#you know riddle is *burning* at that jab

[childotkw]

Is there a snippet of regulus taunting voldemort??

And the sexual tension is high??

I didn't have one of hand, but I'm happy to provide a more tense interaction they'll have in ays(aml)!

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

"Mr. Riddle," Regulus said, hurriedly covering his surprise, "good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, Lord Black," Riddle replied, pushing to his feet and holding out his hand.

Regulus hesitated, eyeing him for a moment with suspicion. In public he was untouchable. No one would dare to attack him, no one was stupid enough to try, and it was a privilege Regulus was not afraid to abuse if it helped him achieve his goals. But here in the vast, empty halls of Malfoy Manor, with only Narcissa and the house-elves for company, Riddle could very easily get away with anything.

Regulus was arrogant, but not so much to assume the man before him couldn't crush him like a bug if it came to a fight.

His mind rushed to list all the risks - touch-based poisons, curses, monitoring spells, jinxes - and desperately wished he had thought to wear his gloves. He hadn't anticipated this ambush happening so soon, and not from an innocent invitation to have tea with his cousin, but maybe he should have. He knew where Narcissa's loyalty lay.

With a subtle downward curl to his lips, Regulus shook the man's hand. He would have to find a second to cast a diagnosis charm, because there was no way the rising Dark Lord would miss the chance skin-to-skin contact with Regulus could give him.

Riddle gave him a gilded smile, as if he knew precisely what he was thinking and found it funny. "How good to see you again. Come," Riddle continued smoothly, and against all expectation and protocol, he used his grip on Regulus hand to coax him further down the hall.

Regulus was unbalanced enough to allow it. He shot a look at Narcissa, but his cousin was facing forward, ignoring him completely as she followed them. Reduced to the background in her own home. It smarted Regulus' own pride to see her so demure, despite her participation in this farce.

Riddle led him into the nicer sitting room, and guided Regulus right to his seat. Stubbornly, he waited until Riddle was at his own chair before sitting down.

Narcissa took the place beside him, her hands folding atop her lap, and it was only then that she turned to smile at him. "Cousin, how have you been?"

Regulus considered briefly how he wanted to play this. He could pretend this was a normal occurrence, as if Riddle was a usual fixture in these meetings and privy to such intimate talks.

Or he could be more combative.

Logic dictated one but his instincts prompted the other.

"I'm fine, Cissy. Why are you here, Mr. Riddle?"

Riddle appeared delighted to be asked. "Straight to the point, Lord Black?"

"My time is precious," he answered, heavy with implications that wiped some of Riddle's smugness right off. "If there's a reason you orchestrated this entire thing, if there's something you wished to speak to me about, I'd rather know it now."

"Such an accusation. What makes you think I orchestrated this?" Riddle replied, his eyes bright with intrigue as he barely put any effort into the lie. "Perhaps it's a happy coincidence."

Regulus clasped his hands and leaned forward to meet that heavy gaze. "I don't think coincidences happen to a man like you, Mr. Riddle."

There was a moment when they just smiled at each other, both aware how close to the edge they were walking, before Riddle finally broke the stalemate. "It's about the latest bill -"

"I'm not changing my stance," Regulus cut in, voice hardening. "And forgive me for saying it, Mr. Riddle, but you seem far too interested in politics for a man whose most notable achievement outside of graduating Hogwarts was being a sales assistant."

Oh ho ho, Regulus thought with vicious amusement, that one got him.

And Riddle couldn't say anything to counter that, because at this point in the time, Regulus wasn't supposed to know he was the rumoured Dark Lord.

[thatdammchickennugget]

Wassssup okay, if you want for something to write you could do Mattheo with the quote “a special place in hell for me? For me personally? Aw wow that is so sweet” like him being sarcastic. Lmao I saw this on a TikTok once anyway ilyyyy have fun writing bub 💛✨

Brewing Tension

pairing - mattheo riddle x fem!reader

warnings - bickering and teasing, use of petnames

a/n - greggy my favourite little flower I love this and I had so much fun writing it

wordcount - 838

You couldn't deny the rush of excitement every time Mattheo Riddle walked into the classroom. His smug demeanor, coupled with his sharp wit and undeniable charm, drew you in like a moth to a flame. But as attractive as he may be, he was also a huge pain in the ass. Especially if he was your assigned potions partner and seemingly couldn’t care any less about the subject.

It was a typical day in class, the air thick with the scent of potions and brewing ingredients. As Professor Snape droned on about the properties of Wolfsbane potion, you couldn't help but steal glances at Mattheo. His focused expression, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it was mesmerizing.

But when he caught your eye, his lips curled into a smirk, you quickly averted your gaze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. You hated how easily he could get under your skin, how effortlessly he could turn you into a blushing mess.

As the lesson progressed, tension simmered between you, fueled by a series of snide remarks and sarcastic jabs. You couldn't understand why the curly headed boy insisted on pushing your buttons, why he seemed determined to antagonize you at every turn.

Finally, unable to contain your frustration any longer when he blatantly ignored your instructions to slice the flubberworms instead of crushing them, you spoke up, your voice laced with annoyance. "Do you have to be so insufferable all the time, Riddle?"

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a full-fledged grin. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your delicate feelings, sweetheart?"

Your jaw clenched at the condescending tone in his voice. "You know what? Forget it. I don't know why I bother."

The tension in the air crackled between you like static electricity, each word adding fuel to the fire of your growing frustration. Mattheo's grin seemed to widen at your irritation, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Oh, come on," he taunted, leaning back in his chair with an infuriating nonchalance. "You know you love it when I rile you up."

You scoffed, unable to resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Yeah, because nothing gets me going like your insufferable attitude."

Mattheo's grin only widened more at your retort, his gaze locking with yours in a challenge. "Is that so? Well, forgive me for trying to make class a little more entertaining."

Your frustration boiled over at his flippant response, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out in a rush of anger. "There's a special place in hell reserved for you, Riddle."

For a moment, there was silence, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air between you. But then, to your surprise, Mattheo's laughter rang out, filling the classroom with its infectious warmth.

"A special place in hell for me?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "For me personally? Aw wow, that is so sweet."

You blinked in confusion, taken aback by his unexpected reaction. "I-I didn't mean..."

But Mattheo waved off your apology with a dismissive gesture, his grin never faltering. "Don't worry about it, pretty girl. I'll be sure to save you a seat right next to me."

You grumbled in embarrassment, cheeks burning at the pet name and the attention of the entire class now directed towards you. But as you turned your attention back to the potion instructions in front of you, you made up your mind to just ignore him being a prick and get your work done.

With a deep breath, you focused on the task at hand. As you carefully sliced the flubberworms according to the instructions, you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

And when you finally finished the task, you held up the neatly sliced flubberworms mockingly, meeting Mattheo's gaze with a defiant glare.

"There," you said, your voice tinged with satisfaction. "Done correctly."

Mattheo's smirk faltered for just a moment, surprise flickering in his eyes before he recovered, his grin returning in full force.

"Congratulations," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You managed to follow basic instructions. Color me impressed."

You scowled at his dismissive tone, mumbling more to yourself than to him. “Something you’re unable to do, apparently.”

As the class continued, you focused on your work, stealing glances at Mattheo when you thought he wasn't looking. Each time, you found him doing the same, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

It was a strange dance you and Mattheo were engaged in—bickering one moment, stealing glances the next. But beneath the facade of sarcasm and pride, there was something else brewing between you.

And as the class came to an end and you gathered your belongings, making your way out of the classroom, you couldn't resist one last glance at him. And to your surprise, you found him already looking back at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the two of you yet.

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[impala-dreamer]

Let's Dance

A Story from The Boys Universe

~If there's one thing she knows, it's that she fucking hates Soldier Boy. If there's one thing he knows, it's that he can change her mind.~

Soldier Boy (Ben) x F!Reader

1,650 Words

Warnings: Show typical grossness and sexual situations. NSFW. Amazing Soldier Boy sex talk...

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "someone gets punched"

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

There was moaning coming from the next room. Loud, sensual moaning, followed by a deep chuckle.

Butcher rolled his eyes and sighed.

Y/N and Hughie looked at each other with cringes on their faces. Even after all this time, after all the crap they’d been through, there were still things that shocked them, and what lay beyond the bedroom door would send them both into a tizzy.

For different reasons.

Butcher opened the door wide and groaned at the sight.

Soldier Boy was standing next to the big bed, bare beneath a silk robe. He had one muscular leg up on the frame, the other bouncing slightly as he jerked himself off. Naked women crawled on the bed before him, putting on a show that he was clearly enjoying.

Hughie immediately turned his gaze away, but Y/N was trapped. Something about the way his shoulder was moving, the way his back muscles flexed beneath the silk, had her captivated. She felt a wave of desire wash through her and she gasped.

Soldier Boy looked over his shoulder at the intruders, specifically Y/N. “Like what you see, doll?”

Her mind told her to hurl, but her body told her to hop onto the bed and join in.

“Fuck off!” she snapped, making a show of turning away while keeping one eye on him.

He winked. The son of a bitch winked and it was all Y/N could do to keep her knees from buckling.

“Yeah, yeah. You know you want some of this,” he laughed. “And you-” He turned a bit more and jabbed a finger toward Hughie. “Keep watching. You’ll learn a few things.”

Appalled, Hughie straightened up and shook his head awkwardly. “You- you’ll learn something, you- jerk.”

“Nice one,” Ben taunted. “Limp dick little bastard.”

Having had enough, Butcher stepped up and carefully but forcefully grabbed one of the women’s arms, tugging her up off of the bed.

“Excuse us, will ya lass?”

The women bolted out of the door, plump backsides and bare breasts jiggling as they went.

Ben huffed. “What the fuck, we were just gettin’ started.” He dropped his leg and turned towards the trio, fully exposed and unashamed. His cock was hard and long, hanging down between his legs and angled slightly to the left.

Y/N’s mouth watered and her pussy throbbed. Her stomach also churned, which she decided was a good thing since Soldier Boy was probably riddled with so many STDs that one drop of cum could wipe out a major city.

“You’ve been in here for hours,” Butcher corrected. “Time’s up. We’ve got shit to do.”

Ben smirked and shifted on his bowed legs, spreading them wide and tilting his hips forward just a bit. Green eyes honed in on Y/N and she stiffened.

“I think we can spare a few more minutes. Don’t you, Y/N/N?”

She swallowed hard and sucked in a heavy breath. “What? No.”

He grinned. “I don’t believe you.” He took a step closer. “In fact, I think your sweet little tutu is just soaked right now, isn’t she?”

Her brows raised in shock. “Excuse me?”

He moved closer, his dick swaying with each step.

“Got the love lube flowing. Your little clitty is throbbing. Pretty snatch just dripping for me.”

Her cheeks burned, fists clenched.

Soldier Boy puckered his lips, looking her over as he leaned in close.

“Betcha want me to fill up that juicy sausage wallet with my massive-”

Her fist connected with his jaw and he jolted back, more from shock than anything else.

He laughed and threw his hands up in surrender.

“OK, OK… I get it. Little Miss is a prude.”

Y/N seethed. “I’m not a prude, you jackass. You’re just a first class piece of shit. Shoulda left you frozen in that hell hole till doomsday!”

He laughed again and she lunged at him, ready to claw his perfectly beautiful eyes out.

Thankfully, Hughie grabbed her just in time, his skinny arm barring her from starting a fight she clearly couldn’t win.

Kicking and screaming, he lifted her off of her feet and out of the room, slamming the door closed behind them.

“I’mma kill him,” she warned, eyes shooting daggers through the door.

Hughie sighed. “We’d all love to, believe me. But we need him.”

“Yeah,” she barked at the door, “like a hole in the head!”

Streams of pale gray smoke curled in the air, wrapping around the lower branches and mixing with the aroma of the forest.

Y/N felt like she was following a skunk.

Half a mile in, she coughed and waved a hand in front of her face. “Do you really have to keep blowing that in my face?”

“Can’t help where the fucking wind blows,” he retorted, barely finishing the words before taking another long drag on his joint.

Disgusted, she pushed past him, deliberately knocking into his arm with her shoulder. “You could be less obnoxious about it,” she huffed.

Soldier Boy licked his lip and glared at her ass as she stepped in front of him to take the lead.

“What is your problem?”

She froze and spun in place, leaves crunching beneath her feet.

“My problem?”

He pursed his lips and deep dimples popped on either side. “Yeah. You’ve been riding my jock since the day I met you, giving me a hard time for fucking breathing.”

Again, her hands clamped into fists and she let out a seething breath.

“You are a disgusting, horribly warped, uninteresting, ridiculously clueless, sexist-”

“Whoa now.” He held up a finger. “I am not sexist. I fucking love women. All kinds of women. Old, young, fat, thin-” He paused, a slick smile creeping over his face. “Bitchy sluts like you…”

Something about the way he stared into her made her heart race. His towering height kept his eyes aimed down so that dark lashes fanned out over the green of his eyes. Freckles danced over the apples of his cheekbones; wet, pink lips puckered whenever he spoke.

She fucking hated him. He was absolutely, one thousand percent, the most… amazingly horrid… awesomely… handsome man she’d ever encountered.

Fuck.

“You could be hot,” he continued, lifting the joint to his lips. “If you gave a shit. Maybe get yourself one of those fancy push-up bras, put some fucking make up on; make an effort.” He took a pull and let the smoke out in a tight stream right into her face.

She cringed.

He grinned.

She reared back and took a chance, sending all of her strength into her arm and hoping to make some kind of dent, in his ego if not his face.

Ben grabbed her fist, completely covering her hand in his. He absorbed the blow and tightened his fingers around her hand.

“You really love doing that, don’t you?”

Y/N tried to twist her hand from his, but his grip was absolute. “Let me go.”

He laughed. “So you can hit me again?”

She glared. “Maybe.”

His hold loosened and he shrugged. “I could be into that.”

Slowly, his eyes swept down over her body and her pussy throbbed, betraying everything she was trying to hide behind her outward disgust.

“Fuck you,” she bit, wrenching her arm away.

“Yeah?” He smirked and dropped the end of his joint onto the dirt. “Come on, doll.” He opened his arms, crooked his fingers, daring her to take another swing. “Let’s dance.”

Another strike defended by his right arm.

A hard kick blocked by his left.

A slap to his chest; hot fingers wrapped around her wrist. A blow to his stomach, caught by his free hand.

She was locked in his grasp once again, but this time, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

She sneered, he growled.

She leaned in, he attacked.

His tongue was intrusive and wet. He tasted like whiskey and forty years of captive sexual frustration.

“You’re disgusting.”

He pushed her back into the nearest tree. She gasped.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you mean it.”

She spread her legs for his knee, parted her lips for his tongue.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He pumped his leg up against her, held both wrists tight in one massive hand locked above her head.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m about to make you love me.”

She melted against him, pinned against the hard, sharp bark of the tree trunk and the solid, warm bulk of his imposing body.

“Doubt it.”

He pawed at her breasts, licked at the pulsing vein in her throat.

“You’ll be craving me for the rest of your fucking life after this.”

Her eyes rolled; her breath caught. Her cunt fluttered on his thick fingers.

The orgasm hit her so fast, she wasn’t prepared. Her mind blanked as she came, no snappy comeback formed in her head. She slumped against the tree and lifted her mouth to his, wanting more, needing all of him so suddenly that it should have scared her.

“See?” he chuckled. “Told ya.”

Her hips rocked against the bulge in his pants, and her body shivered.

“Please…”

He licked at her lips, swiped his thumb over her clit. “Begging already? You are a pathetic slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

His voice dropped to a deep whisper that wound through her head like silk. “Want me to fuck you right here? Out in the open where anyone could walk by and see what a dirty whore you are for me?”

Every speck of will crumbled and her cunt tightened on his fingers. “Yes!”

He stared down and grinned. “I bet you would.”

Swiftly, he pulled away, leaving her an aching puddle against the tree. He adjusted his slacks and cleared his throat.

“Maybe later.” He turned away and started off back down the path. “We’ve got shit to do.”

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[cardansriddle]

Gilded Serendipity - (tom riddle x oc)

Part 2/10: "I can see you"

Story summary: A summer meant to be spent in the tranquil seaside mansion of Rosier's was not supposed to sway hearts like rustling leaves. Sereia Nova was most definitely not supposed to feel drawn to Tom Riddle. Yet August had a way of weaving chaos and desire together, only to dissolve into the shadows, leaving behind a bittersweet aftermath- an ephemeral illusion of love.

PART 1

chapter warnings: tension, talk of sex? kissing.

A/N: this is over 4K words, soo have fun reading and let me know what you think.

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

Beneath the tender caress of the morning sun, Sereia floated weightlessly in the sea, its gentle warmth a soothing balm against her skin. Occasionally, she would let her hands weave through the water, and watch how the sunlight danced upon the ripples, casting a golden spell upon the waves.

Yet as always, it was not long before her tranquility was disrupted. Booming laughter and loud voices were indications that her time in solitude was now over. She distinctly heard Antoine tell everyone snarkily, "I told you she would already be in the water." 

She switched from her floating position so she could stand upright, and shielding her eyes from the sun, she waved at the group. "Took you sleepyheads long enough!"

Antoine huffed, discarding his shirt carelessly and slowly making his way over to her into the sea. "You're one to talk, you narcoleptic freak."

She stuck out her tongue at him in response.

With languid strokes of his toned arms, he swam up to her, occasionally casting a glance over his shoulder at the others who were still acclimating to the sea's temperature. "Just get in, you cowards!" he shouted, his words spurring Abraxas to dive headfirst into the water, with the rest of the group following suit. The blonde surfaced beside them, shaking his head and elegantly running his slender fingers through his platinum locks. Sereia looked around and realised she could not find any sign of the wizard whom she had been anticipating to see. "Where is Riddle?"

It was Abraxas who answered her. "Said he would not be able to join us for a swim. Some matter to take care of." 

Walburga groaned. "What matter could possibly occupy him? We are on holiday! It is time to do nothing but sleep, swim, and drown ourselves in the finest wine." 

Sereia chuckled. "Careful there, Wal. You're starting to sound like Avery."

In response to her jab, Avery playfully splashed her. "Hey! there is nothing wrong with that." 

It seemed Walburga was not letting the matter rest. "Yes, but what is he doing? Why can't he just not do anything for one moment?"

"This is Tom we are talking about, Wal. He would rather befriend a house elf than let himself relax."

Sereia lounged in the warm water with the rest of the Slytherins for a bit more, and as she began to feel the afternoon rays of the sun starting to burn her scalp, she knew it was time to head inside before the heat gave her a stroke. 

"I am going inside before I melt to death." She announced, eliciting disappointed grumbles  at her departure. 

"But we just got here!" Dahlia protested. "Stay a bit more." 

"We could always go for a night swim." The girl winked as she slicked her wet hair back, earning a mischievous, approving smile from the girl. She slowly made her way out of the water before producing a towel to wrap around herself. Digging her feet into the sand and letting herself dry under the scathing sunrays for a little bit, she watched with a small smile as Antoine wrapped his arms around Dahlia and dunked them both underwater. 

Smooth little fucker. 

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

The library was quiet as she clicked the door shut behind her. She padded over to the shelves lined up with books to take her pick for the day, her fingers grazing the spines of the volumes as she contemplated her options. They halted once a certain one caught her attention— Secrets of The Dark Arts.

Sereia's brows furrowed as she tugged the book and her eyes fell on the cover. She never knew the Rosiers possessed restricted books about the Dark Arts. She made a mental note to ask Antoine about it later, but at that moment, her curiosity was gnawing at her, so caving in, she opened the book to scan its contents. That was until a figure emerged from the shadows, materialising like a whisper. 

"Discovering the secrets of dark magic?" His low voice sounded behind her, once again, startling her. She spun around to see Tom Riddle, leaning against a desk as he regarded her with an ominous look in his eyes. 

Her heart caught in her throat. Not only because he had frightened her, but because she found him sinfully attractive in that position, with the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up. The girl cleared her throat and tried to appear nonchalant as she replied. "Well, I believe secrets hold a certain fascination." 

Tom's brow quirked. "Fascination or danger?" 

"Perhaps they are one and the same."

"And do you enjoy delving into danger?"

Sereia paused for a moment. "I wouldn't know...but perhaps I would not be opposed to finding out."

He cocked his head to the side, appearing intrigued yet strangely pleased with her reply. Sereia got the sense that their seemingly clandestine exchange was laced with an unspoken tension that hung heavy in the air. The world around them faded into obscurity, leaving only the charged atmosphere between them. His eyes traced the droplets sliding down her wet strands of hair onto her chest, and he swallowed when they trailed down the top of her dress.

Sereia's gaze dropped to his hands clutching the edges of the table he was leaning on. Her eyes unconsciously traced the slender fingers adorned with rings, his thumb which was lightly grazing the wood and her cheeks grew hot at the obscene thoughts that most definitely should not have passed through her mind. Ripping her stare away from his very alluring hands, she took in a deep breath. 

She was the first to break the tense silence. "You did not come to swim." 

He hummed pushing away from the table. Sereia's eyes tracked his movements, watching him approach the shelf and absentmindedly browse the books while standing beside her. "I wished to read instead. It seems a much more fruitful use of my time."

She could not resist the urge to huff. "But it is summer. You can read, yes, but you should also indulge in the warm weather and the sea." 

He turned to regard her for a moment, and the girl sucked in a breath as his eyes traced all over her form. His eyelashes fluttered, so dark against the paleness of his high cheekbones as he stared down at her. Then, as if entertained by some idea, he smirked. His smirk was dark and full of amusement and drove her just a bit insane. "Maybe I will."

She flushed under his stare and was about to come up with a witty remark when the door burst open. Alarmed, she jumped back from the sudden intrusion, yet Tom remained the picture of indifference as if he had not been caught off guard. The eye contact between them broke, and Sereia turned to face their intruder. 

Walburga Black could not have looked more pleased to see someone in her life.

"Tom! There you ar— oh, Sereia? What are you doing here?" Perplexed eyes flickered between her and Riddle, and Sereia subconsciously widened the distance between them. Walburga's calculating gaze was piercing as she tracked every minuscule movement, and the girl felt uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of her unpleasant confusion.

"I was just getting a book," Sereia replied after a moment of pregnant silence, awkwardly pointing at the shelf lined with books to prove her point. Walburga, perhaps choosing not to bother herself with intricate details of their interaction, smiled tightly, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing away.

"Oh, well, Antoine needs you for...something." She said as her eyes moved to Tom once again, and an appreciative glint flickered in them. Sereia glanced at him too, only to see his impassive expression blanketing his face. 

Feeling out of place, she cleared her throat and beelined for the door. "Right, I'll go." She muttered and threw one last look over her shoulder at the wizard, whose gaze was already trained on her form. There was no expression to decipher, no look to read, only a blank canvas that was his face. Sereia shut the door after her. She stood outside the door for a moment, pushing her hands through her hair in frustration.

Something was going on between Walburga and Tom and she had not realised until the girl had literally flaunted it in front of her face. Perhaps she had been blindly foolish to indulge in Riddle's charming nature, to latch onto his attention and bask in it like it was the summer sun. 

With a bitter huff, she began making her way downstairs to attend to whatever Antoine needed her for. She was about to turn around a corner when a voice called out to her.

"Ria? Where are you going?"

She glanced behind her shoulder to see the said man standing in the hallway with a towel hanging around his shoulders, droplets of water slipping through the wet strands of hair and onto the marbled floor. 

"Wal said you needed me for something. I was going to look for you." 

"Huh?" He rubbed his head. "I did not say anything of the sort to her."

A tired sigh escaped her lips at the revelation. "Oh."

"Are you...good?"

"Yea—yeah. I— Actually, can I ask you something?"

When Antoine nodded encouragingly, she motioned for him to come closer. He approached with a raised eyebrow, gently taking her elbow as she began to guide them away from the group. Sereia lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Do you think there's something going on between Riddle and Walburga?"

The wizard came to an abrupt halt, turning his head so swiftly that she wondered how he didn't give himself whiplash. "Whoa, where did that idea come from?"

"Yes or no, Tony."

"Well...in a certain way, yes. But it is—I mean, it's not anything serious. Tom is not that type of person."

The girl's brows furrowed at his vague answer. "What do you mean not serious?"

Antoine's cheeks turned red as he tried to formulate a reply that would be appropriate for her ears. "They are not courting. It is more of a...physical arrangement."

"So they are just having sex?"

"Ria!" Antoine gasped, scandalised. "How do you know what that means?"

"Tony, I am not a child. I know what it is."

"No, you're too young. And you are a lady. You should not know such things."

Crossing her arms across her chest, Sereia took a defensive position. "So it is normal for Wal to have sex but it is not normal for me to know about it?"

"You are too young!" He repeated his earlier statement as if that somehow solidified his point. 

"Tony, I'm the same age as you."

"Oh, er, well. Bloody hell. Perhaps I should have done more to shield you from such topics."

They walked in silence for a moment before Antoine came to an abrupt halt, his steps slowing as he furrowed his brow in thought.  "Ria, about Tom and Wal, try not to say anything about it, yeah? Tom does not like people to know his business— wait— how did you even figure it out?"

"I was in the library with Tom when Wal barged in and tried to get rid of me by saying you asked for me. I could also see in her eyes that she was ready to jump his bones."

Antoine's curiosity seemed piqued, and he leaned in slightly. "You were in the library with Tom? Alone?"

"Yes?"

"Did he...try anything?"

"No, we just talked."

"Listen, I am saying this as a precaution. Do not get involved with him under any circumstance. Tom has a notorious reputation for taking hearts and bleeding them dry. I do not wish to see you heartbroken. You do not deserve that."

She rolled her eyes at his concern but still smiled appreciatively at him. "Gee, Tony. I appreciate the sentiment but I barely know the guy. I assure you, I have no interest in him." 

"Good, good. My duty is to warn." 

With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she added, "Perhaps my duty is to warn you that they are probably contaminating your library with bodily fluids." 

Antoine slapped a hand over his face and groaned loudly. "Ria..." 

"See you at dinner!" Sereia singsonged, her laughter echoing down the corridor as she pranced away toward her room, leaving Antoine Rosier mortified in the middle of the corridor. 

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

Persistent knocking at Sereia's bedroom door abruptly interrupted her peaceful nap. Irritated, she tried to ignore the disturbance and buried her face deeper into her pillow, willing herself back into the realm of dreams. For a moment, it seemed to work as she felt her consciousness slipping back into slumber.

But then, a gentle tap on her shoulder roused her once more. "Go away," she mumbled into her pillow, her voice laden with drowsiness. With a blind, half-hearted effort, she attempted to push away the intruder who dared to disrupt her much-needed rest.

"Nova?"

At the sound of that familiar voice, her eyes snapped open. She shifted in her bed, turning to face the intruder. There, at the foot of her bed, stood Tom Riddle, his typically composed demeanour marred by an uncertain expression. It was as though waking someone from their sleep was an utterly alien concept to him.

"What do you think you're doing in my room?" She snapped, her words laced with an edge she didn't bother to conceal. Her tone came out harsher than she had intended, but remembering the library incident, she decided she did not regret it. He deserved her ire. 

If he was surprised by her irritation, he did not show it. "Rosier asked me to wake you. It is dinner time." 

"Oh. Right. I'm up." She quickly slipped out of her covers, adjusting her dress and brushing her fingers through her hair to tame it into an appropriate state. Her reflection in the mirror received a quick once-over to ensure everything was in order and as she patted down her curls, she heard Riddle clear his throat awkwardly.

"Your—" He paused, clearing his throat again, "—your laces."

"What?"

"Your laces are untied." He gestured at her corset. Her brows furrowed in momentary confusion before realization dawned. She had loosened her corset so she could nap comfortably and now that he was behind her, he could probably glimpse the skin of her bare back. 

"Right. Yeah," she mumbled, feeling a flush creep up her cheeks. She fumbled for the laces behind her, attempting to tie them quickly. However, each time she tried, the slippery fabric seemed to evade her fingers before she could secure a knot.

"Would you like me to—"

"Yeah." She answered, her voice soft, slightly shaky.

He took a step towards her and she swallowed the lump in her throat as she gazed up at his looming form. Breathing out slowly, she turned to bare him on her back and allowed her fingers to drop away from her efforts. Her pulse quickened as she felt the warmth of his proximity. His fingers reached unsurely to grab a hold of the laces, and he rubbed the silky material between his fingers experimentally. 

"Tug at them before tying it tightly. Um...if you can...are able to? Could you make a bow?"

As he began to tie the laces, the room seemed to grow smaller, and Sereia found herself acutely aware of the proximity and intimacy of the situation. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breaths came in shallow, uneven bursts as his fingers worked skillfully at her corset. The air was charged with an unspoken tension, one that seemed to thicken with each passing moment.

In the confined space of her room, Tom felt entirely out of place as he meticulously laced up Sereia's corset. The delicate task demanded a finesse he wasn't accustomed to, and his fingers, usually so confident and precise, seemed to fumble at the unfamiliarity of the situation. Sereia mirrored his discomfort, her feelings a chaotic blend of unease and confusion. The lingering irritation she had felt toward him clashed awkwardly with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, leaving her in a state of disarray.

He pulled lightly at the strings. 

She sucked in a sharp breath. "Harder, please," she said, her words catching in her throat as soon as they left her mouth. Wide-eyed, she realized the unintended implication of her words, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.  The girl could only take comfort in the fact that he could not see her face. 

She felt his breathing uneven, fanning hotly against her neck. "Right." he managed, his own breathing uneven. His fingertips grazed her skin as he complied with her request, the featherlight touch sending a shiver down her spine.

"I think it's done?" He muttered unsurely.

Sereia reached behind to confirm, and feeling slightly breathless, she took a step away from him to put distance between them. "Yeah. Thank you." 

"We should head down," she said, her words an attempt to dispel the tense silence that had settled over them.

He once again nodded mutely and opened the door to leave. She followed suit, patting down her hot cheeks in hopes that they would cool before people would wonder why she was so flustered. She watched as his back muscles shifted underneath his pristine white button-up shirt, and she quickly averted her gaze. She did not need any more alluring images of Tom Riddle stitched to the depth of her mind.

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

The rhythmic sound of waves caressing the shore travelled through the balcony and into the dining room. Giggles and endless chatter were never-ending at the dinner table, with a seemingly bottomless supply of wine that was poured and poured and poured after a single sip, flowing endlessly like a river of indulgence that seemed to have no end— which was to ensure the indulgence never ended, and that the night would stretch into dawn.

Sereia covered her mouth as a loud laugh left her mouth at one of the stories Abraxas Malfoy had just shared with the table, and she watched in amusement Rosier's cheeks flushed crimson, his embarrassment laid bare for all to see.

She was aware she had drank just a tad bit too much— over her usual limit. The world around her took on a surreal quality, the edges blurring as if dipped in a haze of euphoria. Her movements grew languid, each gesture carrying the weight of lazy indulgence. Every joke, no matter how tasteless, elicited uproarious laughter, and she found herself laughing along, her own amusement magnified by the alcohol coursing through her veins. She was only comforted by the fact that she was not the only one inebriated. In fact, she was the most composed out of the rest who were howling with laughter. 

Of course, Sereia had also taken notice that Riddle had only drunk one glass and left the refilled one untouched. He was like a lone island of sobriety in the sea of intoxication that surrounded him. She struggled to make sense as to why he did not join in. After all, what was the fun in being frigidly sober when the rest of your company danced on the edge of reality, wild with intoxication? 

She had also been aware of how his eyes would rest on her longer than necessary. Longer than what was considered a fleeting glance. It was unsettling, this unwavering observation. His gaze held her like a moth drawn to a flame, analyzing her quirks, her gestures, absorbing every nuance of her being.

What did not help, was the fact that he was right beside her. She could physically feel his presence, the warmth of his body, the little sounds as shifted in his seat, his mindless little hums that were unheard by anyone except her. 

Perhaps it was the wine. The alcohol had dulled her senses and made her hyperaware of his presence in a way that was both thrilling and disconcerting. 

Or perhaps she had become delirious with want in just one day. 

Sereia glanced at him when his name was mentioned in yet another tale that Abraxas was telling animatedly, her eyes roving over the little furrow of his brows, the imperceptible frown of his lips as she traced the shape of them with her gaze. She found herself unable to tear her gaze away from the contours of his face— and then he met her stare. 

Shit. She had been caught. 

Yet the alcohol buzzing through her veins emboldened her, and instead of turning away in hot embarrassment, she blinked up at him through her lashes, her gaze holding his for a moment longer before she casually redirected her attention back to the ongoing conversation.

As her fingers wrapped around the stem of her wine glass, she felt a sudden, deliberate brush of warmth against her outer thigh. Glancing down, she realized that Tom's leg was gently pressed against hers. Heat surged through her veins, her grip on the glass tightening involuntarily, suddenly hyperaware of their proximity. She shifted in her seat, trying to tamp down the fire that threatened to consume her.

"Tom? Don't you agree?" Abraxas bellowed from the opposite side of the table, glancing at his friend expectantly. Tom leaned on the table, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of Sereia's chair casually, and his other hand on the table, as he glanced at Abraxas. 

"Agree with what?"

"See! I told you he was not listening!" Rosier's triumphant tone cut through the room as he slammed his palm on his thigh, emphasizing his point. The wizard next to Sereia rolled his eyes before sinking back into his chair, his hand still lingering possessively at the back of her seat.

"Busy thinking about your earlier library escapade?" Sereia snarked, lowering her tone so no one but Tom would her snide comment. She glanced up at him, realising a moment too late how the positioning of his arm had made them closer, but she did not back away, set on making the wizard uncomfortable. His eyes met hers, and she noticed the way they visibly darkened in intensity.

"Watch your mouth," he hissed, his tone low and warning.

Sereia was not one to back away, so with the edge of her mouth curling into a challenging smirk, she asked— "oh, you do not want your dirty laundry aired? Or is there another issue?"

"You misunderstand, Nova. Do not talk about things you have no knowledge of," he replied, his voice measured, giving nothing away.

"Oh, I assure you, it is not hard to guess what exactly was happening behind those library doors."

"Do you?" He inquired, his gaze holding hers.

"Mhm." The girl turned her head, ending their silent standoff. She raised her glass to her lips, taking a generous sip to ease her nerves. 

Tom watched, unable to tear his eyes away, as her plump lips curved around the glass, the delicate arch of her throat as she swallowed the crimson liquid, the tantalizing trace of her tongue that lingered on her lips, collecting the remnants of wine.

He forced himself to look away, his jaw clenched, as he struggled to maintain his composure. 

Not being used to not having the last word, he spoke up once again. "You know nothing."

"Oh come on, Riddle, how naive do you think I am?"

"What would a girl of your upbringing know about such things?" He questioned a hint of condescension in his voice.

Sereia bristled and her tone took on a sharp and incisive edge. "Walburga is of the same upbringing as well, and yet you sullied her."

"Enough."

"Just stating the truth, Riddle. It stings, does it not?" Sereia raised a challenging brow, her smirk triumphant. When he found no immediate reply, she excused herself from the table with a satisfied smirk, leaving him behind, lost in his own thoughts.

As she began ascending the spiral stairs, she distantly heard Riddle excuse himself. She briefly registered his footsteps sounding closer and closer, yet she paid no mind to it, set on her destination. What she did not expect, was for her wrist to suddenly be snatched roughly, causing her to stumble back and crash into his chest. 

She glared up at him, struggling to pull her hand free from his clutch. "What do you think you're doing?" 

She watched as Tom's mouth curled into a sneer, and he pulled her closer by her arm. "You think you can have the last word, little siren? Think you can just put on a show and leave with no consequences?" 

Sereia swallowed, her eyes flickering between his as she attempted to form coherent thoughts. "Riddle—"

He brought a finger to her lips to shush her. "No. You don't get to say anything. Attempt to speak again and I will shut you up in a manner that you might not like."

She shuddered in his hold, his low voice, his threatening tone travelling through her body to her lower stomach, igniting a fire in her core.

"Let me go. Who do you think you a—" 

True to his word, Tom removed his finger— only to replace it with his lips, effectively cutting her mid-sentence. His kiss was bruising, angry, as if he was attempting to release all his built-up frustration for her through this kiss. The pent-up tension that had crackled in the air between them seemed to snap away like a broken dam. It was an unravelling, a surrender to the magnetic pull that Tom had felt for the girl since seeing her for the first time. 

Sereia responded to the kiss with equal fervour, moving her lips against his like the final, cathartic end of a storm. All thoughts of their previous banter faded away, leaving only a heady intoxication in its wake. She felt drunk on his taste— a potent mix of desire and desperation— a flavour she knew she could never possibly get enough of not that she had experienced it.

Loud, raucous laughter and the clatter of silverware from the dining room below suddenly shattered the spell of the moment, and Tom pulled away as if her skin had burnt him. Sereia took a deep breath, feeling the heat creep up her neck as reality came crashing back in an unwelcome intrusion.

Her eyes locked with his in a fleeting moment, and seeing his strained expression, she suddenly had the urge to run. Swallowing a lump down her throat, she turned and fled, her steps quick and unsteady, her heart pounding like a caged bird desperate for escape. She didn't dare look back, didn't dare face the myriad of emotions swirling in her chest. 

She knew getting caught up in the web woven by Tom Riddle's mistrustful hands was dangerous. Antoine's warning echoed in her head as she shut the door behind her, and leaned against it to catch her breath. 

"Tom has a notorious reputation for taking hearts and bleeding them dry."

Sereia was sure that she was utterly and completely fucked.

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

PART 3

[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 16

Words: 2.7k

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

Reckless, thrill-seeking and often self-destructive behaviour. Impulsivity. An inability or unwillingness to form meaningful relationships. Obsessive and compulsive traits. Deep emotional scars. The words jumped off the screen at me.

I wasn't reading Van's psych profile now, these were observations from the therapy sessions that I'd undergone throughout my teenage years. I hadn't even realised that my employers had amassed all of this in-depth and very personal information on me, but it was all there in black and white. Everything. And he'd seen it, I was sure of it. He'd seen me for what I really was. Try as I might to act like I had control of my life he'd seen the broken parts of me that I tried so hard to bury. The parts that I tried to gloss over by throwing myself into my work and letting it consume me. But it still didn't answer the most important question. The one which burned brightly in me like a beacon that I couldn't ignore.

Why? Why me?

I sighed, closing the files down, the photo that I'd been studying of Van beforehand coming up on the screen. Even like this something in his eyes captivated me. I thought about Jen's comment on looking at this very same photo.

"Those eyes... it's like looking at the devil himself..."

But beneath that cold and calculating exterior I knew that there was something. There just had to be. Was there a tiny spark of warmth that simmered, muted but there nevertheless? One that had never been given the chance to grow and flourish...

Even as the thoughts came to me, I realised how dangerous it was to be thinking of Van as anything other than the violent and emotionless criminal that he was.

"Why are you still here Lyla? You need to get some rest." Paul's voice came from behind me, making me jump.

I quickly jabbed the keyboard to move between windows, the realisation that I'd been staring at the same photo for so long that I was surprised the image hadn't burnt itself on to the screen.

"I won't be much longer Paul, I'm just finishing up."

"Don't forget the curfew," he said as he turned to leave, and I watched him go, immediately flicking back to the image that I'd been studying before.

My therapy observations were right, my fascination had turned into an obsession, a compulsion. There almost didn't seem like any point in fighting it anymore.

"Well hello there Lyla..."

This time I didn't have chance to switch the screens. I could see the outline of a figure standing behind me in the reflection on the monitor, my heart instantly sinking. It was Jason.

"What are you doing sneaking around?" I said sharply, resigned to the fact that I'd been caught and ready for a fight.

Jason laughed. "Me? Sneaking? I don't think I'm the sneaky one around here do you?"

I turned to face him then, swivelling around in my chair. "Stop speaking in riddles Jason. Just spit it out."

That smug grin that I'd got so used to seeing was plastered all over his face, sickeningly so. I watched as his eyes flicked to the screen behind me and back again.

"Working hard then are you? Delving into the complex mind of a killer?" Sarcasm dripped from his words.

I didn't say anything, just looked back at him with a neutral expression. I knew what was coming and my mind whirred with the certainty of it, trying in vain to come up with a plausible line of defence.

"You're not the only one working late you know," he told me. "I have been too. I've been reading through the reports from Paris, the witness accounts and statements. Your statement in particular makes for very interesting reading."

I swallowed deeply. "Look, I know it seems almost unbelievable but that's how it happened. Van let his guard down for a second and I took my chance."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "It's funny that. He always seems to let his guard down around you. I wonder why that is..."

"Maybe it's not him. Maybe it's just me being a good agent, doing my job properly and not running around making up these bloody ridiculous stories instead of concentrating on the case." 

My words became stronger as I spoke, picking up momentum. I couldn't falter in front of Jason. He was like a scavenger, and if he saw my weakness he wouldn't hesitate to pounce. I turned back to the screen, hastily closing down the files and shutting the computer down. I went to rise up out of my seat but Jason suddenly shot forward, placing a hand on either armrest, looming over me.

"Ridiculous stories huh? I'll tell you what's ridiculous. Your fucking statement! How do you do it, huh? How do you manage to pull the wool over Paul's eyes? Are you fucking him too?"

I pushed myself back in my seat, recoiling from him. "You make me sick!"

He laughed, edging even closer. "Well you like that don't you? The sicker the better. Trust me when I tell you that I'm going to find out exactly what the fuck is going on with you and McCann. And when I do you'd better watch out."

I could feel myself start to crumble inside but I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let Jason get the upper hand. I purposefully lunged forward, pushing against Jason's arms with force, pushing myself up out of my seat as I did so. Jason moved back but only a short distance. I was still trapped between him and the desk.

I pulled myself up to my full height which was still some way to reaching Jason's but I tried to project the anger that I felt. "Maybe you should watch out. How do you think Paul would react if he knew how much you'd been harassing me? You'd be out of here so fast your feet wouldn't even touch the ground."

Jason's eyes bulged and I could see the anger rising in him like a red mist. "Don't you dare fucking threaten me!"

I was on the attack now. As intimidating as Jason tried to be I could read him. He knew as well as I did that if it came down to it and it was my word against his with Paul that I'd win every time. And that's all it really was. His word. He had no palpable evidence that there was anything going on between me and Van. It was all suspicion... for now. Of course if things carried on escalating it was only a matter of time until I got caught. But I couldn't and wouldn't let that happen.

"Well let's see then shall we? Paul's probably still outside in the car park now. I could call him back..." I held up my phone, the challenge hanging in the air, my heart thudding at the prospect of Jason calling my bluff and letting me go ahead.

It didn't affect me lying to Jason, but lying to Paul was a completely different matter. Each time I steered him away from the shameful truth with some far-fetched story the deceit twisted in me like a knife. And when he looked on me fondly with that sense of pride it just stung all the more.

Jason hesitated, mulling it over, then he backed away reluctantly with a scowl. "It's only a matter of time... you'll slip up. And I'll be here waiting when you do. Then we'll see what Paul has to say."

"You know what? I've had it with you. What is your fucking problem? You've had it in for me since day one. All this shit with Van... you're just clutching at straws. Trying to make life difficult for me. You just can't bear to see a woman doing well for herself can you?"

As I spoke I started snatching up my belongings off the desk and stuffing them into my handbag, then I backed away towards the door. To my dismay, Jason started following me, so I quickly turned and flung the door open, hurrying towards the reception area.

Jason's heavy footsteps pounded down the corridor after me and his voice boomed out angrily. "You think you're so high and mighty don't you? You think you're so much better than the rest of us just because Paul thinks you can do no wrong? I heard about your promotion. That job was supposed to be mine. I've worked so hard on this case and you just breeze in and snatch it right from under my nose."

I didn't stop, I just ignored Jason, bursting through the door into the brightly lit reception area, thankful to see Bruce the security guard at his usual post behind the desk. I considered going up to him and striking up a conversation to get away from Jason but I just wanted to get out, I couldn't stand another moment in that place. I glanced up at the walls, saw the huge display featuring all the commendation awards for exemplary work by agents. My own awards hung there amongst them, the most recent one for my conduct on the Paris assignment, taunting me like the shameful lie that it was.

"Don't you dare ignore me!" Jason growled from somewhere behind.

"Leave me alone!" I called over my shoulder, pushing through the exit door and turning down the short walkway that led to the underground car park.

Still he pursued me. "I've not fucking finished talking to you, you ignorant bitch!"

I picked up the pace, spurred on by the venom in his voice, rummaging in my handbag for my car keys as I rushed to where my car was parked.

"Lyla!" Jason's voice rang off the walls and low ceiling of the underground car park, and I had no choice but to come to a stop as I finally reached my car.

I quickly pressed the key fob to unlock the door but Jason sprang forward, pressing a hand against the car door as I reached for the handle.

"Don't turn your back on me when I'm speaking to you!" He raged.

"There's nothing more to say!" I protested, yanking on the door handle in vain. "Paul gave me this promotion because he thinks I'm the best person for the job. It's got nothing to do with favouritism."

I'd started to panic now, the realisation that me and Jason were alone in the dimly lit car park filling me with unease. Whereas beforehand I could easily brush his insults aside, things had now shifted. It wasn't just bad blood between the two of us anymore. It was all out war.

"You're not fit to do this job!" He roared. "I can't wait for Paul to see you for what you really are. Because he will... I'll make sure of it. You're nothing but McCann's dirty little whore!"

I winced at his words as they pierced me like a barrage of bullets, hot tears springing to my eyes. "Fuck off Jason!"

I placed my hands on his chest, pushing him as hard as I could and he faltered backwards but quickly righted himself, grabbing me by the shoulders and pinning me against the side of my car, his face leering at me just inches away. "One of these days you're gonna get exactly what you deserve..."

The sound of a car door slamming nearby was loud and harsh, and enough to make Jason straighten up and move away with the realisation that we were no longer alone in the car park. I took the chance to lunge for my door handle again, this time managing to wrench it open. I was just about to slip into the car when the deafening sound of the screech of tyres on tarmac cut through the air and Jason and I both looked towards the sound.

At the end of the row of cars another car sat idling, a sleek black Mercedes with the headlights turned on full. I squinted against the glare, shielding my eyes, but it was no use. It was far too bright to make out the driver's identity. Nonetheless a chill shot through me, there was just something menacing about the way the car didn't move... just sat there... waiting.

"Who the fuck's that?" Jason grumbled, stepping away from my car.

My heart was pounding now, mind straying to the possibility that maybe Van was bold enough, reckless enough to turn up at my workplace. It should have been a ridiculous notion, but I wasn't so sure anymore.

I didn't wait, hurriedly slipping into the car and slamming the door, ignoring Jason rapping on the window as I hastily started up the ignition and put my car into gear. He glared at me furiously as I drove away, but I wasn't looking at him. I had my eyes trained on the rear-view mirror as the Mercedes started to slowly move forward behind me.

I drove slowly until I was at the exit of the car park, leaving it purposefully late to pull out into the road, earning an angry blare from a car horn as I cut up a poor unsuspecting driver. The Mercedes hung back, not able to follow me, and thankfully the traffic was heavy for the late hour. I slammed my foot down on the accelerator, putting as much distance between myself and the other car as possible, breathing a sigh of relief as I saw the car being forced to stop at a red traffic light. I quickly turned down a side road, taking a huge detour through the city until I was satisfied that I wasn't being followed, before eventually making for my apartment.

For once I was actually relieved to see the Range Rover belonging to George who'd been assigned to watch my apartment block as I turned into my road. Since the heated phone conversation with Van a few days previously I'd been on edge. His statement that he could get to me anytime or anywhere had rattled me. Every tall figure that I passed on the street set my pulse racing, every pair of blue eyes that I spotted in a crowd made my knees weak. He monopolised my thoughts in the day and stalked my dreams at night.

I pulled into my usual parking spot, turning off the ignition and reaching over for my handbag from the passenger seat when movement reflected in the rearview mirror caught my eye. I looked up just in time to see a large black car cruising slowly past the end of my road. Unease prickled hairs on the back of my neck.  My instinct was to jump out of the car and race for my apartment block, maybe call in my suspicions that I was being followed but I didn't.

I looked up to see George wave and nod a greeting to me from his car whilst he was on the phone. He was probably checking in to say that I'd arrived home safe and sound, but the thought of going back to my apartment didn't make me feel safe now. In fact I felt the exact opposite.

A scenario played in my head of Van disarming and attacking George in the dead of night, leaving him maimed and bleeding out in his car before stealthily breaking into my apartment. He'd said as much. The thought of more blood on my already soiled hands just made me feel sick to my stomach.

Before I could think things through I was already starting up my car and driving swiftly down the road, heading again for the city centre. Van knew where I lived and he knew where I worked, none of these places were safe anymore. I'd drive around for a while to make sure that I wasn't being tailed, then check into a hotel for the night. If I was going to get through this then I had to think smart, be strong, and try and stay one step ahead. Just because Van said he didn't want to kill me the threat in his words were clear. And although his promise to make me 'his' set off a dark kind of yearning in me, I knew that I couldn't submit to him. The risk was too great. I could lose everything...

[danddymaro]

Make Love | Revenant x fem Reader

A very soft Revenant 

sfw fluff

Word Count: 992

Make Love

The red-painted beast that hovered over you and cages you down, held a beauty unlike anyone else. 

His eyes glowed so wonderfully with that light that resembled a burning, wild flame, that it somehow transferred heat to you like the gentle touch of the sun.

When it came to his touches, they wavered from a dangerous rake of a cold, deadly end, to a soft caress of nimble fingers that ghosted over your form, the icy trail that would be left by the metal somehow burning instead. 

How strange to think that such a cold creature could be so warm, so inviting, and a peaceful oasis when his arms spread open for you to take your place in them. 

The simulacrum was as he was intended to be,  a mechanical menace, one holding more sharp edges than a dark cave riddled with falling icicles, and yet, you were quick to hold him. 

You were quick to melt and sigh in peace when he returned the favor, pulling you close, sometimes too tightly. 

- But you never complained, you only wheezed out a breath that held a gentle amusement as you thought of how this was his version of ' Don't go.'

And his kisses, so tender and inexplicably soft said other things too. 

'I missed you,' those were said with a press to your wrists, the lips always placed on the same spot, just a few centimeters lower than the joint, right over your little hidden cluster of veins.

'You're mine,' those were right at your neck, right over an artery, right at your vulnerability  and directly to the red ropes that are so closely associated with your brain. 

'- Remember that,' it translates as he performs them, and certainly when he glowers at anyone that watches. 

To any one else he looks like a predator with a kill caged in it’s jab, but to you it feels like yet another declaration of love, another way he lets you know you hold a place no other has in either of his lifetimes. 

His hands hold your waist tightly during each one, and while to others it seems like it’s to keep you trapped, it's really so his hands are full of you.

- It’s so you can riddle more of his senses.

And lastly,  there are those he gives you on the lips, where his hands hold your head in his big hands as he angles you to get a full press. 

Those hold many meanings. 

'I love you. ' that’s one.

'I ache for you,’ that’s when he releases a sound similar to a soft whine.

'I've waited for this,' If he had eyes, they’d close, they’d shut tight as he gives you these.

You're on his mind constantly, like a virus that's embedded in his software, and he can't get you out, he doesn't want to get you out. 

 No one could ever imagine him to be so tame, so weak and completely submissive, effortlessly beckoned by fingers so tiny compared to his, once curled into a fist, his entire hand can consume your own.

He nearly purrs at your touch, and he murmurs lowly in a voice that's somehow altered to sound sweeter, 

"Tell me..." he starts, hooking one of your legs, "Tell me you want this..."  he says, and briefly you remember the first time he'd delivered that line. 

.

.

.

You'd been on his lap, your jaw held by his hand as his face had been pressed to your shoulder, running the cold press of his lips over the base before traveling over your neck, skimming over the spot he now has picked as his favorite and so frequently visits.

You'd said his name, somewhere in between that graze and the sensation of his other fingers petting your soaked sex. 

 You murmured his name, airily, needily. 

The cute, repeated exhale had its effect on him, and as he delivered the line, the tarty demeanor that was meant to make you feel feeble and in his hands had faltered. 

And you swore you'd heard a tremor in his voice. 

His thumb that had been so close to the corner of your mouth had felt the little curl happen, and as a warning, he pressed down his claws to your flesh to save himself of whatever it was that had him so weak.

"I want this..." you said with furrowed brows, truthful, though wondering who needed it more between the two of you. 

- And you just want to kiss him, smoother him, give him more love that he could have ever imagined.

Briefly, your (e/c) colored eyes searched for him, looking down to find his gaze already on your face, memorizing every line and edge of yours. 

"I want you..." You confessed, and for a moment he seems as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He preforms with a lag before he seems like the same certain beast that wants to do nothing more than to devour you for his own hunger, the same one that doesn’t know love or what it is that’s making him feel so weak.

“I want you, “ you say, your voice soft, but holding strength behind the proclamation. 

- You want him, and no one else. 

Your hands both move, caressing the sides of his face lovingly as you hold his cheeks. Slowly, you lean up, your eyes fluttering close as you greet him with a kiss, 

“Caleb....” 

You use his name, his real name, before everything, and it makes him even softer. 

If you could only understand how much it means to him to hear your voice utter his real name, so tenderly, so sweetly that if he were human, specs of bittersweet drops would rain down on you at the very breath.

His forehead presses close to yours while he admires you, musing over how before you, he hadn’t known what it was to make love.

[kloppinthekop]

Writing patterns ✍️

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ Thanks for the tag @ollieflopkins!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there is a pattern!

Listed from most to least recent (excluding archive-locked fics):

1) “Why have I been dragged into this Arsenal nonsense just because of something daft you’ve done on Twitter?” ⟡ package deal (it’s valentine’s day, ye dimwit) - carraville

2) Virgil groans when he sees the post-match interview. ⟡ put myself on a pedestal - virgil van dijk/jarell quansah

3) Jürgen believes in no ghosts other than the Holy Spirit. ⟡ klopp in the kop, forever - jürgen klopp

4) Dominik hasn’t been so infatuated with anyone since probably when he was a teenager. ⟡ working on the riddle of your heart - domitrent

5) God I love him, but my husband is an idiot, Jamie thinks. ⟡ a christmas carraville (merry crimbo, ye big lug) - carraville

6) When Dominik returns to the changing rooms and sees the footage plastered all over social media, all he can do is laugh. ⟡ you’re out there killing the game - domitrent

7) Trent knows that Dom usually shaves before a game. ⟡ we lit the fire and it’s burning bright - domitrent

8) Domi has never been to a Halloween party before. ⟡ dream come true - domitrent

9) Gary knows he shouldn’t, but he just can’t resist another jab. ⟡ gary knows; or, gary the fool in liverpool - carraville

10) It has been nearly ten years. ⟡ days of legends past (gerlonso)

Interesting! I thought that I started more fics off with dialogue/quotations, but apparently I don't, haha. I do like to start off in medias res or without the context fully apparent though, like in more than half of these. It also appears that I start off with a name, but with the other name in the ship not mentioned until a later sentence. I guess any mystery is thwarted if you've read the ship/pairing tags on ao3, but I generally like fiction that teases you in the beginning, makes you want to read more to find out what is going on.

Anyways, since I'm late to the game I'm not tagging anyone specifically, but if you’re a mutual and you want to do this too, please consider yourself tagged! 😌 ⁺ ✦ ⊹ .

[thedaddylord]

VICIOUS : a scene from muse's past in which someone said something cruel that really got to them

"No one asked you," Walburga Black hisses as she turns around to look at him, disdain marking her sharp features, dark grey eyes burning wildfire, "You, Tom Riddle," she jabs a finger at his chest, "are just a filthy little mudblood."

Tom feels his face redden with anger and frustration. He can not retort, he has no proof he is not a mudblood. He only knows he isn't - he's more, he's far too special to just be some muggles child they cast aside.

His mouth twists angrily as he tries not to curse her for sake of his reputation, his fist clenching and unclenching around the hilt of his pale yew wand. It is in his nature to hurt people who try to hurt him. Only, she has succeeded in wounding him. Now he sees red - and he wants her dead.

She laughs cruelly. It's jarring. The whole common room is watching them, many are laughing along. He acts quicker than he can think - damn the consequences. He wants to rip her tongue out and then watch her bleed her perfect pure blood.

The curse is uttered in parseltongue. She stops laughing half a second before it hits her. Her blood is stained on the floor a moment later and her brother - Cygnus - is beside her, a year below Tom and three below Walburga.

"Wal!" Cygnus cries and he turns to bare teeth at Tom, "what in Salazar's name is wrong with you Tom?"

Walburga grasps her wrist, fingers curling over the long deep wound in her forearm. She stares at him for half a moment and the common room silences completely. They stare at him in horror.

Little thirteen year old Tom Riddle is a parselmouth? He hears it in their minds before they speak. He leaves before she can get up, before she has time to properly process what just happens.

Tom runs, slamming the door to his dorm room shut and closing the emerald curtains around his bed. His face feels hot with anger, his breaths quick. He pulls his knees in to his chest, staring at an empty space for half a beat before he drops back onto his pillow, his breaths going back to normal. He clutches at the bedsheets for a moment and stares up at the canopy of emerald drapery.

Despite that's what the whispers surrounding him are, despite how deeply that word wounds him, how deep it cuts; he is no mudblood. He can't be - and he knows he's just proven her wrong.

[bunnypansy]

A Fist Amidst The Hands

Rated PG, please view with caution!

The first episode of a series; Riddle is on a downward spiral, and with the "help" of delinquent classmate, he might be able to burn his college career to the ground.

Featuring: Riddle Rosehearts, Floyd Leech, (background appearances of Cater, Deuce, and Ace)

Beware! This film contains: Floyd x Riddle as the main ship, explicit self harm, uhh kinda implied delusions on Riddle's part, College au, hurt no comfort, mentions of violence, implied gang activity with the Leech twins, this is just a slow descant into madness guys buckle in

If you could call Riddle Rosehearts anything, it would be uptight. Not a hair out of place, not a second late; surgical precision seemed to be instinctual to him. The foolish amongst Night Raven College admired him, the more knowing pitied him; but most were just fucking annoyed.

For one, he was the strictest RA on campus, getting away with anything was second only to rocket science; and second, he was the kind of model student that professors pointed out in classrooms and lectures for his pristine notes and spotless attendance record. To put it shortly, he made everyone around him look bad. It was anyone's guess as to if that was his intent- people were inclined to believe the worst, purely out of annoyance.

All in all, there were plenty of reasons to hate Riddle, especially tonight, because Riddle had decided it was the perfect night for a room check. In no small part because of the party local junior Cater Diamond was throwing in his dorm tonight; but no sooner than he started on his way to Cater's dorm did a freshman come barreling down the hall towards him

"RIDDLE!!" Deuce's voice carried through the dorm.

"Deuce, quiet down! And no running in the halls!" Half the building could've heard Deuce screaming. "It's late, you'll wake people."

The freshman was flushed and flustered, sweating as he apologized, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "Sorry, sorry; it's just- there's a fight in the bathroom!"

A hiss of annoyance pressed through Riddle's teeth. "Who is it? Which bathroom?"

"It's the first floor boy's room," the instant Deuce clued him in, Riddle started stalking off towards the elevator. "And it's Ace and some guy I don't know!"

They squeezed into the elevator, Riddle hardly giving Deuce time to enter before pressing the ground floor button. "Describe him."

The tapping foot, crossed arms, narrowed eyes; Riddle was growing impatient. "Uh, stupid tall, and skinny, with greeny-blue hair!"

In the course of seconds, Riddle went properly red in the face, jabbing the first floor button as fast as he could. "Fu- he's- I CAN'T BELIEVE-"

Deuce pressed himself into the farthest corner of the elevator and quietly prayed.

The elevator doors parted and Riddle took off like a force of nature. The clacks of his shoes against the floor like thunder, the building near trembled as RA Rosehearts tore through the common room. The boys bathroom floor slammed open and Riddle was greeted with a blood-pressure spiking sight.

Ace Trappola, a first year and general nuisance, beaten halfway to a bloody pulp and still struggling in the grasp of Floyd Leech.

"Floyd!" Riddle shouted from his chest, gaining both boys' attention.

Floyd had been holding Ace by the collar, a sick grin of enjoyment spread over his lips, but Riddle's yelling had snapped him out of it.

"Ah- hey goldfishy!" In an instant, Floyd dropped Ace to the tile, like a child growing bored of a toy.

Ace let out a long low groan of pain as his head hit the floor, but didn't yet move. "What the hell are you doing here? Do you know how many rules you're violating right now?!" Riddle prompted.

"Oh, just blowing off some steam!" Floyd nudged Ace's bruised up cheek with his shoe, watching his face scrunch up with pain. "Little crabby seriously helped out."

"Leave my freshman alone." Riddle made a little gesture for Deuce to go help his fellow first year. "What are you doing here?"

It was key to keep Floyd distracted, the man was 6 '1 and stronger than everyone in the room combined, not to mention highly temperamental and punch-happy; if Floyd felt so inclined to paint Riddle purple, he could and would.

"Ohhh, you know… just messing around." his gaze slowly pulled away from Riddle to Ace and Deuce on the floor. For a long moment, Deuce and Floyd made eye contact.

"In my dorm? Do you want to be arrested?" Riddle snapped at Floyd, shooting his dorm members a warning look.

"Auuuuugh, nooo!" Floyd let out a long groan of childish displeasure. "Jade is getting tired of bailing me out!"

Where both of those boys get all that money is lost on Riddle, but he's sure he wouldn't like to know anyway. "You'd think you'd learn after all that time. Get out of here already, won't you?"

Deuce is clumsily getting Ace to his feet so they can hobble to the door, just a bit longer. "Eh? But I'm not done..." Floyd turns his eyes back onto the freshman with an eerie glint, then flits back to Riddle. "You know, goldfishy, you're cute when you get all squirmy like that."

Riddle wiped the stupid, concerned expression from his face- he wouldn't give Floyd the satisfaction. Then, in a bold move, Riddle marches up to Floyd and grasps his upper arm in a tight grip, dragging him from the building. Both of them know that Floyd is letting Riddle yank him away, the man is twice Riddle's size and could probably bench press him on a bad day. Instead he's following the RA out of the Heartslaybul lobby and into the parking lot outside with a series of pleased giggles.

Floyd is still grinning when Riddle drops his arm and glowers at him. "Go home."

"But Ace still owes me money, that's not fair!" He whines like a petulant child, and for a moment Riddle considers how difficult it would be to knock Floyd out and drive him home himself. Too difficult. He wouldn't fit in the trunk.

"I'll make sure you get your money, one way or another." Riddle assured, quickly growing tired- it had gone from semi-late to far past due very quickly. "Please just leave."

Floyd tilted his head back to look at the stars while he thought, rocking back on his heels. "Nah." He sits down on a curb stop and holds a cigarette out to Riddle. "Smoke with me?"

With a sigh, Riddle takes the cigarette and tucks it into his pocket as he sits beside Floyd. "No, thank you, I don't smoke."

"Then why'd you take it, huh?" Floyd sounds smug, like he's caught Riddle in something.

"It's contraband. I should search your pockets for that." Riddle scolds emptily as Floyd pulls a second menthol Marlboro from his pocket.

He flicks a piece of pocket lint off of the filter and places the cigarette between his lips. "Yeah, yeah, shut up. You got a light?"

There's a heavy sigh while Riddle takes a little matchpad from his pocket and strikes a match head against the worn down lighting strip. Floyd leans closer when Riddle holds out the flame, letting it lick the tip of the cigarette. He pocketed the matchbook again and watched while Floyd breathed out a cloud of smoke into the air.

"Why can't you stay out of my hair?" Riddle regrets asking when Floyd leans nearly nose to nose with him, puffing that nicotine heavy breath into his face.

"Cus' it's fun." Floyd takes another drag, then blows it directly into Riddle's face. Riddle waved away the scent with a hand, but didn't cough.

"Lovely. Well," he stands up from the curb stop, "I'll be leaving. Return to your dorm after you finish that."

Floyd gives a lazy salute, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Screw off already."

Riddle grits his teeth for a second, and nearly picks a fight over that- but decides against it. He's far too tired, even Cater's party had slipped from his mind, he hardly cared anymore.

The building was quiet enough for Riddle's taste when he stalked his way up to his dorm room; either way he didn't feel like scolding his dorm members into getting their rest, he had an exam to study for, the rest could sink or swim for all he cared.

His dorm, a single and neat as a pin, was similarly comforting. Riddle removed his shoes at the door- he only owned the one pair, so he had no need for a shoe rack--and padded across the cold wooden floor. The chair tucked into his desk was far from comfortable on his boney body, but at least his desk sat in front of the window, he got a good enough view of the rose garden. Riddle opened his window to get a breath of the fresh night air, a sigh of relief passing his lips as the slight breeze ghosted over his soft skin. A deep breath, taken with the hopes that the earthy scent of the roses after rain would sink into his bones. If he leaned forward far enough, hands planted on the wooden desktop, he could feel the moonlight on his closed eyelids.

Riddle sank back into his chair- he considered yelling at the furniture when it creaked beneath his meager weight. What did a chair have to complain for? Such a charmed life it led! No one to expect a thing of him, no work to perform. Jealous of a chair. That was truly pathetic, if mother were here now- Riddle slammed his hands over his ears hard enough to make them ring, as if the pain could drown out his thoughts. He knew well that his hands alone could not do the job.

Riddle peeled his hands away from his temples, fingers quivering as he pulled off his gloves and placed them on the desktop. Forfeiting studies for this, he could imagine the look on his mother’s face. His lungs burned as he took each shuddering breath, his blistered fingers stinging as they fumbled within his pockets, searching for his match pad. Riddle hissed in discomfort as he rubbed his raw blisters against the strike of the match book, but didn’t stop himself.

Even miles separated, his mother stayed at his side, hovering over Riddle’s shoulder and hissing reprimands into his ears; reminding him to remain diligent, never lose sight of the ultimate goal- she never quite defined what that was. More often than not, Riddle couldn't get away with dispelling his mother's words from his head; areas too public or equipped with smoke alarms, but in the privacy of his dorm, Riddle was free.

A simple flick of the wrist and Riddle held fire in his hands. The flame flitted and swished at the match head, a hungry animal crawling down the wooden stalk of the match until it licked the tips of Riddle's fingers. The heat brought blisters to the surface of Riddle's skin, a seating pain that seemed to make the words of his mother burn away as well. The match had gone dead and smoking, shriveled from the voracity of the fire.

Riddle stared at the cold body in his palm, devoid of the life the flames had once brought it. The poor match, it had never signed up for this; or did it know its fate? Was it only waiting to go hurtling down its path to the blazing future ahead? Silly thoughts to have about a match, silly thoughts he could do with setting ablaze. Another match, then. The first found it's grave within the trash, the next awaiting it's destiny in his matchbook.

It took a lot to satisfy Riddle, that was well enough known, and by the time he'd made peace with himself, he had made a right mess of himself. Black ash collected under his fingernails and stained the tips of his fingers to match the fierce pain in his skin, the sting of burns and stretch of pus filled blisters. What a moron he'd been at the time, wasting precious hours of studying or sleeping with this nonsense, not to mention the difficulties he'd face taking notes with his hands in the state they were in. With a strained hiss, he forced his leather gloves on over his injuries; a punishment, well deserved for his foolishness, and the wounds would heal eventually, anyway. Thin black stripes were left on the desktop as he swept the collection of dead matches into the trash can; there was hardly anything in there besides matches and tissues, though Riddle never got sick.

The voice in the back of his head draws close, a little bit quieter than before. Hands smooth over Riddle's shoulders, and Riddle is a child again, small as he stumbles into his twin bed at the hand of his mother. She whispers to him, a soft ‘time for bed, dear’ as she sits him down on the edge of the mattress. Riddle is 9 years old, his mother uses gentle hands as she wrestles his little brown oxfords from his feet and sets them aside. She helps him out of his shorts and little white button up.

Lazy and loathing, on this night Riddle barely works his way out of his pants and blazer before he flops onto his once tidy sheets. The shitty provided mattress is firm and unforgiving, but Riddle appreciates the meager softness anyway. Laid out on his side, Riddle tucked his knees up to his chest, not bothering to shuffle under the blankets but pull them over top of himself into he was wrapped in a clumsy cocoon.

Tomorrow. He'd clean the desk tomorrow, he'd make his bed tomorrow, he'd be good again tomorrow.

This is the end of today's showing! Thank you for viewing, have a good day

We'll see if I can ever manage to shit out another one of these, but I like how it's turning out so far (:

[dragonbanexxi]

The Dragon Queen

*Not Canon Compliant*

Jaehaera Targaryen and Aegon III Targaryen

Chapter 3: Baela

“Have you gone mad?” The beautiful woman asked at her younger brother.

“You refused the Lady Daenaera?”

Indigo eyes observing her brother with barely hidden frustration. All the efforts Baela has been making to bring her brother some joy into his life are always proving in vain. He has thwarted all attempts made by her. The lady Daenaera was, intelligent, witty as they come. She could spar jabs at any man with a feminine sort of grace, a true spitfire. Not to mention Daenaera was perhaps one of the most beautiful women in realm. Such beauty has not been seen since the late Queen Rhaenyra.

“Brother she is perfect for you!”

Aegon only rolled his eyes. If he rolled them any harder they’d roll down Visenya’s Hill.

Baela picked up a velvet cushion ready to chuck at him but was stopped by Aegon, “Hitting your King is an act of treason sister.” He said smirking causing her to give an annoyed huff.

“Don’t get all high and mighty with me Your Grace!” She hissed playfully. Turning serious she continued with “Back to the Lady Daenaera. Brother you should rethink the match. I have no doubt in my mind the girl will make a fine wife for you.”

She could tell her brother wanted to roll his eyes again.

“A beautiful girl with a lively outlook on life opposite to your gloom. What more could you ask for?” The older sister regretted her words after she said them. It wasn’t her place to mention the state of his mentality. The war had affected all of them but Aegon had the worst of it. No child should ever witness their mother die so horrifically.

She motioned to apologize but was interrupted by her brother.

“The girl is an airhead.” He said truthfully. “And I don’t like how she smiles at me. If I want suggestive looks I’d go to a whore house.”

Baela’s face gave an incredulous. The type of look someone gives if the saw something as shocking as a three eyed billy goat. Feeling the urge to defend the younger woman Baela said “The girl is no whore and has done nothing to be compared to one. So she smiles prettily at you? What of it?”

The lady of Driftmark saw her brother flex his hand. A sign that he was growing irritant.

Baela noticed her brothers ring. A stunning emerald on a plain gold band. It shimmered beautifully in the sunlight. The woman couldn’t help but feel like she’d seen this ring before but couldn’t remember where.

Aegon broke her thoughts speaking in his kingly voice. The voice had once been endearing to hear. However when he began to use it against her it became irking.

“What of it is that I don’t like her! And the Lady Daenaera will never be my queen! There I said it!” He spat.

There it was the dragon poking it’s eye out the egg. Only She and her siblings were knowledgeable of Aegon’s hidden fire. While it was not often that they endured it; only they knew it had enough power to burn the Red Keep to ash and dust.

“Besides I know who my queen will be.” Baela perked her ears at this confession. A girl had finally captured her baby brothers gaze? She smiled at the thought. Taking his hands into hers she asked “Who’s the lady brother?”

Hoping whoever the lady was, it wasn’t Myrielle Peake. Gods there was no match worse for her brother than the Lady Turnip. Nothing but a plain country mouse.

Letting go of Baela’s hands Aegon spoke once more.

“Sister do you believe in dragon dreams?”

Where was this coming from? Baela wondered.

“Of course. Your grandfather was said to be a dreamer. And my cousin Helaena also had dreams. Though hers were always spoken in riddles and difficult to understand.” She could see the ease sinking back into his face, whatever he was going to say he felt comfortable to speak truthfully with her.

“I dreamed sister.” His eyes wide, with childlike wonder. “I dreamt my bride. In my dream I was a child again. About the age I was when mother was murdered.”

Leaning a bit closer as if to make sure no one heard in the empty room he continued with “In that dream I was standing on a cliff side on the banks of Dragonstone. When a little Jaehaerys; our uncles son came waddling in with a cloak far to big and long for him. He took it off and said ‘you’ll need this more than I’, it wasn’t until then that I realized the cloak had our sigil embroidered largely on it.”

Baela didn’t understand why was Jaehaerys in his dream? The boy had been long dead.

Unless… NO! This couldn’t be! Aegon meant Jaehaera Targaryen. Her blood was beginning boil.

“Aegon stop.”

The king shook his head. “You will listen because I will you too!” Putting a firm hand her shoulder.

“Jaehaera appeared suddenly just as tiny as I remembered her to be. With three baby dragons in her arms. I put the cloak around her shoulders Baela. Jaehaera is meant to be my wife.”

“Lord Julious informed us earlier in the week that Jaehaera has managed to hatch three dragons!” The former dragonrider’s eyes filled with dread.

Baela in all her years of studying books about the histories and mysteries of Old Valyria, never had she read anything about someone hatching three dragon eggs before.

Panic was beginning to swirl in her belly, The last green had three dragons. Babies still, but three nonetheless. That little insipid girl was able to pull off a miracle. A miracle that would one day grow. A miracle that if one day the Green Princess chose, could unleash upon Baela’s family; ending the war once and for all.

“Brother come to reason! Jaehaera should be dealt with quickly! Let go of these dragon dreams of marriage with her! Hell you don’t even like dragons!”

Aegon leaned back into his chair cockily sticking his chin out with a raised brow. Her heart began to ache. He looked so much like her father in this moment.

“ You may not like the idea of having her as your Queen, but you have to understand the advantages we will gain by bringing her back into the fold.”

Her hands trembled in anger.

Just as stubborn as his mother once was, that one. “Her kin proved to be lacking of loyalty and honor. How would you know if she doesn’t take after them?”

The kings amethyst eyes grew cold.

“I don’t know. I know nothing of Jaehaera Targaryen. Only the brief memories of when we were forced to be in each others presences.” He sighed. “I’ll never be able to defend the realm if she one day decides that the Seven Kingdoms are rightfully hers.”

Baela frowning at his words as he made his way to the window. She didn’t want to admit that he had a point. They stood no chance of an invasion. Not one where three dragons were on the opposing side.

She saw brother twirl his emerald ring. It was twinkling in the sunlight. Aegon looked at his sister once more.

“If we can’t win against our adversary, why not join them?” He said solemnly.

The Kings sister couldn’t think of anything else to say.

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

[utsuboh]

@rosehearrt asked: ⌨️ YES

wow where do i even start lol, we’ve got so much plotted out for these two. i mean, we know jade’s always had some respect for riddle as a classmate. he’s efficient and hard working when it comes to his schoolwork. but outside of class is another story. at first jade saw riddle as a target for his brother’s boredom. yes, he stepped in when it was necessary, but otherwise jade kept to himself and enjoyed the show.

i think you put it pretty well tbh, they are the slowest slow burn out there. jade finds his own amusement in riddles company, and riddle sees through jades antics impeccably well. its a decent start, there's no outward manipulation on jades part, so he has to be at least somewhat genuine with his classmate from the get go. i think his interest changed after jade did his own digging. and began working more and more alongside riddle for assignments.

riddle has an unpredictability thats very.......unique to him. it's very hard for jade to tell how intensely he's going to react to something. not until much much much later. and even then there are times riddle throws him for a loop. sometimes he's fine and acts very mildly, other times he has a melt down. on the other end, riddle learns more and more about jade. that there's a lot more to him than what riddle assumes.

i like to think jade still makes jabs at him, but affectionately so. he knows when it's too much. knows the lines he cannot cross, but skirts very close to them. it was probably annoying at first, but the closer they get-- the more riddle just accepts it's a part of jade's character. and realizing his teasing is coming from a more positive place than he thought- doesn't mind it so much.

this is gonna get really long if i throw everything i have down here on one post. but i've really come to enjoy their dynamic so much. it's like, organized chaos. they find a perfect balance between them, and manage to maintain it well. of course jade pushes it sometimes, sees how far he's allowed to go. and steps back when riddle puts his foot down. pushing just a little further each time. which actually does wonders to improve riddle's patience.......inch by inch.

so despite it being jade, despite what i've said about jade being really manipulative and flighty. this is one of those cases where jade actually does some genuine good for someone by being himself.

[chibiwritesstuff]

I've been thinking about how we ended up in twisted wonderland with only the clothes on our back. Could I ask for MC after realising they really need more clothing (at the very least more socks and underwear) but they don't really know this world or where to go, not to mention not enough money, so they ask Vil for help?

So I might have a bias on how each character acts so if this is OOC I am so sorry! Also, sorry for taking so long on answering this.

A quick reminder that I answer requests at my own pace. I don't have a set schedule on when as the last time I did that I ended up burning out myself. Anyways...

Now, let's enter this twisted wonderland~

I honestly cannot picture Vil just readily helping you without berating your appearance first.

He would look at you from head to toe and begin reprimanding you about your appearance and how you should improve it.

It can be a jab in the confidence but you just really want to get some spare clothes.

You know that if you went to Riddle, he’ll scream at you and most likely embarrass you in the entire Heartslabyul which will give Ace a good blackmail material.

Leona doesn’t really care that much about you.

Azul is a businessman before a classmate so you know you won't be getting any help from him without a big consequence.

Asking Idia is also out of the question since he might end up just making you a robot suit and that’s not exactly what you need.

Despite being friends with the people of Diasomnia you have a bad feeling about owing favors in a dorm full of faes.

Maybe you should have just asked Kalim…

If you’re weak-willed, I hope you managed to snag some napkins from the cafeteria ahead of time.

This man will not pull back punches about criticism even if it’s for your own good.

If you’re strong-willed, you’ll talk back and yell that that’s why you’re here in the first place.

Either way, he’ll pull you inside the dorm and will find you spare clothes that he used to own or even make one on the spot.

He wants the best in people but he wants people to know first what’s the problem.

You can't solve an issue without knowing the problem first after all.

He’ll tell you to come in the dorms every set day at an exact time and next thing you know, you and Epel are having etiquette classes together.

His words sting but his actions means well.

[halcyon-writings]

you know how people are writing the reader/yuu/mc being inspired around different characters, this is my take (but idk if can you guess who the inspo is)

maybe the tiniest of spoilers from books 1-3

gn!reader (i call you and grim material gworls but no it's not meant to be gendered it is the Vibe).

nav.

night raven college’s newest prefect was probably the topic of most conversation ever since their arrival.

from how well they composed themselves to the pleasantries they would give if approached occasionally. however short they may have been anyway.

at least, that was how they were outwardly.

the prefect’s smile could easily hide jabs and barbs that made anyone who bothered them or the little monster accompanying them flinch or want to run away. but of course, no one would believe it easily.

ace of course, watching how sweet you were to grim, certainly didn’t at first.

it had occurred when you had first enrolled at nrc, you and your little companion curiously gazing upon on the statues of the seven figures the students and faculty oh so revered.

of course, ace attempted to trick you both as he laughed in your faces loudly.

instantly, you make your displeasure to ace’s words known. your head tilts to the side as you glare. whatever laughter he had let out stopped. the little bit of information he had heard about you from trey and riddle didn’t even hint to anything like this.

you had been polite enough anyway, hence why the headmage had seemingly allowed you to attend with the cat, right? so why did he feel so shaken as your graze burned into his? as though you were looking down at him, before the expression is gone at the sounds of approaching footsteps. your charming smile returned, and grim settles into your arms.

he could’ve sworn he saw an eye on the cat’s bow staring at him.

and thus began a beautiful friendship. well, if slow tolerance led to actual friendship.

there were some mishaps here and there, grim running off, often to prove his greatness to the school, but you always seeming to know where he was. and the cat scurrying to you whenever he felt his bow was “loose” and your voice gently scolding him or letting himself get so disheveled. (riddle would say you reminded him of pomefiore’s house warden for that).

your observation skills were quite frightening too. somehow you knew just where everything was, and you had just started as a freshman! from knowing where he and deuce would be if you had needed them for something, to wherever grim would run off when he was bored with class work.

(although sometimes grim could have sworn that your long sleeves that he liked to train with [read: play] would move on their own).

you weren’t a fighter, you had said, standing back on the occasion that you, grim and the adeuce duo found yourselves in some scuffle of trouble. (it was a total lie, when one student had gotten too mouthy towards you and your infamous glare did nothing to dissuade them from continuing, they were found in the infirmary with a broken nose from a strong backhand.)

but then the overblots began. from riddle's caused by the amalgamation of the pressure pushed on his shoulders, leona's own frustrations with his position in his family (which you harshly called a bad inferiority complex with a sneer, it only served to only make the beastman angrier, turning your nose up at him even more so).

now more recently, literally recently, you stared down at the octavinelle housewarden as his henchman tried and failed to get through to him with words.

"and now this fabric is going to get all wet or covered with ink," you huff, more perturbed by the fact you’d have to clean it rather than, you know, fighting an over blotted azul. your sleeves having receded until it looked sleeveless, the fabric appearing like tendrils similar to azul's tentacles, catching your friends and nudging the tweels away.

(and you’re happy to send azul the bill for cleaning it afterwards, much to his chagrin).

now for general hcs bc i don’t feel like writing out things JDKSJD:

i, for one, think grim is a funny little guy, a little dude if you will. so that means that this mc/reader (idk man refer to them as you wish) also bonds with them. perhaps it's the understanding of struggling to survive, and taking what you can get, but you find yourself caring for the little guy and he does the same (although you are stronger, just let him have this okay).

that also means he gets a special little bow that you incorporate your fabric in with his new one (as the other one was too torn up for your taste, but you knew it's sentimental value so you let him keep it). And you'll tie it for him nice and snug each morning, because you gotta look your best yk. (you and grim are Material Gworls).

i think another person you'd probably get along with or at least begrudgingly respect is ruggie, similar to the reason above. you do what you do to survive. (although you may hold a grudge when he tried to make you lose your balance only to realize one of the fabric tendrils dug into the wall to keep you upright). otherwise, you two are okay and get along well enough afterwards. and jack because who wouldn't get along with jack.

you and ace definitely bicker (playfully, of course). at first you weren't a fan because of that initial meeting, but he grew on you like a fungus (he protests against this but you keep the title for him anyway). and yes you did laugh when the anemone situation happened. with deuce, i think you get along easier because of his earnest and straightforward personality. (although sometimes you consider just keeping a piece of fabric on his wrist to drag him away from fights he sometimes ends up a part of).

and it's not a post of mine until we've incorporated angst in some way, shape, or form. upon learning about trey and the fact that he's a big brother sometimes has you with a nostalgic expression. you don't exactly let your own history be known (except maybe to grim, but it is a very bareboned version), but you can't help but be reminded of your own big sibling. and now you were in a new place, all alone. trey notices, but won't say anything outright (and sometimes slips you another small dessert, his heart clenches, he wouldn't want his own siblings to be alone in some unknown place either). maybe eventually you reveal that part of your past, but for now, it's a closely guarded secret.

when it comes to classes, for sure you get the "a pleasure to have in class" on reports, so you slack off a little if it means you kinda just use the fabrics to write your notes or smth. ace is mad bc somehow you don't get caught napping during crewel's lectures. you just send him a smug look. (he says he's mad like he's not about to go to ramshackle dorm so you two can shit talk ppl bc u both are messy like that)

you do not have the Tea Kettle Moment, yet. (mayhaps a future set of hcs or smth idk i'm running out of steam)

this is lowkey fun and if u got this far ty for reading!!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Congratulations 🎉🎉🎉 I've been absolutely loving all of your work. It's all so well written and engaging and keeps me coming back for more, even for characters in works I haven't seen before. I've especially been in love with the Bateman Begins series, I am nothing if I am not a lover of a nice, long, slow burn. If I may, can I request #13 on the kiss prompts for Nathan that or any one from that list you're wanting to explore. I love alllllll of your works with him 💕Thank youuuu

Part of Youvebeenlivingfictional’s 3K Follower Celebration Thank you so much !!!

“Okay, you need to slow down,” You warn, watching Nathan savagely work at his punching bag. “I’m working,” He tells you harshly between punches. “Working to get rid of the fucking hangover you have?” “Work-working,” He huffs out, and you sigh softly, scrubbing your hand over your face. “Nate,” You lean against the patio table, folding your arms across the table. “Nate, you’ve been pushing for three fucking days. You’re going to burn out. You’re like four jab-hook-jabs away from dropping on the ground.”

Nathan pushes out a long breath, trying to steady his panting as he rests his hands on his hips. “I’m fine,” He insists. “You’re frustrated, and you’re pissed—” “Don’t—Do not tell me what I am—” “Well one of us has to if you keep insisting on lying to yourself—Baby,” You reach out, hooking your hands in the waistband of his shorts before he can get back at the bag, “C’mere. C’mere c’mere c’mere c’mere.” Nathan digs his feet in just a touch, but he turns to you obligingly, irritation and fatigue riddling his features. He looks so tired. The bags under his eyes are darker than you’ve seen in a long time. It makes your heart ache. “Nathan,” You murmur, raising a hand to rest on his cheek, running your thumb along the sweaty, flushed apple, “I know you’re tired. I know you feel stuck, and I know how hard it is for you to turn off your brain when it’s so loud, but…But wearing yourself out like this isn’t going to fix it.” Nathan’s panting shifts to a tired sigh as he drops his head, closing his eyes. It’s a moment before he gives a single short nod, slouching a little closer to you. You know that he won’t tell you that he’s tired, or that he’s pissed. The nod is enough. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” You offer, standing, “Get in a couple more whacks, but then we’re gonna take a nice hot bath and let things quiet down for a bit. Sound okay?” A pause, and then another short nod. You straighten up and turn away. Before you can get far, Nathan catches hold of your hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. You can’t help but grin, your stomach filling with warmth. You take a step closer, pecking Nathan’s lips before heading inside.

[ticklytums]

It Begins With A Smile

(Luz runs into an unwanted visitor on a potion scavenging attempt, but things take an interesting, childish turn when a weakness is accidentally exposed and Golden Guard learns of a new way to mess with the human.

Warning: Contains fluff and the adorableness of two traumatized children getting to act like children and slowly giggle their way into friendship! Not intended to be GoldenLuz but can be if you want it to be)

“Crammity…”

Sure. It figured. Every time Luz was on her own she seemed to fall into some sort of terrible situation. And this one seemed to include warping mushrooms that she never seemed to be able to grasp before they vanished at her fingertips. Why did all these witch potions include the most unconventional, hard to get ingredients?

“Would you get over here!” Luz hissed as she clawed at one of the flighty mushrooms, before watching the thing vanish and appear once more inches from her. This wasn’t…technically legal, that the young witchling knew. Then again, being under Eda’s mentorship basically screamed ‘I do illegal things all the time!’ Warping mushrooms weren’t meant to be picked until they ripened some more, but…this potion called for ‘young shrooms.’

It’s fine. It could be worse.

“Ah, up to more mischief I see! Who knew a little human could be such trouble…”

And it just got worse.

Luz’s eyes slid shut in absolute dread. She refused to turn her head towards the source of the voice that was just radiating smug teenager energy. Nope, she wasn’t dealing with that jerk’s antics today. Forget the mushrooms. Eda could wait for her ingredients.

Picking up Eda’s staff, the witchling immediately turned around and started her path home—only to yelp as she nearly slammed face first into the Golden Guard.

“It seems you just can’t help being on the wrong end of the law, can you?” the smug prodigy sing-songed. “You know it isn’t legal to pick those mushrooms yet, right?”

“I’m NOT picking them!” Luz growled as she tried to step past the guard. “Now get out of my way.”

The older boy didn’t seem intent to do such, instead merely blocking the girl with his staff as she attempted to advance. He prodded her pointedly with his mechanical staff. “So what are you doing here then?”

As the staff made the blunt and yet gentle connection with her belly, Luz almost felt a squeak slip out. It took a moment to compose herself. “I don’t have to answer you.”

“Yeeees. You. Do!” the guard chirped and he punctuated each word with a light prod against her. Every time he did Luz seemed to suck in her breath and twitch. The prodigy blinked at the response, watching the human as she tensed from the jab of his staff, and looked like she was gritting her teeth quite a bit.

“Oh, what? Am I hurting you?” he scoffed disdainfully at the thought. Humans were pathetic, but Titan, he at least assumed the girl that stood up against Emperor Belos and took a couple good blows from both of them wasn’t so frail. He jabbed her lightly a few more times. “I know your kind is weak, but-“

He was cut off by the small giggling snort that burst from the teen before she could stop it, and she clasped a hand hurriedly over her mouth, before shoving the staff away with her other hand. “Would you knock it off!” Luz snapped, reining in control of her giggles.

The older boy tilted an eyebrow, perplexed. That wasn’t the reaction he expected to provoke… Curious, Golden Guard jabbed at her again, only this time he made the poke deliberately softer, and wiggled the end of the staff a bit. The ticklish jolt made Luz let off a laugh. And he did it again, smirking in delight when she kept trying to get away from it.

Well, that was…an interesting reaction. Living the life he had, Golden Guard hadn’t exactly been granted the luxury to engage in juvenile play, and he had little experience with tickling.

But that was about to change.

“Well, well, well…” the prodigy taunted the other indignant and increasingly nervous teenager. “What an interesting and may I say rather adorable development. You humans are just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Luz finally snapped to attention and the guard had only a millisecond to react as balls of flames were tossed towards his face, crackling passed him. The boy effortlessly dodged them and his staff deflected a few icicles with a chuckle. His amusement was just fueling Luz’s annoyance.

“Oh now now,” the guard admonished teasingly as he simply avoided her little tantrum by holding her back with his staff. “No need to throw such a fuss, I’m just playing around!”

Luz gave a growl and shot a murderous glare as much as she could to the older kid. “And what after that? Going to cart me off to Emperor Belos, are you?”

“Hmm, well I suppose I should!” the boy said with a sigh as his maroon eyes sparkled mischievously under the golden mask. “But where would the fun be in that already, hm?” After all, he wasn’t done experimenting.

Luz growled and positioned an ice glyph on the ground, stepping upwards so she could launch up into the sky. The prodigy was impressed and barrel rolled out of target range as several fireballs singed the red grass. With a crimson flash he disappeared, and Luz let off a squeal as she felt a poke against her side.

“Would you-!” Furiously, the girl spun around—only to see the flickers of magic disappearing as he vanished again. And the moment she turned, he was back as his fingers ghosted over both sides.

A laugh tumbled out of the teenaged girl as her knees bent slightly in instinct and she furiously took a swipe—only to smack uselessly at empty air. “-fihihight me normally, you-you jerk!”

The Golden Guard appeared back in his original spot and gave an amused laugh. “Oh, I could…but it’s much more fun to mess with ya!” He watched the human sift through her pockets frantically.

“Well I’m not in the mood to be messed with!” the girl snapped. She rose Eda’s staff but before it could connect with the jerk’s head, he disappeared in a flickering streak of red light. “Huh? Wh-ah!” And then reappeared with an arm having hoisted her up off the ground.

“I’ve noticed,” Golden Guard responded smugly. “I suppose I have to enact my duty and punish someone who would dare to harm an official of the royal court.” His smirk grew when he felt the girl tense, before the frantic kicking resumed.

“Let go of me, you creep! I’ll-I’ll burn that ugly Halloween mask off your face!”

“You don’t think I’ve noticed you’ve run out of glyphs?” the older teen responded mischievously, and he laughed as the color drained from her face. “Yeeeah, I don’t think you’ll be doing much, human! Ah, except maybe laughing yourself to insanity.”

Luz’s eyes widened but before she could snap anything back she felt the gentle wiggle of fingers trace along her side. “N-no!” The witchling let off a string of Spanish curses as she struggled not to burst into laughter. That attempt failed when the boy’s fingers switched the target area to her belly and grinned when laughter began to bubble from her.

“Well your kind is just full of sensitivity! And wiggles!” he practically crooned at the poor girl, who at this point was just a laughing ball. He watched in amusement as she attempted to curl her legs up and limit the access to her tummy, but he easily maneuvered back to it.

“S-stohahap!” Luz squealed frantically as she was reduced to embarrassing snorts and hearty peals of laughter as his fingers skittered everywhere. She kicked against the ground and tried to fumble out her threats, but it was useless and tears pricked at her eyes.

This was such an unexpected and entertaining turn of events from the dreary day the guard was expecting, he’d have to thank the human later. Despite her earlier attack on him, the prodigy felt no inclination to harm her. To do so would ruin the fun! And he rather liked this little game, toying with the younger kid as a cat might with a mouse.

“Never really got to experience this growing up. What’s it like, human?”

Luz’s hiccups and wriggles had finally granted her some leeway as she managed to pry an arm free. Fine! So that’s the way he wanted to play? “Well why don’t you see for your-SELF!” And suddenly her spare hand plunged towards the older kid’s ribs.

The effect was absolutely instant.

“Wh-ahahahat!?” The teenager let off a giggling yelp as he stumbled, and it gave Luz the perfect opportunity to twist around and lunge furiously at the boy. She didn’t really think about running at the moment, too intent on delivering back what was just served to her. However, even she didn’t expect the squeaky laughter that burst from the guard as she dug into his ribs.

The older boy’s genuine laugh was so…bubbly and boyish, sounding ten years younger than he was. It was riddled with snorts already and despite herself Luz couldn’t help the way her lips tilted up a bit.

“Wow dude, your laugh is ridiculous. You sound like a pig.”

“I-I do not!” the boy attempted to snap, his laughter reaching a new octave as she drilled into his sides. “I’m totally dignified!” When her hands plunged towards his tummy he squeaked and curled up. This time Luz actually laughed.

“Oh yeah, totally dignified. So, who can’t take it now, bird face?” She switched the scribbles to softly ghosting his sides, and that seemed to drive him even more wild. The poor kid attempted a spell, and Luz watched in great amusement as the magic barely made a spark before he lost his concentration. In his struggles his mask had actually slipped off his face, giving Luz a full view for the first time of this kid.

She knew he was a ‘genius teen prodigy’ but for the first time she actually got to see the kid like her, with his boyish and slightly chubby cheeks and a face of youth just as much as it was one of trauma. Watching his face crinkle up in an almost joyful fashion made Luz nearly forget who it was she was dealing with.

“H-human unhahahand mehehe! I demand you to or you’ll saHAHAFFER THE-!” But he couldn't finish that threat as the laughter cut him off. Luz’s hands were clawing at his stomach and had found a rhythm that was driving him up the wall.

“The great teen prodigy, taken down by a little tickling! From a human!” Luz teased the boy. “Wait until I tell Eda! Oh no, better yet! Wait until I tell Lilith!”

“N-not if I have anything to say a-about it!” Golden Guard growled as he finally managed to reach out and tweak at Luz’s side.

“Ah!” Luz let off a giggling yelp as her body faltered trying to keep the older kid pinned down. She tried to jerk towards the side to avoid his grab, but it was making her wobble, and threaten to tumble off of him. “Y-you’re just a sore loser that can’t handle thahat he’s being beaten by a human!”

Both of their staffs were in easy reach and both witchlings easily could have grabbed for their actual weapons, but neither seemed inclined to do so. If anything, they seemed to have forgotten their hostility only moments prior in the wake of this bizarre game of trying to out tickle the other.

“Beaten?” the guard scoffed through his giggles as his hands suddenly locked around the girl’s wrists in an attempt to overpower her. “Y-you’re giving yourself a generous compliment, human!” He shoved against Luz, who was also pushing against his arms now.

“I am, and I’m also gonna give you a dose of THIS!” Luz smirked, her hands darting up under the older teen’s arms. Her eyes widened in shock at the explosive reaction that invoked, and she watched him desperately dig his elbows into his sides to try and protect the sensitive spot. His kicking was just wild now.

“N-NAHAHAHA! S-STAHAHAP!”

Luz couldn’t help it. Despite the fact not a finger was touching her, she laughed genuinely. “Wooow, okay I didn’t expect you to go that nuts.” Found his worst spot it seemed. “I guess it has to be pretty bad if someone as proud as yourself is actually willing to beg for mercy!” That evil grin widened, like a mischievous younger sister. “And I’m not gonna give it.”

The sixteen year old was laughing helplessly now as he twisted about to try and get away from Luz’s mischievous and playful little pokes. She was evilly prodding and jabbing anywhere she could reach, from his tummy to his sides, and back up under his arms. “Do you give up yet?”

“I’m goHONNA FEED YOU TO A DE-DEMON!”  the guard squealed, tears of mirth in his eyes. A flailing hand waved around until it found her tummy to poke, invoking a squeak from Luz.

“Ah! Ahaha, hey!” Luz grappled with the hands, and by now the two were just…a giggling mess. Both were just laughing, ticklish kids that seemed to have forgotten this was even a battle to begin with and were treating it as way more of a game now.

“You’re not gonna win this fight with me, dude! I’ve been having tickle fights with my Mami since I was little!” And had decimated everyone at the owl house at least once by now.

The teenager laughed as he kept trying to pin the younger kid. “Yeah? Well I’m the Golden Guard, so I’m stronger than you!”

“You sure about that??”

Their bizarre and adorable tickle battle went on for another good couple minutes, the two putting aside their animosity as they just let themselves indulge in being children for once, without thinking about the opposing sides they were on, or the trauma they’d been through. Both kids were breathless by the end of it. Luz barely even remembered she was supposed to be out here collecting mushrooms, or that she was essentially playing with her enemy.

“I…totally won that, human,” the boy panted out smugly, and he yelped a bit as Luz shoved him back down to the ground. He was still so caught off guard he hadn’t even seen it coming.

“You didn’t win anything. You jerk.” She rolled her eyes but after a moment offered a hand to help him up. “…Wait, what were we even trying to win?”

He seemed just as perplexed, eyes looking around slowly as if he was trying to find some explanation. A flustered look came to his face and his maroon eyes narrowed at Luz as she gave a small snort.

“Well regardless!” he went on haughtily, as if he hadn’t just been a giggling mess a moment ago. “I hope you’ve learned not to mess with a royal guard. Unfortunately it didn’t appear as if the younger teenager looked the least bit intimidated. In fact she merely smirked.

“Oh you mean the royal guard that was just giggling and squealing like a five year old girl?” Luz laughed as the teenager scowled in fury and his blush deepened. “Yeah, I definitely won’t ‘mess’ with you again,” the kid teased.

Golden Guard grunted a bit as his fingers twitched. A look of turmoil crossed his face as he kept staring at the human. It was no use. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore. Technically she hadn’t been before but he at least knew she was wary of his presence. …That wasn’t the case now.

“Well…” The prodigy hopped up onto his staff and began to rise up into the air. “This was a warning, you know.” The staff flew closer to her and the butt of it bopped her in the stomach. “Next time I won’t be so nice, human.”

“Luz.”

The boy frowned. “Huh?”

“My name, it’s Luz.” Luz crossed her arms and lifted a brow. “You could at least dignify me with my real name, you know.” She watched him blink. “So what can I call you then?”

The older teen turned away at her imploring eyes as he once again attempted to harden the proverbial walls of his armor that this stupid human had begun to chip at today. “Golden Guard,” he muttered, and didn’t miss the way Luz’s shoulders seemed to slightly sag in disappointment. After a moment of consideration, his staff lit up.

Before Luz realized it, she had a small handful of warping mushrooms and she looked to the boy.

“Consider it a small gesture of goodwill,” he told her simply and he ignored the tiny smile she was giving him. “The mushrooms are over populated this year anyway. …Don’t lean too much into this. My mercy was a one time thing.”

Luz laughed softly and gave her strange adversary a wayward smile. “Right. …Uh…thanks.”

“Try to keep yourself out of trouble for once…Luz.”

The kid stuck her tongue out at him, and it earned a small look of amusement from the other. “Yeah, whatever. See you later then, I guess.” And then he was gone. Luz’s grip on the small mushrooms tightened. “…Golden Guard.”

[mrwinterr]

Kissletoe

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You’re not a fan of mistletoes. You think it’s an outdated Holiday tradition and an excuse for lovesick fools to steal a kiss. Unlucky for you, college parties are riddled with them this year and someone’s been trying to meet you under one all night.

Warnings: College shenanigans (no one cares in the real world). Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, oral [female receiving], handjob & attempted dirty talk/goofy sex?). Language. Mentions of drugs and alcohol. & bad Christmas pickup lines.

Title Inspiration: “Kissletoe” by 3OH!3

A/N: I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe let alone attended a legit college party because I’ve been lame my whole life. 🔔 ‘Tis that season! 🎄 Happy Holidays, ya filthy, lovely readers! 🙋🏻‍♀️ Raise your hand if you’re on the naughty list this year! ❤️ Enjoy!

It’s the end of the college fall semester and for the majority of students, the only way to celebrate surviving finals week is to let loose and party, especially right before you’re all forced to go back home to visit family for the Holidays.

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” You hear your friend and roommate Natasha ask.

You stop stuffing your belongings in a box and pause at her question to look down at your current attire - black leggings paired off with an oversized University college-style sweatshirt. You had your hair pulled up in a messy bun, your face clear of any make-up, and lastly your feet were clad in funky, fuzzy socks. This is what you normally wore inside the dorm around her, and you certainly didn’t need to dress to impress just to go home. What was she on about?

“Uh, home? Where else would I be going at the end of the semester?” You reply, an obvious answer.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she retorts, and is quick to follow up when she sees the knowing look on your face and mouth open to retaliate with an even sassy response, “and don’t even start!”

She knew you’d say something like you were exactly that, smart. You in fact had amazing grades and excelled in every course you’d enrolled in. You were confident that you’d aced your exams, so you’re not checking the portal every chance you could get to see if the professor had uploaded your grades yet.

“You’re not supposed to be leaving until Monday,” she reminded you.

“I know, but I mean, there’s no rule saying I had to stay here until then,” you clarify, continuing to pack up more of your things, “I’d rather much get a head start.”

“You’re that eager to get away from me, huh?” She says, feigning sadness.

“You’re the only thing I’m going to miss about college,” you assure her.

College was a different experience for everyone. It was an introduction to the real world. Some used it to start anew, to buckle down and make something of themselves, others used it as an extension to repeat four more years of high school.

You took your studies very seriously, especially if you wanted to maintain your scholarship. It was a known fact college wasn’t cheap and you were fortunate to be here on one. With all that aside, you still knew when to have some fun. After all, all work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy, right? You didn’t want to be that kind of person, you wanted to enjoy your college years, and luckily you had almost a polar opposite friend in Natasha to level you out.

“We just survived another week of finals,” she states, and grabbing your arms to stop you for just one second, “what better way to celebrate than partying?”  

She sees the conflicted look in your eyes, and can tell you’re weighing out the pros and cons. There were a lot of cons: you’d be surrounded by tons of people, most of which were going to be drunk as fuck or high out of their minds on whatever substance was passed around and the threat of getting taken advantage of by some stranger. The pros? You had some steam to let off and this was a chance to gather and see some of your other friends before the Holiday break. ‘Tis the season, right?

“I guess you’re right,” you start, beginning to compromise, “why not? It’ll be like a little send off,” you decide, throwing in a shrug, and that was it.

“We’re college kids, it’s our right,” Natasha shrugs, before digging into one of your boxes and pulling out one of your cute dresses. You could always count on her to help look good too.  

When you both take the short walk to the house, where tonight’s party would be taking place, you abruptly halt at the end of the front porch steps, breaking your locked arms with Natasha.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” She curses lightly as she almost trips backwards.

“This house…” you start, taking a step back and look up to inspect it, squinting, as if that would do you any good in the dark.

“Yeah?” She asks, a little too impatient, obviously hiding something.

“It’s familiar,” you continue, still trying to find out why it was so. Usually, that wasn’t a good thing...

“Come on. What are you talking about? It’s just a house. Don’t think too much and have fun tonight!” She says, stomping back down the steps and grabbing your arm to drag you up towards the front door.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, giving up again. What were you so worried about?  

“Aren’t I always?” She comments, and is, again, quick to shut you down when she sees you open your mouth. She presses her finger to the doorbell just as your mouth closes, and you both await the host.

You look off to the side and stare at the Greek letters tacked onto the wall. You knew you weren’t going to let it go on trying to find out why this house looked so familiar. Then, just when you’ve figured it out, your eyes widen in realization, the grip around your arm intertwined with Natasha’s tightens, feeling your attempt to slip away. The door swings open and the voice that booms out of the person, verifies your answer.

“Well, well, well...the weather outside sure is frightful, but this,” Bucky Barnes starts out singing before looking only in your direction, “oh, seeing you, is so delightful,” ending in a somewhat serious note.

“God, I hate winter,” you comment off to the side. It earns you a jab from Natasha, silently asking you to play nice.

He greets Natasha and easily lets her slip past him into the house. You call out her name, appalled that she left you alone with Bucky. Wasn’t that some rule? Never leave your friends alone at a Frat party.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky says sincerely when it’s just the two of you, to which you don’t respond, but roll your eyes. You didn’t come here to get seduced or hit on, but nonetheless shiver, and logically you could blame it on the cold weather and not the way that comment from him made you feel, then attempt to get inside the warm house.

"Excuse me,” he says, holding out his arms on either side of the door frames, blocking your entrance both ways, “where is my Christmas kiss?“ he asks, leaning in close to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask incredulously and back away. You owed him no such thing, but when you see the sly smirk on his lips, and his head signal for you to look up, you discover a traditional mistletoe hanging right above your heads.

Bringing your head back to its regular position, you look him dead in the eyes, “I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe, Barnes,” you scoff at his attempt to smooch you.

“Why not?” He presses, shuffling his weight from one leg onto the other, and before you can even give him an answer, you both hear your name being shouted from behind him. Bucky whips his head back and you do your best to look over his shoulder.

It came from your friend Wanda, who was excitedly waving you over to her. You smile and wave back at her, internally grateful that luck was on your side at this moment. Bucky turns back around and stares at you, wondering how to pick back up on your conversation, but when he doesn’t come up with anything, he sighs defeatedly, drops his arms and finally lets you in.

You make your way over to Wanda engulfing her with a huge hug. Natasha was close by, sipping on her drink. You’ll grill her later for leaving you alone with Bucky. She knew not to do that, but she did it at every chance she got. Now, you knew why she brought you to this specific house party.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without a proper farewell, were you?” Wanda asked worriedly. You immediately pieced together that Natasha had ratted you out on your attempt to leave campus and head back home early.

“It’s not forever, Wan,” you assure her. It was literally only for a few weeks, but while everyone would probably only be a few hours away from each other or a few states apart different, Wanda would be flying back to her home country to spend the Holidays with her family. You’ll admit, you could’ve been a little more considerate and sensitive.

“I’ll still miss you,” she says, the admission melting your heart, not even thinking about how the separation would be on others.

“She’s right, it’s not forever,” Natasha interjects, not allowing for any sad vibes on your last few hours of the semester together, “let’s make some memories tonight,” she says before handing you a drink.

Bucky, as hard as he tried to cover it up, rejoins his group of friends, Steve and Sam, sulking. He’d gotten you alone again, but failed, and he vowed to never give up. He had a crush on you, simple as that, but you were playing hard to get, and all this time spent on playing cat and mouse when you could be doing other things.

“Man, just save yourself from any further embarrassment and give up,” Sam tells him while also handing him a drink of his own, which Bucky accepts and quickly takes a swig from.

“Never,” he said, determined and slightly winces at the burn in his throat, his body almost warming in an instant, “I’m gonna get my Holiday kiss.”

“Why do you even care? You’re usually not one behind this Holiday shit,” he asks, looking around the crowded room.

“I’m not, but it gives me a reason to get close to her,” Bucky admits pathetically, staring into the red solo cup before taking the last swig, crushing it in his hand and air balling it to the trash.

“Dude!” Steve chastises him about adding onto the mess they’d have to clean afterwards, to which Bucky shrugs at.

“You can’t expect her to just kiss anyone under the mistletoe,” Steve reminds him. He knew it wasn't an easy conquest for any guy to gain your affection.

“I’ve been a good boy this year, alright, I’m gonna get her to see what she’s been looking for has been in front of her this whole time,” Bucky says trying not to sound or look as predatory as he watched you disappear into the kitchen with your friends.

You suppose the saying rules were meant to be broken, were taken a bit too literal by your friends, even college party rules because you’re left alone again. Wanda had abandoned the trio for some alone time with her boyfriend, who everyone dubbed Vision or Vis for short due to how outrageously innovative he was. Natasha decided to partake in a classic game of beer pong, something you incredibly sucked at, so there was no way she was going to recruit you as her partner nor were you interested in standing there awkwardly watching the game go on.

Surprisingly, the only place that seemed to be of a quiet enough spot to think was the backyard patio. You could see there was a fire lit and some other students scattered or sprawled on the grass. Quickening your pace, you manage to claim a vacant lawn chair next to the fire and hope you’d stay warm and at peace.

There you start to think that being in attendance tonight would’ve made no difference. Natasha was just good at persuading you into things. Call it peer pressure or whatever, but you put your faith and trust in her to not believe she’d ever steer you in the wrong direction, so why were you so bothered being here?

“You know, refusing to kiss someone under the mistletoe is bad luck,” you hear the voice of the reason why.

“I don’t believe in that bullshit,” you respond, watching as he plops down on the empty seat next to you.

“Really? Then why haven’t you been out on a date in so long?” he asks tauntingly.

“How would you know?” You ask a bit offended.

Why was he so concerned about your love life? You were never close with Bucky growing up and if anyone was of an impression you were, it was only because of Steve, who welcomed everyone, and that included you when you moved into the neighborhood when you were a little girl.

All throughout elementary school, until things started developing, puberty probably, it further separated you from Bucky. Steve blossomed a little later in life, so it helped solidify a good friendship with him, the same couldn’t be said for Bucky. You didn’t hate him, just got annoyed by his harmless teasing.

“I’ll have you know I have other priorities,” your attempt at an excuse was subtle, but you didn’t owe him an explanation anyways.

“Sure,” he says in a tone that suggests he didn’t believe you.

You watch as he lights up a cigarette, takes a small drag, and the cloud of smoke puffing out from his lips. He notices your stare and digs into his coat pocket, fishing out the pack before offering you one. You accept and pluck one out of the carton, he follows up with sticking out his lighter and you lean in closer to him to place the end of your stick against the flame.

You weren’t going to deny the relieving effect the nicotine had running through your body. College was stressful and while you weren’t one to abuse substances, a hit every now and then helped calm your nerves.

“So why is it you won’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe?” He asks, leaning back on the plastic chair, his head turning to the side, full attention on you.

He was enchanted by the girl, who grew up into a beautiful young woman, sitting next to him, slowly killing herself with every inhale and exhale of the cigarette between her lips, but you weren’t just attractive to Bucky, you were every bit incredible to him. You were smart, helpful, loyal to your friends and he was just misguided sometimes in life that led you to astray from him.

“It’s just an excuse for guys to steal a kiss from some poor girl...for lonely people to fake love,” you said almost bitterly.

Truth was, you had a bitter experience with a guy who’d led you on in high school after accidentally hearing that he could bet his friends he could get you to make out with him and he’d do so by using a mistletoe as a ruse.

Bucky detected some distaste in your response but decides not to interrogate you on it any further. There’d been a lot of growing up between the two of you since you’d both been estranged during your teenage years, and certain life events were missed on either party. So, where did you both stand in each other's lives now? You weren’t sure if you could call each other friends. It wasn’t easy to avoid Bucky, what with all the mutual friends and classes you shared, including the same street back home.

“I didn’t throw this party just to see everyone before they leave or to celebrate the end of finals,” he reveals, after several, somber minutes of silence, the cigarettes in your hands quickly burning out.

“Then why did you?” You ask curiously, meeting his gaze.

“To see you,” he simply admits. It was vague.

“How’d you even know I’d show up?” You quiz him.

“Because I begged Natasha to convince you,” he freely says, exposing his plan.

You were a smart person, but you couldn’t figure Bucky out. Why would he do that? Or for that matter, say something like that. What was his endgame here?

“Tis the fuckin’ season,” you comment offhand, getting up from the seat to leave. You stomp out your cigarette and prepare to head back inside and bid your farewells.

You’re just about to step through the threshold, when you feel a large hand wrap around your arm, halting you in place in the middle of the sliding screen door.

“Am I really that bad?” He inquires, and you know he’s not asking about just kissing him under the mistletoe anymore. Bucky always wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how tough he appeared to be. It fooled a lot of people, sometimes you included, but in this moment, he seemed to genuinely be concerned about your perspective about him.

You were too grown to blame how the course of your relationship with Bucky had gone south on silly teenage phases. You knew it was much deeper than that, it was how sad it made you feel.

You’d harbored a small crush on him back then and it was cruel to see him grow into a handsome, charming guy and go out with other girls. He never showed an interest in you in the past and it was getting exhausting trying to get his attention, it was proving to be a distraction in your life, so it was then you’d vowed to focus on yourself and the life ahead of you, a life that didn’t revolve or involve Bucky.

However, a part of you, the risky and impulsive part of you, said you had less than a handful of months left before you were set to walk the stage and graduate. If you did what you were about to do, you could avoid Bucky for just one more semester, then you’d move far, far away and most likely never see him again. With a quick glance up, you give in to the idea of this side of you, lean in and plant your lips on Bucky’s soft ones.

Bucky is left dumbfounded, eyes still half closed when you pull away. He was shocked, caught off guard, and you by a totally different notion. You like him, you’ve always liked him.

It was a decent kiss if anyone would’ve caught it, at least you hoped it appeared it was, and that Bucky could convince you of it being so…

“You said kissing under the mistletoe is for lonely people to fake love...so then why do I feel so alive?” he asks you in a daze.

He doesn't succeed in convincing you.

How you’d both managed to move past that scene at the doorway without raising suspicion was beyond you two. The fact you both found a vacant room was an even more impressive feat at the moment.

“You better have locked that door,” you say, attempting to make it sound like a threat, but with you underneath him, you were anything but.

Shoes scattered along the pathway to the bed, his thick jacket following in suit. You’d managed to pull your lips back from his, but he couldn’t keep his off of yours as they trailed from the corner of your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You feel his tongue drag just along your pulse, causing your hips to thrust up. You let out a moan at what you felt through his jeans and how he started sucking and nibbling over the spot he’d licked.

“Why? Don’t want everyone finding out how naughty you actually are?” He questions back teasingly with a cocky grin, and as he tugs at the sleeves of his unbuttoned shirt.

You don’t have a comeback for him, but instead you lightly shove him back and try to escape from underneath, hoping to get through to him and show you’re in fact serious. The last thing you wanted was for any of your friends to walk in on you two in the act.

“Relax!” He says, also sitting up and reaching out and pulling you back to him, “I locked it,” he assures, leaning in closer, “not even Santa will know what we’re doing,” then his lips reclaim yours, his tongue delving in your mouth. You’re once more on your back, lips locked and heavy. Had you known kissing Bucky was this good, you’d have kissed him earlier.

Bucky’s hands run up your thighs, snake their way underneath, you feel his fingers ghost over your scantily clad pussy. The tingling sensation causes the feeling in the pit of your stomach to brew.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks huskily while still pecking your lips.

“Yes,” you almost immediately answer, desperate for his touch.

“How bad?” Oh, he knows how bad, but he had so much fun watching you crumble.

“Bucky,” you start to whine.

“Tell me...how bad do you want me to touch you,” he repeats slowly.

“Fuck you,” you bite back. He was really going to make you say it, “I want you to touch me so bad...please, Bucky,” you quickly give in.

Bucky rewards you with a deep kiss as you feel him hook a finger on the thin slit of your panties and pull them to the side. He runs a long finger between your folds, and he pulls his lips away to inhale sharply.

“You’re so wet,” he states the obvious, bringing that same hand up to his lips to lick the pad of his thumb so he could start rubbing circles on your clit. You bite your lip and stare at him, he’s watching you carefully, loving how hard you’re trying to hold back.

“You want to be a good girl?” He asks, and you nod, “then don’t hold back. Stop fighting me, and I’ll make you come hard with just my fingers,” he bargains. You want to call him on his bluff, but he’s the one with the upper hand - literally. “But first…,” he starts, sitting up on his knees, hands back at his sides so he could scoot down lower on the bed, “...I want to taste this pussy,” his voice deep, and almost dangerous.

He pushes the end of your dress up, bunching it at the waist, to reveal your cute underwear. He pauses for a split second, “Holiyay indeed” he says to himself, reading the embezzled design on the front of your thong. You don’t even roll your eyes in annoyance anymore, because maybe if you kept quiet and submissive enough, you’ll finally get to come.

When he rids you of the garment, Bucky uses his fingers to spread your wet lips before running his tongue flat against it, only narrowing out when it reaches your clit. He spends a little more time at your there, circling it with his tongue, lightly kissing and sucking at it. His fingers start rubbing you, tracing the rim of the opening, while his mouth was still busy at work.

You're all but writhing from the buildup, your chest heaving up and down, stomach clenching tight from his doing, not prepared for when he inserts a finger inside your wet hole. You audibly gasped and reached a hand towards him, but he swats it away. You dare pick your head up to watch, and you’re met with his eyes, full of lust, looking up at you, but his mouth still latched onto your pussy. You can feel his finger slide in and out of you slowly, your mouth open displaying how good he’s making you feel.

In fact, it’s too good you’re not in control of your legs anymore as they kick and squirm at the feeling he’s bestowing on you, so he removes his finger away from you only to maneuver into a position where he could hook his arms under legs and basically slam your back down on the bed. You unconsciously start chanting his name, like a silent prayer for him to touch you down there again.

Your head is a little fuzzy, body on fire; you want to burst. Unable to pick up your head, you cast your eyes down on him just in time to see him spit on your already soaking cunt. You watch as he uses his fingers to spread the wetness all over before slipping two fingers inside of you.

The intrusion causes you to groan and back to arch, and you can’t help but grab at any part of the arm that his hand going to work on you, just making sure it doesn't go away until it gets the job done. He chuckles lightly at your eagerness with your hips bucking up at his palm.

“I promised I’d let you come, right?” He points out, which you nod fervently, loosen your grip and attempt to keep your hips at bay, so he could fulfill his promise. You feel his finger push in about knuckle-deep and curl inside, causing you to choke out a dry sob. You begin to bite your lip, hard, when he does it again and again.  

Your hands are on autopilot, trying to heighten the pleasure your body was being coursed with, and they grab handfuls of your breasts, still confined in your dress. You squeeze and squish them together, anything to help you find that release sooner. Bucky’s gaze catches onto your moves and licks at his lips, the sight of your breasts threatening to spill out offers him a taste of what’s still yet to be unwrapped.

He speeds up his efforts, they’re proven efficient as you start clenching tight around his fingers, your arousal also coating the palm of his hand. He whispers tiny praises as you try to recover from the first orgasm. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hands over your face, almost dazed and bewildered that Bucky was capable of pulling something like that out of you.  

Your legs fall limp on the bed, the silence broken by Bucky, “such a sweet pussy,” he compliments, and you take a peek between your fingers to see his fingers pop out of his mouth from sucking his digits clean.

“Do you want to unwrap your gift?” He asks, crawling over to you. You manage to sit up, your body supported by your propped elbows, so Bucky is slightly hovering over you. You nod at his question and he brings one hand behind your head to swoop you in for a sweet kiss. You use both hands to hold his face in place to make the kiss last just a little longer.

Bucky reluctantly pulls away though so he could grab at the bunched fabric of your dress and pull it over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He swears, eyes running over every part of you before sitting upright on his knees again.

You lean in and reach with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal sounding loud, button popping off in haste, and dragging the zipper down. You yank down at his fitted jeans to reveal the imprint of his hard cock under his boxer briefs. Fuck, he was big, that much you could see. You couldn’t keep your grabby hands away as you palm him through the fabric, his cock twitching at the indirect contact.

“Take it out,” he instructs, and you look up perilously at him, eyes begging him to confirm, “...it’s yours, baby girl,” and it was all the assurance you needed to peel his boxers down.

You wrap your hands around his length and start pumping him languidly. He was already hard and no doubt fully erect, but you immediately found how good it felt in your hands. With every pump, his pre-cum pools at the head, and with each trip your hands make up to the tip, they travel back down with the substance, effectively lathering him up and making him slick enough for an easy entry.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he admits when you give his member an experimental squeeze, your fingers curl around him, the tips grazing along his balls.

Leaning in to place light kisses to his pecs, you look up at him, “well, you’ve been a good boy, so do it,” you say, hands retreating as you lie back down, “...fuck me, Bucky.”

Bucky lets out a low growl, kicks his bottoms away, and climbs back on top of you. He reaches down to grab his cock and starts running it up and down the length of your sex, causing your body to shudder. You could feel the ridges and just how hard he got before he slowly slid his cock inside. There’s a tiny sting on his entrance as his thick cock stretches your walls.

“Mmm, baby, it’s cold outside,” he starts playfully singing, “...but you, you’re so warm,” kissing your cheek, getting you to relax; not realizing you had held your breath trying to bear through the initial pain, “...and so wet,” he says pulling out with a lewd noise, before thrusting all the way back in, bottoming out.  

He starts off sweet and slow, and while you liked that on some occasion, now wasn’t one of them. Bucky’s cock probed at your spot almost instantly and you found out you didn’t want to prolong the euphoric ending. His hands slip around your smaller frame, pulling your body up, closer to his, while his hips moved in waves crashing harder and harder into yours.

His face buried into the mattress next to your face, you hear his breathy moans, and you love that he doesn’t hold them back the slightest. Who didn’t like to hear how good the other person was making them feel, right? You grip and pull at his hair, while the other gabs at his buttocks, feeling it flex with each snap of his hips, and your legs tangled with his. Sweat that had built up on your bodies make the movements sloppy, muscles beginning to ache, both of you were about to peak.

“God, you feel so good,” he says, picking his head up, his hair matted and messy, he still looked sexy, “...you gonna come all over my cock now?” His words fuel you and your hips start driving into his, making him eat his own words, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Yes, Bucky,” you coo, your hands gripping his sides, loving the feeling of his hard body, slick and warm to the touch, “...come,” you try coaxing him, but one particular thrust rips right through you and your walls start clenching him tighter than the fit.

You only finish the command when you’re riding the waves of the aftershock, “come on, Bucky, I want it...inside, please.” You definitely picked up on the fact that he liked to hear you beg and be specific with your wants.

Bucky soon stills, spurts of his hot cum splatter your walls that continue to flutter around his cock. His climax spreads warmth all over your lower body. Your limbs, both arms and legs, wrap around his exhausted body. He carefully drops his bodyweight on you, mindful of not suffocating you in the process.

When he’s regained regular breathing, using one of his hands, he reaches behind him in search of yours before interlocking your fingers and just holding it, you hold onto each other. Bucky picks up his head and stares at your hand in his, you follow his gaze and join him. They fit with one another perfectly, and even so, the light squeeze he gives it, lets you know it also felt right.

“Well, where have you two been?” Sam says loudly, announcing you and Bucky’s arrival, rejoining your group of friends. Wanda and Vision close to each other, his arm around her frame, Natasha standing in between Sam and Steve, a refilled cup in each of their hands.

“I have been trying to escape this crazed man all night,” you playfully exaggerate.

“And yet you’ve managed to keep failing,” Bucky chimes in smugly, a cute smirk running across his features. This unearthed feeling testing your willpower to keep up with appearance and show resistance.

“Yeah, no thanks to my so-called friends,” pinning the blame on the two females in the room. Wanda turns red, guilty and slightly awful for abandoning you, but Natasha has a different reaction. She’s got that knowing smile on her face. It’s small, but very strong.

You watch as her eyes divert to the ceiling, you follow her gaze and then when you both look back at each other, the smile on her face turns into a full-blown smirk. There’s a collective sound of “oh’s” from everyone, noting the mistletoe above you and Bucky.

Turning to Bucky, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do, just stands there staring at you, not knowing what to expect. You’re supposed to act like nothing happened or reveal anything to your friends just yet, so he mentally prepares for a rebuttal to your impending rejection or insult to kiss him. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what you do instead.

You place a hand on the back of his neck and pull him down to you and smash your lips together. Bucky’s hands immediately grab a hold of your hips, he’d have to get used to the lightheaded feeling when he’s close to you.

The kiss is slow and probably not appropriate to be deemed as a simple traditional mistletoe kiss, but you both can’t help it and continue to allow your lips to slide against one another’s before there’s a rise of cheers, whistling and howls around you, shattering the bubble.

When you pull apart, you reluctantly walk away from Bucky and head to where Natasha stood, steal the cup from her hand and finish off the remainder of her drink, all while staring straight at her. She knew. Only when you’re done with the last sip, you give her the same small, sly smile. There are no words exchanged, and none needed.

“Guess, you have been a good boy this year, Barnes,” Sam jokes, but regardless is proud of his friend.

“Third time's the charm,” Bucky says casually, shrugging like it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t been desperately chasing you all night. You shake your head at his silliness, but nonetheless smile at him, your heart skipping a bit.

Who knew what you’d been looking for was hanging underneath the doorway staring at you face-to-face this whole time?

A/N: I can confidently say, I used one of these Christmas puns as a pickup line on a guy recently and it worked in my favor! Shoot your shot but stay safe in more than one way; these are them trying times. Also, the underwear thing is a real design I saw while looking through Victoria’s Secret sales…lol. 

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