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#I hope you enjoy the book if you do get it
stveharringtn · 2 days
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Spencer needs someone that listens to him yap about his silly little facts! Someone that looks at him in adoration while he explains the most complex shit no one understands. He is so not used to having someone actually listen to him and not just tell him to shut it or brush him off.
oh, anon, this is so true !!! ‘stop being yourself for just a second’ is my roman empire because how can you tell ANYONE that ? but thank you for this request!!! i hope you enjoy this love! <3 also this is season five spencer OGGA-BOOGA w; none !! just fluff !!
“did you know that a woodpeckers tongue actually wraps around its brain?” spencer asks so casually. he’s reading a book while you watch a show. you turn your head towards him, smiling when your eyes land on his face.
the glasses he wears in the comfort of home only now slips down the curve of his nose, his fingers pressing them back up.
“really?” you tilt your head.
“mhm. it’s so it can protect it’s brain while it hammers its beak into a tree.”
“that’s cool. do you have any more interesting things to tell me?” spencer thinks your being mean, but you’re turning off the television and scooting closer, slotting your fingers through his long hair, working through the knots.
his heart tends to beat a bit faster when he can smell your perfume because he knows your close, now it’s lodged in his throat because of how much invades his nose and he loves it.
“this okay?” your fingers stop quickly - you sometimes forget that he doesn’t like being touched. you never want to make him feel uncomfortable.
“more than okay,” he nods. “and… you really want to hear more facts?” he looks towards you. you nod quickly, your free hand pushing his metal frames up.
you need to tighten those up for him in your free time.
“yeah. i love hearing you talk about anything. it could… it could be something so gross and i’d listen because it’s you talking.”
he flushes and a small smile pulls at his lips as he looks away quickly. you giggle softly.
“why, dr. reid, are you blushing?”
“no.” he lies.
“i might not be a profiler… but i believe i have you all flushed, handsome.” your nose trails along his cheek, smiling as you press your lips against the warm skin.
“i… yes,” he mumbles.
“i know.” you giggle in his ear. he smiles at the sound and turns towards you.
“it’s just… i feel like i talk too much. i get too excited and start to ramble about something stupid. people tend to tell me that.”
“what ever comes out of your mouth isn’t stupid, spence. you have a brain of knowledge and that’s a beautiful thing to have - you should be proud of it.”
he looks up at you and smiles. “thank you.”
“for what?”
“letting me be me.”
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"Friends with feelings" - Luke Hughes x Reader
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Summary: In which forgetting a glass of water before bed might just be the best thing you've ever done. Based on this blurb.
Warnings: Kissing, a lil ass grabbing, alludes to self-pleasuring, mentions of abs, nipples and pretty curls.
A/N: Hi! It's been a while since I've written a longer fic (it's 5.5K words, that's a lot for me HAHA) like this, and I would be sososososo very appreciative of any feedback at all<3 Also, I've written Luke slightly differently than I usually do, a little bit more cocky and confident and probably a bit more like how he'd be with his actual friends/ a girl he's liked for a while and is close with, but anywassss, I hope you enjoy! __________________________
Usually, you like to think you're a person with little to no regrets, always finding a way to appreciate the memory or use the situation as a valuable life lesson.
Not bothering to go downstairs and get a glass of water before you got into the air mattress on the floor next to Jess, your best friend and designated roommate for the week, though? That's probably the biggest regret of your life. Or, at least that's how it feels when you wake up at two-thirty in the morning, mouth dryer than the Sahara (the effect of a few too many beers and cups of Pink Whitney trying to exit your system, no doubt). The last two days have mostly consisted of varying types of drinking; day drinking, night drinking, drinking games, you name it, but that also always seems to be the case when your college friend group meets up over summer break.
This year, Luke Hughes, despite not actively being in college anymore but still a valued member of the friend group, has so graciously been allowed to borrow his big brothers' lake house for the week, saving your group money on an Airbnb and the struggle of finding something big enough to accommodate ten people. Despite not having enough rooms for everyone to get their own (hence the air mattress and the sharing of a room with four girls), the lake house is by far better than whatever cramped shoebox of a house Mark and Ethan managed to book you into last year.
Truth be told, you were thankful for Luke even asking his brothers in the first place, especially since you had been walking around with a slight fear of not getting to see him this summer, considering the whole NHL-Star-Rookie-Thing. You and Luke had always had a weird thing going on, good friends, maybe slightly more but also...not?
 The youngest Hughes had never made a move on you, despite people telling you on multiple occasions that he "definitely has a thing for you" and that "it's obvious you like each other". And sure, you hadn't chanced your luck either, too worried about a possible rejection, that people were overanalyzing his feelings and it all would end up one awkward mess you would then have to navigate on top of your broken heart and bruised ego.
So, Luke and you stayed just friends until his inevitable departure to the big league, your daily coffee meetups now replaced by the occasional call or Facetime.
 Despite the inconsistent calls, your string of texts never seemed to waiver.
 Luke telling you about the smallest, seemingly insignificant, updates in his life, you complaining about school and the dad-joke competitions, all came together to silence the voice inside your head yelling at you that he'd forget you into nothing more than the faintest of whispers.
Nevertheless, it's nice to see him again, to hear his voice and his laugh, and to see his smile in real life and not through a tiny pixelated screen. The way you had fallen straight back into your old rhythm is nice too, if you're being honest.
Combined with the presence of your other most precious friends, the amazing weather and having the big lake house all to yourselves, you can't be happier about how great this summer is going.
Well, except for one teeny, tiny, insignificant thing: seeing him again made you realise your feelings for him hadn't disappeared one singular bit, as you have otherwise spent months trying to convince yourself and your friends off. Every touch, laugh, look into his eyes and comments from your friends about how "close the two of you look" disguised as friendly banter throws you off your game, making you nervous and self-conscious about how much your feelings are showing and if he notices. You're still debating with yourself if you want him to or not.
But that is also a lot of deep thoughts considering the time of the night, and as five minutes of laying wide awake turn into ten (mainly contemplating the pros and cons of getting up), you finally decide to do something about your predicament. You're hardly going to be able to fall back asleep now anyway, the dryness of your mouth combined with the constant quiet psst of the air slowly leaking out of the mattress beneath you and thoughts of your crush coming together in a lovely way of torture you like to call sleep deprivation.
Pushing the duvet aside and trying to make the least amount of noise as you rise, you decide to forgo the effort of putting any additional clothing on besides your oversized t-shirt and panties (because, really, who would be up at this hour?) and walk on your tippy toes towards the door. Slow, slow, slowly you turn the golden knob, freezing instantly when a loud click echoes throughout the otherwise dead silent room.
"Where are you going?" Jess mumbles, face pressed into her pillow, making the voice slightly incoherent.
"Water," you whisper back, hoping to not wake any of your other friends, could you help it. A brief pause leaves you wondering if Jess is even actually awake, but then her sheets rustle and she hums. After a few seconds, a mumble meant to sound like Bring me some comes from her general direction, your best friend no doubt already crossing back over the border to dreamland before the sentence is fully out. You nod in confirmation, not sure why considering she can't see you in the dark, and once more move slowly and quietly when opening the door.
The feeling of success from not waking anyone else doesn't last long, though, replaced by remorse of not at least finding some socks. Silently cursing the Hughes Brothers and trying not to yelp as your feet leave the warm fluffy comfort of the guest bedroom and are instead met by the cold hardwood floor of the hallway, you try to navigate your way to the kitchen through the still-unfamiliar house.
 Despite it being your second night here, the layout of the upstairs interior still confuses you, even more so in the dark, and it takes you a while longer than it would in daylight to find the correct staircase. Which, by the way, seems a ridiculous thing to even have. What house, what people need not one, not two, but three whole staircases? It's like those idiots (affectionate) want their guests to get lost.
 You're still grumbling about the absurd amount of staircases when you turn the corner into the huge eat-in kitchen, foregoing turning on the lights, and your faux annoyance only fueled by the water glasses of course having to reside in the top cabinet. The poor brothers receive a string of new curses.
Ever the problem solver, you swing one leg over the white marble counter, plant both hands on the cold stone, pray the limited hours in the gym working on your biceps could just be a little help, and count to three before hoisting yourself onto the counter. With it taking far more effort than you're proud of, your knees hit the marble, the wood of the beige cabinets scratching against your palms as they close around it for balance. So far so good.
 Despite a fair amount of wobbling, you manage to grab a glass, choosing the one looking most like it will help bring your ice-cold-water-chug-in-the-middle-of-the-night desires to life.
 "I was planning on asking if you need help, but this is far more amusing to watch," a voice brings you out of your deep concentration on your mission, startling you and having your neck turning so fast a whiplash almost sounds. Your mouth drops open, eyes going wide and cheeks heating up faster than the new induction stove your mom was recently raving about to you.
Because there Luke stands, not only proving your nonchalant dismissal of anyone being awake wrong but also making you incredibly aware of a few things you'd like to change at this very moment. Like the fact you're currently perched on top of not his, but his brothers' marble counter, gripping a glass like it's a precious painting stolen from a gallery. Or maybe like how his stare, amused and holding your own, ever so often dipping down a few inches, reminds you how you aren't wearing pants. With that realisation, you drop your arms, hoping the t-shirt is long enough to provide you with some sort of modesty. A sort of half-smirk paints his lovely face, eyes shining with amusement, as he leans against the archway into the kitchen.
Mouth opening and closing a few times, you try your best to come up with something witty, anything to not let it show how his mere presence in the room affects you - or how you feel a little guilty for sneaking around in the middle of the night, despite his instance of make yourselves at home!
"How long have you been standing there?" you land on instead.
 A hint of accusation laces your words like he's the one who should be ashamed in this situation.
Luke cocks his head to one side, sleep-riddled messy curls bouncing a little at the motion, drawing your attention to them and the way you would really, truly, like to run your fingers through them. They've grown to the perfect length since he sent you a picture of the fresh cut earlier this summer, still holding the mullet form but longer overall, only adding to his attractiveness.
 "Long enough to watch you calculate how to climb the counter," you jump at his words, not having noticed how he's slowly been stalking towards you, now across from you, leaning against the island parallel to the counter you still reside on. Crossing his arms over his chest, Luke carefully watches as you gently place the glass down next to you like this is the most intriguing yet amusing thing he's seen in a while. The remaining steps of the plan don't involve accidentally splintering a glass into tiny little pieces, so you're playing it safe, okay?
Deciding to ignore him, you focus on the next task at hand: getting off the counter. Or, at least turning around. You sorta manage to do it without much damage, the only victim a small pot with salt falling over after contact with your knee, leaving a trail of the white mineral on the blank surface.
"Not helping a damsel in distress isn't very gentlemanly of you," you say matter-of-factly once you've managed to manoeuvre around on the limited space, finally facing him without having to turn your neck in an uncomfortable direction.
 Luke simply shrugs at your words, his chain, one you gifted him, you realise with gleeful pleasure, catches in the moonlight shining through the window, in return making your breath catch in your throat. It has you questioning if he's been wearing it since Christmas when you gave it to him, or if he just recently thought to put it on. Maybe to make you think he enjoys the present, wearing it in your presence and all. Or perhaps, it's been a permanent fixture around his neck since the cold months?
 Could the silver jewellery be joining him at games? On road trips, in the shower, in his bed- electricity shoots through your mind as it wanders too far, conjuring up images of him in bed, but soon turning sour at the thought of him sharing those sheets. The green monster inside you jolts awake, clawing at its bars, begging to be let out and riot at the thought of him with another girl. Somehow, some way, you manage to silence it, throw on some extra locks and throw away the keys.
If Luke wants to sleep with other girls, he can. Now, that's a bitter pill to swallow, but nevertheless, the reality is that he can do anything he wants. After all, he isn't yours.
 He could be, Holden the Hope whispers, caressing your mind with lovely images of shared confessions of love, kisses of adoration and tangling in sheets.
 Don't let flowers bloom in the false spring, Reese the Realism scolds, burning the images with a snap of her fingers.
"You're not a damsel," he finally says, clearing his throat like the words hurt him to sound out. Molten eyes meet yours, so green and distracting that you don't even notice yourself leaning forward, less than a centimetre, but enough to make the fun little thing called gravity suddenly decide it wants to play. Fate, or maybe just pure clumsiness, seemingly joins in, giving you the final push, and before you know it, your arms are flailing, your body unable to stop the descent towards the floor.
Strong arms move quickly, engulfing your waist and bringing you to a stop, steadying you against the counter with the added press of a body against yours. "Just in distress then?" your voice comes out breathy and unsteady, craning your neck to look up at him, the closeness of your bodies rendering you unable to do anything else if you want to see the self-satisfied smirk on his face, obviously proud of his heroic action and quick reflexes (thank you, hockey).
 And you do, gosh do you want to stare at any and all expression he makes for the rest of his, and your, life. "You had it under control," he drawls, noticing your body shaking at the same time you do. His first instinct seems to be to tighten his arms around you, muscles twitching at the motion. You hope your peeking isn't noticeable.
Instead of thirsting over your friend's arms, you try to focus on not shaking (the near-fall may have shaken you a bit more than you'll willingly admit), grounding yourself in the feel of the cold tile beneath your feet, toes scrunching to limit the contact. On the other hand, you can't help basking in the way Luke's body seems ten degrees hotter than yours, engulfing your body and sending heat throughout it- okay, maybe that isn't the best thing to focus on either.
"Yeah, until I fell."  "Can't all be perfect."
A smile threatens to break free on your lips at the lighthearted banter returning to your conversation, willing you out of your Luke-induced haze and giving you enough strength to push him away with a soft palm flat in the square centre of his chest. Mentally, push him away, that is. Physically, it would have been impossible without his compliance.
A funny look flashes briefly across his sharp face, something looking a lot like disappointment, but the likelihood of you misjudging that is high. The mop of curls dances once more as he shakes his head, letting that gorgeous lopsided grin out of its box and completely disarming you. The executive board of directors in your brain forces you to look away.
"Why are you up, anyways?"
 The inquiry brings you back to your briefly forgotten quest, having you spring into action, hurriedly turning to locate the abandoned glass. Luke snickers at your eagerness but stays silent, awaiting your answer.
"Getting water, overthinking," you explain, keeping it vague, as you turn the tap to cold and wait for it to forget its previously warm preference. The stark sound of running water fills the otherwise quiet kitchen and even quieter house, and you internally wince, hoping it doesn't wake anyone up. You'd be lying if you said that hope doesn't stem from a bit of selfishness, quite like the way this little meet between Luke and you is panning out. Like a little pocket in time, it's almost as if anything goes, anything can be said and maybe, just maybe, anything can be done.
"You?" You interrupt him just before he opens his pouty mouth and asks just what you're overthinking exactly.
 So, maybe not everything can be said, you think, suddenly finding yourself not fully prepared to take the embarrassment of telling him he's a part of the whole not-sleeping thing.
Luke's eyes flicker away as you bring the now-filled glass to your lips, fixating on a spot above your head, suddenly very interested in the cabinet you have yet to close. A few seconds pass before he deems it safe to look at you once more (criteria? unknown) and answers your inquiry.
"Was wondering why a robber would be yelping each time they take a step down the hallway, needed to see I would have to defend the house," he teases, immediately bringing a pout to your face and getting you defensive. Placing the glass back down on the counter with a thump, you close the distance between you and press your pointer finger into the middle of his chest.
"Hey, you guys keep this house concerningly cold!"
 Luke catches your hand in his before your finger can do any more damage to his chest, all amusement flickering out of his eyes as quickly as a gust of wind passing by a fickle flame.
"Yeah..." he trails off, eyes moving downwards, like something's drawing his gaze in and he can't control it the moving of his pupils.
Suddenly, you find yourself acutely aware of the way your nipples have hardened from the low temperature, now straining against the thin material of your sleep shirt and you silently beg, plead and pray like a sinner about to enter hell, that he doesn't notice. Okay, who are you kidding here, he definitely does, he's practically making eye contact with them, but to his credit, though, it looks like he's trying really hard not to. Jaw clenching and unclenching, he almost manages to tear his eyes away each time he tries.
 Hopefully, he thinks it's just from the cold.
If you guys could stop standing attention just because he keeps looking, that would be great, you mentally scold, choosing not to dwell too hard on the fact that A) you're scolding your nipples and B) how Luke can't stop staring.
You decide it means nothing, part B, at least, (you should probably deal with the slightly concerning part A), because Luke is merely a boy and honestly, you should probably be concerned if he didn't stare. Yet, a tiny flicker of hope blooms in your chest, fueled even more so by the way he clears his throat a few too many times to be casual and lets go of your hand to drag his own over his face.
 Your wrist burns from where he held it, branded by him and his touch and god do you wish you could feel that brand everywhere.
Not sure where to go from here, you decide to put him out of his apparent misery and make light of the situation once more.
He almost beats you to talking, though, and your voices blend as you ask, "Well, you've established I'm not out to rob you. Going back to bed?" at the same time Luke asks "This my shirt?"
 You didn't realise it was his, or maybe you did and you didn't realise he would notice the plain fabric once belonging to him. You stole it way back at one of your first visits to his dorm.
"Don't think I can sleep now." "Yes."
Time stops and words seem to have different meanings, the lightheartedness you went for not having the desired effect, only adding to the tension slowly building between you, leaving the air hot and heavy. You're not sure what the change is this summer, and if your mind wasn't currently clouded and preoccupied with having him so close and looking at you like that, you'd probably reason your way into it being the fact you had been a part for months. Seeing him again has surely unlocked a part of your heart, the part wanting to throw caution to the wind and finally feel what it would be like to not be just friends. Seemingly, hopefully, a similar part has been unlocked in Luke's as well.
Summer being his best season didn't help your case either. Luke always looks more relaxed in the warmer months, healthier and more vibrant, the tan he so quickly manages to obtain has you wanting to lick him all over, the sun practically dripping from his skin and his curls, your favourite curls, looking their best. You never fail to notice his happiness in the off-season either. Sure, he loves hockey and he loves playing it all season, you know that, but he's also confessed to you on multiple occasions that the pressure gets to him, residing just under his skin like a rash never quite going away.
Here, at his brothers' lake house, surrounded by his favourite people, he laughs more, smiles more and reminds you more of the boy you knew in those very first few months of your college career. Summer Luke is the real Luke, your Luke and the Luke you so desperately want to pull close and kiss silly.
Yet, it's also the Luke in front of you now, confident and with all the power in his hand, as he, at once, brings you back to your previous question and both of your apparent dilemmas of not being able to sleep.
"I'd challenge you to a game of ping pong to get us tired, but you tend to get loud when you get worked up."
 White, hot flashes of embarrassment fill you up from the inside out, wondering if he's alluding to yesterday's weak moment of self-pleasure. You had allowed yourself it after seeing him shirtless on the boat wakeboarding, the motions making his hard abs twist and turn deliciously, droplets caressing his stomach and- "losing, I mean..." he clarifies, the smirk on his face making a return, hinting that he may or may not know exactly where your mind went just then. He had definitely heard.
Seemingly deciding to cut you some slack, Luke offers you an out. "What do you usually do when you can't sleep?"
 It doesn't help, not at all, because now you're thinking of your usual way of tiring yourself out, and that looks a lot like what he apparently heard you doing last night. The pink on your cheeks deepens to a healthy red and Luke no doubt notices, judging by the small grin appearing on his face. You huff out a nervous laugh, one that quickly dies out as a yawn stretches over Luke's face. He wipes it off, or at least tries to, by bringing a hand to his mouth. The motion makes his shirt rise the tiniest of bits, just as you open your mouth to speak.
"Usually I'll try to distract myself, try to get my brain to stop working overtime," you say, eyes finding a life of their own, drifting down to the peak of skin between his plaid pyjama pants and white t-shirt. That would make for a nice distraction.
"Are you still drunk?" your face scrunches up in confusion at his words, the change of subject catching you off guard. Turning your head, you search his face with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out his angle. "No, it wore off a few hours ag- oh," you cut yourself off as the counter hits the top of your ass, not even having noticed Luke backing you into it until he's right there. Caged in, you once more have to tilt your head to stare at his pretty face. The intense look he's giving you leaves you stumped, lips parting slightly- maybe in a silent invitation. At this point, your brain has switched off, his closeness and the way his cologne overpowers your senses leaving you completely at his mercy.
The little people in your head seem to have taken over your actions, leading you like a puppet on a string and you don't mind. Not when Luke moves his hand to rest on your hip and the other on the column of your throat and they allow him.
Not when they move your hands to rest on his broad chest, his heart pounding against your hands and letting you know he isn't as unaffected as he appears.
Not when he leans down and hovers over your lips and they don't make you pull away. Luke's hot breath mingles with yours and you can almost feel the way he's holding himself back, letting you decide if you want this. In the end, you regain control from your puppeteers, rising to your tiptoes, just that last bit needed, and meet Luke's soft lips.
It's like the restraint he's been having over himself snaps, the hand on your hip tightening and bringing you close, close, closer until he's got you completely caged between him and the counter. You get braver too, your fingers finding the curls you've been so desperate to touch. As you tug ever so slightly, Luke lets out a gasp and you can't help but use the opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth.  
A thousand tiny explosions go off in your body, angels sing and the sun comes out behind the dark clouds. Too cheesy? Perhaps, but it’s like your world is clear again, your focus turning sharp and honing in on Luke, his touch (soft, urgent, guiding), his taste (mint, did he brush his teeth before coming down here?) and the delicious way his teeth are tugging on your lower lip.  “Been waiting…so…long,” breathy words tumble out through breathy kisses, Luke's confession spreading warmth throughout your whole body. Sure, you are putting two and two together just from the heavy make-out session you’re currently partaking in, but either way, it’s nice to know that it isn’t just you who has been harbouring the very same desire. 
Taking you by surprise, Luke grabs ahold of your shirt and in one swift motion lifts you onto the countertop so you’re both in a more comfortable position. His big hand slides up your thigh and under your shirt, stopping just over your panties. Hesitantly, Luke pulls away from your lips to look you in the eye, removing his other hand from your waist in favour of running it through his hair. The messy curls fall all over the place, even though he tries to shake them out, and you can’t help but grin at the fact that you messed them up.
Reaching behind you to rest his hand on the counter, effectively caging you in, Luke opens his mouth to no doubt ask for permission to move his hand higher. The words yes, god yes are on the tip of your tongue, but instead of sticking to the script, Luke yelps out instead. His eyes go wide, quickly shooting to his hand beside you before an annoyed expression overtakes his face.
"Salt," he mumbles into your lips, already on them again like he just can’t help himself. Reaching under your shirt, you guide his hand higher, silently letting him know it’s okay. Your whole body feels on fire with the way he’s touching you, thumb swiping over your underboob, goosebumps erupting in its wake. If you could stay like this forever, you would, with no hesitation. It feels like you’re sinking, deeper and deeper into the abyss that is Luke Hughes. The harness is off and you’re barrelling straight to the bottom with no regard for your safety. But that’s just the thing; you feel safe. So very safe with the way Luke is touching you, kissing you and wordlessly assuring you that he’s got you. Forever, if that’s the case.
Unfortunately, the universe isn’t a fan of forever. Or at least, it just has a very poor sense of humour. Because just as you’re about to spread your legs a little more, let Luke in a little closer, the kitchen door bangs open. Two drunk idiots, otherwise known as your friends, tumble inside, arms around each other holding on for dear life, one more gone than the other. You would later learn they had been out and about crashing all the nearby house parties.
“Dude, I so could have taken him- what the fUCK?” Mark screeches when he notices Luke and you, who just barely manage to tear your lips apart before Ethan straightens himself up and turns in your direction. 
And so a period of awkward silence and confused glances begins. Mark and Ethan are not quite sober enough to put the evidence presented before them together, their brows drawn together in funny angles. Mark lifts his hand and motions between you and the boy still pressed to you, now just with his back facing you. Probably to spare your friends from seeing you in just your panties, you realise and just like that, your heart turns to mush. You sneak your hands around his waist and prop your head up on his shoulder. Luke leans back into you, hands going to your knees, as he levels Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum with a warning look. 
Never one to let his friends off easy, though, Ethan flashes a megawatt grin before copying Mark’s actions.  “What’s going on here?” 
“Late night snack.” “Luke had something in his eye.”
Silence. Luke’s hands squeeze your knees, you press your eyes closed. Surely they would catch on.
Then, a slow nod from a contemplative-looking Mark and a slap to Ethan’s chest as the blonde’s too-talkative mouth starts to open once more. “Sure, have a good night, guys!” Mark rushes out, a firm hand on Ethan’s shoulder guiding his friend out of the kitchen and up the stairs to their room. There’s no way Mark believed that lie (your suspicions would later be confirmed when you walk past their room and hear him explain how it “would make no sense since the lights were off”) but as Luke lets out a deep sigh and turns around, you can’t find it in you to care. 
The second he’s fully facing you again, his hands come up to rest on either side of your head, pressing a soft, much sweeter and slower, kiss to your awaiting lips. As he pulls back, a different Luke stands before you, all traces of his previous confidence leaving him, nervousness taking over as he brings a hand up to the back of his neck. Your favourite crooked smile returns, but this time filled with awkwardness and uncertainty. 
“Would you, um- Would you want to go out with me? Tomorrow, maybe? Or later today, I guess, considering the time and all-”
“Yes, god yes,” You say, finally getting the chance to voice the words, immediately getting flashbacks to a mere ten minutes ago when they had been on the tip of your tongue and his hand had been under your shirt. At your agreement, confident Luke returns, not wasting any time before he’s diving back in for your lips.
Half an hour later, you’re standing in your bedroom, leaning up against the door. Touching your fingers to your lips, no doubt a dazed expression on your face, you will your heart to stop galloping like a thousand wild horses. Maybe, if you pinched yourself- nope that just hurt. Luke kissing you in the kitchen hadn’t been a dream and neither had it been when he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and then your forehead, only a mere minutes ago. You had said goodnight with the promise of seeing him when you’re both well rested. When you asked him about the upcoming date, he only smiled and told you it was a surprise. You do not doubt that the speculation will keep you up for at least another few hours. Or perhaps that will have more to do with you replaying every kiss and touch over and over in your head.
“Did you get me water?” A voice croaks out in the darkness, duvets and sheets shifting loudly in the silence. Water, Jess. You had completely forgotten. 
"Shit, I’ll be right back," you promise, this time determined not to get swept up in stolen kisses.
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khaire-traveler · 2 days
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☀️ Subtle Apollo Worship 🏹
Singing/listening to your favorite songs; this applies to any music, though
Listening to music while studying
Playing any instrument
Dedicating a journal to writing poetry or stories
Reading poetry books; reading ancient poetry/stories (especially ancient Greek poetry/stories)
Dancing to any music of your choice
Setting reminders to take medication on time; taking your medication in general
Taking care of your body physically, such as brushing one's teeth or taking a shower
Taking a walk on a sunny day; basking in the warmth of the light
Keeping a pic of him in your wallet
Wearing jewelry that reminds you of him
Keeping imagery of swans, cranes, or ravens around (swans and cranes might be a safer bet if in an evangelical household; ravens may be seen as "too dark")
Having sun imagery around (although he is not the Greek god of the sun, many associate him with the sun these days; he is officially a god of light, however)
Getting a wolf or dolphin stuffed animal (sacred animals of his)
Anything to do with positive and healthy self-wellness
Learning archery
Learning to do divination outside of the obvious (the obvious being tarot, runes, and pendulums, for example; not obvious would be cartomancy, pyromancy, carromancy, shufflomancy, etc.)
Doing homework (yes, really)
Being kind to yourself when you're having a difficult time
Placing positive affirmations on somewhere you'd see them everyday, especially ones about things you're proud of
Checking in with yourself emotionally throughout the day; how are you feeling? What are some good things that have happened so far? What are some not so good things?
Learning about philosophy and taking note of your thoughts on the topic
Learning more about yourself (e.g. make a list of things you enjoy, try new hobbies, experiment with new outfits, etc.)
Expressing yourself through art of any kind
Having a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)
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May add more later! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Apollo. I hope it helps someone, and take care, y'all! 🧡
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madwcman · 2 days
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Hi sweetie (can I call you that? Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable) can I request something that goes like poly marauders x slytherin reader where they figure out they like reader and reader also likes them back but she feels like they don’t like her that way. Angst with fluff something like. Is okay if you can’t take care of yourself <33
a/n: i want to start off and say thank you for requesting and im so sorry i’m posting this late! but i hope you enjoy, this is my first time writing ploy! marauders so please be kind. also i’m not uncomfortable by you calling me sweetie!! :)
pairing: poly! marauders x slytherin! reader
having a crush on three out of the four marauders was just absolutely dense on your half. not only were you a close friend of theirs but james, sirius and remus were in a relationship together, joining in an already formed relationship seemed foolish to you. especially since they were so happy together. you gathered that james, remus and sirius just couldn’t see you in a romantic light.
so you decided to avoid them the best you could. and it wasn’t really that hard. considering you were a slytherin, you just hid in your dorm most of the time. other times where you would see the boys you would just ignore them. if they waved, smiled or even called out your name you would ignore them. and run in the other direction away from them.
“dove, you’re avoiding us.” you look up from the book you were reading and see remus, james and sirius standing in front of you in the library. you’re surprised they’re all in the library, especially james and sirius considering they hate to be quiet and being quiet is the mandatory rule in the library.
“i don’t know what you mean.” you mutter quietly, looking back to your book. avoiding their narrow eyes. “yes you do.” sirius, speaks sourly as you hear the chairs scraping against the floors. looking back up, you see sirius and remus have taken a seat across from you while james sits beside you with a strained smile. “no sirius, i don’t.” you snap back, closing your book. you start to gather your things ready to take your leave to avoid the boys once again.
“will you please just talk to us?” you turn to james, as you stand from your chair. his hair is a little messy from him running his fingers through it, his face looks more red than usual. he looks at you with an angry face. he’s angry with you. “we just want to know what we did.” he waves his hand around between him, sirius and remus. you look at each of the boys with anticipation. you finally let out a sigh and sit back down.
“are you going to talk to us now?” remus asks, he sounds and looks hopeful. you shake your head miserably. this will surely end your friendship with the boys. “well are you going to explain?” sirius ask,
“i’ve been avoiding you three because i want to be with you guys romantically.” you admit, with a gloomy tone. “oh.” they all speak at the same time. you start to tear up and wait for them to reject you. and then later on break up the friendship you guys had. “dove, what’s wrong?” you hear remus get up from his seat across from you and bend down beside you. “dove?”
“are you guys going to stop being friends with me?” you mumble out. closing you eyes. “no, why would we honey?” james ask, rubbing your back softly. “because you guys don’t feel the same.”
“we never said that.” you hear sirius speak, he standing beside remus, he’s not good with comforting but you hear the worry in his tone. you can see he’s trying his best. “what?” you look up from your lap. to look at sirius in disbelief. “we’ve never said that, love.” sirius tells you sweetly, as he moves to bend down with remus.
“we’ve all have actually liked you for a while now.” james admits. “we’ve been meaning to tell you, but you’ve been avoiding us.” remus explains. laughing a little at the situation you guys were in. “oh,” you utter dumbly to yourself. sirius laughs, you feel a little embarrassed but can’t help but smile at yourself.
i’m sorry.” you laugh out, still nervous and embarrassed for avoiding them. you feel slightly silly. “there's no need to apologize,” james rushes out, feeling bad at the thought that you needed to apologize to them. “but you could make it up by going on a date with us.” sirius smiles as he moves in to kiss your cheek.
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empress-simps · 2 days
Note
for remus, maybe a fic where he has a crush on fem!slytherin reader, and maybe the rest of the gang disapproves (at least initially) because of the silly house rivalry between gryffindor and slytherin? hopefully they’ll warm up to her because she’s actually really sweet and likes remus back, and they see how good for him she is :)
Hi darlingg! Thank you for this request, this is so adorable, and it was so fun to write :) I somehow made it a bit angsty...sorry about that I got carried away. Hope you enjoy! Pictures are from pinterest, credits to the owner!
Beyond The Surface
Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Slytherin! Reader CW: Sirius being dramatic, Remus getting angry, and Language
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He never really planned to fall in love. Remus thinks it would be better if he just lives his life in solitude; away from the confusing and complicated world of romantic relationships.
He doesn’t think anyone should bear the responsibility of having a werewolf boyfriend. Remus wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he even touched a single hair on your body during that time, he desperately tries to convince himself that his friends and their future children will be enough to warm his heart who secretly yearns to have his own family.
‘It’s for the best, they wouldn’t suffer because of me.’ Remus thought, being the selfless person he was. Although, his plans that he so desperately tried to put up all came crumbling down when you came into the picture.
He didn’t think of it much at first. Remus thought it was just a simple crush that would go away in about three days or so. He was completely wrong.
“Remus Lupin, right? I’m Y/n Rosier, we’re assigned partners in potions.”
You sat beside him, beaming a smile that Remus was certain you were a gift for him from the Gods above. Merlin- you were simply breath taking. That was the first time he felt butterflies on his stomach, feeling his cheeks heat up as you offered a handshake.
“N-nice to meet you, Rosier.” He took your soft hands into his rough, and scarred ones. Shaking it as he desperately tries to ignore the sparks that seemed to go off inside him. Your face grimaced as your last name rolled off his tongue.
“Y/n is fine.” Remus nods, noticing your reaction. He was wondering how someone like you managed to survive other annoying Slytherins as your housemates.
“Alright then, Y/n. Call me Remus, yeah?”
That marks the beginning of an unlikely friendship of a Gryffindor half-blood with a Slytherin pure blood.
“Shall we begin?”
“Alright, but you lead. My skills are no good in potion making.” He jokes, making a small chuckle escape your throat. “I am quite aware.” She teases.
Being partnered with him for a Potions project meant that you would often meet up in the library, spending long hours sitting beside each other in silence, flipping page after page as Remus occasionally puts back books but returning with 5 more.
“Remmy, look here.” You pointed, not noticing how Remus blushed at his newfound nickname as he leaned to your seat, placing one arm on the back of your chair, his tall frame nearly engulfing you as he reads the contents of the page you found interesting.
He suddenly pales, his eyes transfixed on the title of the page. “Wolfsbane potion…” He whispers, eyes scanning the page quickly before looking at you. You hummed, flipping into another page to see how to make the said potion.
“Right, I figured we should make this for our project. What do you think? I think Polyjuice potion is a tad bit boring, hm?” She mused, seeking his opinion on the matter.
Remus parted his mouth to speak, yet the words seem to vanish at the back of his throat. You shot him a worried look, “Do you not like it? You could say so, don’t pretend nothing is wrong, Remmy.”
He blinks, trying to compose himself. “Ah, no-nothing’s wrong. It’s just that…”
You raised your eyebrows curiously, urging him to continue. “What? You know someone who’s a werewolf?” She jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere as she lightly elbows him.
“I do.” He chokes out, the confession was unexpected, even to him. Remus doesn’t even know why on Earth he’s about to tell you one of his darkest and deepest secrets. It was probably because of your warm and inviting aura. It’s like you wouldn’t judge anyone based on first impressions, appearance, and what you’ve heard about them until you can see for yourself.
Remus felt like he could trust you, and his instincts are almost never wrong.
“Well, maybe the potion we’ll brew can help them?” You offered a smile.
“It certainly would be of help to me.”
You stilled; your hand that was about to get your quill hovered as you looked at him in shock.
“You’re a werewolf?” You whispered quietly; eyes that were surprised stared into his nervous, amber ones. Remus could only nod, an inkling doubt and regret slowly crept up to him. Did he make the right decision? Was he wrong this time? Would you hold it against him?
Your face turned serious, clasping his hand on the table with yours, you looked at him in the eye. “Your secret is safe with me; I would never tell it to anyone. If it helps, I will even make an unbreakable vow, Remus.”
He widened his eyes, “N-no! It’s alright, I trust you, Y/n.” You visibly relaxed, smiling lightly, squeezing his hand, a soft look was sent his way.
“Thank you for trusting me, Remus. If you’d like, I’ll brew you a supply of wolfsbane from time to time.”
If Remus wasn’t in love before that, he certainly is now.
“Out of all the people you could’ve chose to like it was a Rosier?!” Sirius screeched, a horrified look on his face as he grabbed Remus’s shoulder and looked at him straight in the eyes. The said boy frowned “What about it?”
Sirius blanched, “Are you daft, Moons?” He threw his hands up in the air, looking at the rest of the marauders and Lily, wanting them to side with him. Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line; she does not quite agree with Sirius but there’s still a possibility. It doesn’t help the fact that she is a Slytherin; the house that reeks of cunning pure-blooded wizards.
Peter looked anywhere to just not meet the eyes of Remus, clearly uncomfortable. While James frowned, a troubled look on his face as he clasped Lily’s hand. “The Rosier family… they’re not exactly known for their…,” he started, but Sirius cut him off.
“Rosiers are evil! Slytherins! Pureblood Supremacists! Death Eaters!”
Remus frowns, reading the room and the reactions of his friends. The message was clear without words: none of them supported Remus’s interest in a Slytherin, a Rosier no less.
“Give her a chance, she’s different.” Remus tried to make his friends listen to him. Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes. James sighed, looking at Remus. “Moony, it’s just… We never thought you would fancy a Slytherin.” Remus pursed his lips, “Yeah, I never thought you and Lily would end up together but here we are.” James grimaced at his words.
“There’s tons of girls who fancy you, Moony.” Peter tells him. Remus frowned, feeling annoyance stir inside him. “They’re not her, Wormtail. All I’m saying is that Lily and you blokes should give her a chance before you make assumptions.” He spat, glaring at Sirius before leaving the room.
“Rem? Mon amour, what’s wrong?” She frowns, placing her book down as Remus entered the library, heading straight to her usual place but the window. Remus sighs, shaking his head. He couldn’t possibly tell you what happened, how Sirius thought you were just those pesky Slytherins they pull pranks on.
“They do not like me.” She stated, looking down with a frown as she fiddled with her thumbs.
“Honey, it’s not your fault.”
“I know, amour.”
Remus felt his lips press into a thin line, gently taking your hands in his, trying to stop your nervous habit. “They’re still wrapping their heads around it. They’ll come around, don’t worry about it love.” You sighed shakily, “I hope so.”
Remus traced shapes across the back of her hand, “Anything interesting happened today?”
“Evan and I got into a fight; said I was a blood traitor…” You trailed off, noticing how Remus’s jaw tightened and his stare hardened. “But it was alright, we made up. He just told me to be careful.” To say Remus was surprised was an understatement. “He couldn’t be angry at his twin sister for a long time.” She smiles.
“Black! What the fuck did you do?!” Remus roars, grabbing a fistful of the said boy’s shirt, pushing him against the wall as James tried to pull him off, “Come on, Moons-“
“Don’t bloody touch me, James!” He bellows, pushing off the Potter boy who stumbled away, shock evident in his features. Peter quickly got up from his bed, “Moony, why are you so angry? What did he do?” He drops shoves Sirius off as he stared at his friends.
“It was you guys who pulled a prank on her right? “Remus’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, pointedly looking at Sirius. “Well congratulations, she’s being treated by Madame Pomfrey right now.”
Sirius felt shame and guilt ate him up. The prank was never supposed to go that far.
“Ever wondered why I was suddenly so calm during the full moon? It’s all thanks to her. She makes me batches of wolfsbane potion every month, without fail.”
James choked, “You told her?”
“I did”
“What if she tells everyone?” Peter frowns, concerned for Remus.
“If she wanted to, then the whole school would’ve already known, she even suggested an unbreakable vow.” Remus uttered out, sitting at his bed, looking away from them “Some kind of friends you guys are. I care about her, and if you hurt her, you hurt me too.”
Sirius cautiously approached him, “Moons, I’m sorry.” He began. James placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know, we’re knobheads. Sorry, Moony.” Peter nods, “We messed up, it won’t happen again.”
“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to her.”
“We will, Moony.”
An hour has passed after you got treated by Madame Pomfrey, you wanted to leave as you already felt alright but she insisted you stay for an hour or two just so she could monitor you. Having no choice but to oblige.
“Love?” Your ears perked up, the sound of Remus’ voice calling out to you. You turned and smiled at his direction, although suddenly dropping it as you saw the rest of the Marauders and Lily following him.
Trying to alleviate the awkward atmosphere, Sirius pulls out a bouquet of flowers. “Remus told us you like Tulips…” You were about to take it but stopped, James seemed to notice this. “It’s not jinxed, or anything like that.” You bit your lip, silently looking at Remus as if asking was it safe, he nods. “I was there when they picked it out love.” You finally took the bouquet, nodding gratefully. “Thank you.”
“We wanted to say we were sorry.” James started; Lily nodded. “It was quite shameful that we made such accusations and judged you before even getting to know you.”
“I’m sorry, Y/n. We…we were just looking out for Moony.” Sirius sighed; shame visible in his features.
“I understand, I probably would have done the same. I’d also look out for the people I care about.” You softly replied. “It’s okay, I forgive all of you.” You looked at them.
James stepped forward, “We hope you can give us a chance to make it up to you.” Sirius cleared his throat, “And maybe, if you’re up for it, join us for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?” His attempt at a smile was hopeful.
Your lips curved into a genuine smile, your body slowly becoming relaxed. “I’d like that,”
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mt-oe · 3 days
Text
𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬—modern mizu x reader
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Hey dears!
This is my first fic in this blog. I'm quite nervous since it's been years since I wrote something creative and something outside of academics.
Yes, it's a popular song nowadays and I do only listen to selected songs by the artist. Might leave this be or might create a part 2. Let's see <3 Regardless, I hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa!
warning: not proofread, smut (mdni please!), she/her for mizu and implied afab reader, mention of virginity and bleeding
oh yeah, mizu is your ex-gf for this one.
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I don't really know if she cares or not All I know is she left a lot of stuff in my apartment She's never getting back
It had been a few weeks since you and Mizu broke up. She had initiated it during the middle of the semester. You were too stressed out with your project and being in a demanding program, and to her, you were just too much.
That was not to say she didn't try.
She did.
She absolutely fucking tried her best.
Going out of her way to buy you meals even if she was busy too, buying the materials you needed, letting you cry against her, and even doing some of the parts you struggled with despite not even having a clue on what to do. Nobody could tell her she never even tried.
But like anything else, if it gets used to it, it gets tired. The constant fighting and the amount of time she had gone to bed with a heavy heart was draining her.
A few days after your break up, you had come and collected your things from her apartment. Her heart sunk as your frown greeted her upon opening the door. With the cardboard boxes behind you and your friend in the driver's seat waiting for you, it was clear to her that you were there to take back what was yours that both of you once claimed were 'ours'.
The once happy and comfy abode becoming gloomy and cold as the trinkets you have displayed, the clothes you claimed are still clean, and the books you bought but never read were now gone.
It was just her and her thoughts. Her and her memories with you.
And as the smell on my pillow fades Her cigarettes might stay Like a Roman Coliseum A dry and worthless monument to our love
A sigh escaped her lips as she laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The bed that was once so warm with plushies and fluffy blankets was now cold. She rolled over and looked at what was once your side of the bed. Your pillow still smelled faintly of you, a smell that brought her so much joy and comfort.
As she leaned closer to the pillow and closed her eyes, allowing herself to take in the fading scent from your pillow, the image of you laying down beside her appeared in her mind.
"Good morning.." You whispered groggily, giving her a sleepy yet angelic smile. Your cheek against the pillow as the rays of the morning sun shone against your hair, giving it a brighter hue than it usually had.
A small, almost unseen, smile appeared on Mizu's lips. Her long, slender fingers tucking in a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture sent a shiver down your spine, making you grip the blanket closer to your bare chest, covering the love bites and hickeys she had given you. Her sharp blue eyes scanning every detail of your face. The way your cheeks was subtly smushed against the pillow, the flutter of your eyelashes as you blinked, the way your pupils dilated as you stared back at her.
You purse your lips as you stared back, a glint of mild amusement swirling with the admiration you had for your girlfriend. "What..?" you chortled, leaning closer to her.
"Nothing." She gently pulled you closer, hand giving the plush of your ass a light playful squeeze. "Just admiring..."
I still have your lighter I still have your book I still have everything you brought, but you never took
Mizu let out a groan, opening her eyes to the dull sight of her wall. "That's right.. She's gone.' she thought, rolling her eyes at herself for even feeling a bit of joy reminiscing about you beside her.
Pushing herself up, her hand reached onto her bedside table to grab a cigarette. Her back rested against the bedframe, she placed the cig between her lips. A Marlboro Red. Before you, she used to smoke blues, a recommendation by Taigen that never left her.
That was until she met you.
After meeting you, she went from smoking a pack or two a day to chewing on gum. It wasn't because you convinced her to quit or to appeal to you. It was because she wanted all of you. The taste of your lips, the taste of your tongue—hell, even the taste of your perfume when she pulled you in. She wanted it all.
Now, she was back to smoking. Your absence leaving a pit in her and an odd sense of loneliness in her mouth. This time, she was smoking reds, a want to forget your taste to cope with the ache you left.
Well, she was about to, but when her hands reached into her drawer for a lighter, she found none.
A small "what the fuck?" left her lips as she sat up straight, pulling the bedside drawer out fully to search for the small metal lighter she always kept. Eyebrows knitting together, she pulled out every item in her drawer but to no avail. Her lighter was not there.
What she found, however, was a book. Your book. It was already unwrapped and some corners folded in place of a bookmark. Her heart stopped as she inspected it, hand taking the cigarette from between her lips and onto her ashtray.
Mizu opened the book and began reading from the page where you left off. After scanning over the words printed on the novel, she set it down before letting out a huff of bittersweet amusement. Yup, this book was definitely hers now.
It was a mature novel. A damn fucking smutty novel.
"Mizu.." You called out, a sly yet playful look on your face. You walked over to her desk with the book in your hand, finger slipped in between the pages.
She looked up from the computations she was doing, head turning towards you. "What is it?"
Your hands opened the book, placing it on top of her notebook. Her eyes scanned the paragraphs you highlighted, eyes narrowing as she read out the graphic descriptions of the characters shoving their digits inside each other, each word describing the erotic sounds made and the intensity of the arousal the characters felt.
She gulped, swallowing the pooling saliva at the back of her mouth as she handed the novel back to you. "What...do you mean by this?" she asked carefully, cautious not to embarrass herself by revealing how the written scene made her feel some sort of heat between her legs.
Hands slipped down between her legs, eliciting a groan from the usually stoic woman as you slid your hands down. "Mizu." You bent down to her height and tossed the closed book on top of her desk, knocking the pens and pencils further back.
"I want to do that too."
You know where to find me And I know where to look
The scene replayed in her mind like a video tape. The way you looked at her with such want. The way she pushed you down roughly against the bed, hand taking off your dress with such desire she almost ripped it by the seams. The way your eyes looked up at her as if waiting for her to continue, demanding her to continue.
Your back arched against the mattress, hands gripping the sheets as you squeezed your eyes shut. "Fuck.." Mizu breathed out, watching the strap-on sink in to your glistening cunt. A choked back moan escaping your lips as you bit your cheeks in, tears springing from the corner of your eyes as the plastic stretched you further.
"Halfway in, dove." She groaned out, eyebrows furrowing as if she could feel you through the toy, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs harder.
Your eyes glanced at her before rolling back as she pushed the strap-on further inside, the pain of the stretch making you whimper. "W-Wait...please.." You moaned in a whiny, slightly pained manner, a hand moving from gripping the sheets to gripping Mizu's arm.
Her movements halted immediately upon feeling your nails against her arm, digging into it and creating crescent-shaped marks. Her eyes traveled from the pained-yet-pleasured expression on your face to your hole.
"Holy shit..." She whispered, pulling out a bit to see it clearly. Blood. You were fucking bleeding. "Dove...I'm so fucking sorry. I—"
She was cut off by you pulling her down for a kiss. Your hands wrapped around her as your nails dug on to her shoulder, eliciting a moan from her. Mizu had no idea you were a virgin. It was never a piece of information she had considered nor cared about until now. In fact, her concern was placed on the fact that you were bleeding.
Her eyes widened as she felt your legs wrapping around her back, pulling her closer and pushing the toy in more. "Take it..." You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck me...take me"
You were offering yourself to her, letting her take your first time.
Mizu's eyes narrowed, the feeling of worry disappearing as it was replaced by a carnal desire. Her hands gripped your trembling thighs harder as she lifted them up more and pushed you down further, almost knocking all the air out your lungs as she put you in a mating press position.
Her hips pushed the toy inside you, biting her lip at the wet squelching noise your pussy made. A moan escaped both your throats as the length of the toy was fully inside you. She paused for a moment before looking at you with narrowed eyes as if asking you for consent to continue.
The moment you nodded, she immediately pulled the toy almost all the way out before pushing it completely, eliciting a loud moan from you. Her hips continued to move, motion starting of slow but hard. The pain from your nails raking down her back stung, but she continued to move, not even bothering to move your hands.
How could she?
The sight of you taking her, all of her, like the good girl you are was scrumptious.
"Hurry...please.." You pleaded, thoughts blanking out as the pleasure overrode the pain you were previously in. Each thrust sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. The pleads coming from your mouth becoming incoherent as Mizu thrusts in faster and harder.
She gripped your chin, forcing you open your mouth before capturing you in another kiss. Her tongue exploring the caverns of your mouth, smiling slightly as she tasted you. Her eyes watching over your expression as she moved, taking in the way your eyes looked at her and the way it rolled back when she thrusted the dildo in roughly.
Your legs trembled as you continued to lock her in, pushing against her more. Incoherent moaning and whining mixed with low groans and grunts filled the room. The tightening feeling building up inside you as Mizu continued to move. Her thumb rubbed against your clit, making you moan almost desperately.
It didn't take long for your climax to come, a wave of pleasure bursting in you. She placed her hand against the small of your back as you arched against her. The way you closed your eyes shut, the way your eyebrows furrowed, the tears of pleasure that streamed down your face, the way your cheeks flushed. You were so fucking beautiful to her.
Mizu snapped back into reality, rubbing her face against the palm of her hands in frustration. The regret of breaking up settling in her. She stood up and placed the cigarette between her lips again. Her feet making no noise as walked over to the kitchen to grab the kitchen lighter she kept in cabinets, lighting the red and taking a puff out of it.
A groan escaped her lips as the self-hatred from making such a foolish decision sunk into her. After a moment of thought, she put on her dark biker jacket and a bunch of rings she put on as a habit before going out.
There was no way she'll let herself live in regret like this. Not after you let her take all of you.
Call it thieving, stealing, but she's taking back what's not hers.
Thievin', stealin', takin' what's not yours
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Just for Tonight
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Pairing: Matt Dierkes x f!reader
Word count: 4.5k
A/N: This is totally a self-indulgent one bed trope and my first official Matt fic. Hope yall enjoy!
Shout out to @the-way-of-words for all the support you give me writing these boys and fueling my unhinged Matt thoughts.
Warnings: cursing, sexually explicit content 18+ - Minors DNI!!! (Unprotected penetrative sex, oral f!receiving, digital penetration, overstimulation)
“And you’re positive there are no other rooms available?”
You’ve stood by and watched Matt battle it out with Susan, the graveyard shift receptionist at this Comforts Inn, for the past fifteen minutes. You find yourself here because the bus’s radiator decided to send an explosion of coolant without warning tonight. It was determined that the bus had to be serviced immediately to be operable by noon tomorrow to stick to the tour’s schedule. Left with no choice, because staying on a broken-down bus on the shoulder of a highway was not an option, Matt shuffled everyone off, ordered two Ubers, and sent everyone on their way to the nearest lodging off the interstate.
The universe had dealt a bad hand tonight. Smacked in the middle of a random weekend work convention, you come to find out there are limited rooms available. And with no bookings made in advance, you were shit out of luck. The guys, now scattered throughout the quiet hotel lobby, exhausted from being forced from their bunks, didn’t dare question Matt’s decision-making. The vein pulsing in his forehead might pop just like the bus’s radiator if one of you did.
Susan sighs, scraping whatever patience she has left to deal with him,  “I’m sure—“
He cuts her off, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Can you please check again?”
He already has the answer. Despite the night’s hiccups, she had miraculously found two available rooms for your group, one with two double beds and the other with one double and pull-out couch. Noah, Jolly, and both Nicks agreed that they could pair up together in the first room, leaving you and Matt with the second. 
Her burgundy-painted lips stay in that tight, thin smile, and she doesn’t even bother glancing at her computer screen one last time before answering him, “Sir, I assure you there are no other vacancies left. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. What I can offer is extra linens and bedding for the sofa bed.”
He lets his face fall into his hands and he starts to rub his temples after taking a steadying breath, grumbling with sarcasm layered thick on every word, “Oh, great. Nothing like sleeping on foam-covered metal springs all night. Will do wonders for my back….might as well sleep on the fucking floor.”
“Matt,” you hiss, scolding him while giving Susan an apologetic look.
“What?!” He spits back, shooting you an annoyed glare. You would spare a shred of empathy for him if you hadn’t been at each other’s throats most of this tour. In your head, he thought of you as another member of the crew and not the band, someone who could be easily replaced. He had reached the point where he no longer hid his disdain for you and it was no secret that he had half a nerve to leave you stranded tonight.
“Stop being a dick,” you whisper harshly through your teeth. The night has been nothing but a series of embarrassing events and you desperately needed the refuge of a hotel room. 
Instead of arguing with you, he blows out a heavy sigh and then digs out his wallet from his pocket, pulling out the band’s credit card to hand over. “We’ll take the two rooms, please.”
Susan plucks the metal Amex from his fingers and proceeds with the checking-in process. Relieved with the progress, you meander over to where the guys are sprawled out across the lobby couches to pass the time. 
You plop down in the open seat next to Folio, causing him to stir awake. “The rooms ready?” He asks in a groggy voice, stretching his arms above his head.
 You shake your head, answering, “Not yet. Matt’s finally getting us checked in though.”
He groans through his stretches, blinking the sleep from his tired eyes. “You okay being in a room with him? I can trade—“
“Nah,” you interrupt, waving him off. Your pride, or rather, your stubbornness, didn’t want Matt to see his effect on you.  “It’s okay. I think I can handle Matt for one night,” you laugh to add levity, but Folio's brows pull into a worried expression, revealing his doubt about the situation. “Thanks, though.”
“Alright, guys,” Matt announces, causing everyone to startle with his sudden presence. “You’ll all be in room 116. Here are the room keys,” he explains, passing everyone one of the plastic cards from the envelope for them to keep. “Her and I will be in room 323, which is up on the third floor. If anyone needs anything, shoot me a text. If I don’t respond, I’m dead to the world and you’ll have to fend for yourselves for a few hours. Otherwise, we’ll all meet back here in the morning around nine to see what’s up with the bus.”
The guys nod in agreement as they gather their things and head toward their room for the night. Folio tosses another silent offer to switch but you turn him down and mouth “goodnight”. Without warning, Matt swings his backpack over his shoulder and heads in the direction of the elevator.
The short ascent in the elevator is painfully quiet. It’s nearly one a.m. and small talk is irrelevant. Your clothes are damp from the rain, your feet ache and your eyes are starting to burn with fatigue. Nothing seems more enticing than the hotel bed waiting for you. 
You follow him, standing patiently to the side as he unlocks the door with his room key. The frigid air conditioning blasts you the second you step foot inside, chilling you to the bone instantly. Matt says nothing about the arctic temperature and slings off his bag onto the desk chair to work on setting up the pull-out bed. You sit on the edge of the double bed and watch him wrestle it open. The springs and metal frame creak and groan into place and the look plastered across his face shows he’s less than thrilled about the night of sleep ahead of him. 
“I can sleep on the pull-out,” you offer meekly, hoping it would soften the blow and diminish some of the tension in the room.
“No, it’s fine,” he dismisses, tossing a pillow onto the makeshift bed. He looks at you, asking, “Are you taking a shower?” You shake your head. “Do you mind?”
“No, go ahead.”
He nods, grabbing his bag before taking the bathroom. You use the time alone to go through your own bag, realizing that you didn’t pack another pair of pants to sleep in. You curse at Matt under your breath, blaming him for the rushed packing. The yoga pants you have on are wet from the rain, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep in the jeans that you brought. You shrug off your damp sweatshirt, unhook your bra, and change into one of the band tees from your bag.
Goosebumps rise across your exposed skin, sending you on the search for the thermostat. You find it in the corner, hidden behind a plastic lock box that needs a maintenance key to access. 
“What asshole set this to 60 degrees?!” You huff, throwing your arms in frustration. You could call, but you take the defeat on the chin because of how late it is. And you aren’t about to ask Matt to do it. You choose to just scroll on your phone while you wait for the bathroom to brush your teeth. Several minutes pass until the door finally opens and Matt walks out. He’s still dressed in his sweats, but his hair is now wet and combed through.
You sneak into the bathroom and finish your routine quickly to see that he’s already tucked beneath the covers and tapping away on his phone when you come out. Thinking he’s distracted, you hang up your sweatshirt on a hanger to dry before slipping off your wet yoga pants. 
He studies your actions in silent judgment before looking back to his phone. “How long are you going to be? I’m really trying to get to sleep soon.”
You roll your eyes and scoff, “It’s such a relief knowing my existence is a burden to you.”
You hear him sigh, “Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass all the time?”
The irony is amusing, making you let out a small giggle, “Oh, I see you’re having a moment of self-reflection.”
You turn to see that he’s watching you. You’re still pantless, but the black cotton briefs are less than sexy or revealing. There’s nothing sexual about the moment.
It’s Matt for fuck’s sake.  
Yet, you catch his stolen glance at your ass. He coughs to clear his throat, meeting your eyes, “What is it that you’re doing?”
“Are you going to wear that dumb hat to bed?”
His expression twists into one of confusion.“What?”
“I thought we were taking turns asking stupid questions,” you quip back. He just stares at you, more impressed than angry. You’ve left him speechless — no sarcastic remarks thrown your way. Where was your journal to write this down when you needed it? “My clothes are wet from the rain.”
“Did you not bring another set of clothes?”
“Just jeans.”
“Why…okay,” he trails off, shaking his head as if to get rid of the condescending remark that’s probably loading in his brain. “Do you want to borrow my pants?��
The gesture throws you off. He’s not one to go out of his way to show kindness to you. You’re immediately suspicious, asking, “Are they clean?”
“The ones I have on?”
“I don’t want to put on pants that have had your dirty junk all on them. Ball sweat and everything.” You respond, disgusted. You nearly laugh saying it, but the last thing you want to do is take him up on the offer. 
“I’m sorry… what?” He scoffs, pausing for a moment to process what you just said before adding, “Do you think my balls are just out—you know what, never mind.” He runs his hands over his face, forgetting that his hat is on his head, knocking it off. Annoyed, he tosses it off to the side and flips over to face away from you. 
The little bout of attitude from him almost makes you giggle. You half-expected him to flip you the bird through the exchange. After waiting a moment to see if he’ll say anything else, you decide to slip under the blankets of the double bed. 
“Goodnight, Matt,” you call out in a sweet voice before switching the bedside lamp off, casting the room in darkness.
“Night,” he mumbles back, leaving no room for more conversation. 
While you deal with the anxiety of being in a foreign room in a city you don’t know— with a man you don’t care for — and the looming thoughts about what the next day will look like, the cold air pumping into the room is a larger battle. You can’t decide if rubbing your legs together creates enough friction for heat, or if laying perfectly in a curled-up ball still will conserve it better. It becomes a mental game at a certain point, and the sleep you eventually find is not a deep one. 
You’re not sure how much time has passed when you feel a dip in the mattress and the shifting of body weight toward you. The covers are pulled away, waking you. “What are you doing?!” You snap, scooching to get away from him. 
He holds you down by your arm, stopping you from moving. You go rigid, stiffening at his touch. “Relax,” he instructs sternly but lets you go. “I’m just trying to warm you up. I can hear your teeth chattering from over there. I couldn’t get any fucking sleep.”
“Glad to know you’re still worried about yourself,” you state dryly. 
“Would you stop? I can go back over there if you want…”
“No, it’s okay.” You’re so cold your body is starting to ache, and this might be your only reprieve.
“Lay still.” He shimmies in closer but still not enough to touch you. It doesn’t take long for you to feel his body heat radiating off of him. While you and Folio have quite a platonic friendship, you could have begged him for a snuggle if it meant keeping you warm. With Matt, you didn’t know where the boundary stands. 
His proximity is distracting. You’re highly aware of your own body, and how consistent and normal your breathing is. It’s nearly impossible to relax knowing he’s lying beside you. You lay in silence, desperate for more of his warmth, but a shiver rolls through you — one that he notices. 
“You still cold?” He asks quietly. You nod, curling the duvet tighter around yourself. He turns onto his side and slides in close until he’s essentially spooning you. You might have fought it more, but you’re impressed with how easily his body fits with yours when he slots his leg between your thighs. He pulls you in tighter by draping his arm across your midsection with a blanket acting as a barrier. “Better?”
You can’t recall a time when you’ve even hugged him, and you doubt if there’s been a moment where you showed any physical affection toward him at all. Now you have your ass pressed against his crotch and his face buried in your hair. 
But you’re comfortable. Really comfortable. 
“Mmhmm,” you hum while your mind reels with how intimate this is. You fixate on how each of his sleepy breaths feels against you, how his long limbs are intertwined with yours, how warm his body is wrapped around you. 
You shift your body, nestling into the heat. It’s a mindless act, driven by the desire to warm yourself. You don’t even realize what you’re doing until you feel his hand grasp your bare hip.
”If you don’t stop wiggling your ass on me I’m going to pop a boner,” he warns matter-of-factly. While you can’t see it, you hear that smirk of his through the words. 
You flush with embarrassment from him catching you, snipping defensively, “I did not.” 
Which is a lie. 
You didn’t want to admit that you were definitely grinding yourself against him. The soft material of his sweatpants just feels so good on your bare skin, and you can’t help but notice how his groin fits so perfectly pressed into your ass.
To save face, you try to mock him, “Who the fuck says boner anyway? What are you, thirteen?”
He chuckles at the poor excuse of an insult, sending the throaty sound across your exposed ear. His hand hasn’t left your hip, resting there until you decide to shrug it off. You don’t. Your mind is busy thinking about his dick now. Curiosity around it has visited you before, but that part of his life has been locked up tight. 
After fighting your attempt to fall asleep for the last fifteen minutes, it burrows its way back into your consciousness, and soon your body starts to betray you while your thoughts become more and more depraved. You clench your thighs together in need, soaking your underwear just thinking about him. Realizing he’s not going to make the first move, you stretch back, pushing your ass into him with more purpose. He groans your name and squeezes your hip, rolling his own with your movements.
You feel the heavy twitch of his cock, but there’s some hesitancy from him, so he pauses. You shift your hips again, grinding into his lap to make your intentions clearer. He presses his fingers into your waist and drives his hard length against the curve of your ass. The pressure takes your breath away, forcing a moan free from your lips. 
Feeling emboldened, you wrap your hand around his, noticing how masculine his fingers feel under yours, and take it from its place on your hip. You slowly guide it up your body, slipping it under your t-shirt to lay it on your breast.
He shudders a breath the moment his hand makes contact with your supple skin, “Are you sure?”
It’s a loaded question, heavy with implications you can’t even begin to process. Logic should talk you out of it, but you’ve come this far and crossed over enough lines that there might be no going back. You want him— want to feel him fuck you.
You nod, answering, “Yes.”
He gives your tit a firm squeeze in his palm, circling your hardening nipple with a brush of his fingertips. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me, Matt,” you plead, turning your head to him, surprising yourself with how easily his name slips out. “Please.”
Within a split second, his lips crash into yours. He’s not gentle about the way he kisses you, nipping hard enough at your bottom lip to make you hiss from the sting. The bite seems fueled by the remaining annoyance he has for you, but it allows him to slide his tongue into your open mouth. You meet it with your own, letting him take the lead. There’s impatience in the heady kiss, but with the care to explore you for the first time. You quickly notice how much he uses his tongue, slipping it teasingly across yours. You catch hints of his mint toothpaste mixing with the taste of him. The way his soft lips match the movements of yours impresses you — makes you needy for more. 
His open hand has been rubbing across your chest, but then starts traveling down your stomach until he meets the waistband of your panties. His fingers skirt along the ticklish path of skin between your hips, making you squirm under his touch. His fingers roam over your covered core, feeling the damp fabric clinging between your thighs.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he sighs dreamily, diving his hand beneath your panties. He dips his middle finger through your folds, coating it in your slick. Shocked by how effortlessly it slips over your clit, a curse falls from his lips, “Holy shit.” 
“Oh my god,” you whine, grabbing his wrist to shamelessly buck into his palm for more. His following groan is buried in your neck, and he starts rutting against your ass for any source of friction. He circles his middle finger teasingly around your entrance before pushing it inside you. 
That’s when it starts to hit you. Here you are. Laying on a random hotel bed with Matt fingering you in the middle of the night. You wouldn’t have believed it in a million years if someone told you, and you hate how fucking good it feels.
“Fuck, your pussy’s so tight,” he breathes, slipping another in to curl against your g-spot. You hear it — the lewd sounds of your wetness around his fingers pumping in and out of you. 
You try to stay quiet, but your pitchy curses fill the room anyway. He retrieves his hand, but before you can complain about how empty you feel, he brings his fingers to his lips, tasting you off of them. “You taste fucking amazing, baby,” he hums, and the use of a pet name makes your head spin. He then hooks the band of your underwear and rips them off to slot himself between your legs. 
He balances his weight on an elbow and hitches one of your knees around his waist, lifting your hips for the perfect angle. You can’t see in the pitched black room, but you can feel him reach into his sweatpants to pull himself free. His breathing suddenly changes while his knuckles brush your soaked pussy with every stroke of his fist.
“Hurry, Matt. I can’t wait any longer,” you beg, reaching for him, sounding more pathetic than ever as you clench around nothing. He lets go of himself and takes your hand, bringing it to his waiting cock. You wrap your fingers around him, instantly realizing how big he truly is when they don’t meet. “Oh,” you gasp in shock even if his ego starts to make a little more sense now. You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Of course you have a huge dick.”
He huffs a laugh, but the sound evolves into a moan when you start to move your hand along his length. He’s so warm — suede-soft to the touch. It doesn’t last. You memorize what you can before he takes control, replacing your hand with his own. He sends the tip of his cock across your clit before he lines himself with your entrance. He stalls, sensing the anxiety in your body, and waits for you to relax.
“You ready?” He asks, revealing a new softness in his voice. 
“Yeah,” you answer, granting him permission to finally push himself inside you.
He’s careful stretching you out inch-by-inch through shallow thrusts until bottoming out completely. He rolls forward, nudging himself against your cervix, propelling a moan from your lungs. 
He grunts a curse, “Oh fuck, you feel good.” You search for his face in the dark, cupping it between your palms. If you could see his expression, you might’ve been too nervous to do so. You imagine it instead, letting the pad of your thumb sweep across his swollen bottom lip. He nips at the thin skin of your wrist before placing a kiss on your pulse point.  After needing the moment to adjust and for him to collect himself, he starts moving again, finding a steady rhythm within seconds. Despite his impressive size, he glides through the tight walls of your pussy wrapping around him.
Your restless hands have a mind of their own, roaming across the expanse of his back. You feel the muscles working and flexing with each deliberate thrust, and you realize he’s more toned than you expected as you explore his strong shoulders. 
He picks up his pace, and your coherent thoughts crumble apart. You’re not the most vocal in bed, but he’s changing that for you tonight. Cries and whimpers tumble from your open mouth, and there’s no doubt that they can be heard through the paper-thin hotel walls.
“You sound much prettier when you’re being fucked,” Matt teases against the shell of your ear, cooing sweetly, “Not so fucking annoying.”
“Yeah, and it’s better when you’re using your dick instead of your mouth.”
He nips at your ear before sucking at the vulnerable spot tucked behind it. The sensation is so overwhelming that you can’t bring yourself to care about the fushia-colored mark he’s creating. He soothes the sting with a roll of his warm tongue, responding with a confident lilt, “We’ll see about that.”
He shifts his weight, allowing space for his hand to snake between you. He finds your clit, circling over the sensitive bundle of nerves. You tremble from the contact, clutching onto him. He draws patterns over it with a feather-light touch, matching the movements of his hips to his fingers. 
It must be magic because the heat of your orgasm builds rapidly inside your belly. Your mind tends to wander during sex, but all you can focus on is him. He doesn’t allow your thoughts to drift, alternating between shallow half-thrusts and plunging deep, filling you completely. You chase the feeling, hoping that it never ends.
“Come on. Cum for me. I know you’re close,” he pants into the crook of your neck. The words stick to your tacky skin, and you worry how addicted you’ll become to it. “Be good for me.”
“Matt,” you whimper, balling his long hair within your fist. You’re trying to hold on as long as you can, but you’re teetering right on the edge. 
“Say it again,” he demands, slowing his fingers on your clit as a weak threat. “Say my name when you cum on my cock.”
“Please, Matt. You feel s-so g-good,” you stammer, clouded by your daze. He rewards you by picking up the speed again, and with a final thrust of his cock and fingers passing over your clit, you unravel in seconds. 
“That’s it, baby. Doing so good.” He praises while fucking you through your climax, dragging out each pump of his cock so you both feel everything. His efforts only go so far, and when it becomes too much and he starts to falter, he rushes to sit up and withdraw himself from inside you. Through his string of hushed curses and your name, you feel the warmth of his cum spilling down your cunt with each pump of his hand. 
You lay as still as you can, distracted by the pounding of your heart and the raggedness of your breaths. Thinking that he’s run to the bathroom for a hand towel, he surprises you by crawling down your body instead. He creates a path of open-mouthed kisses across your belly, letting his tongue trail behind them. Settled between your shaking legs, he licks a languid stripe up your center, cleaning his release from your flushed skin. 
Rattled with overstimulation, your hands dive into his hair. You don’t mean to pull as hard as you do, but he just groans in response as he holds your bucking hips down into the mattress. It would be torturous if it didn’t feel so heavenly. It’s consuming and dangerous, as if taking another shot when you’re already intoxicated. You’re drunk off the crushed velvet feeling of his tongue worshiping your pussy, a sinful, gluttonous sensation that almost makes you angry that you didn’t feel it before you came. 
“Matt!” you cry out of desperation. He doesn’t let you go — no matter how hard you yank at his hair or clench your thighs around his face. He’s determined to punish you, dragging you through another blinding orgasm without granting you an ounce of control. “Oh my god!”
The sound you let out is loud and primal. Once he feels you come down, he loosens his grip on your thighs and laughs, sending the heat of his breath across you. After a few chaste kisses, he makes his way back up the bed and lays beside you, catching his breath. 
“Shut up.”
He barks a laugh, causing the mattress to shake, “I didn’t say anything!”
You force yourself to sit up knowing if you don’t go to the bathroom now, you won’t bother. Shimmying to the edge of the bed, you throw your verbal jab over your shoulder, “Your thoughts are loud as fuck, you cocky bastard.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see his bright phone screen before you step into the bathroom. You flip on the light, startling yourself with your reflection. You look fucked out with how tangled your hair is, but you decide that’s a problem for the morning.
“The guys are gonna have a fucking field day with this one.”
“I swear to god, if you say one word to them, I’m smothering you in your sleep,” you warn, cringing at the thought of their reactions. Sure enough, a hickey is forming on your neck behind your ear. You curse at him under your breath and rub the splotchy skin with your fingers as if it will help, wincing at how tender it already feels. 
“They are going to take one look at us tomorrow and just know.”
TAGLIST:
@herskinfeelsunholy @the-way-of-words @sacredthefran @josiee-gvf @mydarlingdanny @capturethechaos @nolanpattycakess @heavens-hearken
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kaciebello · 2 days
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No need for mail
Masterlist
Badger express ★
Lorenzo Berkshire x Hufflepuff! reader (fem)
Summary: While doing a school project, Lorenzo tries his luck. With the help of the wind and the sun, he falls harder and harder.
 Warnings: no use of y/n, 
Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (T▽T) And just so you know, it always has been him. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ( and yes I know he's a slut, not here tho, maybe next time.)
word count: 1.1k
Song: Married In Vegas - The Vamps
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Light breeze messes with his hair. He does not care as much as his attention is on the mooncalf nest that rests below the cliff. The girl next to him is doing the same. Her hair is held together in a braid with a yellow ribbon wrapped into it. They are both lying down at the edge of the cliff, one wrong move and they would be rolling down. He turns his face to her.
“Why are we doing this?” He whispers, yes whispered as he has already been scolded once for speaking at his normal volume. Apparently, it would scare the weird animal away and that is not what they want.
“It's a school project, I told you that.” She says, her gaze not moving away from the big-eyed cows.
“I don't think Hagrid would care if we pulled everything out of a book.” He argues back but knows there is no way out of this. He's finally being let in on a Hufflepuff sacred. No wonder they always get the best marks in ‘care for magical beasts’. They simply just vibe with them. The girl just shook her head at him.
The girl scooted a little bit more over the edge. Lorenzo's hand flew over to her and grabbed the back of her shirt. For a witch, she does not have even an ounce of self-preservation in her body.  A small rock fell from their shuffling and landed near the nest. Scaring all the mooncalf, making them run and hide.
“look what you did!” the girl says and, with the help of Lorenzo, sits up.
“Me? I'm not the one trying to throw myself off the cliff!” he says, now too, sitting.
The girl scoffs and gets up to make her way over to the blanket where they set their stuff. He makes his way to her and sits down right next to her. Their knees touching. They both pulled out their notebook, he wrote down his observations and she finished her sketch of the animal.
Silence falls upon them as they both do their own thing. Lorenzo's eyes shift to see her sketch, only to see a familiar face. He does not know if he should call her out or not. But since he considered himself her best friend, a fact she constantly denies, he decided to do the first option.
“AYO, is that me!” Startled, the girl closes the notebook so fast it makes a thud so loud that he's certain the mooncalf all hid again. He tried to take the notebook from her, but she threw it on the other side of the blanket. She restraints one of his hands and the other one lands by her back.
When Lorenzo noticed how close they were, a smile crept on his face.  She noticed too, as his legs curled a little. She turns her body to face him more and places her other hand near his, probably so she can quickly grab it if he tries something.
He noticed her eyes were scanning his face. A breeze messes with his hair again. The girl blinks and lets his arm go, going to fix it for him. He places his, now free, arm on her thighs, squeezing them to make sure his arm lands where he wants it to without actually looking.
The two friends stay silent. Not an awkward one, but a comfortable one they always seem to find themself when they are together. 
“You're so pretty, I wish I could get you pregnant.” She breaks the silence. Lorenco can do nothing but chuckle. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. His arms now sneaking around her waist. Pulling her closer to his body.
“Ditto” He murmurs. He can feel her shake with laughter. She was now playing with his hair, something he could let her do all day if he could.  That's why he peels himself off of her. She just looked at him confused. Lorenzo just shakes his head and moves a little, before ploping his head down on her lap. He makes sure to grab her arms and slam it on his head for good measure.
She looks at him with a shocked expression before sighing. Nonetheless, she does what he wishes for and plays with his hair. He flashes her a smile full of pearly whites. 
“You're annoying.” She says looking down at him. he pokes her side making her squirm a bit.
“But you still love me.” he sings back to her. She does not answer to him. They fall into silence again. The girl is not looking at him. Something in the distance caught her attention. He did not mind, as if she were to look down on him, she would see a fool in love.
A sun framed her head and made it look like a halo. He was smitten.
“So you know how you just wanna be friends?” He says making her give him attention. Looking down at him her arm came to a stop.
“Yeah?”
“That's cool and all, but I'm like in love with you.” 
“Same” The girl just breaths out. Lorenzo did not expect her to say that. In a second he has decided he is not letting her change her mind.
He shoots up and cages her with one of his arms while the other one goes to her neck and pulls her closer. He does not give her a chance to register what is going on.
Their lips met, softly than someone would expect with how fast Lorenzo was with his moves. She took a few seconds before kissing him back, her arms cradling his face.
The kiss was sweet and slow, a fairytale-like.
Soon they ran out of breath, the girl gently pushing Lorenzo away as he tried to chase her into another kiss. Still, with closed eyes, he lends his forehead to hers.
“That was-” A low whistle cuts him off. Cursing under his breath, Lorenzo opened his eyes and straightened out. there stood four of his friends. A whine leaves him.
“AYO I DID NOT KNOW YOU HAVE A GAME LIKE THAT.” Draco makes sure that he can be heard all the way back to Hogwarts. Multiple praises and hollers sound on the little cliff they found themself on.
All the boys make their way to Lorenzo, lifting him up and repeatedly tossing him in the air. All he could do was catch a glimpse of the girl with a yellow ribbon in her hair laughing. Not even noticing the love note falling out of his pocket and getting lost in the wind.
tag list: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff , @deluluassapocalypse
126 notes · View notes
1d1195 · 15 hours
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Ding - Round 1
I had this little idea. The meeting came to me in a dream, no word of lie. Classic little trope, I know. I'm hoping to work in some smuttier things down the line. Hope I do it justice and you like it 💕 Erring on the side of caution; probably not suitable for Ramadan
You'll be able to read the rest here eventually: Ding
~3.8k words
As she did the wind took her door not much, nor hard but enough to bump into the car beside her.
The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes, still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.
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It was cold and rainy all day long. It made her want to curl up in a ball with a good book on her sofa and not get up for hours and hours. The kind of day where she wished she wasn’t an adult, and she was back home. Back when her dad would make her hot chocolate, they would watch old movies, and he would give insider information into all the hubbub that happened behind the scenes. How the actors interacted and when the props failed or something of that nature.
Her father was a great film critic. But he always said “even ‘bad’ movies have good.” She had seen tons of movies. Summers during school were filled with at least one movie a night. Sick days were made for marathoning series. When they weren’t watching movies, he was taking her to baseball games, teaching her how to cook—“the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, honey”—and making sure that she knew how to be spoiled by any man that deigned to enter her life. She was handy around the house and fiercely independent.
As much as she enjoyed cooking with her dad, baking was her real passion. She loved the science of baking: how butter affected cookies, temperature changed the consistency of cakes, and nothing made her happier than playing with baking powder and baking soda to change the rise of her pastries.
It led her to this spot. This little bakery. School for business and plenty of classes on cooking and baking. At the age of twenty-seven she was extremely lucky; for the last three years her business had been so successful. It was in local and state magazines about a hot spot for tourists and one of those shops that everyone just loved.
She wished her dad could see it but knew he would be proud of her regardless.
A strong gust of wind pulled her from her thoughts. There was a late-night closing report she needed to go over—a favor to her regular closer who needed to get home to her little baby. But really, A Pinch of Sprinkles was her baby and she loved to be in the little shop that smelled like the cupcakes she loved making.
She zipped her coat up, pulling her hood over her hair. It was hardly any further than a 40-yard dash to her little bakery door but in a steady rain like this, she thought not even her rubber boots would be enough to keep her dry for the short little sprint she would have in just a moment. She thought of her dad again, who would have run around to her door and held an umbrella over her head before getting out in the rain. With a deep, sad sigh, she braced herself, opened her door and reached for her umbrella and purse on the passenger seat.
As she did the wind took her door. It wasn't much, nor hard to create real havoc, but enough to bump into the car beside her. “Fuck,” she hissed getting out quickly, her belongings be damned her hair getting wet and stringy almost immediately. She slammed her door shut, turned to the car beside her, and made eye contact with the person in the driver’s seat. Her lips parted slightly, heart hammering in her chest. There was hardly anything more than a bit of a ding on the the stranger's car but the unmoving gaze that returned from the front seat intimidated her immensely.
The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.
It felt like thunder was inside her chest, the way her heart was thudding against her ribs. An intimidating man, his hair not quite buzzed off but not quite much more than an inch or two long, deep, soulful eyes. His gaze didn’t drop from hers. It was like he was having a staring contest.
“I... am... so sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t afraid to admit she was terrified. It wasn’t that she was terrified of men. But in a dark parking lot and someone who looked so intimidating... well it was a modern-day-female nightmare.
The man smiled and suddenly he was no longer intimidating. Dare she say, he was even cute. The left half of his mouth quirked up and he glanced down at his hands on the steering wheel, tapped a quick rhythm on it, and turned back to her. “S’okay,” he shrugged, rolling the window back up. He stepped out into the rain in the same motion, rain not bothering him as it began to soak his hair and slid down his face. The man was gorgeous. A walking ad for raincoats and umbrellas. He meandered over to where she stood. Her heart still pounded now for an entirely new reason. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reached for the blemish on his car. “See, jus’ a ding,” he rubbed his fingers over the little indent a few times before turning back to meet her gaze again.
His grin was adorable.
The air came out of her in a whoosh loud enough to rival the one that took her door right into his car. “I’ll pay for it to be fixed,” she promised.
He chuckled. “S’fine, love,” he assured her. “S’jus’ a ding,” he repeated with a shrug.
By now she was drenched. It wasn’t a downpouring, but the steadiness of the raindrops won out. Without any regard to how she was stood still between the two cars—soaking the inside of her seat as well—he leaned in, grabbed her purse, umbrella and closed the door behind him. Honestly, it didn’t even cross her mind that he was going to rob her. That alone should have raised about ten alarm bells in her head. Instead, for whatever reason, she felt safe.
He handed her own bag to her. It felt so strange. Like she didn’t know what to do with it. He paid no mind to her uneasiness. Without any acknowledgment of their weird meeting and their even weirder interaction thus far, he opened the umbrella and held it over the pair of them to keep a little dryer—even though they were both already soaked.
“Let’s go,” he put a hand on her lower back to usher her out from between the cars.
Reality and her brain finally restarted in her head. “Excuse me? Go where?”
He shrugged. “Well... y’did ding m’car. Assumed y’could at least come with me.”
“Come with you where?” She repeated incredulously.
“Oh right, sorry. D’you have plans? A date?”
“Well...no...”
“Great,” he tiled his head in gesture toward their current path, the opposite direction of her bakery.
“Can you tell me where it is you want me to go?” But she was already following the gentle touch on her back to keep her moving in his current direction. She should have felt unsafe. This was unnatural. How could she not be scared?
He pointed at the municipal building—it was old and pretty. Pretty typical for a little tourist area. Lights caught the raindrops that fell to the ground that hung from ancient looking black iron sconces. Steps up to the main doors were cobblestone and probably brand new as they were replaced over the years. Back in the day it was probably home to many rousing mini-city debates. It was hard to imagine back then it would ever become the bustling little tourist center it was at present. “Y’ever been in?” He asked.
She shook her head. It was like he was a truth serum wrapped in a hot body. There was nothing to explain her reasoning to answering him. “Not since I was little. My dad took me to a magic show here.”
“Well, s’not quite as magical, but s’a fight tonight.”
“A fight?”
“Boxing.”
“Boxing?” She repeated.
“M’not trying t’be rude, are y’hard of hearing?”
“What? No,” she shook her head, confusion coloring her features. “Why?”
“Y’keep repeating everything I say,” his ever-present half-smile was mocking her.
She scowled at him, shook her head again, and halted them in the middle of the rainy sidewalk. “Please stop walking. I’m so confused,” she put her hands on her temples. Why was she even following him? She didn’t need to be with him right now. She could have walked the other direction just as easily and told him to take a hike.
“Mmm... I’d rather not, I’ve got t’get ready,” he explained inching further along the path with the umbrella in his hand still. “M’on the first card.”
“Let’s try this again,” she stood her ground. Deciding now that if he were a serial killer, it would be too late but at least she could have the satisfaction of trying. “I don’t know your name and contrary to my current actions I'm actually very wary of strangers. But I own the bakery right over there in the main square. I was going to run the closing report. I’ll wait there until your fight is over,” she suggested--where she at least had security cameras set up and would have proof of a stranger murdering her with a baking sheet. “You can come get my insurance info then,” she spun quickly away from him, and started back toward the direction of the bakery; he could keep the umbrella.
“Your bakery?” He asked, following her a few paces back.
“Yes. A Pinch of Sprinkles. It’s right over there,” she gestured to the main bustling little square.
“You own the bakery: A Pinch of Sprinkles?”
“Are you hard of hearing?”
He snorted at her and smirked once more. “Alright,” he sighed holding his hands up in surrender. “M’Harry. M’in a boxing match tonight. M’normally in there by now getting ready. But this really pretty girl dinged m’car,” his smile was so boyish for someone who scared the lights out of her only minutes before. “And y’did kind of promise t’come with me as payment,” he looked at her knowingly.
“I did not promise that,” her tone was defensive. “I said I would pay for the dent to be fixed.”
“I know y’did. S’very nice of you. S’not what I want. This is how I want you t’pay me.”
“By coming to watch your fight?”
He nodded eagerly. But she saw his eyes scanning her. He was still holding her umbrella while she continued to get soaked. Her dad would have a conniption at the sight of a stranger holding her umbrella and not keeping her dry. But it didn’t bother her. If anything, she kind of liked it if only because it gave her a chance to look at how adorable he was holding her flowery umbrella when she knew the embodiment of intimidation was going to punch someone at three-minute intervals.
Harry stepped closer, bringing her back under the umbrella. “Look... If y’really need t’go to your bakery, then no, of course m’not going t’stop you. But if it can wait, then s’how y’can repay me,” he shrugged. They were huddled close together under the umbrella. Her hair was a wet stringy mess. She knew very little about boxing. Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Rocky and The Eye of the Tiger. That was about the extent of her knowledge. Boxing wasn’t one of the major sports her dad imparted his wisdom about to her.
“You want me to go to your fight as payment for your car dent?”
“Are y’going t’jus’ keep saying the same thing as me but as a question all night?” She knew she was repeating herself again. She pursed her lips to refrain from asking another question. “C’mon, Cupcake... m’really starting t’run late here,” he pointed to his wrist with an imaginary watch.
Cupcake.
What was she getting herself into?
She took a deep breath trying to calm the bit of nerves. “I’m not really a go with the flow kind of girl. I have a lot of questions.”
He smiled sweetly. Nodded like he expected such an answer, like he knew her already. “M’sure you do,” he agreed. “But... I really need t’go in. Like right now. Louis is going t’kill me if I don’t appear in front of him four minutes ago. When the fight’s over, I’ll walk y’to A Pinch of Sprinkles. We’ll run y’closing report and I’ll answer every question y’have.”
It took every bit of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from repeating him again. We. “There’s also the whole... I don’t know you at all, thing,” she reminded him stepping out from the umbrella again. “Seems like a bad idea on my part.”
It was almost moot though. Even she heard the way her voice sounded like she was caving as she said it. He stepped closer again. “You’re right. S’good instincts that I admire y’have,” he held his phone out to her, the screen catching a few drops of rain. “S’my niece,” he told her of the baby on the lit screen. She was only a few months old based on the picture. “She’s got me wrapped around m’finger and she’s barely old enough t’even see me and know m’holding her. Least that’s what m’sister Gemma says,” he shrugged. The adoration, the love in his voice made her stomach flip. It was unbelievably adorable this scary man was in love with a little baby. His voice was so sweet, it made her feel at ease. “I grew up with Mum and Gemma,” he looked her squarely in the eye. “I know m’about t’go in there and punch another grown man, but m’not dangerous. Especially not towards a girl who parked in a dark parking lot who owns a bakery with a sprinkles pun," her heart softened. “I know y’have questions, Cupcake. But I really need t’go in there,” he was growing the slightest bit impatient. “Louis is gonna send Niall out looking for me and then m’screwed. I need y’decision either way.”
It was perhaps her dumbest idea ever. Even stupider than when she tried to make peanut butter cookies without peanut butter to make them allergy friendly. “Are you going to win?” She asked.
He chuckled. “Think so. Especially if you’re there as m’good luck charm," he winked.
When she thought about this in the future or when she ended up on a true crime TV episode, it would be this moment that thousands and millions of people would say "how could she be so stupid?"
But she started for the building ahead of him, anyway. He fell into step beside her holding the umbrella over her again. “Probably not a good idea to put stock into me when I just dented your car.”
“S’jus’ a ding, Cupcake,” he smiled. “Something t’remember y’by.”
She couldn’t believe how quick and flirtatious he was. He knew all the right things to say and wasn’t even the least bit nervous it seemed. When he went into the ring or something she would have to Google his name and see if she accidentally made a fool of herself talking to a professional boxer. “You’re something else.”
They entered the building from a back door guarded by a man who gave Harry a nod as he ushered the sweet girl inside. “You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?” A blonde man with an Irish accent asked, running his hand through his hair right as the guard at the door pulled the door shut from the outside. “I was just about to go see what happened this time,” he started back down the hall, deeper into the building. “He’s losing his mind,” he warned.
Harry shrugged. “Met a girl,” he smiled back at her. “She owns the bakery. She’s gonna be my good luck charm”
“Oh, you’re the reason for my freshman fifteen,” the blond man wiggled his eyebrows at her as he turned to her as well.
“Cupcake, this is Niall, he’ll keep an eye on you,” he assured her.
“Cupcake, hmm?” Niall chuckled. “Louis’ gonna kill you,” he skipped ahead of Harry. “Found him!”
“Harold you better have been held at gunpoint!” The shout was nearly hysterical as they approached the open room.
“He was just talking to Cupcake,” Niall was nearly giggling. Louis, she presumed, wasn’t the least bit amused. His face was hard. His blue eyes cold, his jaw as sharp as his words.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snapped. “Get your fucking clothes on,” he ordered.
Harry rolled his eyes and winked in her direction. “Hold this for me?” He asked, handing her his phone. The picture of the little babe illuminated the screen and a message from Mum was previewed on the screen so she couldn’t help but read, “Good luck honey bunny!” With about ten four-leaf clover emojis and just as many hearts. It warmed her heart so much to see the message on this scary man’s phone. She had doubts now that he was going to murder her later. A murderer wouldn’t have a supportive mom like that, right? Or a picture of their niece as their phone background? “See y’in a bit, Cupcake,” he gave her arm a squeeze and leaned her umbrella beside the door leading into the next room.
Niall was sipping a beer from a clear cup. “Y’ready, Cupcake?”
She snorted, sticking his phone into her purse alongside hers and nodded. “Sure. M’gonna have a lot of questions.”
He laughed. “Well, I have a lot of questions for you,” he promised pushing a set of double doors and into a thrumming, crowded arena.
It was definitely not a magic show.
Blinking, Niall put a gentle hand on her back and leaned toward her ear so she could hear better. “How do you know Harry?”
“I don’t,” she shouted back to be heard over the crowd. There were people getting things set up, announcements being made, and the like. There were people cheering and she couldn’t believe how big the boxing ring looked. The only boxing ring she had ever seen was the one in Rocky. Moreover, the only thing she knew about that ring was that the audience in the movie was given a free chicken dinner for showing up to the arena and they dimmed the lights, so it looked like more people were there. “My car door hit his car.”
“You hit Clay?”
“Who’s Clay?”
“His car!”
“He named his car, Clay?”
“Like Cassius Clay?”
Again, she didn’t know much about boxing, but she realized immediately that Harry named his car after the greatest heavyweight boxer ever. Oh, Lord. What did you get yourself into? She thought to herself. “Er… yeah… I guess so.”
“And he didn’t...” Niall drifted off curiously. “Hmm,” it seemed he surmised something in his head but didn’t let her in on the secret. He gestured to a chair that was front and center of the corner of the ring for her to sit. He took the seat beside her and leaned close as she spoke to him again. “How do you know Harry?”
“We’ve been best friends since Uni,” he shrugged. “Been icing his bruises for years.”
She nodded. “I see. Are you recently graduated? You said freshmen fifteen?”
Niall laughed. It was contagious. Made her feel safe still. The whole last ten minutes were surreal. She really followed a stranger to a boxing match. She was sitting with his best friend asking questions about someone she hardly knew. “Just a joke, Cupcake. You are single handedly responsible for my recent weight gain since you moved into town. Well, you and that Irish soda bread you made last March. It tasted like home.”
“Really?” She asked excitedly. “I was so nervous about it!”
Talking about sweet treats and breads and cupcakes was more her speed. “Oh, it was perfect, Cupcake. Rivaled my nan’s.”
Well, maybe Harry wasn’t so scary.
At least his friends were nice. Although... “Louis hates me, doesn’t he?” The thought of someone hating her, even though she didn't even know him made her sad.
Niall rolled his eyes. “No, he’s just so sick of Harry being late. Thinks because he’s undefeated on this circuit he can do whatever he wants.”
“Undefeated?” She was grateful Harry wasn’t there to hear her question repeating the same thing Niall said again.
“Not much of a boxer are you, Cupcake?”
“No,” she shook her head. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”
He chuckled. “Harry’s very good. You’ll see.” Clearly. What did he need a good luck charm if he was already undefeated. She really needed to research him.
As if he heard his own name, he dropped into the seat across from her. It would be inside the ring between rounds but for now it allowed him to gaze at the pretty girl he met moments before. “Hi Cupcake,” his smile was sugary—and she knew sugar.
“Hi,” she murmured, willing her eyes to stay focused on his face and not his bare torso. A litany of tattoos painted his skin and a pair of vines dipped into the band of the shorts he wore. Everything was black. His shorts, his tattoos, his shoes, and his gloves. She could see tape going up half the length of his forearm keeping the bottom of his gloves in place.
“That’s a record for you getting ready. Must be your good luck charm,” Niall nudged her with his elbow. “Didn’t I tell you those soda breads were delicious?”
Harry kept his eyes on her and nodded. “Y’did.”
“Told you,” Niall assured her.
“Wouldn’t shut up ‘bout them,” Harry was unmoving, his body, his gaze. His phone was in her purse. He was looking at her like she was pretty, and she knew her makeup and hair was ruined by the rain. “M’a bigger fan of those raspberry filled cupcakes of yours,” he told her. “S’like heaven in a cupcake.”
“Harry, I swear to God!” Louis shouted.
Harry smiled ruefully, winked at her again and finally moved, heading back toward the sound of Louis’ voice. “Niall, don’t let her leave, yeah?”
Niall saluted him and she watched him leave again. She cleared her throat, turning in her seat toward the door, she exited to get to her ring-side seat. “Good luck, Harry,” she called, unsure if he would hear her over the building crowd.
Harry turned back right as he got to the door and winked again. “Thanks Cupcake,” he called back loud enough for everyone to hear that he was talking to her. Niall chuckled, shook his head, and put a friendly arm across the back of her chair.
He was kind enough to lean to her ear so that others wouldn’t hear the next thing he said because it made her blush and nearly melt to the floor right in front of Harry’s best friend and the very ring, he would be punching another grown man in just a few minutes. “Hope you like your boyfriends like your frosting, Cupcake. Because that man is already whipped for you.”
--
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cillmequick · 3 days
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Contrary to what the rest of my blog might seem, this is still a Cillian Murphy blog and not a Slow Horses one 😂 But if you’re interested I’m having a tiny Slow Horses/Jack Lowden hyperfixate and you can read some smutty fun with him HERE 😉 Anyway, here’s what most of you came here for - enjoy! 🤭 Remember, comments are love 🤍
Summary: With Cillian back in America again, Mrs M is back home in Dublin dealing with Eoin’s move alone and the various emotional challenges this presents.
Warnings: None really except the difficulties of shared parental arrangements and dealing with the ex when your husband is away.
Word count: 2742 PART 8 | SERIES
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ix. Tuesday 20 February
In her little attic office, Y/N was doing her best to focus on the plans for one of her author’s upcoming book tours. Yawning widely for the third time in as many minutes, she sighed, pushing her chair back and gathering her coffee cup. Shoving her phone in her pocket she trudged down to the kitchen in search of more caffeinated motivation.
Hangovers over the age of forty really were no joke. They had both felt like shit the day before - the high of his win giving way to regret over forgetting that they weren’t young enough to party and then stay up fucking until nearly 2am. It had been all she could do to get herself on her short Ryanair flight back to Dublin whilst he went to sleep it off on his first class flatbed trip to New York.
Closing her eyes, she leaned heavily against the kitchen counter as she waited for it to brew. Her phone vibrated against her bum and she groaned, only opening her eyes when she had fished it from her pocket.
Aoife’s name leapt off the screen, jolting her back to wakefulness.
Eoin says he’s spoken to you about moving in today. Can you come and pick up his stuff later on? Or do you need me to bring it round?
Hello to you too, Y/N snarked in her head and then immediately kicked herself for being tired and grumpy and unkind.
Hi - yes he has. No problem, I can come and get it. What time suits best?
The ticks turned blue but nothing happened. She sighed, stirring a sugar into her drink, wincing against the heat as she took a sip.
Whenever works for you.
She winced again, this time at the forced civility between them.
*****
At the usual time that afternoon, Eoin came clattering in through the front door, sending the dog into a pitter patter of excited barking.
“Hello?” he called, wandering through towards the kitchen, Scout bouncing along next to him.
“M’in here,” she mumbled back, pouring milk into his drink.
He stopped fussing Scout to look at her, chuckling.
“Late night was it on Sunday?”
She threw him a look and he grinned.
“A little tired and emotional are we, step-mother?”
She gave him the finger as she passed him his mug, settling on one of the stools by the island.
“One day you’ll be as decrepit as me and you’ll understand.”
“Still can’t believe you cried on national telly.”
She rolled her eyes, reaching down to pet the dog who had come to hover by her knees, heavy tail thumping against the cupboards. In solidarity she might hope, but it probably had more to do with the fact that she was the one with the biscuits. Breaking off a corner of one without chocolate, she slipped it to him, much to his delight.
“Well that’s your father, isn’t it? Always driving me to tears.”
He nodded sagely in sympathy before they both cracked into smiles.
“Your mum texted - she wants to know when I’m coming to get your stuff. What do you want to do?”
He shrugged in the manner of all teenage boys everywhere.
“We can go now, or wait til later?”
“Might as well get it done.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll tell her now.”
“Alright, well get that down you and we’ll go. I just need to check some emails quickly first.”
*****
Being in Aoife’s house was always a strange and slightly awkward experience for Y/N. Mercifully, Aoife was still at work, so she had managed to avoid any immediate weirdness and having to behave like a grown up in her exhausted state. But being in this place that used to belong to her husband was always a little surreal. She found it hard to picture him in these surroundings - everything so neat and orderly. So pale and pastel.
Their own house was awash with colour and light and chaos. Dog toys, and manuscripts in haphazard piles, books that refused to be contained by their shelves, fighting for space against his uncontrollable music collections. Cheerful bunches of bright, fresh flowers and always music filtering from some part of the building.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry anything down?” she called up from the hallway, fidgeting with her wedding rings.
He appeared at the top of the stairs, dark head barely visible above a pile of belongings in his arms.
“Nah, only one more bag after this lot,” he replied, voice muffled as he used his chin to stop a book from sliding away.
She sent him back in for the last of it as she tried packing the latest pile into the boot, grateful she’d been clever enough to bring the bigger of their cars - it would have been a mission with the Mini. Apparently, although the kids kept a lot of stuff at their house, there was a real difference between the place they stayed for weekends and the home they lived in most of the time. Bags of clothes, books, games and whatever else teenage boys require (something she didn’t want to delve into too deeply) were crammed into the boot.
“That’s it,” he announced with a slightly breathless huff, a last holdall thudding to the ground.
“It’ll have to go in the back - I think this is full.”
He was just shoving it into the back seat when Aoife’s car pulled in.
Fuck… cursed Y/N in her head, pasting on a neutral smile. She was too tired for a fight.
“Hiya,” she called as the slight woman got out of her car, running her fingers through her straight blonde hair.
“Hi.” She smiled tightly, turning her attention to her son. “Have you got everything?”
He shrugged, hands shoved deep in his pockets in a manner uncannily like his father. “Think so.”
“It’s not like you won’t be back very soon,” smiled Y/N and Aoife glanced at her, nodding a little uncertainly.
“Cillian says you’re going to LA at the weekend?”
Oh had he? How kind of him… she made a mental note to kick him for dropping her in it.
“It’s the SAG awards - I wasn’t going to but..” She waved her hand, not really wanting to explain their recent difficulties to his ex. “He wanted someone there.” She tried to laugh it off. “You know, the delicate egos of actors, they need the reassurance.”
Aoife frowned and she babbled to recover the situation. “I mean, I want to be there of course - it’s so lovely and exciting that he’s getting the recognition he deserves.”
Eoin shot her a look and she stuttered to a stop, warmth flooding to her cheeks.
“Yes. It is,” said Aoife quietly, expression unreadable, eyes distant. “He should be very proud - he’s earned it.”
Slightly taken aback by her softness, Y/N was lost for words and Eoin cleared his throat.
“We should get going - I need to go and meet Finn soon.”
Aoife nodded, blinking back into the present. “See you next weekend then.”
Y/N could see a brightness in her lashline as she moved to try and give him a hug, and quietly got into the car, giving mother and son a moment of privacy.
*****
She’d brought her laptop downstairs, trying to work whilst also making a start on dinner - something that meant she did neither particularly effectively - when the door opened again.
How strange to have people in the house and not just herself in the evening. It had been weeks since Cillian had been properly home during the week, and not just crashing in London.
“Hiya,” she called distractedly, hissing as she almost chopped her finger instead of an onion because she was reading an email.
“Hiya.”
She whirled around sucking her finger, surprised to find her youngest step-son in her kitchen.
“What are you doing here??”
“Well that’s nice. I can go if you want?” he grinned, coming to give her a hug. “Can I stay for tea?” His older brother appeared behind him, catching her look of concern over Finn’s shoulder.
“I asked mum and she said if it was ok with you then it’s fine.”
“Of course it’s ok with me, it’s lovely to see you.”
“Do you want me to take the dog for a walk?” asked Eoin, Scout immediately perking up at the W-A-L-K word.
“I think we agreed that was your job til Dad gets back, yes,” she grinned. “Are you going with him?” she asked Finn who was fidgeting slightly beside her.
“I think I’ll stay here - it’s raining.”
Eoin rolled his eyes and disappeared off to gather Scout’s lead.
“Put the coat on him - I don’t have the energy to bath him tonight!” Y/N called after him.
“You alright, love?” she asked more quietly as the front door banged shut, pushing her laptop closed and returning to chopping veg, with slightly more care for her appendages. Finn shrugged and shuffled over to get himself a glass of water. She didn’t fill the silence, she just kept quietly chopping, letting him come to her, if he wanted to.
“How come Eoin gets to come and live here but I don’t..?”
Ah, there it was. She’d wondered if this might be coming.
“Do you like… want him here more than me or something..?” His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. A quiet fragment of his younger self.
She stopped abruptly, the knife dropping to the chopping board.
“Of course not - not in a million years.” She pulled him into a hug, having to make do with him resting his chin on her head because even at fourteen (almost fifteen) he was already much taller than her.
“Dad and I love you - both of you - so, so much.”
“So why does he get to live here and I don’t?”
She drew back so she could look at him, running a hand over his light brown hair, pushing it out of his eyes.
“Because what Eoin needs right now is a change so he can focus on his exams.”
Finn nodded slightly. “He and mum fight a lot.”
Y/N smoothed her hand over his shoulder. “That’s what happens sometimes - you should have seen me and my mum when I was your age. But it didn’t mean I didn’t love her. And so for right now, since he has the choice to have a slightly different living arrangement, this makes sense. But just because it makes sense for him, doesn’t mean it would be right for you too.”
“But if I wanted to, I could..?”
She eyed him seriously. “Do you want to live here..?”
He shrugged slightly but his eyes slipped away.
“Sweetheart, if you really wanted to, then Dad would need to have a chat with your mum. But this is your home, just as much as Mum’s house, ok? Always will be. It just might be a bit more complicated…”
“‘Cause of the legal stuff?”
She nodded, leaning back against the counter. “Doesn’t mean it couldn’t be done, it’s just not really a thing we had to look into because Eoin’s older. So the truth is that I don’t really know what would have to be done, if anything.” She shrugged. “It’s all unchartered territory for us.”
“And if I want to stay with mum that’s ok though?”
“Of course it is. It’s not like it’s a competition where whoever you live with you love more. Love doesn’t work like that - there’s enough to go round. All we care about is that both of you are happy.”
He nodded, absorbing this thoughtfully, contemplating his socks for a moment. Eventually he looked up and she braced herself for more.
“Can I play Xbox til dinner?”
She rolled her eyes and went back to the chopping board.
“Not if you haven’t done your homework yet.”
He huffed loudly and she turned. “Oi, if you were at Mum’s you’d be doing your homework and not playing games. Same rules apply here mister.”
“Fine,” he sighed, managing to put several more syllables into the four letter word than usually existed.
“You can do it down here and I’ll help if you like.”
He disappeared to the hallway, returning with his school bag and slumped down at the kitchen table.
“What’ve you got?”
“Maths,” he intoned dully, thumping books onto the table as though they had personally offended him.
Shit, Y/N thought, maths being her definite weak spot. Where the fuck was Cillian when she needed him?
*****
Leaving Eoin unpacking his stuff, she drove Finn back round to Aoife’s later that evening. As she parked up and he wrestled with his many bags from the boot, the front door opened, light and warmth spilling out into the chilly evening.
Seeing Aoife at the door, Y/N got out - not wanting to be considered rude - pulling her hood up against the light drizzle that had begun again. She followed Finn as he clattered towards the house, fixing a smile on her face.
“Hi mum, night Y/N,” he grinned, waving awkwardly under his belongings.
“Night kiddo,” she replied as Aoife shifted aside to let him in and he disappeared into the house without a further backwards glance.
“Sorry it’s probably a bit later than expected - maths homework took longer than anticipated,” she apologised hurriedly. “Anyway, it’s freezing so I’ll let you get in.”
She turned to go but Aoife’s quiet voice stopped her.
“Y/N..?” She waited, seeing the other woman’s hands twisting awkwardly in front of her. Finally she looked up properly and met Y/N’s eye. “Is he..?”
“He’s fine,” she smiled. “Unpacking as we speak.”
Aoife nodded, a sad smile just twitching her lips.
“Look, Aoife, I’m sorry. I know how hard this must be and I’m so sorry it happened like it did. He came to me and I didn’t know what else to say except that we’d discuss it. And for what it’s worth, Cill didn’t want to ask you about it over the phone. But he’s not here again for another week at least and it didn’t seem fair to leave Eoin hanging like that.. but I’m sorry… And I promise we’ll make sure he focuses and works hard…”
She petered out, fearing she may have overstepped.
“I know,” replied Aoife softly, arms folding around her middle. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”
Y/N frowned, hugging herself too, more for warmth than comfort, wishing she’d brought her gloves.
“It really isn’t.”
“No it is. I know what I’m like sometimes.”
Y/N stepped a little closer and shook her head. “He’s a teenager, Eef. It’s just hormones and teenage angst. He loves the bones of you, I promise. This is just..” she cast her hand through the air, “something he thinks he needs right now. It’s not anyone’s fault.”
Aoife eyed her carefully and again, Y/N quailed slightly under her pale blue stare.
“You’re doing a lot of this on your own at the moment, aren’t you?”
Whatever she’d expected Aoife to say, that certainly wasn’t it but she nodded.
“It just is what it is right now,” she shrugged. “We just have to get to the far side of Oscars weekend and it’ll go back to normal.”
“I thought that too, or at least a version of it without the Oscars,” replied Aoife quietly. “Be careful.”
Y/N compressed her lips and bit back the irritation that threatened to unleash itself from her tongue. She knew she probably meant well.
Didn’t she?
“Nothing to worry about,” she forced a smile. “Just one of those things.” Aoife studied her and she blew out a breath, clouding the air in front of her. “Anyway, I better run before we both freeze to death out here.”
The other woman seemed to rouse herself, shaking her head slightly. “Yes, of course. Sorry. Thanks for feeding them and dropping him back. Night.”
Y/N waved a quick goodbye and hurried back to the car, wasting no time in getting the heaters running and pulling away from Aoife’s gate.
As the dark streets slipped by she gripped the steering wheel and fumed quietly. She would not let Aoife Carmichael get in her head. Hadn’t Cillian himself said he could see the signs and taken steps to make it up to her? Their marriage was nothing like his previous one.
Was it?
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Ooooh…. not sure she’s entirely succeeding in not letting Aoife get to her, is she? 🙈 I live for your feedback so please do come at me in all the usual ways my loves 🤍 xxx
Masterlists: CILLIAN | LOCKDOWN | MAIN
There’s oodles more content for this family in the Lockdown list above - enjoy!
Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @garrison-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @elliotshelbyjones , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4-deactivated20231226 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @blondie-22 , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @emotionalcadaver , @brummiereader , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @majesticcmey (unable to tag) , @rangerelik , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @camilleholland89 , @woofgocows , @cilliansangel (unable to tag) , @ayomurphys , @elenavampire21 , @elk96 , @scorpiussage , @cillixn , @esposadomd , @grapejuiceblues , @throughgoeshamilton , @polishcrazyone , @shjjpm , @duckybird101 , @maeleeme , @cillmeslowly , @kmc1989 , @nela-cutie , @magicalmushroom0 (unable to tag) , @86luvrs (unable to tag) , @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky (unable to tag) , @lunarubra
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declareqenius · 1 day
Text
all the ashes in my wake
summary: part two of "some would sing and some would scream". wanda and natasha have several heated conversations while they wait for you to wake up. it's been days and both of them miss hearing your voice, and they know the last thing you would want to see is them fighting, but wanda can't help tearing into natasha for everything that happened. natasha's guilt eats away at her.
warnings: mentions of the violence in pt 1, coma
a/n: guys i really just wanted to get this one out. i haven't read through it/edited it so any mistakes are... well, mistakes. but hey! we get wanda in this one! i feel like i could have gone a little darker as far as wandanat are concerned, but we do what we can! i hope you enjoy!
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The infirmary room is cold and sterile and a heaviness settles over the exhausted woman. Wanda keeps hold of your hand as if letting it go means that you'll slip away for good. She's careful of the IV stuck in the back of your hand giving you fluids. In a way, it serves as a reminder that blood still flows through your veins and your heart still beats, and that even though your bright smile and musical laugh don't fill the room, you're still alive.
Wanda brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. She doesn't know how many times she has done that in the past three days, but the gesture comforts her. Tucking your hair behind your ear so she can see your beautiful face better and looking into your sparkling eyes is one of her favorite things to do. Your gaze holds so much love and adoration and it always makes her wish she would never have to live without it.
Your eyes are closed now.
Wanda hates every second of it.
Bruce said that even if you don't respond that you can still hear everything. Wanda trusts that he's telling the truth and it wasn't something he said just to make her feel better.
So she talks to you. About anything and everything she can think of. Your favorite TV show that is on the air right now or the book that you recommended and she finally read. How much she loves you and how she can't wait for you to wake up. How sorry she is that she wasn't there sooner. She makes promises that she intends to uphold. Ones about revenge and torture and everything you would hate and tell her not to worry about were you conscious. Wanda smiles at the thought. She won't listen, though. The Celestials hurt her family. Hurt the love of her life. She can't let that go unanswered for.
Right now, though, you are her priority.
The door handle clicks and Wanda doesn't need to look up. She knows it's Natasha coming back from telling Steve and Yelena what happened. Can feel the exhaustion and guilt dripping from her without having to so much as glance in her direction.
"Wands-"
"I don't want to talk to you right now, Natalia. Sit."
Wanda nods to the unoccupied chair on the other side of the bed without taking her eyes off of you. She's being harsh and she knows it. Natasha was there with you. Right by your side. Made to watch as the leader of their enemies hurt you in the most sloppily calculated way. She was powerless against Najma and Wanda knows this, but all rationality left her when she burst into the cell and laid eyes on your bleeding body, slumped over, barely an ounce of life in you, and her anger nearly consumed her.
She almost leveled the entire block.
The only thing that stopped her was Natasha, carrying you in her arms, reminding her that time was scarce.
So yes, perhaps she is being too harsh with her wife, but somehow you had become their entire lives. Their reason for being. Neither of them would know what to do without you, and they came very close to losing you under Natasha's watch.
They will be okay eventually. They survived many fights and many arguments before you came along.
Tears form in Wanda's eyes.
"Yelena is wondering when she'll be able to see Y/N." Natasha's voice breaks the silence. It's rough and scratchy.
"After she wakes up."
Four words and Wanda can feel how they form on her tongue. Her Sokovian accent is thick with her anger and distress despite the words being spoken soft and firm.
"Wanda," Natasha starts to protest but the finality in her wife's tone makes her go quite.
"Nat."
It's then that Wanda decides to look up at Natasha. Decides to let her wife see her and every emotion that makes its way onto her face and every thought that swirls around in her mind.
Natasha pauses for a moment, taken aback by everything she sees her wife going through. The made-up scenarios. The what-ifs. She knows because she went through every last one of them when she was in that cell with you. To see the same thoughts cluttering Wanda's mind, well, it only makes her guilt worse.
She clears her throat, "Yelena is her best friend."
It comes out as more of a fact than an argument.
At that, Wanda turns her attention back to you, "I don't want anyone except for us and Bruce to see her like this. They don't need to."
"They want to know that she's okay, Wands."
"Tell them that she is. That she will be. That's all they need to know for right now. They need to focus on getting the jump on Najma and the Celestials. Our focus is Y/N. I think our family is capable enough to come up with a plan by themselves, don't you?"
Wanda's calmness is starting to make Natasha uncomfortable and she shifts in her chair. She refuses to touch you, though, afraid of what might happen if she did. Would your body crumble under her fingertips? If you were conscious would your body recoil at her touch? For letting you get hurt. For not protecting you like she should have.
Suddenly streams of tears silently make their way down Natasha's cheeks.
"I'm sorry I let this happen."
Wanda's eyes meet hers again and Natasha feels like she can breathe a little easier. It isn't perfect and she guesses it won't be perfect for a long time, but time will help. The fear will linger within both of them because Natasha knows Wanda almost as well as she knows herself, and she knows that neither of them will be letting you out of their sight for a while after you wake up. Until Najma is taken care of, at least.
Wanda tilts her head as she tries to get a better read on Natasha without using her powers. Even if they would help in the moment she has rules for herself: never on Natasha and never on you.
"They caught you off guard. It is a hard position to be in, radnaja."
Darling. The pet name helps Natasha relax a little more, but her hands stay folded in her lap.
"We needed- I needed to protect her better. We promised to keep her safe and I couldn't do that, Wands. I failed her and I disappointed you and... and what if she decides to leave when she wakes up? I would be the reason we came so close to losing her... and then to actually lose her? I don't know if we could survive it."
"Nat... Y/N loves us with everything she is. Just as we love her. I need you to be confident in that."
Natasha wants to scoff but instead she fidgets with her hands, "Confident? In what, Wanda? That she'll wake up and we'll pretend everything is fine and that we're not the reason she almost fucking died?! That the two people she loves most in the world couldn't protect her like they promised they would? I was powerless Wanda! I couldn't stop them! I-" Natasha's tears flow freely and although the tension in the room is building, she feels safe enough to let herself go in the presence of her wife, "I couldn't save her!"
"Natalia Romanova-Maximoff!" Wanda stands for the first time in hours but she does not drop your hand. It's the only thing grounding her right now. "This is not entirely your fault, radnaja. Maybe if you would have kicked and punched more when they took you then we would be in a different position. Maybe if you had given Najma the answers she was looking for then Y/N wouldn't have been injured as badly as she is but these are all what-ifs, Natasha! What if I had been there with her instead? What if I had been with both of you that night? What if I would have gotten to you sooner? What if she had died!"
Finally, the question that has been on both of their minds since Bruce had walked into the meeting room with your blood all over his neatly ironed button up and jeans- he didn't have time to even think about putting his lab coat on- and told them that you would eventually be okay.
"I have been asking myself that question every day for the past three days," Wanda finishes, salt on her tongue, nose red, and her scarlet hoodie stained with tears.
Natasha cannot find it within herself to tell her wife the new information Bruce gave her in the meeting. While he operated and stitched until he could barely stand any longer; you flatlined once. Your heart decided to give up for a minute and Natasha hasn't had the proper amount of time to process something like that, but the time would never come for Wanda to be able to process the reality of such a thing.
Both women stare down at you with puffy eyes and red noses. You are the most precious thing in the world to them. They hate seeing you so lifeless, and the only wave of hope keeping them afloat is your steady breaths.
The fight has left both of them, but an air of tension remains. They are nowhere near finished with their conversation. With taking their frustrations out. Hopefully they'll have everything figured out before you wake up. Natasha knows how much you hate playing peacemaker when they actually have fights and really get going at each other, but she also knows that her wife can hold a grudge.
She doesn't think Wanda will actually hold a grudge after you wake up, but for now her anger and grief towards Natasha are the only things emotionally anchoring her to reality.
"I miss her, Wands," Natasha sniffs and wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"Me too, Natalia. Me too."
They sit in silence for a minute, taking everything in. There are no windows in the room and during the day that means zero sunlight. You always say that time in the sun is one of the most important parts of your daily routine, and it always helps you cool down when you're stressed out or in a bad mood.
Natasha is the first to break the silence, speaking directly to you.
"You are going to hate this room so much when you wake up, detka," she muses with the smallest smile.
Wanda only glances at her before turning her attention back to you and sitting down in her chair, trapped in her mind just as Natasha is, but not all hope is lost and for that, the older woman is grateful.
"Believe it or not, she was the calm one. During everything."
"Natasha."
Her name is said softly although there is still a warning behind it, but she needs this and she believes that Wanda does too. Even if she doesn't know it yet.
"Please, Wanda."
Wanda just sighs and nods, never taking her eyes off of you.
"Najma had me struggling within ten minutes. Begged her to take me instead and to let Y/N go. I don't know why I thought it would work, but I think I just wanted Y/N to know that even if I couldn't get us out of there in that moment... I was trying. I would keep trying."
Natasha's voice is still scratchy as her exhaustion slowly catches up with her.
"Y/N was so firm with me. She said not to tell Najma anything and she meant it. I don't think I've ever heard her be that direct before, but she left no room for argument. She knew what the information would do to the family because she... she sees us as her family, Wands." The redhead sniffs and wipes at her eyes when her tears return, making a prominent trail down her cheeks.
"We are all she has left and she means the world to us! And... and I let her down so much. So, so much, Wanda. She stayed so calm! She did so good! She talked to Najma. She had a conversation with the woman who had a knife to her cheek!" Natasha's laugh is reserved, but her features are shock-ridden and amazed, bordering on flabbergasted and anxiety-filled.
Wanda finally looks up at her wife. Natasha is starting to spiral and there is no way to stop it other than just letting her get it all out, so the Sokovian keeps listening to and watching her wife. The recount of events is told with animated hand gestures and tears gliding down Natasha's cheeks, and Wanda's heart clenches.
"We were doing so well. She was doing so well. Then, Najma stabbed her and my heart dropped. I thought it was over. I thought we had lost her for good." The hand gestures come to an abrupt halt and the tension in the room is once again palpable, but not so much as before.
Natasha looks down at you with pleading eyes, "Please forgive me, malyshka," she drops to both knees and finally takes your hand in hers and whispers, "please."
She kisses the back of your hand delicately and you can feel each tear drop as they land in the exact spot she kissed. There is no need to wonder why your girlfriend is crying. You remember everything.
Your eyes slowly blink open to see Natasha's own eyes closed and Wanda staring at her wife with a thoughtful expression. The love they have for each other makes you want to smile, but the urge to reassure your sobbing mob boss girlfriend wins.
"I..." talking hurts but you need to say the words. Natasha needs to know! "Forgive... you. Always... Natty."
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little-diable · 18 hours
Text
There's just something about you – Professor!Austin Butler (smut)
Well well well, ofc I {as somebody who has a massive prof!crush} had to give in and write this. I think this has potential for a part 2, so please tell me how you feel about that. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: The reader works as Professor Butler's teaching assistant. The two are about to take a trip with his class when she gets sick. While staying with him for the weekend the two finally give in to the pull keeping them chained together.
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), professor x TA relationship, quite fluffy
Pairing: prof!Austin Butler x fem!TA!reader (3k words)
picture credit to the original owner
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“Alright, listen up!“ Professor Butler’s voice echoed through the room. His words were followed by instant silence, forcing all eyes towards the handsome professor. She stood close to him, not enough to feel his body heat clashing against her, though just enough to hyperfocus on the scent of his expensive cologne – a scent she’d always pick up on, no matter where she was at.
“As you all know, we’re leaving for our trip next week. (Y/n) was kind enough to take over the bookings, but we need you to find one or two people to share a room with. Please send (y/n) an email til Monday, so we can avoid any confusion when we check in. If you have any further questions about the trip or concerns, feel free to reach out to one of us.”
She had joined the faculty as Professor Butler’s PhD candidate and teaching assistant a while ago, slowly having to adjust to being around a man like him. At first, (y/n) had struggled to focus, fighting against the urge to stare at him at any given chance, but slowly she had gotten more and more relaxed around him, actually getting to enjoy her interactions with the young professor. 
“Please don’t forget your homework, alright? I’ll see you all next week.” The room was filled with loud noises as he ended the class, forcing the students to their feet and out into the hallway. (Y/n) busied herself with his notes, rechecking them before she allowed her gaze to find his bright eyes. “You did good today, (y/n), if you feel comfortable enough you can gladly do next week’s class on your own.” 
“I don’t think I feel ready to do this without you yet.” His big hand found her shoulder, leaving her torn between focusing on the feeling of his thumb softly stroking the fabric of her blouse, and the intense eye contact he now held with her. For a second, neither of them spoke, leaving (y/n) to wonder what he was thinking about. 
“Alright, but you’re by far better than me at catching their attention, I hope one day you’ll realise that.” Professor Butler’s raspy chuckle had an addicting effect to it, leaving her to avert her gaze as he took a step away from her. “Chinese takeout while we grade the essays?” 
……
She woke with a pained whine as her hand reached for her phone, trying to read the time. It was Saturday morning, two days before they’d go on their short trip, but her body was clearly fighting against all plans, making her suffer from a sore throat and a blocked nose. Curses wanted to claw through her, cursing fate for pushing her into her misery. 
(Y/n) had been looking forward to the trip for a while, excited about spending some more time with Professor Butler outside of his office and the room he was teaching in. Secretly she had hoped for some more calmer moments where they could go back to sharing information about one another that had nothing to do with their research or their university work. Hopes that were now evaporating into nothing but cold air. 
For a moment, (y/n) pondered over her choices, but her fingers had already started to move before her mind could protest, opening the email app. With a few quick words she sent her professor a small warning, telling him that she was sick and would most likely not be able to join on Monday. She felt pathetic for the wave of hurt and exhaustion flushing through her, leaving her trembling body to search the warmth of her bed. 
It didn’t take long for her phone to go off, forcing her glassy eyes to read his reply. Simple words told her to give him a call with his added number to the email. Perhaps it was the fault of her cold, perhaps it was the fault of her hazy thoughts, whatever it was, it stopped (y/n) from overthinking, clicking on the number before her anxiety could get the best of her. 
“Morning, (y/n).” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, momentarily letting her eyes flutter close. She repeated the greeting while internally cringing at the raspy sound of her voice. “Oh sweetheart, you sound horrible.”
Heat rose to her face at the pet name, having to forcefully stop herself from gasping. She could only let go of a hum, not trusting herself to speak coherent words he could easily pick up on. 
“Are you still living alone?” A while ago (y/n) had told him about her struggles to find a roommate, unsure who to pick as she had high priorities she didn’t want to let go of. Once again she hummed, wondering where he was taking this conversation. “Alright, I want you to pack a bag. I’ll pick you up in a few, you’re spending the weekend with me, I can’t go on that trip without you. We’ll get you back to your healthy self in no time.”
“Professor,” she sat up as she tried to protest, having to drown out the sinful thoughts instantly flushing through her mind. “I don’t want to take up any of your space, and you could also get sick. I’ll be alright here, don’t worry.”
“No, you’re staying with me. I won’t accept any protests, (y/n). What’s your address?”
It hadn’t taken long for them to end the call, for her to take a quick shower and to pack a bag. Her heart kept racing in her chest, urging her to move, to be smart about the things she packed. She barely got any time to overthink as he had arrived at her place rather quickly, but now as she was sitting on his couch, wrapped in a blanket, (y/n)’s thoughts finally caught up with her. 
Austin – as he had asked her to call him – was all too gentle with her, tending to her every need with worry tugging on his features. (Y/n) could only guess that she looked as horrible as she felt, tired eyes barely managing to stay open, and yet she didn’t want to miss a thing, cherishing the chance to be so close to him. 
“How about we watch a movie before I make some soup, huh?” Austin plopped down next to her, tugging on her legs to place them in his lap. (Y/n) allowed herself to study him for a few seconds, his blonde hair had that slightly unruly touch to it, blue eyes focusing on his TV. He wore a simple white shirt that perfectly stuck to his muscles, paired with blue jeans that gave him a different touch to the version of him who always wore suits in class. 
“Sure, I’m good with whatever.” He shot her a quick smile that left her trembling, having to calm her racing heart with her grasp on the blanket growing stronger. She barely managed to pay the opening sequence of the movie any attention, getting lost in her thoughts as his thumb stroked the soft skin of her ankle, holding onto her as if he was scared she could slip right through his fingers. 
For the first time in years, she felt an unfamiliar kind of safety wrapping itself around her, clinging to her like a second skin made to protect her, to cherish her, to perhaps even love her. 
……
Quiet steps carried her towards the big kitchen, engulfed in darkness as (y/n) started the kettle, hoping that another cup of tea could finally lull her to sleep. She was too deep in thought to notice his approaching figure, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his naked chest. 
“You alright, sweetheart?” (Y/n) jumped at the sound of his raspy voice, pressing her hand to her chest as she turned towards him. A laugh clawed through Austin, guiding him closer to her with slow steps. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you.” 
(Y/n) had to turn from him, trying to focus on the almost boiling water as he came to a halt behind her, reaching for another cup. His naked upper body was pressed against her back, one of his arms found its way around her waist to keep her close to him. Goosebumps covered her limbs, silently whispering to her, guiding her hand to find his. 
No words were spoken between the two as she poured the hot water into the big cups while Austin reached for the teabags. He loosened his hold on her as if he was begging her to turn around, to get lost in the bright eyes that reminded her of warm summer mornings spent at the beach, getting lost in daydreams that felt more real than memories of things she had lived through. Her body urged her to move, to lean against the counter with her eyes finding his features, wandering over his handsome face. 
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, (y/n)?” She didn’t trust her voice, knowing that she’d most likely make a fool of herself, but the two hands finding her waist, keeping her caged between his tall frame and the counter, encouraged her to part her lips. (Y/n)’s eyes focused on his neck, on the golden necklace he wore, dangling from his neck like a pendulum about to give her a glimpse into her future. 
“I,” a shaky exhale left (y/n), trusting her mind and heart to guide her. “I keep thinking about how comfortable I feel here. Thank you for letting me stay with you, Austin.” 
She expected him to shoot her his signature smile, to pull away from her to reach for his cup. But he kept close to her, hand slowly moving up to her face, cupping her cold cheek. He forced her to look up at him, making her breath hitch in her chest as she watched his gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips. 
“I tried to stay away from you, but you’re not making it easy for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) got no chance to reply, silenced by the feeling of his lips finding hers. Ever since she had joined his team, (y/n) had imagined this very moment, wondering how his lips would feel pressed against hers, how he’d hold onto her as they got lost in their kiss. But this was so very different to all these daydreams, more intense, more exciting even. With his hands finding the back of her thighs, he helped her onto the counter, allowing himself to stand between her thighs as they kept kissing. 
“Now you’re definitely getting sick for sure,” (y/n) mumbled the words against his lips as they parted to catch their breaths. Austin’s raspy laugh echoed through the kitchen, bright eyes burning her skin as if she was caught in a wildfire, about to burn to the ground. 
“For you I’ll gladly take on the struggles of being sick.” His words left her heart roaring, lips finding his once again. Their tongues met in a teeth clashing kiss, wordlessly managing to communicate their longing, the desperate need they had fought against these past months. “I need you to be honest with me, do you want this? I don’t want to pressure you, sweetheart.”
“Take me to bed, professor.” (Y/n)’s smirk grew wider as his pupils dilated, picking her up without another warning. She had her legs wrapped around him, face buried in the crook of his neck. Within seconds they found themselves in Austin’s bedroom, he didn’t give her much time to take in the big room, the pictures gracing the walls, fully focused on him as he pressed her down on the mattress. 
Austin kissed his way down her throat as if he was following the trail of a treasure hunt, high on the adrenaline of the search. (Y/n) trembled beneath him while her fingers tugged on the hairs at the nape of his neck before moving down to his muscular shoulders. Somehow it felt as if they had done this numerous times before, knowing exactly how and where to touch one another. 
He parted from her to pull her shirt over her head, focus instantly drawn to her naked chest. The way Austin was staring at her made (y/n) feel as if he was marvelling at a masterpiece, a creation of old times the human mind barely managed to understand. Carefully he cupped her breasts, groaning at the feeling of her soft skin pressing against his. They held eye contact as he brought his lips back to her skin, sucking on both nipples before kissing his way down her stomach. 
“Austin,” (y/n) choked on his name, begging him to keep on moving, to touch her where she needed him the most. 
“Talk to me, sweetheart, what do you want?” His voice grew lower with every spoken syllable, pushing heat down to her core. She felt her walls clench around nothing, begging him to finally fuck her. 
“You, all of you. Please, I need you so badly.” Without speaking another word, he ripped her panties from her hips, letting his fingers explore her arousal-covered folds. His name rolled off her tongue, she arched her back at the careful touches, trying to shuffle even closer. Austin could do whatever he wanted to her at that very moment, she was putty in his hands, his to toy with, his to use for his own pleasure. Whatever he wanted, she’d do it, if he kept on touching her like this. 
“Will you let me taste you? I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” (Y/n) could only nod her head, letting go of a breathless gasp the second his rough tongue brushed through her folds. Austin moaned at her taste, he wrapped one arm around her thigh, keeping her pressed to him while the other hand found her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves with his fingers. Within the first seconds of him touching her, (y/n) had known that she wouldn’t be able to hold on for long, overstimulated by his touches. 
No longer could she spare her hurting throat any attention, no longer did she struggle to breathe on, all she could do was focus on him, on the way he dipped his tongue into her tightness, how he added more speed to his movements, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
“You taste so sweet, I could stay like that forever, if you’ll let me.” She moaned at his praise, fingernails scratching at his skin to try and hold on. Her legs were trembling from the strength she used to curl her toes, unsure how much longer she could stop herself from giving in to an intense orgasm. 
“It’s alright, cum for me, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.” Austin’s words pushed her into the open arms of her orgasm, calling out his name as he kept circling her clit with a smirk glued to his lips. He watched her every move, every micro-expression he could pick up on, fully mesmerised by the beautiful woman he had wanted to pull closer for months. 
“Oh god,” (y/n) panted the words, drawing gleeful chuckles from Austin as he let go of her. Her glassy eyes watched him undress, gaze wandering down his muscular upper body, past his six-pack to his sweatpants. His cock sprang free as he stepped out of his clothes, a sight that pushed heat straight down to her cunt, needing to feel him buried inside of her. “I need you to fuck me now, I can’t wait any longer, Austin.”
“Mhm, such a desperate girl, we should teach you some patience one day.” He reached for a condom, rolled it down his cock and positioned himself between her thighs. With her hand finding the back of his neck, (y/n) pulled him back down for a kiss, distracting herself from the slight pain as he pushed into her, having to adjust to his size. For a second, they held still, clinging to one another to let go of a few deep exhales, fingers interlaced to try and keep themselves grounded. 
“Move, please, professor.” Austin let go of a growl at the use of the title, building a comfortable rhythm that allowed one another to get used to the sensation. He was careful with her, not daring to hurt her when she was still sick, not fully able to guide her body. But the blissful expression tugging on her features was enough to calm his racing heart, finding enjoyment in the way she clung to him, how she seemingly felt the same pull he did.
They were a mess of tangled limbs, of moans blurring together, of hearts beating in sync, a match so perfect neither of them wanted to break out of their very own bubble. Their bodies met with every thrust, bringing them closer and closer together, while their eyes found back together. 
“My pretty girl, I don’t want to let you go again.” He murmured the words against her lips, luring a soft chuckle out of (y/n). 
“Don’t let me go, don’t you dare.” Her head rolled back as his cock nudged her swollen spot, leaving him grinning in success. Austin kept staring down at her, trying to burn every passing second into his mind, praying that he won’t ever forget about this night. 
“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock, sweetheart.” With a gasp leaving her, her fingers found her pulsing clit, moving quickly to give her the needed push. He fucked her through her second orgasm, letting go himself as she relaxed beneath him. 
Austin clung to her as they both tried to catch their breaths, only parting as they managed to break through the hazy fog wrapping itself around the two lovers. He threw away the condom before he returned to her, cupping her now warm cheek to pull her in for another kiss. 
“How about a bath?” She could only nod as he picked her up and carried her into his bathroom, while making the silent promise to cherish her for as long as she’ll let him.
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jinkiezzsstuff · 1 day
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Is it okay to leave a vox x fem!reader request based on G.U.Y by Lady Gaga? You can do whatever you want ofc but in my head vox hires her as a singer at one of his nightclubs and when he gets a call from Valentino telling him how amazing this new girl he's hired is, he comes down to watch her perform her new song, G.U.Y and becomes infatuated with her? If not dont stress! 🤍
i fuckin loooooove this ideaaaa it’s so cute and i love a good singer fic i really do, and it’s vox eeee i haven’t got to post any of him yet! :D i hope it’s what you imagined i enjoyed writing this a lot i got a little carried away.
the song in question if anybody wants to listen quick
warnings: possibly stalky behaviour from vox, i mean obvi teehee, Female reader, swearing, drinking, possible cringe descriptions of song performances, reader is quite confident, mainly focused on vox and him becoming obsessed rather than the two together, NOT PROOFREAD lmk what i missed!
word count: 2.3k
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Vox rarely paid attention to the people he hired, at times he would do a quick scan of the person and then promptly send it off to whomever could waste their time on silly things such as resumes. So it was quite a surprise to him when Valentino continuously gushed about this singer he supposedly hired. “No~ You don’t understand Voxy, she’s a minx! A siren. You should listen; really she’s hypnotic. Yknow we get a lot of promo from her, and her little songs in the back of my pornos, mm mm.” Valentino purred, flicking his pipe around in his hand. Vox faced away from the moth, bending over his desk he was zeroed in on a spreadsheet for the next broadcast, eliminating any lesser cared about topics in favour of some newer hot topics.
Humming noncommittally, as his gaze flickered over to Valentino. Admittedly he knew that Valentinos genuine praise was rare, and he typically only gave such to his favourites like Angel Dust, or Vox himself. “Well, go on.” Vox urged flatly eyes narrowed, inwardly he scolded himself for loosing his poise, but the red fuck had him more tense then he usually was. “What?~ You don’t know who she is, you hired her.~” Valentino emphasised, saying his words in a sing song voice that made Vox eye glitch. “Val,” The man brightened his screen, his tone warning. In the back of his mind he worried about how it would look if it ever got out that he didn’t keep track of his employees. Surely some scummy sinner would make trouble with that, using their lack of attention to snoop around.
What if you were some spy, Valentino did refer to you as a hypnotic siren. Vox was pulled out of his paranoid sprawl by Valentino huffing loudly and dramatically. “I’m leaving, you’re so cranky boo~, come see her, it’ll be worthwhile.” With that Valentino strut out, his hips swaying as he exited. Vox stayed frozen in his hunched over position, his eyes void as he blankly stared into oblivion lost in thought. Now he needed to see you, there was no doubt about it. Sliding into his leather office chair, Vox leaned back sighing, he called on his assistant not needing to even reach for a phone thanks to his demonic abilities. Oh the luxury. The small shirt demon waddled in a clipboard in hand, after basic pleasantries about the workload in the building, Vox got down to business.
“Singer at my nightclub, when does she perform?” Vox tried to appear nonchalant as if he already knew, but his voice held an eagerness to it that was unmistakable. “Uh YN? Uh sir, she’s on every night? Y-you booked her to be?” The little demon was obviously scared, his speech was anxious and meek, uncertain of his own claims despite them being true. Groaning Vox closed his eyes and took a breath, he didn’t like doing scheduling he left that to some lower hire, obviously they’re dumb. Too much of a good thing makes it bad, if she’s as good as Val said she is, she needed to be yearned for, they’d need other singers to fill in her days off. Vox’s 40 yard stare made the assistant uncomfortable, not wanting to interrupt Vox’s thought process the room fell silent.
After a few sluggish moments, Vox shot up from his seat with a charming smile on his screen. “Alright you’re so right! My mistake, I'm going to go down for her performance tonight, see if this is something we can keep up.” The assistant mumbled words of compliance and flipped through a few pages on his clipboard. “Alright sir, tonight at midnight she’s performing, her voice is quite raw so she’s only doing a few of her songs.” The shark explained fumbling with his pen as he tried to stick it back into the clipboard. “Ah! Good, that’ll be just fine, reserve me a table for twelve thirty, she’ll be on still, right?” The demon nodded, making Vox clap his hands together in finality. “Great! You know what to do,” Vox flicked his wrist at the demon, making him mumble and exit Vox’s office.
~
The night club was booming, as it should, Vox was a businessman it would’ve been wasteful if it wasn’t packed. Vox enjoyed leisure where he could find it in his busy life, so he was more than pleased to be comfortably seated closely to the stage in a private booth, hugged next to a wall. The stage wasn’t grand or massive, but it was classy, surrounding the back of the wall was ads for Vox, Val, and Velvettes companies and products, the same was with the menus on the table. VoxTechs products were littered all around, from the radios to the tvs angled at the bar, which already had preprogrammed ads promoting the VoxTech name. Vox sat eyeing the stage impatiently, scotch sitting on the table in front of him on the table, there was a dance floor like area that stepped down from the platforms where the booths were, and in it sinners partied together, lewdly grinding on each other to the music.
No one dared to bother the TV overlord, however he kept his screen dimmed and slumped in his seat, the lowlight of the club making him feel the weight of reality. Sighing, he gulped down the liquid, it didn’t really burn, but then again he couldn’t really taste. Finally the neon lights in the club dimmed, a voice sounded through the speakers telling patrons to exit the dance floor, and announced your performance. Before he had came, he looked into who you were, he was shocked to find out you were a pretty sought out sinner, it seemed like most of your powers revolved around your voice too. You were sultry, fun, and demanding, in reality from what he could find, you were a colourful array of personalities, there was no one box he could place you in because you’d never quite fit.
Vox presumed you too had some kind of hypnosis, it was pretty obvious to him in the way people described you online, you even topped hellborn Verosika Mayday when it came to sales in music, and the microscopic rivalry bred many fans to speculate. It was pretty impressive for someone who wasn’t an overlord, it made Vox suspicious, with how the radio fuck was up his ass, he had means to believe this vocal gift to the radio in the form of you, was someone not to be trusted. The stage lights came on as did a smooth buzzing sound, as if somebody had dragged their fingers up the strings of an electric guitar. “Greetings, Himeros, God of sexual desire, son of Aphrodite. Lay back, and feast as this audio guides you through new and exciting positions,” Vox watched intently as you walked onto the stage confidently, the words fell from your mouth smoothly effortlessly, and a quick glance around the room told Vox he wasn’t the only one to think so.
You were gorgeous, the embodiment of beauty; even if it wasn’t to the typical standards. You were shrouded in pretty fabric that clung to your figure and left barely anything to the imagination, and the jewellery you had on from head to toe made you twinkle in the stage light. Vox couldn’t help but gawk, he felt as though he was viewing a work of art, some sort of ancient painting of a goddess come to life. Without control his fans kick started whirring loudly in the back of his monitor, thankfully Vox was rather secluded compared to the rest of the crowd, however it was still frustrating to be so worked up over some sinner. Suddenly the bubblegum pop music kicked in and you were going.
You sung like you were and killed to, and the way you interacted with the audience, facial expressions matching every coy insinuation from the song, your hands moving along your body as you sang on. You about wanting to be top, while being underneath a man, you wanted to be that guy, girl under you, it made him glitch at the thought of you wearing his bow tie and nothing else as he-, lord he had to stop. He could feel himself letting go of control which isn’t an ideal situation for being in a public club he owned. It was hard though, you were whining, begging in song to be fucked, and Vox felt entirely enamoured with the thought, especially the way you sung it.
Eventually as you strutted to the other side of the stage the song starting to wrap up, and finally you had spotted him. Vox immediately met your eyes, and you were very much beaming at the sight of him, the observant could actually hear you faintly gasp into the mic. Mic to your mouth, your eyes drooped looking sleepy and seductive as you looked at him, pouting you made sure all your attention was directed to Vox.
“I don’t need to be on top to know i’m worth it; 'cause I'm strong enough to know the truth, I just want it to be hot. Because I’m the best when I'm in love, and I'm in love with you.” You sung out, clenching your hand over your heart dramatically, a cheeky grin on your face. You were more focused on Vox at this point rather than the performance, after all he was the reason you accepted the job, and you’ve been working two months and have only just seen him. “G.U.Y- touch me, touch me- mount your goddess; touch me, touch me- a skimmer moon comes into full phase. Get on top of me, touch me, touch me; don’t be shy,” You swung your hips as you stepped off the stairs of the stage, intently focused on the glitching TV. Most patrons seemed too absorbed into their own fun to really pay attention to what you were doing, but there was an occasional person zeroing in on what you were up to.
Sitting yourself on the edge of the table your finger came up under his flat screen forcing him to peer up at your angelic form. “I’m in charge like a G.U.Y, I’ll lay down face up this time, under you like a G.U.Y; I wanna be that guy. I'll wreck you right up, guy, I'll lie down face up, guy, he girl under you, guy.” With that Vox immediately blue screened, smoke coming out from the back of his head.
~
Vox opened his eyes and was immediately greeted by the comfort of his personal lounge, in the tower. Sitting up he groaned at the immediate pain he felt in his body. “Finally, you’re up.” Valentino purred from his spot on the couch. He had been creepily sitting there waiting for Vox to wake, sucking in his smoke to pass the time. “What the hell happened?” Vox asked, standing from the couch, he slugged himself over to the mini fridge and grabbed a sparkling water, it was his favourite for tasting like static. “Oh you know, you just malfunctioned in the middle of the club~” Valentinos teasing tone told Vox that he wasn’t going to live this down anytime soon. “Oh great, that's just what I love to hear! Vox the powerful overlord- crashed by some singer cocktease. Great.” Vox spat pacing the room, his head buzzing painfully with every turn of his head.
His mind cycled through varying different scenarios and possible headlines that could come out of this- it was ridiculous, made him look like some horny teenage boy. Without another word to Valentino, Vox marched off to his TV room where he could monitor various sinners and places in hell, intending to do intense background checking on you. After all you had to be using some sort of hypnosis, there wasn’t any other way for Vox to overheat by a simple woman. Sitting in his chair he plugged himself in and sat back taping his claws against the arm rest as he waited for things to start up. His movements were rushed, impatient to find all he could about you, sitting back he walked old footage of you walking around, talking with friends, singing in the nightclub, performances you’ve done in other places.
He went through your photos; your entire sinstagram was such a treat to him, he saved your pictures in his files to use for later when he was alone in his room. Vox hadn’t realised how many hours he had been sat in his seat absorbing all the content he could of you, he even found himself reading what others had to say about you, mentally making notes for people to be weary of when it came to becoming a little too close to you. As far as he could tell you were in no connection with other overlords, and if you had made a deal it was kept under tight wraps, not something that you nor the overlord flaunted around.
The TV overlord suddenly jolted forward at the sound of the door opening, quickly he shut the screens off, leaving an ambient blue light keeping the room from going fully dark. Velvette was the one who entered, immediately bitching and complaining about the lack of light, and the “static slacker” that he was being. “What do you need Velvette?” Vox groaned, mind fried from being all consumed with you. “I need you to do your fuckin’ job, yeah? C’mon flat face it’s been six hours. Broadcast time.” She flung her phone flash all around making Vox wince from the obnoxious flashing. “Alright, alright, I was working on very important matters. Go bug Val,” Velvette scoffed as she walked to the door. “Stalking your little hummingbird ain’t it, get on with it.” She snapped looking behind her shoulder to shoot him a glare before promptly leaving the room with a slam of the door.
With a growl, Vox turned himself back to his monitors and began to prep for tonight’s broadcast. Maybe he’d leave a little message in it just for you.
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naturesapphic · 3 days
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Can you please do alcina having to punish her bratty little but Like her little was very overstimulated please and it's a comfort ending!! THANK YOUUUU
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Punishment
Mommy!lady dimitrescu x fem!little!reader
Warnings: spanking, hurt/comfort, soft mommy alcina
“No no no! I don wan baf!” You shouted as you stomped your feet down harshly. You’ve been acting bratty all day and alcina just had about enough of your attitude. She doesn’t understand why you’ve been acting like this but she needs to know why. “Come on princess. Be mommy’s good girl and take a bath. It won’t be long princess I promise.” She said softly as to help you calm down from your tantrum, but that didn’t seem to work. You got one of your rubber duckies and threw one at her chest.
Alcina was surprised at your actions and she didn’t want to be the bad guy but something must be done about your behavior. “That’s it little one.” She snarled and stood up and grabbed you by the arm, leading you to the bedroom the both of you shared. “Over my lap. Now.” She demanded and you shook your head no. “N-no please mommy! I-I’ll be a good girl please!” You begged her and she felt her heart break but you needed to be taught a lesson. “Don’t make me count to three.” She warned and you whimpered as you walked over to her and she bent you over her knee and started spanking you.
She spanked you ten times and made you count each of them. By the end of it you were crying and trying to get off her lap. She laid you on your stomach and went to get a cold washcloth to put on your reddened cheeks. “I’m sorry I had to punish you draga but you have been a very bratty girl today and I had to teach you a lesson. Now please tell mommy what’s going on. Mommy can’t help you if she doesn’t know what’s making you feel this way.” She said softly as she caressed your butt gently in a non sexual way. You couldn’t exactly explain why you were so ill today but you felt like this all day and you didn’t want to be a bratty girl but you just couldn’t help it.
“N-Nu feel good…u-up heres…”. You try to explain to your mommy and she’s trying to understand you. “Do you feel sad or mad?” She asked you and you said both. She thought for a moment more and said “do you feel irritated and feels like nothing is going right?”. You nodded your head and Alcina understood what was going on. You were overstimulated. That’s why you were irritated and restless today. “I understand now baby. It’s okay. Mommy is here. Why don’t we give you a bath right quick and put on our matching pjs on and I can read you some of your favorite books. How about that my little bat?” She asked you and you gently nodded, wanting to do those things and you wanted to be your mommy’s good girl again.
“Good girl.” Alcina said as she put you in the bath and let you play for a while before getting you out and drying you with your favorite fluffy towel. She put you in a little bat onesie and alcina put on her big bat onesie. You giggled happily and hugged her legs indicating that you wanted her to pick you up. She lifted you up in her strong arms and went back into the bedroom and went over to y’all’s book shelf’s to let you pick out your favorite books. Once you selected them, she laid you down on the bed and she got in next to you, letting you lay on top of her breast as she read to you until you fell into a deep sleep. She kissed your forehead gently and covered the both of you up. “Sleep well my little bat. Mommy loves you and she always will.”
A/n: I hope @yourcoolistjennifertillyfan enjoys this and I hope the rest of y’all enjoy it too! Requests are still open for all of my characters including of course Rhea ripley/Demi Bennett. I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!
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ashsolar · 22 hours
Text
favourite thingᯓ★ln4
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most of the chapter is smut, so proceed with caution.
last chapter you guys🥹, i do have a lot more drafts but this will be my last writing project for a bit, the whole series was a bit too short for my liking but i really enjoyed writing this story.
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chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four
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Coming back to a place you once thought of as your home is never easy, what’s even difficult is saying goodbyes to the things you once cherished. It’s been years since your grandfather died and you know it’s time to sell the one thing you had been dreading to sell in order to set yourself free.
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chapter five
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You stood in a flower shop, surrounded by colourful flowers. Butterflies hopping from one flower to another for food. The scenery in front of you reminded you of that one trip to a garden in Monaco. You took each flower in your hand, smelling each one. The scent of the flowers was intoxicating. You had a small tin bucket in your hand, taking an orange tulip from a bunch and kept it in your bucket. Your bucket was filled with flowers that were in the colours, white, pink, lilac and orange by the time you reached the counter. You handed the silver can to the florist and watched in awe as she wrapped the flowers into brown wrapping paper, the flowers being wrapped into a beautiful and colourful bouquet. You hoped these flowers would last until they reached Lando in Australia. Walking out of the little shop, bouquet in hand, scrolling on social media, you came across a video of Lando with a blonde girl, it looked like a chicken shop date. You were familiar with the show, having friends and exes who had been on there before. You clicked on a video, and felt your stomach churn he looked so happy talking to that gorgeous and kind blonde. Insecurity bubbling in your chest once again. You switched your phone off and sighed, heading to a post shop, to send your flowers. You wished these flowers would be a big enough gesture to win Lando back but maybe nothing could fix what you did, no matter how hard you tried.
𐙚
You were sitting in your bed, rotting and watching the Australian Grand Prix, Max was out on DNF. The stakes were high. With Max being out the race was more competitive than ever.
You squealed when you saw that Lando finished on P3. You were beaming with pride and happiness as you clapped your hands together, your day had instantly gotten better, when you saw that smile on his face, though you missed the beard, his new look made him look even more handsome. Your smile widened even more when your phone screen lit up.
Thank you for the flowers they were just what I needed
I am glad you liked them, I am so proud of you
This maybe crossing the boundary, but I miss you
It's not, I miss you too
You knew, now was the right time to see Lando. You immediately booked the earliest flight to Monaco, ready to see Lando. It was time to take things further.
Bags in hand, you roamed around in the JFK airport, palms sweaty as you looked around, scared and nervous. You were ready for this, you knew it. It would be nice to see him, and relive a couple memories in your old house.
𐙚
The familiar breeze hit you as soon as you stepped out of the airport, the same sweet smell of the coast. Children giggling, stars illuminating the night sky. Expensive cars everywhere, girls and boys arms decked with shopping bags. Getting in your taxi, you rolled down the windows, letting the familiar air provide you solace. You didn't realise when you reached the house. You raised your hand to knock on the door but immediately retracted it. Turning around, your legs shaking. you were nervous and rightfully so. You took deep breaths, steadying yourself. You turned around towards, the large and posh door and finally knocked, you were greeted with a sleepy Lando, just like you were that one night.
"Y/N, what are you doing here".
You tucked a couple strands of your hair behind your ears, "I-I think I am in love with you" You spoke, your voice dropping a couple octaves as you see his eyes widen. You hoped his eyes widened in delight and not horror, "Say something, please'.
That's it, that's when he kissed you, the kiss wasn't like the kiss you both shared last time. This kiss was earth shattering, a kiss that took you to a world where no one was there except you both. You both released your pent up frustrations and emotions into the kiss. Both of your hands all over each other. Grasping at one another, as if one of you would disappear any second, and this would all just be a dream. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly, you wrapped your arms around his neck as your kiss got heated. You both stumbled back as he tried to close the main door. He lifted you in his arms, the scene looked life it was straight from a movie. Butterflies in both of your stomachs. He gently placed you on his king sized bed, hovering over you as he caressed your cheek. His eyes filled with love, nobody had ever looked at you the same way that this man in front of you was. Your hair was splayed in all directions, your lips swollen because of the force and pressure of your kiss, "You look so beautiful, in front of me like this".
"Lando". You whispered slowly, grabbing his necklace and pulling him into another kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist as your manicured fingers caressed his back.
"Tonight's all about you", He held you gently in his arms as he undid the buttons of your shirt and threw it across the room, groaning at the sight of your white lace bra. You looked like a fallen angel, like his guardian angel sent from heaven just for him and only him. You looked at him dreamily as he undid your jeans, removing your navy blue sambas as he climbed back up, leaving feather light kisses from your navel to the shell of your ear. His lips grazed the shell of your ear, "I missed you so much, I can't wait to show you how much".
You looked at him, boldly, "Then show me how much". You palmed his hard on through his sweatpants and gasped as he grabbed your hand and pinned it to the bed, "Not so fast princess". The nickname send waves of excitement through your body.
You threw your head back as you felt him grab your clothed breasts, rubbing your nipple in his pointer finger and thumb. He dragged the straps of your bra off of your shoulder. Your bare breasts being revealed to him., "Fuck". He was awestruck looking at the woman underneath him, panting, hair a mess.
He lowered himself down to your core as he rubbed his fingers over your clothed wetness, dragging your underwear down your legs with his teeth. He kissed your clit softly, he shoved his tongue inside, gathering your slick, your hands made their way to his curly locks, the action making him groan. That sound sent vibrations through your core. He shoved his fingers inside one by one, your moans increasing with each move of his finger. The pleasure being too overwhelming for you. You tasted just the way he had imagined, sweet and powerful.
He removed his sweatpants, as he looked at you as if looking for a sign, wanting to know if you were comfortable. You nodded. He grabbed his aching cock and shoved it inside your cunt, trying not to hurt you. Your nails grazed his back, as you moaned loudly, drawing lines on his back. You wrapped your legs around his waist again, the new angle taking you to heights you never knew possible. You pulled him into another wild kiss. Your touches were electrifying, bringing you both to an edge, you moaned and collapsed your head into his shoulder and pulled at his back. Everything pulsed, overwhelming both of your senses as you both reached your peak. He climbed off of you.
You both panting, trying to catch your breaths. He turned towards you and intertwined both of your hands together. His hand slowly crept on your back pulling you closer to him, You wrapped your arms around him. His warmth and scent providing you the assurance you needed, he kissed the crown of your head, as he rubbed your back, "Never leave me ever again".
"Promise" You spoke linking both of your pinkies together. You gave him a small peck on his cheek.
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You stood in the balcony, admiring the serene view. Your body clad in one of Lando's black hoodies. As you rested your shoulders on the black vintage railing. It was early in the morning, the sun hadn't come out yet but it was going to soon you knew it. You flinched when you felt strong arms wrap around your waist, "Good Morning". He spoke, pecking your neck,"You know, I almost thought I would be waking up alone again".
You turned around in his grasp, and caressed his neck, "I never did properly apologise for what I did".
His hold around you tightened, "You don't have to". You shook your head, "No it's not, I was just scared about how I felt about you, the truth is I fell for you the moment I saw you".
He took in a sharp breath as he caressed your cheek, he grabbed you by the chin and pulled you into a kiss, "Let's go on a date tonight a proper one".
You smiled, "I would love that". You whispered pecking his lips, before dragging him inside, "Let's get ready".
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You roamed around in the streets of Monaco, shopping bags in hand and hopped from one store to another, in search of the perfect dress for tonight. It had to be perfect, classy just like you. You stepped in one of the stores. Rubbing your hands over the fabric of each and every dress. By the time you reached the dressing rooms, your hands were filled with dresses. Flowy, body con, you name it. You tried on each dress, admiring your reflection in the mirror. You came across this one red dress, it was tight at the right places, it accentuated your features in the best way possible. You smiled in satisfaction and bought the dress checking out of the store. You couldn't wait to see the look on Lando's face tonight.
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You sat on a chair in front of a mirror, doing your makeup. Lando was waiting downstairs waiting for you to get ready. You tucked your hair into a bun, you pulled some strands of your hair from the bun, to sharpen your features more. You put your hand on the railing as you walked down the stairs. The clicking sound of your heels, made him turn around, he smiled at you before his jaw went slack, his mouth opened widely. He walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, "You look stunning".
"You don't look bad yourself" You giggled
You both sat in his Mclaren, his hand resting on your thigh. You had shared so many memories in this car, all good ones and now here you are making way for new ones. The restaurant was located at a secluded spot on the streets. You and Lando sat in front of each other. You moaned in delight, as you tasted the Alfredo sitting in front of you, "And I thought you made noises like that with me and me only".
You blushed, swallowing the pasta quickly. He smiled and grabbed your hand from across the table, he caressed your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, "I want to go to the beach with you" You spoke taking another bite of your pasta, "And I want a bite of your food". You laughed poking your fork in his plate and twirling the pasta around your fork.
You both sat in silence on the sandy shore, your head resting on his shoulder, "I've been meaning to ask you something". Your smile turned into a frown as you looked at him. A nervous pit forming in your chest.
"Move in with me, move to Monaco with me".
"What'. You gasped not believing what he just said
"I love you and I am sure of it, I want spend every moment of my life with you, let's start by you moving in with me".
𐙚
Five years in the making, if someone told you five years ago that you would be married to Lando Norris. You would laugh at their face but now you were expecting your first child with the love of your life. It all started with a matter as trivial as buying a house, then a search to find your hobby, your favourite thing, heartbreak and finally happily ever after. You were happy, happier than you had ever been. You were too dense to notice that your favourite thing had always been there in front of you. Lando Norris was the one person you cherished more than anything. He was your favourite thing.
fin.
𐙚
@eviethetheatrefreak🧡
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quinthebard · 18 hours
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Astarion x Gale Bloodweave
"Give me the book back, Astarion."
"But it's so delightful knowing all your thoughts, my dear wizard. I was expecting Mystra's name over and over in hearts. Not a detailed account of the groups adventures."
Gale shoved him against the wall. "You try my considerable patience, rogue." Astarion barked a laugh, not the least bit intimidated, letting the wizard shove him around. Now they were having some fun.
"Oh, and we're getting comfortable, I see. You do surprise me, darling. I would think a magic man would know that Little. Magic. Word." Each word was punctuated with him waving the book back and forth.
Something between anger and desperation flashed in Gale's dark eyes. They were close enough for a kiss, or a punch. One might have been as good as the other at this point.
"Please."
"Now was that so hard?" Gale did not let go, and amusement gave way to irritation. "I won't be able to give you the book if you don't let-"
"Please." Gale said again, this time closer, in a way that made every hair on Astarion's neck stand on end.
It had been as close as Gale had been to another person for a very considerable amount of time. His grip changed and his lips met Astarions before either had a chance to back out of the exchange. There were a few breathless seconds, then a hasty parting, where Gale snatched up the tome from the vampire's loose grip and backed away.
"You'll find the traps far more sophisticated if you try to steal from my tent again." He didn't see the expression on Astarion's face as he fled the room, he just wished his threat had sounded a bit more intimidating.
~fin
Hullo everyone! I thought I'd do a little extra for the 100 follower ship. I hope you enjoy it! Please join us for the next poll, I'm thinking this Easter Sunday, 4:30pm (GMT) See you then!
Previous Ships:
Wyll x Karlach
Omeluum x Blurg
Shadowheart x Karlach
Dame Aylin x Isobel
Astarion x Wyll
Shadowheart x Lae'zel
Lae'zel x Gale
@thedomesticanthropologist @avocado-writing @star-bear-art @karaokebearwithal @bloodless-happy
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