the person's head. He felt as though his eyes were deceiving him; he had never come across something like this and if he wasn't mistaken, he was pretty sure that this was just an untrained little wolf -- or perhaps it was the strangeness making him think that there couldn't possibly be another mythical creature that was actually all too real.

So, he walked closer, his head a little ducked and shoulders bunched up on either side of his neck as he tried not to make any sound as that would surely startle the ...child, he realised.

The little frame, sobbing into their hands with their knees bunched up against their torso, belonged to a child. A werewolf child who was beginning to lose control of their wolf, and just then Klaus noticed a tail curling up against the little one's back in order to provide comfort.

He flinched when some wood broke unde his step, alerting the little girl and his heart cracked like a drought-stricken land when she jerked and looked up at him with eyes so big, full of fear swarming them and so much sadness that he could drown in it and not be found.

She immediately backed up into the tree, hissing sharply when her back met the unruly surface but not once did her eyes move away from him. Her lips trembled, a fat tear rolling down her cheek against her will and Klaus noted that the girl could not be older than a decade.

Taking another step towards her, Klaus froze when her wolf ears went back in, and a sob broke out of her mouth.

"Please, sir! I will do whatever you ask of me, but please don't hurt me," she shouted at him, fully breaking down into heart wrenching sobs as she tried to get up on wobbly legs but fell to the ground right away due to the tremor coursing through her body.

Tears blurred his vision for a second before he took the final step toward her which brought him close enough to sit on his knees beside her and rest his hand on her head.

"It's alright, little wolf. I'm not here to harm you," Klaus whispered, feeling her body falling into shambles under his touch. But when she looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes, he couldn't help but pass her a reassuring smile.

"You are safe with me, sweetheart," he said, now weaving his hand across her forehead to brush away the hair that stuck to it. "Yes?" He asked her with a soft nod, bringing her closer to his chest when she too, nodded. Her eyes were still uncertain but he could tell that it won't take long for her to let go.

This was a child, full of enough naivety to trust a stranger and Klaus was more than glad that he’d found her before someone else could’ve. And maybe his Alpha scent provided her with the extra comfort that she most likely needed, but Klaus wasn’t complaining.

So he rested his back against the tree this time and let her sit in his lap, his arms around her in a way that cocooned her away from whatever that had pained her so terribly, and ready to protect her from anything that came her way with poisonous intentions.

His heart clenched inside his chest when the little girl curled up against him, finally letting the sobs rake through her body and for all the sadness to cause havoc inside her little heart before it left her alone for good.

And for some reason, Klaus just knew to avoid her back. It was clear that she was hurt over there somehow, making him rub his hand up and down her arm instead, and rock the two of them side to side for a little bit. Slowly and slowly, her wails turned into softer sobs and then finally, Klaus heard her heartbeat go back to a normal pace again.

He looked down to see if she'd cried it all out, wanting her to tell him about the culprit who had hurt her like this but when he found that she had slipped into a deep, peaceful slumber, he didn't even think once before carrying her home with him, covering her up under his duvet while he sat on the sofa across the bed, looking at her and telling himself that there was no way he was going to be able to let her go.

He just felt something between them, something that brought them closer in a way he had never experienced before. He felt like he was supposed to love her, care for her, teach her all about the world and show her the wonders. He felt like taking her responsibility, giving her his last name and raising her protected from the world.

Perhaps it was because he, somewhere, saw his inner child in her. The child that so helplessly begged for just some love from his father and got the horrifying abuse instead.

Klaus wanted to take her under his wing and be there for her while she grew up. He wanted this very clearly abandoned little wolf to call him her father, and his brothers her uncles and his sisters her aunts.

He couldn't sleep all night, fearing that she'd wake up and ask for her actual parents. And he knew he'd take her back in an instant if she wanted to, but it would tear him apart into uncountable and unrecognisable shreds.

And so, he waited all night for her to wake up and hopefully deny him when he'd ask her if she wanted to go back home. And Klaus would go to hell and back to build her a home; to become her home.

But despite his stubborn decision to stay up and look after her, Klaus awoke to something soft and comforting touching his whatever exposed skin. And as he cracked open his eyes, the sunlight was already pouring inside his room and one of his blankets was draped over him. And he knew it hadn’t been on him for long as he had felt it sliding across his frame, and yet he couldn’t catch sight of the carer.

That was, until he began getting up and he looked down to find the little girl, sitting beside his feet and looking up at him with doe eyes full of ...joy. He noted that the girl was happy to see that he was finally awake, her heartbeat picking up just a little as a smile slid on her mouth.

“Thank you, Alpha,” the girl mumbled shyly, placing her hands on his knees while she began standing up. And Klaus’ arms instantly went ahead in order to prevent her from falling but she didn’t stumble once, reminding him that she probably had werewolf healing powers that performed with a slight delay due to her young age.

Klaus opened his mouth to say something but when the girl warily wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on the very tip of her toes to do so, he found himself caught off guard, once again. But regardless, he hugged her back rather tightly, lifting her off the ground and bringing her on the sofa.

“Are you okay now, little wolf? Does it still hurt?” Klaus asked her, one of his hands cupping her face while the other cradled her. And his heart swooned when she curled up on him just like the night prior, but this time only soft breaths passed through her mouth.

“The wounds have healed, Alpha,” she mumbled, almost hiding her face by tucking it away in his chest. “But my heart still hurts, I think,” her voice wavered as she confessed, now clenching his henley in her fist due to the unease it brought to her.

“Oh, little wolf,” Klaus sighed, his eyebrows turned into an upside down frown as he looked upon her with pity. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He whispered, cautious so she wouldn’t shut him off, even though she was too young to know of such a thing.

“My father, he – he kicked me out of the pack yesterday,” she told him with a quivering voice, tears beginning to pool in her eyes once again. “He told me – he said that he doesn’t love me… that – that he never has!” She cried out, a sob aching her throat and wrapping itself around it so tightly that it was almost beginning to choke her.

“He said he doesn’t love me,” she repeated, her body now shaking in Klaus arms as his heart crumpled inside his chest as he noted just how much she cared and felt, and that she was having to relive it again right now.

“Why did he kick you out, darling?” Klaus asked, wanting to end her misery and just a one line answer would be enough for him to go over and slaughter the entire pack.

“He wanted me to learn how to handle the pack once he wouldn’t be there anymore, how – how to be an Alpha,” she told him, tears flowing out of her eyes that had now grown bloodshot red.

And just then, her ears popped out of her head once again, and Klaus couldn’t help but pet the welted ears in order to help her calm down.

“But I didn’t want to! I – I don’t want to take charge after him!” She told Klaus, this time her voice changed its tone to be more convincing and desperate. She sat upright, trying to show Klaus just how much she’d rather work behind the scenes than take the lead officially.

“It’s okay, little wolf – you won’t have to anymore,” Klaus reassured the girl, weaving his fingers through her hair and pressing a kiss on her forehead. “You’ll be here with me, safe and sound, and I will love you, sweetheart,” he whispered, looking into her eys with the purest sincerity.

“I truly love you, little wolf,” Klaus said softly at recieving a questioning look from her, asking if he honestly meant what he was saying. “And I will always show you love.”

She brightened up at that, the shine of a couple stars returning to her eyes as she got up, but then saddened again. “But what about home?” She asked, her tears beginning to dry up on her cheeks as she wiped them away.

“Do you wish to go home?”

“No,” she trailed off, looking away from his eyes as if guilty, causing Klasu to cup her cheeks and turn her back to face him.

“Then I’ll be your home, little wolf,” he smiled at her. “Yes?”

The girl nodded, quickly leaning in to press a kiss on his dimpled cheek.

“What’s your name, darling?”

“Y/n, Alpha,” she answered him, and Klaus wanted more than anything for her to call him her father or dad, but knew that he should give her some time.

“Lovely,” he grinned, taking her in his arms and getting up to let her in the shower and then introduce her to the rest of the Mikaelsons.

And it wasn’t long before Klaus found himself officially adopting Y/n, making her a Mikaelson and his heart had swollen inside his ribs when she’d so shyly asked him if she could finally call him her father.

Over the first couple months only Klaus noticed that her gentle and empathetic nature valued deep and personal connections with people over power and attention. He also learned that the reason she hid her high intelligence and outstandingness in whatever field she chose, was because that was simply ingrained in her beta personality.

So, gradually, books all about betas began to fill shelves in their library quarter of the house.

“Father!” Came in a shrieking voice, followed by his ears picking up on a rapid heartbeat and he was out of the bed in an instant, checking her over to see if she was hurt and he only shook his head when he found that Kol had just been chasing her around the house, early in the morning to keep her interest while Freya made breakfast for her.

“Good morning, little wolf,” Klaus grinned, picking her up off the ground and spinning with her in his hold, pressing as many kisses as he could all over her face as she pressed her palm against his face to keep his stubble away.

Loud giggles and squeaks echoed throughout the mansion as Klaus brought her back to bed with him, letting her lay on top of him.

It quite hurt him that she was too tall to curl up on him now, but it still felt good when her heart pressed up against his despite the many layers of bones and skin and clothing keeping them apart.

“Uncle Kol was chasing me with his vampire speed! Tell him that that’s not fair!” She whined, looking pointedly at Kol who was shaking his head at the door.

“You’re a wolf, little one,” Klaus began, pulling her attention back on him. “You can outrun anyone,” he smiled.

Y/n contemplated that for a second before she moved to sit upright beside him with a pout on her mouth. “Anyone but you, father.”

Klaus laughed at that, tackling her back into bed. “You do not wish to outrun me, now do you, little wolf?” He asked her, getting out of bed and letting her cling to him on his chest as he went downstairs. He knew that as a wolf, she preferred to nuzzle anywhere she found warmth, and that his chest was one of her favourite places.

Sitting her down on the chair next to him, Klaus let her eat her food by herself. Sure, the honey did drizzle down her chin once but he didn’t mind, instantly cleaning it up with his thumb before it could’ve slipped down any further.

Elijah asked her questions about the storybook he had bought her a couple days prior, Rebekah asked her if the girl wanted to help her aunt pick out a dress, Kol warned her against it by threatening to chase her and Freya smacked all of them on the back of their heads, telling them off to let you eat.

“Father, are you free to paint with me after this?” Y/n asked, looking at him with eyes that had truly unintentionally turned similar to a little puppy’s.

Klaus finished his food, noting another thing that her shyness had truly dissipated into thin air. And all that it had left behind was politeness and some convincing eyes that could get the devil to let go of a deal.

“Of course, Y/n,” he smiled, getting up and grinning when she trotted behind him happily with her own empty plate in her hand. He watched as she put it in the sink and washed her hands and mouth, letting her chug down her orange juice for once as he wiped his own mouth.

Once again, she followed him back inside his studio like a lost puppy. Klaus came back out with the heavier and the majority of supplies in his hands while Y/n skipped behind him with the paints and the brushes in hers.

Walking into the front yard, Klaus set down all of their stuff and sat himself in front of her, chuckling when he noticed that she’d already begun twirling her brush around on her canvas, not a single thought in her mind as she let out anything that flashed in front of her eyes, onto the paper.

Klaus on the other hand, decided to make a painting of colours chosen from her hair. Every colour he saw in the midst of her hair strands, he put it on his canvas, slowly and slowly morphing into a tree’s bark.

And when he checked upon her canvas to see where her painting was going, he felt his dimples dig inside his cheeks at the sight of every and any shade of green that she could find – perhaps in his eyes, Klaus realized when she raised her head to look into his eyes and went back to working.

Almost all of his days went like this, waking up to her running into his room after having had a shower, holding her in his arms for a little then taking her down for breakfast, where she would convince him to paint with her for a little.

After that he’d let her go off with Eilajh to read and learn some other things by Freya that she probably needed to learn. He would be out of the mansion during that, out to mind his business and kill his own minions because of their brave stupidity.

When he’d return to the mansion, Y/n would sleepily trod out of her bed and into his arms, let him pick her up and take her to bed where he’d just hold her and tell her how much he loved her, because someone had probably already read her a story or two.

Some nights she would wake up crying from a nightmare about her biological father, and then she would find herself running into Klaus’ arms which were already open, having heard her rushed footsteps and broken sobs.

Her wolf ears no longer popped out since Klaus had spent an insurmountable time helping her take her wolf under her control, but every once in a while, depending upon how bad the nightmare was, her tail would creep out of her shirt and curl itself either around Klaus’ arms or her own back, which Klaus didn’t object at seeing that she only did this when she was crying in his arms.

But once they’d finish painting, Y/n would run into the house with her and Klaus’ painting to show them off to her uncles and aunts, leaving Klaus behind to clean up the mess. But he didn’t mind it one bit, only laughing when she’d come back looking guilty and saying that she was sorry that she’d once again forgotten to help him clean up in her excitement.

And that’s exactly what had happened just now.

“It’s okay little wolf,” Klaus assured her. “You know I don’t mind it,” he said and let her hug him to show him just how bad she felt.

He rubbed her back, and got up with her hand in his, looking down at the back of her head and smiling as she led their way back inside.

“Wait father!” She paused her walking. “Look, the weather has taken a turn,” she stated, pointing at the sky in which angry clouds had begun swirling, the fluffy white ones long gone.

“Does that mean it’s reading time?”

“Yes!” The girl shrieked, jumping up and down, making Klaus laugh as she ran off to meet up with Elijah.

He caught himself grinning long after she had left his line of sight and shook his head, a smile still pasted on his mouth as he turned around to rule over the so-called supernatural adults whom even Y/n was smarter than.

“I see you’ve taken a liking to playing her father, Niklaus,” a rough voice said from behind, and while it hadn’t caught Klaus off guard, what had was the fact that this man was brave and dumb enough to step a foot in such close proximity to him.

Surely, he must have come with a death wish.

“Roman,” Klaus said out loud the name of Y/n’s biological father, his voice full of venom and he could’ve spat at the man in front of him. “I see you’re feeling daring today, perhaps even like dying?” He proposed, taking a threatening step towards the man.

Klaus had, the very next night of when he’d found Y/n, went on to slaughter Roman’s entire pack. He had let the man live since he wanted him to see and live through his own daughter's hatred towards him. So much hatred that she didn’t even look his way anymore, let alone call him her father.

“Let’s not get this messy, Niklaus,” Roman started but before he could’ve finished, Klaus had him pinned against the very door frame he was leaning so cockily on.

“I’m not your friend, Roman,” he gritted through his teeth, knowing that he didn’t need to clarify any further as to what he meant by that.

“Sir,” Roman started, stretching his neck. “I want my daughter back,” he said.

Red flashed in front of Klaus’ eyes as he sped towards Roman, tearing through his flesh and ribs to clench his heart in his fist. “I would’ve been a fan of such bravery had you not made the mistake of calling her your daughter when she fucking refuses to even recognise you,” Klaus finally spat at him, his grip on his heart so tight that it could burst due to the pressure.

“I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat if you dare once again to call my daughter, yours, or call your lame excuse of a self, her father,” he said, pulling on his heart lightly. “She is mine, and I love her and this is her home now.”

“I am her home,” he gritted his teeth so hard that they could’ve shattered.

Roman’s frame was beginning to get blue, knocking the realisation into Klaus that his hold on his heart was so hard that it was struggling to beat. “Go to the opposite side of the world and never look back here again,” Klaus compelled him, finally taking his hand back out of his chest.

“Now off you go,” he said, maybe shooed. “I am sure you know that a wolf bite can only be cured by my blood,” he hissed venomously, his eyes shining golden as vampire streaks drew themselves through his skin.

And once Roman had finally sped out, Klaus let out a breath and his heart to rest again, his hands trembling at the thought of what could’ve happened right now had he not been who he truly is.

Rushing into his room to clean himself off, Klaus rushed back out to Y/n who was currently sitting in front of Elijah.

“Little wolf!” Klaus called for her as he stood at the doorway of the room, his vision getting blurry when she came running to him with the biggest smile on her face.

“Yes father? Missed me, didn’t you?” She giggled teasingly, wrapping her arms around him and Klaus couldn’t help but nuzzle in the nape of her neck, holding her tightly against him as he kneeled on the floor and felt a tear slip past the slit of his eyes.

“I love you, my little wolf,” he said, whimpering.

“Oh, I love you too, father,” she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “You should know that I’ll always be your little wolf.”

“Forever and always, my precious” Klaus breathed, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek before resting his forehead against it for a moment, breathing in her scent and reminding himself that she’d also become his home now.

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atlabeth · 5 months

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take my breath away

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.

a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff

“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?”

“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.”

“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.”

“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.”

“You never did sports as a kid?”

“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.”

Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.”

“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.”

“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.”

Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help.

You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed.

(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)

Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit.

His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face.

“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.”

“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?”

“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”

Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.”

“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.”

You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?”

“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—”

“That coffee I had?” you interrupted.

He nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.”

Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.”

“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.”

“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated.

“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.”

“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?”

He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.”

“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”

“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused.

“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”

“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.”

Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.”

You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?”

“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.”

For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.”

“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?”

You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer.

When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot.

“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.”

Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”

“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased.

“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.”

“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.”

Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.”

“But my teasing’s okay?”

He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.”

His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time.

“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?”

“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.”

Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

#i know this scene in the show does not happen in s2 but i alsoooo do not care lol. canon continuity is dead to me in my fics #s2 spence my beloved<3 #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #x reader #sadie writes

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bluejay757 · 1 year

Text

reading Marceline's Scrapbook honestly and truly ripped my heart from my body.

It's starts off as Simon's journal and then he later passes it on to Marceline when he has to leave her.

This is his first entry, right after he found Marcy he talks about how when he found her she was afraid of everything around her, including him. That the first night after he found her she didn't sleep, but instead cried all night.

Simon talks about how much he loves Marceline, and how she's keeping him alive. Because if he didn't have her, he'd have no reason to live. He basically outright says he wishes he was dead so if he didn't have Marceline to look after he probably would have killed himself.

And it starts to get more and more sad when he starts referring to Marcy as Gunther.

This was Simon's last entry before giving the journal to Marceline and the last thing he said in it was, "God help me" which I find really dark for, one, a cartoon, and two, adventure time specifically since Glob replaces God in most peoples vocabulary in Ooo so this really highlights his humanity imo.

But whats really sad is seeing how significantly his hand writing changes over time, it starts out very neat and ends up looking like chicken scratch.

This was Marceline's first entry in the journal, she wrote in it for a while before Simon left her. I highlighted where she called Uncle Simon. Because...

She later refers to him as a father, yes I know it's in quotation marks but she's talking about Simon and Hunson in the same way and Hunson is her actual dad. Everything about their relationship makes me want to tear my heart out.

Edit: I saw a couple people were confused, when she says "day 4 without Dad" she is referring to Hunson, this is shortly after he stole her fries and she forced him to leave, but he did things far worse than that. He killed her friends after he promised he would help save them, and him eating her fries after she hasn't eaten hot food in literal years was just the straw that broke the camels back. She was maybe 11 years old at that point.

"Maybe more."

#simon petrikov #adventure time #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #ice king #fiona and cake #Simon is marceline's real dad and you can't change my mind #fionna and cake

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no-144444 · 7 days

Note

HI! i love your writing and i was wondering if you would do a grid reacts to us finding out we were a bet? And if you wouldn't mind adding Logan too?

Thanks ml xxxx

the grid reacts: you find out you're a bet!

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

thank you for requesting! xxxx

-----------------

Oscar Piastri:

He walked into your shared apartment, a smile on his face. He hadn’t seen you in a week, and you’d both been too busy to call or text too much, so finally, he’d be back with his girl.

He wasn’t expecting the bare apartment he’d known so well before you’d moved in. He wasn’t expecting your things to be gone, or the note on the table, or your engagement ring beside it.

Dear Oscar,

I found out. I know we were a bet, and I know you’d try to convince me that you loved me, and that it was all real. I don’t doubt that it was real. I know I loved you, and I felt the love from you (either that, or you’re a brilliant actor and picked the wrong profession). But I feel betrayed. I wish you would’ve just come to me immediately and told me how we started, even if I was mad at you for a while. You kept a huge secret for 2 years, Oscar. That’s not a short amount of time. I love you, and I still love you, but I need some time on my own to figure stuff out. I moved back out into my old apartment, and don’t worry, I’m still your girlfriend, but I just wanted space to think. We’ll work our way back up to being fiancé’s but until then, I am still very much yours, unless you don’t want me to be. I need to trust you again.

Love, Y/n.

His heart sank. He knew it was stupid to try and keep it a secret, and it had truly been tearing him apart for the last 2 years, but this… this was too much. He was thankful that you two at least we’re breaking up. But the engagement reversal thing was fucking with him. He adored you. He loved you. Yes, it was stupid, but he did stupid stuff all the time. Forgetting his keys, sleeping through his alarm, wearing his shirt inside out. You always told him it was endearing.

“Hey,” your voice brought him out of his trance. “I wanted to be here when you came back, sorry, there was traffic.”

He turned around to see you. You looked at him. He was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice broke as you nodded.

“I know you are,” you stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “We’ll get through this, yeah?”

He nodded, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You let him cry it out for a little while, then pulled away.

“You’ll be ok, we’ll be ok, yeah?”

He sniffled. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” you reminded him, wiping away tears as you went along.

“I love you so much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I was so scared a-and-”

“I understand,” you nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

He nodded, playing with your engagement ring in his hands. He broke again, sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him again, letting him calm himself down. “Please put it back on,” he whispered, begging you.

You thought about it for a moment. You loved Oscar, and you knew you’d forgive him. It was harder not to forgive him, in all honesty. You’d read his hundreds of drafts of the speeches he had planned to say to you. Lando had shown them to you when he told you. You knew how this had been tearing him apart. But you knew how it stung, being betrayed like this.

“Ok,” you nodded. He slipped the ring back onto your finger and a weight was lifted off of his chest, while one was placed onto yours.

God, maybe love did conquer all. And that idea fucking terrified you.

-----------------

Logan Sargeant:

“Go up to her, she’s a McLaren engineer,” Lewis’s friend’s voice rang out over the speaker of your phone. “I’ll give you 2 grand if you can fuck her tonight.”

“It’s not like I need the money,” Logan smirked, cocky as ever. “But I’ll take that.”

The camera panned to Logan walking up to you, and your world shattered.

------

“Hey babe,” he called, walking into the apartment. There you were sitting, seething on the couch. “How was your weekend?”

“Great,” you answered shortly. “Have you looked at social media recently?”

“No, why?” he asked, resting his hands on your waist. He tried not to read into your stiff posture. Was this the moment? Had you really found out?

“I was a bet,” you sighed, brushing his hands off of you. “And you didn’t even have the heart to tell me.”

You hadn’t planned on crying, you thought you’d scream at him, give him a piece of your mind, but it was hard to get angry when he was standing there, looking so helpless. You loved him, and all you’d ever been to him was a bet. You’d only met a year ago, started dating 6 months ago. You’d meant nothing the entire time. Just a fuck and a check. You just felt… defeated, and used.

“Baby please, let me explain, it’s not what-” He started but you sighed.

“Explain what? That you ‘love’ me? I don’t care. I deserve someone who tells me the truth, and you couldn’t even do that. I had to find out with the rest of the world. Don’t you realise how stupid I look? All the posts I made, everything I told my friends and family, and the entire time it’s all been a lie? I look like a fucking idiot.”

Logan looked down, ashamed. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, taking your hand. “I’ll do anything to make this right, please Y/n, I love you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you? And how am I going to look going back to you? Why did you fuck this all up?” You groaned in frustration. “I fucking loved you!”

“I love you too!” he pleaded. “Please let me make this right, I don’t care about the media, or whatever, I care about you, and I care about us.”

“What ‘us’? We’ve been based on a lie this entire time!”

“Please don’t say that,” he was crying now, so were you. “Please don’t say it was a lie.”

You took your hand from his. “Logan, we’re done. Please don’t contact me.”

And that was that. He broke your heart and you broke his.

-----------------

Daniel Riccardo:

He watched in horror as you opened the message on his phone from Scotty.

“You have to tell her. This isn’t right anymore Dan.”

“What is Scott talking about?” You chuckled.

“Nothing,” Daniel smiled, but it looked forced.

“Dan, come on, you can tell me,” you smiled sweetly.

“Seriously, I have no clue what he’s talking about,” he nervously chuckled.

Your face dropped into an angry frown. “So he was right, you wouldn’t even admit it if I gave you the chance,” you sighed. “That’s great, thanks Daniel.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know about the bet,” you sighed. “Scotty told me last week.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you turned to him. “Why would you lie?”

“I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing you,” he shrugged. “I thought it would just be better to… keep you in the dark I guess. I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

“I wish you would’ve just told me,” you sighed, looking up at him.

You were both silent for a moment.

“What does this mean for us?” he asked.

“What ‘us’? We were based on a lie Daniel. A lie you told for a whole year.”

“So that’s it?” he gritted out.

“That’s it.”

-----------------

George Russell:

“Have you talked to her about it yet?” Alex asked. “You have to tell her mate, it’s gone on too long.”

“It’s been 6 months Alex, and, by the way, I actually love her,” he scoffed. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to explain it.”

“Explain what? That you were dared to ask her out for money? Mate, you sound like a dick no matter what, she’ll break up with you no matter what,” Alex sighed, disappointed in his friend.

“She’s probably right to,” George admitted. “Fuck!” he groaned.

You stepped into the room, trying to pretend that everything was alright. Both of the men looked up, terrified of what came next.

“Please let me explain,” George rushed out, taking your hand. Alex quickly left you two to speak alone, patting you on the back as he left. George stood up and took your hand.

You nodded. “Explain.”

George’s frown lifted slightly, elated that you would even give him the chance to explain. “It was a stupid bet and I never took any money. I stopped speaking to the guys after we met, and I promise I’ve been trying to tell you, I just… I get scared every time that I’ll lose you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you Y/n. And I’m so sorry.”

You nodded. “I just… give me some time, yeah?”

He nodded. “All the time you need, of course.”

You took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around his neck in a short hug. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

He nodded, letting himself enjoy your embrace. “Please call me. Anytime.”

You pulled back, still holding back your tears somehow. “Yeah. Good luck today.”

“If I win, it’ll be for you. It’s always for you,” he smiled softly.

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaving with a broken heart, and a choice to make.

-----------------

Alex Albon:

“Can we talk?” Alex asked, 2 months in.

“About what?” you questioned. You were sitting in his apartment in Monaco, eating dinner before catching a movie at a nearby cinema.

“How we met.”

“Proceed,” you nodded, turning your full attention to him.

“We met at Jimmy’s, and I was there with my friends, and we were being assholes, and I'm sorry that’s how you met me,” he hesitated. “And that night, I was dared to go up to you, only because they knew I’d never get a chance with you because you’re… well, you’re you, and I’m me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but we were just having so much fun and-”

“You thought you couldn’t get a chance with me?” You chuckled.

Alex looked up. “Well, no. You’re gorgeous-”

“You’re a very hot Formula 1 driver! Alex, I was losing it when you came up to me!”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about F1?!”

“I don’t! But I know about hot famous guys!”

“You liar!” he laughed.

“You lied too!” you laughed.

He smiled. “ I guess we’re pretty evenly matched then, yeah?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, then leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

-----------------

Charles Leclerc:

You and Charles were new, like new new.But he’d invited you to the paddock nonetheless, and you had the weekend off, so off you went to the Ferrari garage. You’d met the so-called ‘Prince of Monaco’ at an Indycar event a few months back when he got your number, and since then you’d been texting back and forth. He finally asked you out, and you agreed, I mean, who wouldn’t, right? Even though you worked in Indycar, you were a born and raised Monegasquean and you were proud of your heritage, and pretty excited to be dating the Monegasque.

“Oh shit,” Pierre grumbled, bumping into you. Recognition finally crossed his face and he smiled. “Y/n, right? We met at the Indycar thing, right?”

“Hi Pierre, yeah, nice to see you,” you smiled. Behind him came Charles, a bright smile for you.

“Are you here for work or-? Oh, for Charles,” he smirked and turned back to Charles . “Le pari est-il toujours valable?” (is the bet still on?)

Your face faltered. Charles didn’t tell you about any bet. What bet?

“Je ne lui ai pas encore dit,” Charles mumbled. Pierre’s smirk grew, as did the sinking pit in your stomach. (I haven’t told her yet.)

“Hey,” Charles turned to you with a smile on his face.

“Hi,” you nodded, more reserved than before. “Congrats on pole.”

His smile dampened. “Is everything alright?”

“All good,” you mustered up your fakest smile. “Ne parie peut-être pas sur une fille qui vit à Monaco, connard.” (Maybe don't make a bet over a girl who lives in Monaco, asshole.)

Charles looked dumbstruck for a moment, and you left him like that. You were worth more than that.

-----------------

Lewis Hamilton:

“Have you told her yet?” George asked, eying you from the other side of the garage.

Lewis shook his head. “I can’t find the right time.” “You need to tell her soon, it’s only a matter of time before someone else tells her.”

“I know I do, I just… everytime I try to bring it up it’s like she’s extra sweet and perfect and I just can’t break her heart like that-”

“Break who’s heart?” you asked, standing beside Lewis.

George shot him a look to say ‘tell her now’, and he nodded. George left you two to talk.

“I was… I came up to you… I-”

“It was a bet to ask me out, I know,” you nodded, sipping your drink. “Whose heart are you breaking?”

Lewis’s brow furrowed. “Yours?”

“I overheard you and your friends at the bar that night,” you explained. “I don’t care. We’re dating because of it, I love you, blah, blah, blah,” you smiled. “Unless it’s been a charade the whole time-”

“NO! It hasn’t, I love you, I promise,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed kisses to your cheek as you laughed.

“You thought that would break my heart?”

His ego was becoming a little bit more than bruised. “Hey!”

You laughed. “OK, ok, relax. Yes, it would’ve broken my heart,” you teased.

He pushed you off, smiling. “I don’t want your pity-”

“Not even a pity fuck?” you whispered, a mischievous smirk on your lips.

He smiled. “Well, I always want that.”

-----------------

Max Verstappen:

“Fuck this game!” Max cursed after his game had crashed for the third time. You made your way into the living room, looking in on the game.

“Everything alright?” you asked.

“All good, sorry liefje,” he responded, not even turning around.

“Is that the girl we put the bets on?” One of his friends asked. Max panicked and shut down the stream, then immediately turned to you.

“Liefje…” he started. You stood there in shock.

“Is that true?” you started. “Was I a fucking bet?!” you shouted.

“It- I- Yes, it started like that, but I love you, I-I’m in love with you!”

“How can I ever fucking trust you?” you shot back. “You’re a liar!”

“I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck does ‘sorry’ do? I’m leaving Max. You are so not the man I thought you were,” you pushed past him, grabbing some of your essentials from your bedroom as he followed behind you, begging you to stay.

You left. He was the one who messed up.

All because of a dumb bet.

-----------------

Lando Norris:

He was sweating through his shirt. Max’s eyes bore into him all night, more specifically, how his arm was draped over your shoulder. He understood his best friend’s confusion. It was mere months ago that Lando had been dared to go up to you and ask you out, mere months ago when he sent a photo into the group chat of you sleeping soundly beside him, asking for the transfers from the men who’d told him to ask you out and somehow get you back into his bed before the next morning. Since then, things had in fact changed. He had changed. You had changed him.

“Lan,” Max hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Max,” Lando mumbled. “Not now.”

“She deserves to know,” Pietra shook her head. “Y/n, listen to me, I know Lando had probably been a lovely guy but he asked you out because he was dared to-”

“Pietra!” Lando groaned. “What the fuck!”

You turned to Pietra, pushing Lando’s arm off of you. “Are you serious?”

“She’s telling the truth,” Max added.

“Y/n please, just let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to fucking explain. You’re an asshole, don’t call me again,” you scoffed, getting up and leaving with Pietra following quickly behind.

Lando was helpless.

-----------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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lissdiary · 28 days

Note

katsuki comforting his pro!hero gf when she kinda fails her mission because she didn't get to save the people but defeated the villain? love your writing btw, wouldn't have guessed you were new if i hadn't read your profile!

katsuki sat on your shared couch, watching the news on your recent mission. the headlines were tragic, you had done what you could in order to protect the civilians but the damage was greater than you could handle. luckily, you managed the capture the villain but you just couldn’t shake off how many lives were lost.

he looked towards the apartment door, he heard your keys jingle trying to open the door. as you walked in, he started walking towards you. the soft expression on his face was enough to make you cry, he knew how much stuff like this hurt you. “katsuki.. i couldn’t-“ you dropped everything in your hands, tears swelling in your eyes. “i couldn’t save them ..” the lump in your throat began to hurt more and more, katsuki caught you before you fell to the ground.

“shh.. it’s okay baby” you couldn’t do anything but cry, he held you in his arms as you cried. your tears staining his black t-shirt, you were frustrated with yourself. “it’s, it’s not kats.. the people, they-“ he caressed your head, fixing your hair after it had gotten messy. you couldn’t even form the right words, it was difficult and traumatic.

“hey, look at me.” he cupped your face in his hands, picking your head up to look at him. your tears continued to flow down your cheeks, sniffling as you looked at him. he knew you tried your best, he knew you did what you could. “look, you did what ya’ could alright. who cares about what some shitty reporters say about ya’?” he wiped your tears with his thumbs, kissing your temple before resting his head against yours.

he wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to cry in his arms.“what matters is that you’re safe and you did your best throughout the entire mission, you ensured the safety of the people.” you both sat on the floor for the next hour, realizing it was late and time to sleep. although katsuki has an early bedtime, he stayed up until you were asleep. he knew you’d have trouble sleeping due to what had happened, and he would’ve rather died than let you stay up alone with your thoughts.

it broke katsuki’s heart to see you lay in bed the next morning. you laid there, puffy eyes with no light in them, dried tears stains down your cheeks, there was no light in your body whatsoever. katsuki made sure to call off work, he knew you needed him by your side and he made sure to stay there for as long as you needed him.

he made you a light hearted breakfast, just enough for you to eat. he knew you would wake up with no appetite but you needed to eat. a simple breakfast that consisted of pancakes, fruit, and coffee made just the way you liked. he served you breakfast in bed, plopping beside you so he can feed you. “you’re okay baby, nobody blames ya’ alright?” you nodded, allowing him to feed you another bite.

if it wasn’t for katsuki, you don’t know how you would’ve managed to cope with the trauma. he kissed your cheek when you managed to finish the plate he made you. “thank you baby, feelin’ a little better now?” he put the plate on your nightstand, pulling you close to him. you laid by his side, your head on his shoulder. “mhm, thank you kats..” you cuddled up closer to him, his warmth comforting you.

“yer’ welcome baby, just glad yer’ back home safely.”

tysm for requesting! it truly means a lot knowing you love my work!! (*≧∀≦*)

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slytherinshua · 18 days

Text

ALL MY LOVE

genre. fluff. boyfriend headcanons. warnings. minghao dreams abt marriage and starting a family. not proofread and written while i'm sick and have half a braincell so i'm rly sorry if this is a mess. pairing. minghao x fem!reader. wc. 558. request. no. a/n. babe wake up slytherinshua is back skdjskd GOD IM SO HAPPY I WAS ABLE TO WRITE SOMETHING FINALLY 😭😭 thought this blog was literally gonna die cause writers block was so strong. also surprised it ended up being svt that broke through my block esp minghao but yk ill take it no complaints !!!!

boyfriend!minghao who’s a gentle, slow lover. he never rushes, but he also never leaves you with any doubt. he can read you like a book, and any concerns on your mind seem to be instantly resolved before you even have time to bring them up. he’s steady and true; your rock that you always know you can fall back on when things get tough. no matter what, he’ll always be there. he gives you a soft passionate type of love that you would never get tired of even after decades.

boyfriend!minghao who’s always been ambitious. he has dozens of things he’d like to do and achieve, but he also knows how to take life slow and enjoy the present. he knows he has time to do everything he wants, and he reminds you that you also have plenty of time as well. sometimes you need that extra voice to tell you that it’s okay to take a break sometimes. it’s okay to breathe and think. no matter what, minghao will always be your biggest supporter— always rooting for you to strive and reach your goals, even if they are small.

boyfriend!minghao who helps you relax after a long day. warm tea and a massage are enough to put your mind and body at ease. his hands work like magic over your neck, shoulders, and back. it’s so good, in fact, that you feel guilty for not paying him for his service. he would never accept anything like that from you, though. once he’s done working out the knots for 20 minutes, he’d fall on top of you, giggling into the crook of your neck as he acts like your personal weighted blanket.

boyfriend!minghao who has a whole collection of couple items with you over the years. whether it be clothes, jewelry, or even mugs, everything he buys seems to come in a set of two. he can’t even imagine buying something for just himself anymore when you always seem to cross his mind whenever he spots something cute.

boyfriend!minghao who scolds you (but truly only out of love). his attention to detail and observant nature is both his strength and his flaw. he’s quick with his tongue— too quick— and will catch himself lecturing or correcting you when it wasn’t strictly needed. although it’s rare for his scolding to get on your nerves, as you know its a way he shows that he cares about you and loves you, it sometimes does. but he’s quick with his apologies as well, so no bickering between you two can ever last long.

boyfriend!minghao who is so happy and secure in your relationship. he knows he’s found the one with you, and now that he’s been able to call you his for years, there’s no way he would ever be able to imagine his life without you. the overwhelming fondness he holds for you plants itself in his head and his heart and always has him thinking about your future together. he’d tell you randomly over tea how much he’s been thinking and dreaming about spending the rest of his life with you. whether it be big milestones like your wedding and starting a family, or smaller ones like waking up in each others arms each morning, he’s excited to experience it all with you.

↳ svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,,

@shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,,

@wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,,

@parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,,

@heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,,

@talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,,

@gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny

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unconventional-lawnchair · 28 days

Text

Casual

Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader

In My Room Chance Pena

Masterlist

Summary: Sirius falls for his most recent hook up, and she refuses to cave to what she wants}

Wc- 6697

Cw: Not proof read- Use of {Y/N}, sexual themes and scenes(literally opens with smut), cussing, Sirius is kinda a butt and broken hearted, Marlene my beloved, Jily my beloved}

Taglist- @otterlockholmes

If someone asked your peers what was one thing about you that they would say described you best, it was that you liked control.

The fear of the unknown, or better, uncertainty wasn't something you necessarily found charming. Things needed to be handled in an exact science, nothing spontaneous, no surprises.

Not that you weren't into a little fun, but even that came down to a basic formula to you. From parties, to schoolwork, to free time, and of course, to relationships. You would certainly be a RavenClaw if you weren't so ambitious.

That's why, when it first came out that you and Sirius were ‘talking,’ everyone was baffled. In hindsight, it made sense. He was a play boy who never really settled down, and you were a player yourself. Commitment meant opening your schedule to influences outside of your control. A whole other human’s thoughts and feelings, that just didn't fit into your mindset.

That meant a whole new set of rules you weren't ready to create. A whole new ecosystem to tend to. Of course, that also meant foolish things like jealousy, possession, passion. You'd rather stay as far away from that as possible.

So hooking up with Sirius was easy. It was a quick fix to clear your mind and just have a break. You had been seeing each other for months. It started over the summer when James invited you and Lily to the Potters’. You both were left unsupervised for an hour, and what were two wound up teens to do?

This symbiotic relationship followed you into year seven. You and Sirius hardly truly talked before then, but now, talk was truly on the back burner. You'd both find your release in each other and you'd leave. Simple as that. He would have someone to release any tension without having to work for it and you had your own relief without commitment. It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

See, last week you broke your own rule. You usually never stayed over at Sirius’s dorm. You both agreed it was too intimate, but you were both exhausted, and you figured staying with him once wasn't a horrible idea. He did not complain.

Since that night, he had been acting strange. Stranger than usual, that was. He would avoid you outside of your rendezvous, suddenly too busy with Quidditch practice, without James, and personal study. You ignored it, you were never close to Sirius before so you didn't think too much about him not spending time with you.

Then came tonight. You ran your hands on his bare chest, nails raking down his flawless skin towards his abdomen. His head was thrown back in a loud groan, the music from downstairs keeping it from being anyone's but yours. Your hips rutted cruelly against his pelvis, slow and daunting. You had been at it for an hour now, your bodies were hot, sweat slipped from your forehead as you threw your head back when you managed to roll right into a sweet tender spot.

The sound you let out was ungodly, and Sirius was losing it. Fighting against his tie you used to restrain his wrists. Even in his predicament, he refused to give in. When you faltered, growing closer to coming undone, he cursed and began to thrust up. The slapping of skin was loud and horrific, and paired with his groans and soft moans, your unholy exhales and blubbering nonsense you managed to slip out your lips, it sounded more like a porno scene than a dorm room.

Your legs began to shake, you pulled your nails from his freshly pink skin and ran your fingers up his cheeks and into his hair. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, meeting his thrusts in an animalistic way. His eyes were transfixed on you. How your body was glowing in the moonlight from the window, with a thick sheen of sweat and indented skin where he bit you too hard. You looked like a masterpiece to him, something he never wanted to give up.

“I love you.”

The words slipped through his lips before he could stop it. You both reached your hazy highs. You gave a croak of a moan and fell limp against his form. He was panting and huffing as his cum coated your insides. It felt so perfect. It was perfect for him.

Then, you were untying his wrists, carefully climbing off of him too soon, and the euphoria cleared, and he knew what he had done. He watched as you got up, grabbing his towel and patting yourself dry. Tossing it onto his lap without another word.

He sat up on his elbows and watched as you got ready, putting on the thin black dress that started all of this.

“You're not staying?”

You wanted to ignore him. You wanted to snap and shout at him. If there was anyone you knew who could have kept this just a hookup, it was Sirius Black. And he betrayed your trust. And that made it so much harder.

“No.”

Sirius gave a dry laugh and fell back against his bed sheets. Running his fingers through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling. Merlin, this felt too damn familiar.

“Is it too late to pretend that didn't happen?”

You gave your own sarcastic laugh, grabbing your wand and shoes. You looked back at him, his eyes were wide and glossy, already rimming red. You were unsure if it was from the salt of his skin invading his eyes, or if he was about to cry, but you were weak to his looks. All of them.

You sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with your heel straps.

“When?”

“What?”

“When did this become more to you?”

You could practically hear him flinch. To you. There was nothing to you. This meant nothing more than sex to you, you made that clear, but hearing it made Sirius ache.

“It always was.”

“What?”

“I’ve loved you. Since year five.”

You covered your face and groaned. You wanted to be sympathetic, but you were mad. He had been using you, this whole time, for some fantasy in his head, in a world where you were his. It made your stomach turn with guilt. How dare he make you feel guilty for this. He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We're done.”

“Wait-”

“Goodnight, Sirius.”

He tried to reach for you but you had already slipped on your shoes. You walked out the door as Sirius stumbled after you. Putting on his boxers and trying to follow after, not even thinking of making himself not look like hot sex.

“Hey! See ya, {Y/N}!” James called from the doorway and Sirius met his eyes trying to leave. James looked down at Sirius bewildered, he was usually long since asleep after your time together, or at least smoking in bed. His friend looked so defeated. He felt it too. “Woah, you okay mate?”

“Fuck.” Sirius hissed and leaned his back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. James sounds of concern falling on deaf ears. Why the fuck did he say that?

~~~

“You're staring again.” Remus muttered as he stabbed his eggs with his fork. Looking up to see James’s desperate look, begging Remus to take pity on the sad fool. Remus was officially a prefect, he didn't have to stay up at night listening to Sirius’s woes about you.

“Not creepy at all, by the way. Just…” He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, I can't lie to him. She won't even come and eat with us anymore, which also means he's banished Lily to the other side of the table too. We're lucky she even comes to our common room to hang with us.”

James rubbed his temple and Sirius scoffed, looking at Remus’s firm expression. “I've banished her? I have? Bloody hell, I caught feelings for one girl and it's my fault she ran with her tail between her legs?” It was two weeks! Two weeks and she refused to talk to him outside of pleasantries.

“Watch it, Pads. You were the one who went too far. Who confesses while they're balls deep in someone?” Remus snapped back and Peter gave a squeak of distress, coughing out a few eggs.

“Wait, what happened?” Peter whined out.

“Sirius confessed to {Y/N}. Not to mention he’s been skipping practice. Slytherin almost beat us!” James muttered and Peter looked like they said he hexed Dumbledore himself.

Remus scoffed at James' concerns.

Another thing about your reputation, everyone knew. Everyone knew you refused to entertain commitment, but Peter was also startled by Sirius’s confession.

“You confessed?” Peter questioned with an open slack mouth.

“Yes, wormtail.” Sirius snapped back.

“Woah.” He mumbled and Remus sighed.

“Let's get your mind off it, Pads, let's go smash bludgers at each other until we get told off by Pomfrey, ya?” James prodded and before Sirius could respond, he was interrupted.

“You will do no such thing. Your mother would look to me if you came back with a battered head, it's a big enough target as it is.” Lily spoke from behind him, wrapping her arms around James shoulders as he leaned back and their lips met. She broke the kiss and giggled at the love sick look on his face. “Yes ma'am.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled back slightly, looking at Sirius with a soft pitiful look and he sighed through his nose. “She told you?”

“Well.. we are best friends, she was bound to.” Lily offered cautiously as James leaned his head into her sleeve and began to nibble on her robe like a damned goat, trying to let out all his bundled up affection. Lily quickly pinched his ear to reprimand him. Making him huff with a whine.

Sirius rolled his eyes at the affectionate display and Lily attempted to move but James just wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, pulling her flush against his back. She rolled her eyes harder this time.

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?” Sirius mumbled and Lily shook her head.

“Well, she feels betrayed, Sirius. She feels like you've been indulging in what isn't yours.” Sirius looked down at his food and poked around at it before he tossed his fork down. “I wasn't indulging. What we had was consensual-”

“But dishonest. And we warned you.” Lily quipped sharply and Sirius flinched a bit. Lily was always a mother-like figure, but she was especially defensive of you.

“Sorry, I just..” Sirius his voice cracked as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and Lily sighed.

“I know..” She whispered. “You did this to yourself, Sirius.”

“I know.” He whispered. He felt defeated.

Lily leaned her head on James, curtaining his face with her long red hair, the brunette is in absolute heaven with his nose pressed to her neck.

“Sirius, just be careful, okay? She's made it clear she's not going to stop her.. life over this.”

Sirius' jaw clenched. He didn't even think about that. Someone else having you the same way he did.

That was a new hell.

When you were seeing Sirius, you both agreed to keep things exclusive, you both agreed that it would keep you both safe to not involve anyone else. Sirius was quickly learning that was a mistake.

He couldn't find himself entertaining a girl without thinking of you, even casuals that he had seen before you just reminded him of the way you looked in his eyes as you commanded his soul to bend to you. Their touch reminded him of your sharp nails wracking down his back as he held himself above the one woman who could truly ever break him.

Weeks without you was torture. He missed the intimacy, of course, but also you. He meant it when he said he fell for you years ago. Sirius was much in the same boat as Remus, he didn't think he deserved the more sweet love in life.

You weren't gentle, you were genuine and to the point. Blunt, no filter and rather brash. It was no wonder the girls seemed to love you. Lily was stern and more parental, Marlene was a party animal but a helpless romantic, Dorcas was hard to read but she had the same blunt air about her, and Mary was more of an observer. You tied them together like a bow. Lily's more rash side, Marlene's more rational side, Dorcas’s honest side and Mary's voice.

It also meant you were all these things to the boys when you met them. Remus and you were naturally drawn to each other, both enjoying the more quiet things. It helped you had prefect rounds together. James and you fit a lot like you'd expect, a much more stern voice of reason to his utter stupidity. Peter even bonded with you, in small comments in passing and clever one liners between you two.

Sirius, however, had to admit he thought you were nothing more than pretty. When Lily introduced you to the group, you fit in far too easily, not to mention you were a Slytherin. Though, your more no bullshit and cut throat attitude quickly turned his indifference to infatuation. It helped that you didn't even spare him the time of day in most cases.

His ideal type.

The attraction was purely sexual. It was supposed to be casual. The shared flirts, the snarky comments, the deathly teasing, only to be followed by your endless heart. When you sat with him after a bad Quidditch accident, when you sat him down and forced him to study for potions because he was failing and just didn't care. You were always there to help him out of the stupid shit he got himself into.

Yet, over the two years you'd known him, that was the most that happened between the two of you. You could hardly call each other friends, because you did that for everyone. He felt like he was nothing to you, just someone to nag and dote on. Your words always meant the world to him, and you picked them carefully, but they were never just his.

Until you were in bed together. He couldn't just let that go.

Now he had to manage to keep himself calm when you were around, because your friends were his and his were yours. He would never make them choose, and honestly, he was selfish. He wanted to be around you in any way he could.

He regrets that now.

Lily and Marlene had brought down an empty glass from their dorm room from Merlin knows what, insisting everyone gather around for a game of truth or dare.

Eventually, everyone was situated around the bottle. James was on the couch, Lily practically on his lap. Remus was on the other side, leaning back and already drinking whatever Peter had brought from their dorm room. Marlene was dancing around the room to a random AC / DC record, with her school skirt hiked up to show off her thighs, and a rich red crop top, just her tie hanging loose around her neck. She was singing a bit off key, but in a charming way.

Sirius would usually find that to be the most captivating part of the night, but every time he even glanced at her he could only think of how you would only ever dance when he coaxed you off the couch. How you'd act so terribly annoyed, before melting into his arms and laughing along with his terrible dance moves. You both would make absolute fools of yourself. It was his favorite part of the night.

Peter got up from his spot across from Sirius as someone knocked. He hurried over to the portrait and opened it, and in came Mary, Dorcus, and you.

Sirius felt his breath hitch and he looked away. James seemed to notice this, but before he could say anything to save the poor boy, Marlene gave a delighted squeal and ran up to you and Dorcas, arms around both of your shoulders. You glanced at her and both you and Meadowes shared a small hidden smile.

“Let's get this started!” Marlene shouted, you winced away at the volume right against your ear. Dorcas just looked taken. You playfully pinched her cheek and she giggled, hurrying over to sit right next to Sirius. You thinned your lips at the sight, you didn't expect them to try and rekindle whatever they had before, but if they did you.. you could be happy for them, you think. That bubbling in your throat was just left over betrayal.

Sirius, however, had his eyes narrowed on you. You ignored it, turning to start and idle conversation with Dorcas who seemed just as unsettled about the position. You put your hand on her back and rubbed it a bit as you looked at Mary who sat on your other side. She shared a sympathetic look with both of you and you bit your cheek. What was that for?

“Who's first?” Remus spoke up to break the tension, and Lily raised her hand. “Oh! Oh! Me!” She quickly spun the bottle and it twirled around to land on Peter.

The game was going steady like that, shots taken for people who refused to do their dares, pretty outlandish and good natured. Eventually, this had devolved into a modest level of chaos, until Marlene spun the bottle. She was clearly a bit tipsy, and her filter had long been dissolved.

You were still trying to keep up the sportsmanship of the game, but when Marlene asked you truth or dare there was no way in hell you'd say dare, terrified she'd ask you to streak or scream bloody murder in the middle of the courtyard. Two dares she's done before.

“Truth.” You mused with a smile and tilted your head.

“Is it true you have a new boytoy already~?” Marlene purred and leaned forward with her chin in her palm. Your face filled with dread instantly. Really? Already? She made it sound like it was some horrible offense. You were sure Sirius had found someone else too, you were never anything more than what happened between the sheets.

Your eyes flicked to Sirius, and he looked stunned. He wasn't even breathing, and you felt a sharp pain in your chest. Feeling the need to justify yourself.

“W-well, it's nothing. But yes, I guess?” You muttered out and Sirius leaned his head back and you winced. What else should you have said? Should you have lied for his sake? Did it matter? Again, you and Sirius were hardly friends.

Lily watched the interaction with wide eyes, watching as you stammered in uncertainty. Waving your hand around in aspiration. Her eyes widened and she hit James best before he could interrupt, gesturing to you. His eyes widened as even James -can't take a hint- Potter caught on to what was happening. No…

Marlene gave a gasp and leaned forward. “Woah, no wasted time, huh, {Y/N}.”

“Is it that big of a deal?” Mary offered in a quiet voice, trying to cut in. Marlene finally seemed to take the hint, and quickly stammered out and back tracked.

“N-no, of course not, just curious.” She muttered on about and tried to quickly encourage you to spin the bottle, but your eyes were locked into place by Sirius’s.

“So uhm,” Sirius cleared his throat and looked away. “Who is it?”

“Does it matter?” You whispered back. It was like you two were in your own private world. Mary put her hand on your shoulder and Dorcas slipped her hand around your lower back. Both trying to comfort you threw the confrontation. It was like everyone could see what you felt before you even knew it.

“It does to me.” He muttered in a low voice and you looked away, slowly hugging your knees and biting your cheek.

“... Barty Crouch.” You mumbled and he gave a bitter laugh, making you close your eyes.

“Really?” He practically shouted and you quickly pushed the girls off and began to stand up. “My brother’s best friend?” He gave a bitter laugh as he watched you gather your things.

“Thank you guys for tonight.” You smiled at the group, quickly trying to defuse the situation, Remus waved his hand and stood up, ready to walk you back.

“Yeah, go ahead. Walk away, again.” Sirius raised his voice and you flat out ignored him, shaking your head and walking to the door. “There she goes folks!” He shouted across the room and you simply sent him an interesting gesture over your shoulder. He scoffed.

The second the portrait closed he kicked the bottle across the room and stomped off to the stairs. “Good fucking riddance.”

He prayed it was missed, but the watery tone in the base of his throat was so painfully obvious.

~~~

You two didn't talk for another few weeks, you stayed away from the Gryffindor common room for dear life. Particularly after James pulled you aside and asked you to avoid Sirius, as his performance in Quidditch was suffering. Lily gave him a firm talking to after that. At first you scoffed it off, but ultimately you listened.

Things were dulling down, you went back to what you could control and the girls didn't entirely mind meeting in the prefect rooms. You were sitting in the mirror, combing your hair in the same black dress, ready to meet Barty up in the Ravenclaw common rooms to celebrate their win against Gryffindor.

“Are you sure you won’t be coming?” You hummed and looked over at Lily who gave a nod.

“Sorry, I’m sure Barty will look after you. I have to comfort a moping giant, I’ll be busy all night.” Lily exaggerated, making you smirk and Dorcas clear her throat.

“All night, huh?” She mused and Lily bit her bottom lip.

“Sometimes losing a game or two has its perks.” She cheeked and Mary gave a dramatic gasp. “Lily Josephine Evans!”

You gave her a scandalized look up and down. “Really now?”

“I have told you before, I can take punishment.” She pushed and Mary threw a pillow at her, making you laugh in absolute delight. You shook your head fondly, unable to stop the bright goofy smile on your face.

“You are awful.” You mumbled and put on a pair of earrings, wincing as you immediately were reminded of how much Sirius liked them. Quickly taking them out and standing up.

“Are either of you coming?” You asked Mary and Dorcas and Mary shook her head. “Sorry, me and Remus are going to study in the library.” She mused and before Dorcas could make another innuendo you sent her a look.

The stoic girl giggled like a mischievous first year. “No, I’m sorry. I have actual innocent things to do.”

You rolled your eyes before you waved them off. “I will see you three another time.”

“Talk to him!” Lily called before the other two muttered out their goodbyes between packing their things.

“Not a chance, Evans!” You shouted over your shoulder. You didn't owe Sirius a damn thing. Certainly not the time of day after the stunt he pulled.

~~~

Sirius was a mess. He had been unable to focus on anything but you for the past two miserable months. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to see you. You avoided him like the plague, and he didn't know if he was grateful or pissed about it.

He knew only one way to get rid of this aching irritation.

That's how he found himself in a small broom closet with Marleen, his lips were all over hers, his hands on her hips gripping hard at her exposed skin. Marlene was so different from you, but it wasn't hard. To close his eyes and imagine it was your fingers running threw his hair, your lips against his own.

When he moved to her neck, he felt your skin. He heard your voice saying his name so sweetly. “Fuck.. that's my girl.” He whispered against her skin and relished in the slight shiver she let rock her body. “I've got you, {Y/N}. I'm right here.” He breathed heavily.

There was a moment where both of them froze. There was a sharp stinging pain that ran across his jaw as Marlene, appropriately, slapped him. He groaned and stepped back, Marlene slamming the door open to storm out.

Bloody hell.

~~~

You made your way down the empty corridors, looking outside at the moonlit school grounds. It was quiet, just before curfew, not that you were too worried. You had wrapped yourself up in your school cloak and prayed Flinch cared as little as he seemed to about the proper patrols.

There was a loud crackling slap that rang through the silent hall, soon after, a door slammed open a few yards down from you. Your eyes snapped up to watch Marlene rush out of the room. Your eyes widened when you looked at eachother and she looked like a deer in headlights.

You opened your mouth to say something before Sirius stumbled out behind her, muttering a mouthful of apologies.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened. Frazzled hair, kids bruised lips, Marlene's neck and Sirius’s… red cheek? You quickly looked away from the two and Marlene looked back at Sirius. He was staring at you with wide eyes.

She huffed and began to stomp away, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence.

“... hey.” He whispered and that snapped you out of it.

You began to walk down the hall, and he quickly ran in front of you, his hands up in front of you to try and settle you. You scoffed and looked behind you before sharply up at him. “Hey- hey, {Y/N}, it's not what you think.” He tried to defend himself. From what exactly? You had no clue.

“What? It's kind of hard to hide it.” You scoffed and gestured to his unbuckled pants. He sighed and began to fix them, your eyes looking away from him. Arms crossed as you waited for him to speak his peace. Sirius shoving his shirt into his pants to straighten himself up.

There was a long silence before Sirius spoke up again. Your eyes drifting back to him. He was a mess, he looked so apologetic. Your heart almost broke, it ached for you to just drag him back to the dorm and forget everything that happened the past few months. You blinked away the thought. No. This is exactly why you avoid relationships. You hated this hurt.

“Uhm..” He cleared his throat. “Where are you heading?”

“What?” You whispered, a bit caught off guard.

“It's not your night for rounds.” He mumbled. “I just figured, you know-”

“How do you…” Right. He would know your night schedule wouldn't he? “Ah..”

Your eyes drifted past him before you gestured to the stairs. “Well. RavenClaw is celebrating their win. Barty asked me to come.” You remarked calmly and he gave a low scoff. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for his next out lash.

“You just. Never went with me to the parties at Gryffindor tower is all.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's because I knew you'd be there, Sirius. You always had me those nights, didn't you?”

He stared at you and slowly nodded. “Yeah. I did.” He muttered and bit his cheek. You wanted to kiss his pout away and- Merlin what was getting into you?

“Well, if you don't mind..” You mumbled and walked past him, He quickly called out again.

“Will you uhm.. Will you be at the next game?” He called across the hall and you looked him in his eyes. He was pleading, you had never seen him so.. sad. Bruised cheek and all.

“... do you want me to, Sirius?”

“More than anything.”

You sighed through your nose. “Yes, I'll be there.”

He shook his head, slowly a shy and hesitant smile grew on his lips. “Nice.. nice.. yeah, I'll see you there.”

He stood there and stared at you for a moment. You felt like you lost the ability to breathe.

“Sirius?” You whispered and he looked you in the eyes with this sad bit of hope you knew you’d crush.

“Yeah?”

“Is that all?”

“O-oh, yeah. Yeah, I'll see you there, {Y/N}.” He mumbled and you slowly nodded. He turned and walked back to the tower.

“Yeah. See you.” You whispered to an empty corridor. You stood there for a solid minute. Debating if you should run after him or not. You wanted to. You wanted to but you knew you shouldn't.

~~~

The image of Sirius and Marlene leaving the storage room together was burned into your head. You had been avoiding him, he had a right to do anything he wanted with anyone he wanted, you had called it off.

Even so, with Barty at your neck kissing it sore and your fingers in his hair, you couldn't stop thinking about it. You went through the motions, just dismissing your own thoughts and letting Barty’s hands reach for your bra strap. He paused and you didn't even notice, still staring off out of one of the several windows. The Ravenclaw tower was just encased in them from wall to wall, and with the darkness they just looked like mirrors.

“Are you alright?” Barty whispered in your ear and you nodded.

“Yeah, sorry, just distracted.” You mumbled and he shook his head, pulling away.

“What? What's wrong?” You whispered out and he bit his cheek.

“Come on, don't play dumb.” He chuckled and fell back on a random seat in the vacant room he dragged you in.

“What?” You mumbled and he shrugged, slowly smirking.

“I may be younger, but I know that look. You have been a million miles away. I'm not gonna sleep with you while you're like that, pretty girl.”

You gave a weak and playful laugh, fixing your dress on your shoulder. “Isn't that what this is for, Crouch?”

“Ouch, Crouch?” he chuckled, standing up to pick up your discarded robe and walked behind you to wrap it around your shoulders. “I would normally agree with anything your pretty mouth uttered, but I am not Sirius. I'm not a good substitute, I can guarantee it.”

“What? Don't be crass.” You scoffed, startled with how easily he could see through you.

‘Twelve owls, I'm not an idiot.” He gave you a firm pat on your ass and pushed you on. “Go get that sad sack. I am going to go see if Evan’s is busy.”

You were stunned by the whole interaction. You bit your cheek before you turned and gave him a tight hug. He was startled by this, but slowly pulled you in. Turning you around and shoving you off.

“Okay, you're killing my buzz. Out.”

~~~

You weren't thinking. That was your excuse. When you stumbled out of the tower and walked right past the dungeons. You stopped at the fat lady, knocking on the painting and startling the her awake. She looked at you suspiciously and you gave her a nervous smile. “Just.. checking on some things.” You whispered and she seemed to buy it for the most part.

You snapped your head up as the door opened. Peter looked at you with wide eyes and you looked around him before slipping in. You walked into the common room before you turned to him. “Is James here?”

“No, just Sirius. I can-”

“No need.” You remarked quickly and turned, hurrying up the steps and leaving a baffled and confused Peter behind.

When you got to the door, you knocked quickly. You prayed no one else was there.

The door opened with a hesitance, Sirius peaked out and his eyes grew the size of saucers. “{Y/N}-”

“Are you alone?” You breathed and he quickly nodded. You stepped in and closed the door behind you. Pressing your back to it. Sirius stared at you and you bit your bottom lip. There was a long silence. You didn't even think about what you planned to say when you got there.

He reached out to grab his tie and yanked him close. His lips were on yours without much coaxing needed. He gave a sigh and forced his body against yours. The door behind you jerks at the force. You ran your fingers through his hair and he groaned against your lips. “Sirius.” You whined as his hands grabbed your hips.

“I know, {Y/N}.” He whispered and you looked away, his lips falling to your neck. “I've got you.”

~~~

The next morning you woke up just an hour or so before Sirius to sneak back to your dorms. Once you got there, you passed Lily on her own walk of shame. You both looked at eachother but said nothing of the events from the night before.

You both got ready for the day, and ended up meeting up early in the Quidditch stands. Still, no one said anything about it. “How long are these games?” You asked Lily with a shiver, covering yourself up with a jumper you had taken with you this morning. Not really thinking about having to explain why you had his clothes. Why you left the tower that morning. Really, anything,

You'd don't have to, however. Lily knew. She knew the moment you looked heartbroken at Sirius that night. She knew the separation wouldn't last.

“Could be hours. James has set records with being the quickest seeker, so could even be minutes.” Lily mused and you gave a scoff of a laugh.

“That tells me nothing, you know that right?”

Lily simply smirked at you. “Like you? This morning? Why are you wearing Sirius’s jacket?” She cheeked and you gave a guilty weak smile.

“... yeah, makes sense Lily, I hope Slytherin wins.” You teased and she gave a playful scoff.

“It will take ages!”

Eventually the girls joined and you settled to watch the game.

You were finally able to witness it, what James meant when he said you had his ‘best beater’ distracted. Sirius seemed in another place the whole game. He was being pelted with the bludger, and not as quick with sending it back to their attackers. You were actually quite into the game and startled by every attack.

Sirius however, was just hovering. Trying to piece together what last night was. He didn't see you in the Slytherin stands, and he was wondering if it would be another three months before he heard your voice again. He snapped out of it just in time to send a bludger back that was aimed right to his face. He took a few steady breaths and bit his cheek.

That almost made you panic. You shot up straight as people began to boo him. You covered your face with a groan, the Slytherin stands chanting and cheering for him to continue to fumble. You didn't really think before you launched to your feet and grabbed the edge of the railing.

“Sirius!!” You screamed over the railing and he snapped around to your voice. You both locked eyes and your breath hitched. You held his eyes for a minute before you bit your lip and leaned so far forward over the railing you might've fallen. “Just win this game already! It's bloody cold out here!”

That was all he needed. You, in his house stands. In his jumper. Cheering his name. He nearly passed out. And you turned to look behind him with wide eyes. He moved on instinct. Turning sharply to smack an incoming bludger at a distracted chaser. You cheered for him, this time Lily and Mary joined you in your rowdy cheers, as Lily pulled you back from the edge.

You and the girls watched as James spotted the Snitch, in all honesty, it was the first time you paid attention to anyone else in the game.

James and the other seeker were neck and neck, but Sirius took care of that easily, hitting the bludger at the back of Regulus’s broom and spinning him out of control and giving James the chance to secure the win.

Griffindor screamed out in victory, and Sirius landed. He ran right past James, Marlene, even Alice as they went to congratulate each other, running straight for the stands, passing Lily and only lending him a moment as she laughed. “She went to the school! Think she's sneaking off to her dorm.”

“Bloody hell she is! Not after that!” He shouted, already running off the pit and not even thinking of using his long discarded broom.

You had just managed to avoid the crowds and ran straight up the stairs. You didn't even think until you find yourself in the astronomy tower. You began to pace. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad. You wanted this so bad. The flash of Sirius coming to mind as the final horse crossed the finish line. You were in love with Sirius black. Oh Merlin, have mercy on your soul.

“{Y/N}! {Y/N}!”

Speak of the damned devil.

You turned from your perch on the railing, staring down at Sirius as he stood in the courtyard just below you. Like you were once again, watching him from the stands.

“Sirius!” You shouted down without thinking. He looked up at you and it looked like a scene from a fairy tale. He was looking at you with this stupid smile on his face, a smile you just wanted to kiss so bad.

“How did you get up there so quick!?” He shouted up at you, drawing a small crowd and you laughed. “Did you win!?”

Sirius couldn't even bring himself to be offended that you didn't stay for the end of the match. “We did!” He shouted up and you bit your lip, absolutely love struck with a bright smile. “I'm coming up!” He shouted and you closed your eyes tight, leaning forward over the edge again.

“Sirius Orion Black!” You shouted down and now a crowd was forming. But you could only see each other. He stared up at you with a quirked eyebrow. “Yeah?!”

“I-” You choked out a whisper before you shook your head.

“Sirius Black I'm in love with you! I love your stupid face! Your pretty smile! Your dumb eyes!” You shouted and he took a few steps back with a shocked look. Quickly shoving his way past the crowd to make his way up the stairs to you. You had your eyes closed, you didn't even notice as he left. “I love your stupid dance moves! I love when you hold me! I love when you make those stupid jokes no one else gets but us! I love you, Merlin I fucking love you!” You screamed across the entire courtyard, breath heavy as you slowly opened your eyes and your heart dropped. Where did he-

Suddenly, there were a pair of arms around your abdomen that yanked you from the railing. You squealed and Sirius spun you around. Setting you down and laughing as you looked up at him. Your eyes met and he bit his lip. “{Y/N}?”

“Yeah?” You whispered in faux innocence.

“I fucking love you too.”

He grabbed your cheeks and yanked you into a kiss. It was heavy and intense; your hands found his cheeks in return. You were both so wrapped up with each other, you didn't even notice a much closer audience before you heard Lily clear her throat. Sirius looked up and was greeted by Lily, Mary, Marlene, everyone. Even Peter who all seemed a bit winded. “Leave it to Sirius Black to get {Y/N} {L/N} to do something spontaneous.” Remus muttered and you didn't even seem to notice them. Yanking Sirius into another love filled kiss. Sirius had no qualms with this.

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