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ment-llyunstable · 1 month

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Sugar on the Cream!

Alastor x Reader Synopsis: Alastor found out about your powers and decided to take matters into his own hands to reestablish who's in charge at this hotel and that he was perfectly capable of destroying you. A warning to not try any funny business, though who's to say he didn't find the threat of you being more powerful absolutely enticing. Themes: +18, Slight Dubious Consent, Bondage, Breeding Kink, A/B/O Dynamics, Dominant Alpha Alastor, Alastor feeling threatened, Reader with Deal Breaking ability, AFAB Chubby Reader, G/N Omega Reader, Black Bear Reader, Cervix Penetration, Stomach Bulge, Knotting Word Count: 4,195

A/N: Not beta read!! Also, I know Alastor is canonically aro/ace. As someone who is aro/ace, I enjoy the representation. This is fiction for funsies. Being aro/ace doesn't mean you can't have sexual relations or romantic ones. Respectfully, we should recognize we all ship characters with whatever sexuality is canon, with the opposite of that canon. Like Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless. Canonically, Dream has only ever been with women, he had a wife, etc. Like, let's not try and pretend we don't disrespect canons all the time and stop trying to be 'allies' or 'heroes'. It's fiction. It's not the Hat fic and writing like this isn't invalidating aro/ace ppl in any way imo. If it was, we could say all the Bakugou x Deku shit is invalidating the obvious crush Deku has on Ochako so we should all stop then, huh? Naw. My opinion so whatever. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Let me know if I should continue. Got a few ideas for this. but nothing concrete.

"𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄'𝙢 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙨 𝙦𝙪𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙪𝙣. 𝙊𝙝, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙣!"

You weren’t sure how you got yourself into this situation. Well, you knew how, but to have the Radio Demon with his full attention on you, hand down your pants with fingers teasing and coaxing blood to the tiny nub of pleasure to life, was something you’d never thought would or could happen. You’d even witness him actively avoiding all physical contact around the others and keeping a distance between them at all times. You’d only ever seen Nifty be the only one who could lay a hand on him without him looking like he was repulsed behind gritted teeth.

You thought he was just annoyed by you as a person, but the dots slowly clicked as your mind raced to think of what could have possibly required him to want to entertain you in this way. The only thing you could think of was the Radio demon had heard you expressing your powers, in private, to Charlie. You knew it had been best to do so alone, not wanting to become a pawn to any prying ears, especially as an unclaimed omega. You didn’t think your powers would’ve been one to issue such a strong, sexual response from the demon whom you’d heard wasn’t interested in such flights of fancy. Plus, it wasn’t like you knew really how to use it as well and it wasn’t like you had been the nicest smelling omega around. You had only been staying at the hotel at most about four months, only discovering it after the whole fight the hotel had against Heaven.

Alastor’s claws must’ve been retractable, the digits were meticulously placed with firm pressure, switching between circling and up-and-down motion on your throbbing button. He leniently alternated to stroking around the bud and a bit down, not quite to your entrance, but in an attentive manner to figure out what you fancied. You could hear soft jazz in the background. You’d been placed upon his lap, facing away from him with both of your thighs on each side of his, those long legs of his making it difficult to try and close yours. You were trapped in the spot by onyx tentacles; one wrapped around each calf and a thicker one that squished into your plush stomach. Alastor’s free arm was wrapped-up around your upper torso, his large hand grasping your neck as if to dare you to try and escape. Your scent was rising in the air, the smell of chamomile, frankincense and sandalwood clouded the room. It was tainted with the sweetness of arousal, usually a more subtle scent combination for an omega but you’d never heard any complaints. For Alastor though, it was overbearing on his senses - it had reminded him too much of his human life and now to have it unfiltered between you was near deadly. Oh, how it fueled a fire you didn’t even know was there. Sure, you could appreciate the handsome, charming demeanor that was inherently Alastor, though his off-putting behavior and remarks had been enough to warrant a bit of distance. You were just at the hotel to help sinners and by the sounds of Alastor’s cackling of others pain, you could grasp easily you were not on the same page. There had been no need to engage besides pleasantries and his passive, condescending mannerisms was a deterrent.

But, here you were with your pussy being flirted with by someone who you should be absolutely terrified of. However, you weren’t though, you weren’t dumb enough to not be cautious. If you were correct on your assumption, you knew you held a sort of bargaining chip he wanted, which had been the initial interest in you. You had been unsure if his intentions had been only business, nevertheless this event was telling more had been involved and brewing in Alastor’s head. This situation wasn’t supposed to be happening to begin with. He’d tempted you into a simple chat in his radio tower, only to corner you like this. If anything, you’d hoped he would have fessed up and tried to make amendments for his strange and creepy stalking behaviors. You knew he wouldn’t apologize for the added passive aggressiveness he displayed when having to interact with you so that was out of the question.

“Do you think you can get in the way of my charity project here? Do you think you have the right to threaten me?”

Alastor asked this, his radio filtered voice animated and joyful though it covered obvious annoyance.

The pressure of two of his fingers were becoming more intense as he sped up. A warm tingle spread like wildfire from your fingertips to your toes, igniting every nerve ending in a fiery blaze. Your heart raced in your chest, a primal drumbeat of desire that pulsed through your veins with a delicious urgency. You couldn’t stop the gentle, breathy pants that escaped your parted lips, hips twitching. You could feel the gentle caressing of his breath on top of your head and forehead, his lithe body being much taller and bigger than your plump, small one, so he had to crouch over your form. He was watching you with zealous eyes and a fervid smile.

“N-No, of course not. That’s not why I came to the hotel, Alastor. I wa… I wanted to help Charlie.”

You weren’t lying. Your ability came with smaller powers that were much more laidback than breaking soul deals. Sure, you had a few souls under your belt from when you’d first arrived in hell and unleashed your Justice upon one unlucky demon who you saw treat those who he owned unfairly and abusively. It had been the leader of a small gang that had been trying to establish a selling ground and you'd walked by to see the leader beating on a smaller demon who was desperately trying to explain that they'd gotten robbed. The anger you’d felt came out and it unleashed your wrath, a manifestation of a sword that cut through the chains. Those poor souls you set free gave you theirs as payment, seeing you’d never do such harm to them like that, that they could be free and never scared into having to sell their soul again to some awful sinner. You made sure they never told anyone of your powers and that they could have their freedom without you dictating or needing them. Your secret was safe. You had learned enough in your time in Hell to know how a sinner became an Overlord and the politics around it. That just wasn't your cup of tea. Nonetheless, you had the additional ability to manipulate auras though you’d only ever used it to calm potential attackers or anyone around you upset. It wasn’t anything too fancy or showy, but it had helped you more times than you could count. Considering yourself and other sinners, a calming energy would be helpful amongst the traumatized. You’d hoped Charlie would be able to use it when it came to her vision of redemption. To establish a safe place to heal, whether it turned to being able to redeem oneself or for just a healing journey. Dying and arriving in Hell was another round of trauma, it didn't hurt to try and work on healing.

Your gaze was all over the place despite wanting to look down to watch his hand in your pants but his grasp upon your neck prohibited in viewing such activities. You didn’t have enough focus to try and calm the radio demon but at this point, you didn’t think your manipulation to his aura would do anything. You hadn’t dared tried it since arriving and since he was already so worked up, it probably wouldn’t do much to deter him from his mission. The static radiating from his body penetrated yours, dancing amongst your skin in light prickles that had your little fuzzy ears cocked forward to listen.

“Oh, dearest. This is my entertainment. Not yours. I don’t enjoy thinking you may try to interfere or overthrow me — I advise you to not attempt your silly little powers on me.”

The grip on your neck tightened, his fingers picking up pace having already started feeling the wetness seep from you. Your arousal and exquisite pheromones were greedily inhaled by the cannibal, to savor the suggestion of a body ready for seed taking. It was a new urge for the radio demon to mark you with his seed, his scent and to taint you in such a ferocious manner.

“My, my. How darling of you to be so quiet and submissive now. Are you frightened?”

Alastor chuckled cheekily, the rumbling in his chest vibrated against your back. You honestly couldn’t care less about what he said, too focused on the quickening ministrations forced upon your now swollen clit. His own scent was filling the air, hitting your nostrils in gentle waves. He smelled of petrichor, the soothing scent before the rain hit the Earth. It was almost ironic.

Your breathing was shortening, the pleasure building with your lower muscles tightening. You weren’t scared at this point, especially feeling his hard dick pressed to your backside and his own arousal contaminating his natural scent.

“Alastor— W-Wait, wait wait-…” Your face flushed with color, you closed your eyes trying to hold back your impending orgasm.

The male hummed, though didn’t stop his fingers as a black tendril slid its way from his side and down your trousers. The pointed appendage slid between your folds, teasing at your entrance.

“I’m afraid there’s no waiting for you, my sweet. Now… cum for me.”

He sounded humored at first, voice dropping an octave as he demanded you to reach your peak. As he said it, his tentacle shoved its way into your cunt, stretching and burying itself deep inside. That pushed you over the edge, the way the tentacle had pushed up against your cervix and caused you to come immediately. Your back arched, pressing back into him with eyes closed tightly and moan muffled by your own stubbornness with a bitten lip and flattened ears. Your cunt squeezed at the tentacle, earning attention from it by starting to move in and out of you with determination. The appendage fucked you through it, the high of your release trying to pass but instead once your cunt was fucked through your first orgasm, there was no stopping the tentacle from sending you straight into another. The second ripped through your body fast and harsh, the wetness audible to both of your ears. Your voice cut through the static with a sudden high-pitched moan, your thigh muscles quaking as you pressed your hips down against his. Alastor paid no mind to your squirming body in his lap, only removing the inky, wet tendril from your hole after your petite form relaxed, twitching from overstimulation.

You were a complete mess at this point; face heated crimson with a light shine of sweat, bottom lip swollen from where you’d fought to keep yourself quiet, eyes half open and dazed. Alastor felt absolutely, utterly depraved seeing you like this. He could see you as equal to or more powerful than him - a righteous and conscientious mess. Never would he think someone so obviously pathetic would have such a power thus a power over him. He wanted you in more ways than one; to own you, to control you, and maybe to let you do the same with him. You’d be the only one who he could judge as worthy of such a thing, outright knowing you’d never give your soul to him.

His hand on your throat released, clawed fingers slid down to the pants you wore and ripped through them easily. Underwear was shredded too, your wet and puffy cunt exposed to the cool air. You glanced down through blurry eyes, to the sight of Alastor using both hands now to grip onto your thighs.

"What a performance! I'd say you deserve a reward for such a treat."

The deer demon used a shadowy tentacle to pull his cock out from between you both, the heavy shaft slapping up against your drenched slit. You jerked at the touch, still trying to catch your breath as you saw the tip of his cock leak, flushed with red and at the base was already the beginnings of a swollen knot. The shape was different than you’d thought it would be, the tip a notably large mushroom shape, the length connecting to it slender before flaring out larger in the middle before the rest of the length connected to the swollen knot. His scent was immensely clouding all your senses now, your omega body responding with profuse arousal. Oh, you wanted him now. It was undeniable of the chemistry of your two bodies, your inner omega preening at the idea of being so wanted and filled by such a strong Alpha. Your little black tail twitched eagerly, your small black ears pressing forward in alertness.

Alastor took your pause as the perfect opportunity to grind his hips up against you, his cock rubbing between your wetness, just slipping between the folds. You were trying to catch your breath still, eyes wide at the fact he must’ve been thinking his dick would fit. Your body was much smaller than his seven foot stature, surely he wouldn’t.

But, he would try. This was power-play at its finest, Alastor wanted to assert his dominance and control over your body. He wasn’t keen on physical contact for sure, using rather violence to instill terror upon those who dare threaten his status. You, however, weren’t phased by his theatrics so now he had to take it into his own hands. You had the one ability that if you wanted to, you could either ruin or save Alastor and that pissed him the fuck off.

"How cute. You're so wet for me."

The slick, lubricious sensation of his dick rubbing against you was utterly divine. You looked up at him, angling your head to the side with flickering eyes along his face. His scarlet eyes met yours, pupils dilated, his sinister grin stretched to its fullest to show his yellow-pointed teeth.

"P-Please-"

"Please, what? Hm? Speak up, you look stupid mumbling nothing."

Alastor opened his mouth, his long and pointed crimson tongue fell out to lick along your cheek. The muscle was smooth and only momentarily a distraction from him lifting your body up enough to start to bury the tapered head of his cock into your heat. Your body tensed at this regardless of the foreplay, your mushy and sopping cunt still resisting such an attempt of intrusion.

“Mmf! Ha… Haa… Alastor it won't -”

“C’mon now, darling. I’m getting in one way or another~!”

He said this in a sing-song like voice, almost chastising you, static rising in sound near the end to emphasize his resolute and unwavering commitment to ensuring his dick would invade your tiny hole. Your head snapped forward, hands grasping on the armrests as some sort of stability. He used your body to bear down at the same time, your cunt forced to accommodate and stretch with a sweetened squeeze once the glans fit. The psychotic Overlord didn’t stop there, no. He knew you could take it, take pain and take what he could give you.

Alastor didn’t give you a chance to soak in the way your pussy quivered in delight at being stretched so wide. He, instead, still holding at your plump waist and pulled you down no matter the resistance. His cock demanded your tight walls to envelope him, the swell of his appendage filling you quickly despite the inevitable ache. You were sure he wouldn’t get all the way down and he only paused once the tip of his dick hit your cervix. The absolute stretch and burn of the demons cock shoved you over the edge again in a premature yet strong climax of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!”

You whined keenly, you nearly couldn’t stop cumming already, he was just so big that his length hit all the right bundles of nerves. Even now though, your pussy lips hadn’t swallowed him full nor reached the top of his knot. Your overly-sensitive and agitated clit thrummed between your legs, the frenzied spasms of your pussy’s muscles enticed a guttural snarl from him.

"Watch your language, omega. It's not very becoming of you."

Alastor’s sharp claws pricked at your clothing, digging more as he started moving your hips, to roll against his in a shallow motion. He didn’t lift you up too much, favoring to keep himself confined as deeply as he could. Your pussy walls made it incredibly hard for him, his focus on the way your pliable, tender cervix felt. Each hit of his tip was a kiss for your cervix to give in, to extend beyond normal measures and make your womb his. Your beseeching, eager moans and squeals left out of your lips, not bothering to saying anything. The sounds of your drenched pussy, strained sobs and skin meeting skin, were desirable compositions to the radio demon.

“Sweetheart, your moans of ecstasy are like a melody to me. I must have you immerse me.”

Alastor dropped the radio filter just at the last word, voice lowered from he usual cheerful and velvety tone. You knew what he meant, your eyes widened with adrenaline and panic. You tried wiggling out of his grasp this time, the tentacles grip tightening and pulling taunt to stop you, the demon laughing in elation as he drove his cock deeper with an abrupt and harsh tug down. This time, the tender and swollen cushion of your cervix gave into his bullying cock, terribly uncomfortable yet endorphin releasing.

You were fully seated on him basically limp, a passive and panting mess with dewy skin. Your raw pussy walls twitched and fluttered around his length, getting used to the strain. His large hands tenderly massaged your sides before merely resting on them. You could hear the static much louder now, his own breathing unbridled and heavy. You were sure if you looked down, no matter the soft meat on your tummy, it would be bulging from the sheer intrusion. You honestly couldn’t get your gaze to focus, overcome by the feeling of blissful fullness.

A drop of drool caught your attention, dripping onto your left shoulder and being absorbed by the dark sweater you wore. He was drooling over the tight, wet heat of your womb and overbeating want to mate you, nearly losing himself to his more demonic and feral form of himself with antlers elongating and scleras filling with black.

“You don't realize what you've been doing to me. Angering me, not even confiding in me - a strong Alpha, of your powers. Always on my mind, always thinking of you. Seems like even now… You have me within your precious grasp, little bear.”

Breathy, hungry - the infernal Overlord shuddered underneath you. He started off easy, controlling your smaller, supple form with his grasp and demonic tentacles. He bounced you up and down his cock, only pulling you up enough to feel the crown of his glans hit the resistance of your cervix with a gratifying suck. It was like your pussy was trying to keep him inside, the walls felt like they were tightening every time he went to pull out whilst your juices leaked and slobbered over his stiff member. This drove the radio demon into an all-consuming, rageful want.

The consuming urge to breed you heightened. He wanted you to smell of him, plump and well fed with a fawn inside your tummy. He already knew how fertile you were, mouth-watering pheromones lush with reminders. Alastor lifted you up, the shadowy tentacles holding on. His hips began thrusting up in a hurried pace. His cock pulled down on your cervix harshly, using your womb as his personal toy. His knot kept catching on your entrance, teasing your folds as a warning to what’s to come.

Each gasp, each moan that escaped your lips was a symphony of ecstasy, a sweet melody of pleasure that echoed through the air like a siren's song. In that moment, you were lost in a whirlwind of sensation. Your every nerve ending alive with the intoxicating rush of pleasure. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. You couldn't deny that there was something intoxicating about the whole situation; the way his body moved against yours, the way his tentacles wrapped around you, the way his breath felt against your skin and how he'd taken all of this pleasure unprovoked. It had been too long since your omegan needs had been drawn out, your heats spent alone and cold.

The radio demon was entranced, intoxicated with your sounds, scent and plushness against him. He couldn’t stop the rest of his obsidian tendrils from finding their way to various places on your body, whether it be wrapping around you or fondling and rubbing your chest, thighs and stomach. Alastor wanted you to know how powerful he was, how he could consume you in all his glorious ways, and be a considerable candidate for a mate. The deer was truly feeling some conflicted feelings. Despite his cruel and domineering actions, there was a part of him that seemed to crave your power, your ability to challenge him, maybe a harbinger for change. You wondered if this was what he truly needed, someone to stand up to him and show him that he wasn't invincible.

You could feel it building again, the all-consuming and concentrated passionate feeling of your sensitive cunt reaching its cumulation.

"I'm going to e a t you."

It was too much, eyes tearful as you felt his cool, wet tongue swipe sloppily at your neck with a gnarling sound. He was lapping and putting pressure on your scent glands, gladly tasting at your sweetness. It was incredibly difficult to not seal this side of the deal, forcing you to have to consider being his mate and manipulated by your own body since the mating tie would have been halfway made if he bit you. His own Alpha chanted and growled 'My Omega. Mine!' internally. His jaw unhinged to latch fully onto the conjunction of your neck and shoulder just below your flavorful scent glands. Alastor’s fierce and sharp-edged teeth sunk in, blood oozing thickly from the puncture wounds. He sucked and kept hold of you like that, enamored with the erotic, ambrosial taste of your blood. Your desperate mewling was nonstop.

"A-Alpha, am gonna cum!"

The pain threw you over the edge and you came hard on his thick cock, your gooey wetness squishing out of you with every snap of his hips. His rough and jarring thrusts increased to fuck you through it. Your pussy was milking him, tightening and releasing his swelling cock - for him was heavenly, pleasure building up as his final push over the peak. He yanked your body down on him to secure his already bloating knot in you earning a debauched, filthy wail from your throat. Your gummy cunt strained and enveloped around him entirely, widely, slipping over his knot as it popped achingly into you. Once inside, the knot expanded, getting larger and larger and forcing your body to accept the wide bulge as it plugged your cunt. Your body tensed with hands grasping at the poor cushion of the chairs arms, muscles shaking violently as you felt his awfully hot, viscous cum enter your womb, filling it full. As Alastor's thrusts slowed, his breathing becoming more even, you knew that this was just the beginning. The power struggle between you two was far from over, and you knew that you would have to be careful in how you handled it.

But for now, you allowed yourself to bask in the afterglow of the encounter, feeling the warmth of Alastor's body against yours, and the heat of his cum inside you. You were slack against him and he fully leaned over you, his cock still leaking in you and his tentacles all stroking and rubbing tenderly along your body. Alastor’s hands slid underneath your top and cupped your belly’s softness, feeling where his dick and cum rested inside you snuggly as he unlatched his mouth from you. Those lean hands massaged the supple, swollen flesh instigating little, satisfied whines from you as you reveled in the mixed scent of blood and sexual afterglow. You were so full of his cock and seed, you knew when his knot went down it would leak heavily out of you.

"Good omega. So good for me, little omega." Alastor nuzzled to your scent gland, avoiding the now drying wound right underneath.

In this moment, you felt a strange sense of intimacy with the radio demon. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn't help but feel a connection with him, a bond that was forged in the heat of the moment. You wondered what would happen next, whether this would be the start of something more, or if it would end here and now. Maybe he’d try to kill you off for good. Who knows.

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jayybugg · 2 months

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dreams come true

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.

Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.

Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.

“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.

“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”

Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”

“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.

“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”

Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.

“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”

Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”

He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.

“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”

Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”

You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.

“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”

Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”

You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”

Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.

The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.

To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.

You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.

“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”

You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”

Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.

“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.

It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.

“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”

You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.

With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.

“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”

You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.

“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”

Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.

He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”

He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”

“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.

“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”

Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”

You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.

“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”

He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.

Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”

“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”

Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”

Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”

He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.

Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”

“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”

“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.

Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”

“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”

“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”

The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.

“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”

Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”

Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”

You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.

“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”

“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.

“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.

“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”

Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”

“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.

“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”

You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.

Today was truly a dream come true.

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #fem reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #slytherin #theodore nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #smut #mattheo riddle smut #harry potter

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itadorey · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: in an attempt to distract gojo, yaga sends him on a quest to locate you; a missing member of the zenin clan with prophetic dreams. genre: pre-relationship, humor, fluff notes: college gojo makes me feral. i think he would've been a menace. i also kind of want to continue this as a series of one shots (set in the same universe but not necessarily a multi-chapter fic). wc: ~3k song inspo ♫: ruby sparks by monet ngo

"i saw you in my dreams."

gojo chuckles at the words, a flirty smile appearing on his face as he tilts his head up to look at the person that's speaking to him. he can't help the way his eyes briefly widen when he sees your face, recognizing you as the very person he was sent to find.

he understands that yaga wants to give him a distraction, a getaway from all the shit that has happened to him in the past few years. but going undercover at the university of tokyo to locate you, a supposedly important jujutsu sorcerer, wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his post-high school years. now that you're standing in front of him, he can't really find it in himself to complain. not when he realizes just how pretty you are.

he quickly composes himself, leaning back in his seat before motioning for you to sit. you glance at the seat across from him uncertainly, refusing to move. there's a conflicted look on your face as you scan your surroundings, almost as if looking for an escape route. you look like you regret speaking in the first place.

"i'm flattered, really," gojo says, shamelessly checking you out over his sunglasses. "but that's kind of a cheesy pickup line, isn't it?"

your nose scrunches up at you look at him, and you stutter a few times as you lean against the table. gojo watches with an amused smile that quickly drops when you finally gather your thoughts. "ew! that was not an attempt to flirt with you!"

there's a moment of silence before you sigh and slip into the seat across from gojo. you place your elbows on the table, head in your hands as you stare down at the table. another minute passes before you look up, making brief eye contact with gojo's sunglasses before fully laying your head down. "listen, this is gonna sounds crazy."

"try me," gojo says, smirking as he leans forward. one of his elbows rests on the table, check in hand as he watches you struggle with your thoughts.

he's never met you before, hell, he hasn't even seen you before this moment, but the faint cursed energy that surrounds you lets him know exactly who you are. you're a member of the zen'in clan, labeled as missing when your parents fled a couple years after you were born. the discovery of your prophetic dreams had made you an instant target, and you had been so well hidden from society that even gojo and yaga had had a hard time finding you. there was absolutely no information on your childhood or adolescence, and the only way they had managed to locate you was due to a wayward curse you had taken upon yourself to exorcise. the recent spike of your cursed energy had caused an uproar in the jujutsu community, and a race had begun to see who could get to you first.

between jujutsu high, the zen'in clan, the higher-ups, and a special grade curse, gojo thought he was the best option.

"okay, come on," gojo says, standing up and stretching before pushing his chair in. you finally look up, frustration visible on your face as you stare at him. your expression quickly morphs into confusion when gojo gently grabs your arm, tugging you up from your seat and slinging your bag over his shoulder before interlocking arms with you.

"where are we going?" you ask, stumbling after him. he's taller than you, and you find yourself struggling to keep up with his long strides.

"we're gonna go get some coffee!" he says, smiling at you. "i know a place. besides, i wanna know all about those dreams you had of me."

"you don't think i'm lying to you?" you say, eyeing him skeptically. "or that i'm crazy?"

your question goes unanswered, but the look he sends you makes your stomach twist with nervousness. there's a glint in his eye that catches you off guard, and you find yourself wondering if he knows more than he's letting on.

your mind races as he walks you off campus, chatting your ear off as you go. he doesn't receive a single response from you, yet your silence doesn't seem to bother him. if anything, it only motivates him to talk even more, and you find yourself almost enjoying the way he doesn't let the silence last more than a few seconds.

"oh look! there it is," gojo says, fully capturing your attention as he motions towards a small café. it's a small, charming place, one street over, visible through the alleyway the two of you are currently standing in front of. you come to a full stop when he makes a move to walk down the alley, inadvertently pulling him back to your side when he realizes you won't budge.

"what's wrong?" he asks, leaning down to catch your eye. you're met with a startingly blue gaze, and you shift from one foot to another as you tear your eyes away from him. "oh, i know! i bet you're nervous for our date!"

"this isn't a date!" you snap, finally pulling your arm away from him. you can feel a headache coming as he giggles, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks into the alley. "wait!"

gojo halts at your words, turning around to fully face you. he watches you curiously as you take a few tentative steps forward, a shiver running down your spine when you enter the alley as well. there's a coldness seeping through your bones as you approach gojo, and when you turn to look behind you, it feels as though you've left the busy streets of tokyo completely.

"what's wrong?" gojo asks, the smile still on his face as he observes your reaction. you're almost certain that he knows something you don't at this point.

"this alley," you start, wringing your hands as you take a step back. "this is where we were. in my dream, i mean."

"and what exactly were we doing here?" gojo asks, his teasing tone earning a scowl from you. "this alley is quite inconspicuous, and we're all alone."

the insult you had ready dies on the tip of your tongue as you notice movement behind gojo, and his eyebrows furrow as he notices the sudden change in your demeanor.

"so, in my dream we were here. and you were in danger. i couldn't do anything to help and you—," you cut yourself off, nervousness coating your words as you start to close in on gojo. you ready yourself to fight, remembering every detail about your dream as the curse lurking in the alleyway reveals itself. you curse to yourself as it notices you, and you absentmindedly note that it seems be a grade 1 curse.

"and i?" gojo asks, curiosity coloring his words as he tilts his head in confusion. he hasn't moved at all, and you find yourself wondering if he can sense cursed spirits. in your dream it seemed like he could.

you inhale sharply as the curse lunges, and you notice too late that this scene isn't playing out the same way it had in your dream. you throw yourself at gojo, eyes wide with panic as you realize you're just a bit too far to reach him.

"you have to move!" you shriek, your heart pounding as gojo simply grins at you. he raises his hand silently, fingers twisting as he mutters something under his breath. the curse is killed instantly, and you find yourself collapsing to your knees as you look at gojo in shock.

"y-you—"

"me!" gojo cheers, cutting you off as he approaches you. he hauls you onto your feet and loops his arm with yours once again, guiding you past the disintegrating curse and emerging on the other side of the alley. you spare another glance back at the corpse, swallowing harshly before turning to look at the sorcerer standing next to you.

"who are you?" you ask quietly. the smile doesn't slip from gojo's face as he holds the cafe door open for you, following closely after you and guiding you to an empty table.

"how about we order first? and then i'll answer all of your questions," gojo says, picking up a stray menu and flipping through it casually as if he hasn't just taken down a grade 1 curse with ease. he notices your stare but doesn't comment on it, instead choosing to place the menu back on the table before waving over a server.

"can i get a slice of cake with two forks? oh! and two glasses of chocolate milk please."

gojo twiddles his thumbs as the two of you wait for your order, and you find yourself fully studying him for the first time since you approached him. he's sitting casually, leaning back slightly in a relaxed manner as he hums a song under his breath. when he notices your stare, he sends you a small grin and proceeds to go back to observing his surroundings.

he's much too relaxed for someone who just had an encounter with a curse, and you realize that he truly does know a lot more than you originally thought.

"here's your order!"

gojo thanks the server enthusiastically as you mutter your appreciation, your hands closing around the glass he pushes towards you without much thought.

"so, who are you?" you finally ask, repeating the question that gojo had ignored earlier. he laughs at your words, grabbing one of the forks and taking a bite of cake as he extends the other one to you. he waits for you to grab the fork, using his own to pick up another piece of cake before he notices you don't make a move to take it from him.

"what? you want me to feed you instead?" he asks, eyelashes fluttering as he gives you a flirty smile. he places the fork meant for you back on the table, leaning in closer and bringing his own fork to your mouth. "i guess that would be more date-like. okay, say ah!"

his enthusiasm dies down when he notices the frown tugging at your lips, and he deflates in defeat when you push his hand aside and reach for the other fork. you fiddle with it for a couple of seconds before placing it back down and looking at him with a glare.

"who are you?" you demand once more, your eye twitching in annoyance when gojo opens his mouth. you have no doubt he's about to say something stupid. "if you don't tell me, i will scream for help."

his mouth clamps shut as he studies you quietly, taking another bite of the cake before sighing.

"my name is gojo satoru," he finally says, holding his hand out to you as he introduces himself. you place your hand in his hesitantly, a gasp leaving you when he brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. "and you, you're a zen'in."

gojo watches as your eyes go wide at his words, and you yank your hand out his grasp before looking around nervously.

"no, i'm not," you say quietly. "i've never heard that name in my life."

you receive a funny look from gojo, and he crosses his arms before snorting. "yeah, ok. i totally believe you."

"how do you know that name," you say quietly, your eyes still scanning your surroundings. your shoulders are tense, and gojo can tell that you're seconds away from sprinting out of your seat and away from him.

"it's a pretty well known name in the jujutsu world," gojo responds, his head tilting as he looks at you questioningly. "so you know about curses, but not about the clans?"

"sorry, i'm afraid learning about the politics of the jujutsu world was the least of my worries," you reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you do so. gojo thinks it's kind of endearing. "the information on curses was much more important, so i kinda just tuned out my parents when they gave me that lecture."

gojo chuckles, shaking his head slightly at your words. he leans forward without much thought, holding out three fingers as he speaks. "there's three big jujutsu families that exist. there's the kamo clan, the gojo clan, and the zen'in clan. you and i belong to two of those. and all three of them are looking for you."

you shift in your seat at his words, giving him a wary glance before shrugging nonchalantly. "so you found me first. now what?"

there's a slight nervousness to your tone, causing gojo to frown. he shrugs, grabbing his glass and taking a drink. "i dunno. i wasn't sent on behalf of the gojo clan. i was sent by yaga masamichi, the principal of tokyo jujutsu high. we have no plans to turn you over to the higher-ups, it that makes this situation any better."

"then what do you plan on doing?"

"now that, i also don't know," gojo confesses. he notices the look of irritation on your face and chuckles. "all we know is that your power is too strong to be left unchecked. now, i'm not necessarily kidnapping you, but i am asking you to return to the school with me and speak with yaga. we think there's a way that your dreams could help jujutsu sorcerers know what they could possibly be dealing with on a mission ahead of time."

"i don't think that'll be possible," you mutter, frowning down at the table. you seem lost in thought, and gojo gives you a moment of silence before he speaks.

"what do you mean by that?" gojo's voice is soft, his eyebrows knit in concern as you give him a worried look.

"i mean that i don't think my dreams are reliable," you whisper, panic lacing your words.

"they're prophetic dreams!" gojo yells quietly. "what do you mean they're not reliable."

"ok, look," you say, pausing to reach for the half-eaten slice of cake. you finally take a bite, eyes lighting up as you hum with delight. "that is good! ok, anyways, i don't think my dreams are truly prophetic."

"that's literally not possible," gojo argues, eyes wide in disbelief. "it's a part of your cursed technique! everyone knows that the zen'in clan members with this ability are never wrong."

"well they are now!"

"what do you mean by that?"

"i mean that my dream wasn't accurate," you explain, taking another bite of the cake. you ignore gojo's confused look, sighing before pushing the plate back towards him. "that dream i had of you? yeah the real-life scenario didn't play out the way it was supposed to."

gojo's stare hardens as he processes your words, and he pushed the cake aside as he looks at you questioningly. "what do you mean it didn't play out the way it was supposed to?"

"you were supposed to die," you confess, your voice no louder than a whisper. the silence between the two of you is heavy, and you wonder if your admission was much too harsh. "in my dream, the curse attacked you after i failed to protect you. i don't know what changed."

"well, i'm the strongest sorcerer alive, so there's your answer," gojo says, an uncertain smile on his face as he tries to lighten the mood. "besides, i had to step up my game. i wasn't going to leave someone as precious as you to defend yourself."

his efforts pay off as you huff out a laugh. it's weak, but it manages to dispel the heaviness that had been previously present.

"listen," gojo begins, his tone uncharacteristically serious for the first time since you've approached him. "i'm not trying to freak you out or anything, but that's incredibly strange. there has never been a zen'in prophetic dream that didn't come true. i really think you should speak with yaga, or tengen. but i won't force you to."

"tengen?" you ask, confusion on your face as you look down at the table. "who's that?"

"long story," gojo breathes, making the decision to let yaga fill you in on that. "but what do you say? i'd really like to figure this out, but i kinda need you in order to be able to do that."

there's a moment of hesitation on your end, and gojo finds himself tensing up as he waits for you to speak. he's almost certain that you're going to decline, and he's afraid that once you walk out of the café, you'll be gone forever once again. his fears are dispelled when you look up to meet his gaze, determination clearly visible in your eyes as you nod.

"okay, i'll go with you."

"great!" gojo says, his grin reappearing as he stands. he places a small wad of cash on the table before walking around the table to you and offering you his hand. you've barely slipped your hand into his before he tugs you towards him, his grin getting wider as you bump into his chest. you don't get the chance to say anything before he's walking out of the café, throwing a cursory glance around before heading down the street. "let's get out of here. we shouldn't stay in one place too long, just in case."

gojo chatters endlessly once again as you presumably head towards tokyo jujutsu high, and you find yourself staring at him as you recall your entire day in your mind. gojo satoru had single-handedly disrupted the course of fate, and neither one of you had any idea as to how.

you can feel a headache coming on the longer you stare at him, and you finally look away when he glances back at you and gives you a charming grin.

you have no idea who gojo satoru is, but if he has the power to change the course of your prophetic dreams, then you're determined to find out more about him.

and he sure as hell wasn't going to complain about that.

reblogs are appreciated <3 thank you for reading!!

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 3 months

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know me the way you know your childhood scars, like breathing; i wasn't running but if i was i'm glad it was to you.

tz11 x reader: a small town, a fresh start, a shared heart.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, thigh-riding (this is newish), dirty talk (if you're new, welcome!), mentions of previous relationship being awful, i know i'm forgetting stuff but all my typical things. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: my favorites - i think jd6 getting traded was exactly what i needed in order to write a tz11 character who is actually a nice guy. i call that the best-friend-getting-a-new-best-friend-who-is-named-cam-york effect. anyways, this is long as hell (14k, anyone?), because i have recently been absolutely so over law school guys. i just want a guy who likes to get his hands dirty and actually has friends. too much to ask? okay. obviously, i got so insanely carried away here, as you will be able to tell. we've got about a million side characters, some of which you will recognize, some of which you will not, because i made them up (tell me why i'm so into the matt/bridget dynamic. could write about just them. maybe i will). you guys know that there will be plot holes and dialogue issues and the likes, but you love me anyways, and i love you for that. tz11 should enjoy this, because i know he will inevitably be back in my bad graces soon enough. next up is someone new (!) because i miss when people used to write about tyson jost left and right. hm, what else? tell me what you think, what you'd like to see. my one year anniversary since my first post is feb. 2 (i actually can't believe how fast it went by, and i'm so grateful for you for sticking with me). so, so much love to you and your snakes. go canucks. until next time.

this was probably a terrible idea, you thought, with your suitcases beside you, your head in your hands at the foot of the bed that would be yours for the foreseeable future. one bed of several at a local inn - local to this town, at least, not local to you.

no, you thought, jittery with unknowing and chance and uncertainty, none of this was familiar to you. not this town in the middle of nowhere, hundreds and hundreds of miles from your hometown, your university. not any of the few people you had interacted with, not the uber driver, the inn keeper, the housekeeping staff.

not one part of this place, this experience, not one part was familiar. but that's what you'd wanted, wasn't it? that was the whole point?

you'd wanted to find yourself, wanted to prove that you could take care of yourself, exist on your own, thrive outside of the bubble that was university.

you wanted a fresh start, away from ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, their betrayal still fresh, a wound scabbing over on your heart. you wanted to breathe deeply and not worry about who was watching you exhale - a place where nobody knew you, where nobody could whisper about the girl whose boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend. for three years. she's so stupid, how could she not have noticed?

well, here, you decided, that's what you would get. a humble job as a diner waitress lined up to start tomorrow, a booked room with no check-out date, not a laugh you'd recognize for miles and miles.

this is what you'd wanted, you told yourself, now, loneliness settling in your mouth the way the powder on sour candy does. this is what you have.

completely exhausted from travel and emotional havoc, you passed out that night amidst dreams of fresh starts and trees too tall to see you behind them.

such a lovely image did not last nearly an hour into the next morning, the first day of your new job, just a block or so from the inn you were staying at.

this was part of the reason you had chosen this place for your self-discovery journey, after all - the urgent hiring, competitive wage, amazingly low price for room and board.

you had worked in your university's coffee shop for a year or two to help pay your tuition, so, honestly, how different could it be?

very different, you realized, almost immediately. they were hiring urgently for a reason, which meant there was practically nobody there to train you. one of the line cooks, of all people, just threw you an apron and a name tag to wear over your uniform-compliant black skirt and shirt, mumbled something about a welcome, enunciated something louder about table three needing service.

and so your self-proclaimed new life began completely unceremoniously, with a name-tag that misspelled your name, the smell of waffles and western omelets permeating the air like some grandmother's perfume in an old living room.

at the very least, the business made the time pass quickly, as you paced from table to table, only pausing briefly to introduce yourself to the line, the host, the several curious patrons who asked about you.

"new girl," some impossibly old man husked, "they not have hot coffee where you're from?" he grimaced as he took another sip. "cold as a winter's -"

"okay, that's enough," his companion said, a woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with blonde hair chopped short. she gave you a sympathetic look, like you two were sharing some inside joke. you liked her immediately. "he's had about twelve cups already. don't mind him."

you felt your mouth tick up in a smile for what might have been the first time this morning as you introduced yourself to her, and her father, who you learned everyone affectionately called "old man peters." you learned that the young woman's name was bridget, and she insisted on giving you her number, in case you had any questions, or wanted to get together, or needed anything at all.

your day was already looking up, you thought, as you lifted your sulking ponytail from you back, loose strands curling at the nape of your neck, around your ears. bridget and old man peters bid you goodbye, and then the young host, a boy who stuttered so much over his name that you still didn't quite know what it was, sheepishly alerted you that he had seated a group at the booth in your section.

your flipped to a new page in your notepad as you walked back to the booth, your gaze quickly being tugged up by a drawl-ish voice blurting out "dibs! i call dibs!"

such as exclamation was followed by several groans and one "not fair, you're the only one facing the door."

your brow was slightly scrunched in confusion when you stood at the head of the group's table, four pairs of eyes faced to you in a way that made you feel like a politician about to give a speech.

you cleared your throat, not quite looking anyone in the face. "good morning," you said, "can i get you guys started with some drinks?"

you looked up from your notepad, clicking your pen against the surface of it, taking in the table of - well, you weren't really sure. construction workers, maybe? craftsmen? the four of them had on heavy canvas-like jackets, worn and worked in, highlighter-bright shirts underneath, callused hands that your observant eyes took note of immediately. they were young, too, probably about your age, which made you blush, only a little. these were not the kind of guys you had met in college, the kind who you would have taken a class on freud with, the kind who thought everything with a woman's hand around it was a phallic symbol.

"just coffee," one of them said, short. he tacked on a please when one of his friends smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

you motioned with your pen around the whole table. "for everyone?" you asked, but the question stumbled out of your mouth when your eyes caught on the last of the four, the one on the bench on the right, closest to you.

that sharp face, high cheekbones and cut jaw, should have been so serious, you thought, like some kind of statue, the kind your art history friends would have fawned over in a museum you didn't really want to go to. he should have been so serious, angular like that, but he was anything but. mirth danced in his eyes, so bright they almost sparkled. his full mouth was fixed in a sort of perpetual smirk, so ready to laugh that he was already halfway there. he had the lines around his eyes that told you his full smile would tear you in two.

you were probably staring at him, you realized, flushing deeper as his smirk broke free into something wider, all over his face.

"see, guys," he spoke, that goofy drawl you had noticed on your way over, nothing like the pretentious academics who spoke in circles. he leaned back in the booth. "doesn't matter that i called dibs. she likes me best anyways."

your face scrunched up in some combination of disbelief and hidden delight. "wait," you began, "when i was walking over here, when you said something about dibs," you fixed him with what you hoped was a glare, "you were calling dibs on me?"

he shrugged off his jacket, drawing attention to his wide shoulders, arms thick even through his bright long sleeve. you snapped your gaze back to his eyes, which shimmered, telling you that you'd been caught. "what's the big deal?"

you scoffed, blew a stray curl from your eye line. "you don't call dibs on people," you said.

"yeah, trevor," one of his friends teased, "what's wrong with you?"

"where to begin?" one of the others said, almost lost in thought.

"c'mon, sugar," trevor said, tilting his head, "'s a compliment, yeah?" his gaze rolled down your frame, almost gelatinous, meeting your eyes again reluctantly. "only 'cause you're so pretty, hm?"

you rolled your eyes, fixed your gaze on the one across from him, the one who looked the least engaged. "but, trevor," you whined, stretching out his name like salt-water taffy, "what if i wanted-" you paused, looked down at the blonde just below you.

"matt," he said, practically bored. you nodded your thanks.

"what if i wanted matt?"

his posture grew even more relaxed as he shifted his knees wider under the table. "oh, what if, sugar?" he mused, his eyes so expressive, never off of you for a moment.

"she's gonna spit in your coffee," matt said.

"how about we cut out the middle man and she just spits in my mouth?" he chirped, smirk so telling it made you flush pink.

you mumbled something about decorum before walking away in a flurry of annoyance and excitement. you couldn't really tell the difference, you realized, as you gave the poor host a pot of coffee and asked him kindly to drop it off at the back booth.

you were not something to be called dibs on, that was for sure, and you were here to find yourself, not anyone else, certainly not some guy. even if some guy had soft-looking hair and a witty mouth. even then.

you took a stabilizing breath and got back to work, noting that the back booth only got coffee, only stayed for about twenty minutes before making to leave, heavy jackets loud as they shrugged them back on.

three of the guys called out their thanks and headed out, leaving only a standing trevor there when you approached to settle their bill. thumbing through his wallet, he grinned down at you when you finally stood in front of him again.

he was taller than you thought, you realized, as he now stood at full height. you had to crane your neck slightly to look him fully in the face.

"thought you'd be shorter," you said, honestly, hoping to knock him down a peg, however mean that might have been. but of course he only smirked.

"get that a lot," he drawled, selecting a bill, putting his wallet back in his pocket with hands you had to force yourself not to stare at. "been told 've got the personality of a short guy in the body of a tall one."

you shook your head. of course someone had told him that.

you couldn't really ruminate on that, though, as he stuck the twenty in the front pocket of your apron, as well as something with a slight weight to it, urging an angry pink to the tops of your ears, the feeling of his wide hand warm, so close to you.

you peered up at him, sucked on your teeth as he pulled out his hand slowly, that ever-present smirk almost faltering at your gaze.

"thanks for the service, sugar," he said, and you probably imagined the way the end of his words sounded strained. "see you around, yeah?"

you didn't break eye contact, only let yourself smile back at him before turning and getting back to work, letting the push and pull of waitressing lull you into a rhythm during which it was practically impossible to think too heavily about bright eyes and broad shoulders.

by the end of your shift, you had been officially tired out. you were sure your hair reeked of coffee, and your ankles ached from standing all day.

going to empty your apron, however, right before you left, your hand settled on the bill from earlier, but also several wrapped butterscotch candies. your face contorted as you stared at them, wondering why trevor had put them there.

exhaustion won over curiosity though, as you thanked everyone for your first day and walked the short block back to the inn.

this won't be that bad, you were thinking to yourself as you walked up the stairs. you already had the phone number of a maybe-friend, after all, and as far as jobs went, this one could be a lot worse. good money, good way to meet new people, maybe even something pretty to look at -

as if summoned by your thoughts, when you turned out of the staircase to your hallway, there trevor was, standing on a ladder, looking into the ceiling, some box of tools on the floor.

you narrowed your eyes, bag suddenly feeling heavy on your shoulder. the presence of a new figure drew his gaze to you, and you had to scold your heart, the way it beat like a teenager at the way he looked at you, then. you didn't know him, after all, and you weren't here for anything romantic.

"you followin' me, sugar?" he asked, stepped down from the ladder, making his way over to you. his voice was slow and tired, from whatever he had done that day. you were shocked at the fact that you wanted to know what that was. his gaze shone as he gently took your bag from your shoulder and slugged it onto his own, fell into step beside you. you let him. "tell me you're following me."

you rolled your eyes, but the small smile on your face wasn't going anywhere. "this is where i'm staying," you explained, "so, if anything, you're following me."

you stopped in front of your door, leaned back against it, suddenly in no rush to lock yourself behind it, alone. not when he was on this side of the door, looking like this.

almost weary with hard work, but not weary enough to sour him, just enough to make his movements and expressions slightly slower, lazier, more indulgent, like they were drenched in chocolate ganache. not when he was here, looking at you like this, like you were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

after years at some preppy, pretentious university, at which ingenuity was the most valuable currency, one you felt you lacked so disgustingly, was it really too surprising that you softened under his gaze? that you wanted to stay in it, just a little bit longer?

"sugar?" he asked, head tilted, and you realized he had been talking.

"sorry, what?" you asked, your voice soft like sponge cake, willing your eyes to focus, your mind to focus harder.

he didn't tease you too badly, though, only let his smile grow sharper with a smirk. "i said that 'm sorry if i hurt your feelings with the dibs stuff," he said, and you were almost confused at his apology. you weren't even upset, and when was the last time someone had apologized to you so quickly after doing something?

your memory cut hazily to your ex, somehow trying to convince you it had been your fault that he cheated on you, that it was something you were lacking that had inevitably led him to do that. you practically shivered, then internally scolded yourself for comparing trevor, whom you had met today, you reminded yourself, to your ex-boyfriend.

"'s fine," you said, waving him off, your back softening further into the door. "didn't really hurt my feelings."

his eyes flashed. "didn't really or didn't, sugar?" he asked, searching your face.

you swallowed, acutely aware of his attention, how it slid down your nose, your cheeks, your jaw, slow and thick as sludge. "didn't."

he gave a nod. "'m sorry anyway," he said, and it came out low. "if you really want to go for matt, i won't stop you."

and part of you wanted to blurt out i don't want matt!

but it was your first day in this place, and honestly, you were still kind of hung up on his apology, and the way it sounded from his chapped lips, and you knew to correct him would be exactly what he wanted.

so you just said "thank you," and were shocked at how gentle it sounded.

"jesus christ, distracted, are we, trev?" the voice of the young inn-keeper called from the end of the hallway. he seemed awfully chipper as he approached, hands in his pockets. "i came up to check on your progress," he said, "or lack thereof, i guess." he looked between the two of you. "now i see who's stolen your attention."

"i'm on my legally-required fifteen minute break," trevor said, half-smiling, turning back to you. "sugar, you know my brother, griff?"

you nodded, suddenly clocking the subtle ways their appearances drew from each other. trevor was taller, griff had a wider face, bigger features. but they had the same eyes, same strong nose, mirroring grins. "he owns my room," you said, dumbly, tiredly.

griff only smiled. "she's had a long day, trev, leave her be."

trevor searched your face again, seemed to find all the proof he needed - your heavy eyelids, drooping shoulders. he gently handed your bag back to you. "i'll see you tomorrow, sugar," he said, as soft as you'd heard him. so soft it startled you. "sweet dreams."

"goodnight," you said to both of them, shutting the door behind you. sleep came easily that night, again, with dreams less so of hiding behind trees and more so of rough hands and laughing eyes.

you were surprised, pleasantly so, at how quickly you fell into a routine in your new home. surprised at how quickly you let yourself call this place that.

maybe it was the way that bridget wasn't just being polite when she had given you her phone number, as she had quickly set up dates to show you all her favorite hiking spots around. your weekly hikes with her became a highlight as she told you more about the town, about her young daughter, about book club, about anything and everything. she was so kind with you that you found yourself so comfortable confiding in her. it felt so easy calling her a friend.

maybe it was the way the town seemed to accept you as one of their own so quickly and genuinely. the line cooks flirted with you in the way only line cooks do (in ways that would not be acceptable outside of a kitchen). they made you food to take home, kept you from starving. the host, harry, began to trust you enough that he asked for your help on homework. the regulars began to recognize you, know your name, ask how you were doing. griff checked in on you, asked if anything was wrong with the room, said you should feel free to use his kitchen anytime (as your room was the simplest kind, and didn't have any cooking appliances). you began to know the names of the streets, the stores, the store owners. your fresh start was starting to feel like just that - a start.

or maybe it was that same group of guys who came in every morning, at the same time, who ordered only coffee and then left in a flush of waves and heavy jackets and called-out salutations. you learned that the one with the curly hair, alex, was the quietest, probably the smartest. his closest friend, cole, was the shorter one, who had the loudest laugh. and matt was warming up to you, you thought. the more you made fun of trevor, the more he seemed to like you.

it was that same group, every day, who came in loudly and left louder, who had paint and dirt smudged on their shirts, their hands. who drank coffee like it was water. who laughed like it was easy as breathing, and maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

and, of course, there was trevor, who, the more you got to know him, the more trouble he became. every day, his "good morning, sugar," would reverberate through your chest, and you would drop a pot of coffee at their table, ask how they were doing, listen for their answers.

some comments about how old man peters' roof is caving in, and he should have told them about it probably a year ago, or about how the police chief's plumbing is fucked, or about how they were going over to fix bridget's sink that day. and, if it was the last one, matt would flush, which would make your eyes widen, would make you pepper him with questions about his crush.

and then, at some point during their morning break, trevor would ask something about you, about how you were, about the way you were wearing your hair, the shoes you were wearing, the book you had been reading the week before. and then, as he left, without fail, he would slip a bill and several butterscotch candies into your apron pocket, each time his hand growing heavier, more significant as it settled so close to you.

it didn't particularly help your small crush that you saw him everywhere. he was always fixing something - in the diner, at the inn, in the park downtown. you couldn't escape him and his deft hands, his working mind, his strong frame and easy laugh and addictive smile.

he was everywhere, so of course he would be here, at the grocery store, after your shift one day. you were roaming the isles, looking for a specific kind of vinegar, your basket hoisted up onto your hip, when a low whistle made you turn. you were met with that lazy smirk, your favorite one of his, the nighttime one, the tired one. he approached you, his work boots heavy on the ground.

"you followin' me, trevor?" you asked, repeating what become something of an inside joke between the two of you.

"maybe," he said, looking down at you, shimmering eyes framed by long lashes. "do you want me to be following you, sugar?"

you hummed, noncommittal, some harmony between the fluorescent lights above, the whir of the fridges the next isle over. you turned back to the shelving, resumed your survey of the contents. "your brother offered his kitchen for me to use while he's out tonight," you said, not looking at him.

"did he?" trevor mused, an almost undetectable bite in his tone.

you nodded, eyes alight with excitement. "been eating pancakes and chicken noodle soup for weeks now," you said, referring to what the line cooks sent you home with. "swear my mouth's watering just thinking about something different." you ran a thumb along your bottom lip, as if checking for spit.

if you had been looking at trevor, you would have see his shallow swallow, the way his eyes tracked your movement, how his gaze hung from your mouth like lacy ribbon. he cleared his throat.

you finally located the vinegar you wanted, on the very top shelf. pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, you reached the tips of your fingers for the bottle, only just out of reach.

trevor only chuckled as he grabbed the bottle easily, took the basket from your hip and into his own hand, dropping the vinegar into it.

"i can carry that, you know," you said, suddenly wishing you had something to do with your hands.

"i know," he said, smug.

you rolled your eyes, huffed a thank you, anyways.

"so, what're you making?" he asked as you led him from aisle to aisle, loading your basket with ingredients.

you explained to him how, in college, this one salad had been your absolute favorite to make when you needed something that made you feel good. something about the combination of arugula, kale, chickpeas, sweet potato, whatever other vegetables you had on hand, sometimes chicken, if you were feeling fancy, something about the simple dressing of oil and vinegar - it was perfect. no meal left you feeling as good as this one did.

and it was how you had made it entirely on your own, too - it wasn't some fancy steak dinner your ex had buttered you up with after a fight, it wasn't boxed brownies shared with your old best friend the night before you found out - no, this was all you.

when you looked back at trevor, there was something molten in his gaze. "sounds amazing," he said, low, like he didn't want anyone else to hear.

you tilted your head, let your smile slant across you face, scrunched up your nose, teasing. "would you want to join me for dinner, trevor?"

his face split into a grin. "i would," he said, "i would want to, please."

and so you found yourself fumbling around someone else's kitchen with an audience, washing kale and peeling sweet potatoes with fingers that twitched towards the figure across the counter, practically irritated that they weren't touching him.

you scolded your hands to behave, which became easier as the night went on, as conversation flowed like cranberry juice, the flavor of it lingering in your mouth just the same.

he might ask you about how the diner was going, to which you would look around as if to make sure no one was there. his eyes would flash. you would miss this.

"harry's been making some real progress in precalc," you would say from behind your hand, speaking of the host, whom you had come to view very fondly. "and you didn't hear it from me, but i think he's going to ask his friend jason to the school dance next weekend."

you would be flushed with excitement and pride, and trevor wouldn't be able to get much beyond that, honestly, the way it lit you up from the inside out.

but then he would clear his throat, and lean forward on his hands, and tell you that if harry needed help asking jason to the dance, he knew exactly the best crew for the job.

"don't tell me you're talking about your rag-tag group of misfits," you would say, cocking a brow as you dressed the kale and arugula.

and he would feign offense, place a broad hand over his heart. "i'll have you know that this group of misfits went 16/16 in high school dance invitations," he would say. "all four of us, all four years."

you might roll your eyes. "real band of heartbreakers, were you?" you would say.

and laughter would shine behind his eyes like christmas tree lights behind store windows, and he would stretch his arms above his head, lazily, comfortably. "'course not," he would say, his voice the sort of raspy that comes with stretching, "only alex."

and this would pull a real laugh from you, as you tossed everything together, the kind of laugh that rung in his ears, that made him pleasantly dizzy.

as the night passed on, time moving altogether too fast and the kind of slow that oozes, you would learn about how he grew up in this town, how he went to trade school, how he had had the same friends his entire life. you would ask questions about if he ever felt the desire to leave (not really), how he got into manual labor (he never really felt like he was that good at anything else), what his family was like (close, but not overbearingly so).

and, in turn, between bites and sips and laughs, you would tell him about how you grew up (humbly), what school was like (hard, but rewarding), how you ended up here (cheap housing, good job, close community). and maybe you would actually tell him about the ultimate betrayal you had faced before you left, why that made you want to be somewhere, anywhere else, somewhere where you had no choice but to make a life entirely for yourself.

at the mention of your ex his jaw might clench, his mouth twitching ever so slightly. he would mutter something about nonsense, and you would smile.

he would ask questions about your family (just your dad and you), your favorite parts of your life here (hikes with bridget, homework sessions with harry, bickering with old man peters).

and he would pout, at that, his bottom lip looking so positively delicious it stole your breath. "'m not your favorite, sugar?" he would plead, joking.

maybe you would really look in his eyes, then, find something hot, tilt your head. "you wanna be?" you would ask, breathier than you intended.

and he would smirk, somehow flipping the dynamic on its head entirely with only a single expression. "you know i do, sugar," he would tell you, low and so loaded you would blush.

it might scare you how easily you let him in, how quickly you were warming up to him. his pretty face might scare you, because pretty faces had hurt you before. there had been no one prettier than your old best friend, after all, and look how that turned out.

so, when the night grew viscous, and the meal was long over, the dishes done, a portion for griff packed up in tubberware on the counter, when he walked you upstairs to your room, both of your steps slow, reluctant, when his gaze lingered on your lips and the smell of him grew distracting, the height of him all-consuming, even then, even though you wanted to, you didn't kiss him. you only bid him a gentle goodnight.

"thank you for tonight," he would say, instead, looping his arms around your neck, hugging you close to his chest. this was so much worse, you thought, as you breathed him in, wrapped your own arms around him and squeezed. the way he held you like he was afraid what would happen if he let go. his hair so messy and his tone so genuine it almost hurt. "sweet dreams, sugar," he said into your hair before pulling away.

even though, that night, you might have dreamed about how his rough hands might feel as they held your soft cheek, how his chapped lips might slot against your glossed mouth. even if you woke up, that next morning, practically sweating. not the sweetest of dreams.

today was your day off. you had plans later with bridget, but you decided to book a haircut and blowout at the salon downtown, since you had the whole morning to yourself. the salon was one place you hadn't been in, yet, and you hadn't had a haircut in months, so you figured now was a good a time as any.

the bell above the door rang when you stepped inside, but no one seemed to notice over the shrill thrum of hair dryers, sinks, and the steady stream of gossip that you appeared to have walked in on.

"she told me her trevor went on a date, julia," one of the stylists said seriously, her eyes expressive as she sectioned her client's head of long curls. "won't stop rambling on and on about her, she says."

your heart jumped in your chest at trevor's name, sunk accordingly. he had been on a date? you weren't sure why you had assumed you were the only girl in his life at the moment, but it stung, nonetheless. you pulled at a thread on your long sleeve, eyes down.

you can't be upset, you told yourself, don't you dare be disappointed-

"oh, honey, how long you been waiting?" one of the stylists called out, making her way over to you and the front desk. "swear you have to throw somethin' at one of us when you come in or we'll never stop talking." she had such an easy way of speaking, a comfortable posture, a genuine face.

"sorry," you said, looking around, still recovering from what you'd overhead.

she just waved you off with a smile. "it's us motormouths who should be apologizing," she said before introducing herself as ginger. "now, what name is your appointment under?"

you told ginger your name, and as soon as you did, her eyes sailed up to meet yours again, wide and bright. she snapped her fingers, getting the room's attention. "you're the doll who stole our baby trevor's heart!"

you blushed furiously, felt the words in your mouth twist and tangle like a toddler's hair. "me? no, that can't be right," you said. there's no way last night counted as a date, you thought. there's no way he's talking about me.

the other stylist just squealed as you were led to a chair. "of course it's you! look at her, julia," she said to the woman in her chair, practically elated, "what a treasure!"

your blush wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"that boy's been talkin' to 's mama 'bout you, honey," julia said from her chair, her expression knowing. "he's just about smitten, she says."

"and a mother always knows," ginger said, emphasizing her words with hairbrush gestures.

so you spent your appointment getting a couple inches off, hearing about the trouble trevor used to get in when he was younger (apparently alex used to be the biggest troublemaker, though), hearing about how trevor just went around fixing whatever anyone needed fixing.

"swear that sweet boy wouldn't charge a dime if this town'd let him," ginger said as she worked long layers into your hair, "we have to sneak payment into his pockets, and even then he tries to give it back!"

your cheeks burned, your heart heavy with affection as she blew out your hair, leaving it soft and smooth. you paid, said goodbye for about ten minutes, found out just how hard it was to escape salon conversation.

"now go show off for our baby, honey!" someone called out the door after you, making you laugh. you guessed that all the stereotypes about small town hair salons were true.

you went on your weekly hike with bridget, who gave you that understated grin when she saw you. "looking good," she said, bumping her shoulder into yours. "trev doesn't stand a chance."

you rolled your eyes. "didn't get my hair cut for him."

she laughed. "i know," she responded, "but all anyone can talk about this morning is your date last night."

you couldn't help but scoff good-naturedly. "i can't believe people already know about this," you said, "it was literally last night, and it wasn't even a date."

she waved you off. "nobody cares about the logistics. even my girl was moping to me about it. she's got a little crush on her skating instructor."

"trevor teaches your daughter how to skate?" you asked, having never heard of this.

she nodded. "he's the highlight of her week," she said, her eyes soft, picturing her daughter's unabashed smile.

"get in line," you mumbled, covering your face with your hands.

why was everyone so intent on revealing adorable information about trevor to you today? didn't they know he already took up enough of your daily headspace?

"can't somebody tell me he hates animals, or something? or that he's really pretentious about art? or that he has, like, some weird fetish?"

bridget laughed. "sorry, babe," she said, "he's the town's sweetheart."

you were still reeling with all of this information when you got back to the inn, your face rosy from the outside chill, your body pleasantly awake from your walk.

you began up the stairs, humming to yourself, ready to collapse onto your bed, maybe catch up on some reading.

"you followin' me, sugar?"

you looked up, immediately, feeling your pulse in your neck, in your teeth.

there he was, of course, there he was, painting the railing in the stairwell, the sharp smell of paint faint in the air.

all dirtied up from the day, that slouch that only appeared in the late afternoon, that crinkly smile, all of it made him almost too good to be real.

"maybe," you said, like second nature now, after all those times before, his face forcing a tiny smile from your mouth.

you stood just in front of him now, held your breath as he reached up, twirled a strand of your hair around a finger. he let out a low whistle you felt in your stomach.

"lookin' awful pretty tonight," he said, not much more than a whisper as he thumbed the soft ends of your freshly-cut hair.

his words settled like thick caramel on your tongue. "thank you," you mustered, your mind spinning with all of the wonderful things you had heard about him, today.

he bent down to one knee in front of you as you collected your thoughts. "um, what are you doing?" you said, strained, dumb.

he looked up at you through those girlish lashes, smirk heavy on his perfect face. he tugged your foot closer to him. "shoe's untied," he said, gesturing to your sneaker. "may i?"

you blinked at him before nodding, because what alternate universe was this? you tried to imagine any other man you'd known willingly getting on the floor for you, just to tie your shoe. you couldn't.

he tightened your laces with nimble hands.

you cleared your throat. "heard something funny today from the ladies at the salon," you told him, trying to focus on something other than his proximity.

he hummed. "nothin' good, i'll bet," he mused, "ginger loves a good story."

"it was a good story," you said, reveled in the way his expression softened, giving you the courage to press on. he began to tie a double knot. "'bout how you're tellin' your mom we went on a date."

he pulled the bow tight, looked up a you for a second, a guilty, childish grin on his face, caught red-handed. you extended a hand to him, helped him back to his feet.

"oh, yeah," he said smugly, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall, easy, comfortable. "like how you asked me to dinner, and then cooked for me, and how it 100% was a date-"

you laughed, shook your head. "it was not!" you said, "i never said it was a date!"

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "call it wishful thinking, then, sugar."

and you couldn't focus too much on what he meant by that, so you just shook your head again. "you're too much," you said, wanting it to come out teasing, but instead there was a breathy sort of desperation behind it.

"yeah?" he asked, that smirk present as ever. you had grown so close to him without realizing it, now just a step away. him leaning back against the wall, you right in front of him, looking up at him.

you nodded, swallowed, your blood hot, your skin prickly, alive.

his eyes fixed you in place, teasing. "too much for you, sugar? can't take it?"

you bit your lip to stop any sound from escaping you, because everything seemed entirely too loud, then. you could hear your heartbeat, you swore you could hear his, the radiator could have been screaming at you. you didn't dare think about just how much you wanted to take.

to stop yourself from doing something much more serious, you simply reached your hand forward, swiped at a spot of paint on his face with your thumb.

your touch against his brow bone felt like an exhale, like melting wax. you could feel his warm breath on your hand as you pulled it back, but then he was looking at you, like that, like you were so, so special, like he would have doused his face in paint just to have your hands wipe it all away, and were you imagining the way his gaze grew fiery?

"trev! old man peters says his sink's still leaking!"

griff's voice rattled down the stairwell, smothering the flames in your eyes, if only just. just enough to break the spell, to pull away, to tell him you'd see him tomorrow for his coffee break, for his hungry gaze to follow you up the stairs until you were out of sight.

and so the routine continued, more butterscotch candies slipped into aprons, more pestering his friends, more slyly asking bridget what she thought about matt (she was deflecting, you'd observed, delighted). more helping with homework and reading in bed and cooking and snapping at old man peters to stop leaving his watch behind.

more stolen touches and longing glances and sideways smiles, backwards hats and work gloves stuffed in pockets, damp hair sticking to your neck, the hem of your skirt brushing against your thigh. more flame and softness and sweetness drenching your frame as he said hello, and goodbye, and sweet dreams, and anything else. that coil inside of you twisted tighter and tighter as you wondered what exactly was holding you back, what exactly you were waiting for.

one day, after work, there was a knock at your door. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit disappointed when you opened it.

"you coming?" griff said, "town hall meeting starts in 5."

you scrunched up your nose. "town hall? what, is it required?"

he smiled, kind. "no, but they're usually a good time," he said, "and trevor's going to be there."

you had your jacket in your hand already. "he's not the reason i'm coming," you said, following him out the door and down the street.

"i won't tell anyone," was all griff replied, his smile understanding and gentle.

you had never been to a town hall meeting before. you'd guessed that the closest thing you could imagine was a student government meeting, which you'd been a part of in college.

this seemed much more laid back, though, taking place in the middle school gymnasium. it looked like almost everyone from town was here. you noticed old man peters, sitting with bridget, her daughter buzzing around from person to person. the salon ladies were talking to pretty much everybody. there was harry, sitting next to his mom. you approached bridget as griff went up to talk to the fire chief, one of his close friends.

soon enough, the meeting began, the first issue on the docket being the prospect of a stoplight on the intersection of drysdale avenue and york street.

bridget yawned, "same issue every meeting," she whispered to you. "always divided down the middle." this time was no different, you observed, the parents in the crowd seemed completely for the stoplight, the older crowd significantly against.

"next issue, a write in from the community, quote," the representative began, reading from notecards, "should the implementation of the 'dibs' rule be observed seriously, unquote." he cleared his throat, looked up to the crowd. "thoughts?"

you stifled an embarrassed laugh, held your face in your hands as bridget rubbed soothing circles in your back. "is this actually a real-life discussion topic?" you asked, incredulous.

"just let them have their fun," she whispered in a way that made her smile evident.

"i think 'dibs' is outdated and juvenile," a woman said, "sets a bad example for the kids."

the man up front was taking notes.

"i think it's cute," bridget piped up from her chair.

"me, too!" her daughter giggled, jumping into her lap.

"alright, i've got two for cute, one for bad influence," the man said, "anyone else?"

"i think it's lame," a very matt-like voice said, gruff, short.

"one for lame," the scribe said aloud.

"well, i think you're lame," that goofy drawl called out, making you pull your head up, look around until you spotted him, near the front. he was swatting matt on the back of the head. "and i learned it from alex, so take it up with him."

his curly-haired friend hid a smirk. "it's a high school move," he explained to the crowd, before turning to face trevor. "we haven't done it in years."

"until now," trevor amended, "but you guys understand. you've seen her. you've talked to her."

ginger put her hand over her heart as if swooning.

someone coughed. your face was burning up. bridget nudged you gently.

"she's here, trev," griff said, to which the fire chief let out a hearty laugh.

"really?" he turned to face the crowd, his voice excited, hopeful, searching. "where are you, sugar?"

you raised your hand, of all things, immediately wanted to smack yourself. "hey," you said, mousy.

"hey," he parroted, mocking, but of course not maliciously. his smile broke you apart.

and then you were having a conversation with several rows of people in chairs between you, on a gymnasium floor.

"you're the only one with the dibs curse on you," he said, "so what's your take on it? should we abolish the practice for good? is it outdated?"

you swallowed, were looking only at him as the scribe sat at the front, pen at the ready. "well," you began, "it works, from what i can tell." his smile put you together again. "so it can't be that outdated."

his eyes shone, only for you. "you heard her," he said, "case closed."

"are we actually still talking about this?" old man peters asked, to bridget, but much too loudly.

the rest of the meeting passed, absolutely delivering on laughs and nonsense, as promised.

"last thing before we go," the man said, "does everyone have a ride to the away game tomorrow?"

you leaned over to bridget. "what's that?"

"the rec hockey team is away this weekend," she whispered.

"rec hockey?" you said, confused, "like kids?"

she shook her head. "like kids, yes, but not kids."

"sugar, do you have a ride?" trevor's voice rang clear against the mumbled chatter of the room.

you looked up, met his eyes again. "uh, i don't think i'm going?" you said.

there was a collective gasp, followed by silence. your eyes widened. "babe," bridget whisper-screamed at you. "everyone goes."

you cleared your throat, realizing your grave error. "well, then i don't have a ride."

"you can ride with me, honey," ginger said, sweetly, with a warning in her eye.

"trevor has to go super early since he's playing," bridget whispered from next to you. you nodded, signaling that you had heard her.

"thank you!" you called out.

rides were sorted, the meeting ended, everyone saying their goodbyes, folding chairs scraping against the waxy floor. trevor and his friends caught up with you and bridget on your way out.

trevor slung a heavy arm around your shoulders that you couldn't help but lean into. he smelled like sawdust and something citrusy. "i didn't know you played hockey," you said, looking up at him curiously, not letting yourself ruminate on how good he felt slotted against your side.

he shrugged.

bridget scoffed. "he's good, too," she said, "i hate to pump his tires, but only the best teacher for my baby girl." she pressed a kiss to the cheek of her smiley daughter, whom she had hoisted up onto her hip. "all of them play," she said, a vague gesture to the group. "lit it up in high school."

"not all of them are as good, though," trevor said, which caused some annoyed groans.

"what about heartbreaker alex, over here?" you teased.

"heartbreaker alex has grown up since junior year," alex said, soft spoken. "and it's not my fault my hair looks like this."

the shortest friend of the group, cole, the one with the loudest laugh, whom you had come to rely upon for book recommendations, put a hand in line with his brow bone, as if blocking out the sun to search for something.

"what are you doing?" alex asked.

"oh, me?" cole said, "just looking for all the girls you must be getting, since you've still got all that hair."

alex rolled his eyes, the group laughed.

"what about you, matt?" you asked as trevor held open the door, all of you stepping out into the night air. "i've heard the team's got a perfect record for dance invites. any high school stories?"

matt didn't say anything for a second, but bridget laughed. "you're really telling people that, trev, as if i didn't ask him freshman year?" she nodded towards matt, who was actually blushing, you thought, but the dark made it hard to tell. "was a tough sell, eh? he was so quiet when i asked i thought he pretending that i wasn't there."

"oh, we remember," cole said, tone alight with understanding. "funny how we grow up, but so much stays the sa-" he blew out a breath when matt elbowed him in the gut.

you smiled to yourself. "i'll see all of you tomorrow, for the game, then?" you said, the inn now steps away.

goodbyes rang out, and you made to remove yourself from trevor's embrace, but he only spun you back into his chest, pulling you close, his arms now wrapped around your back, your nose against his breastbone. you breathed in, melted into him, squeezed him back.

"did you mean it?" he said, soft, so only you would hear him.

you mumbled your confusion into his chest.

"when you said it was working? did you mean it?"

your heart jumped, his words so vulnerable you couldn't look at him. "i meant it," you whispered into his bright shirt. "you're working on me, trevor." you felt his lips brush against your hair, featherlight, before he let you go.

"sweet dreams, sugar," he said, and you walked back to your room with wobbly legs and an overactive heart.

the following day, ginger graciously gave you a ride to the next town over. she, of course, chatted you up the entire time, which you welcomed.

"i know i must be super late to the party here," you said, carefully, picking at your nails, "but what's the story behind bridget and matt?"

ginger tsked. "we're a bad influence on you, honey," she said, taking a right. "you're gonna be a big mouth like me in no time."

you laughed. "it's only 'cause matt's so obvious about it," you told her, "they've known each other forever, and i learned yesterday that she asked him to their freshman dance." you trailed off, hoping that ginger would take your cue.

she nodded, smiled fondly. "our bridget was always such a spitfire," she said, "always going for what she wanted. smart as a whip, too, but you know that."

you nodded. you did.

"and she could have had anyone, but she wanted our matthew, and he wasn't a sight for sore eyes then, like he is now."

is matt good-looking? you'd thought to yourself. you surely hadn't noticed. perhaps you were distracted. perhaps your gaze always wandered.

"but bridget marched right up, asked him to the dance, and the poor boy was so stunned it took him a full minute to say yes." she shook her head, lost in the memory.

"did they ever date, like for real?" you asked, enraptured.

she frowned. "no, i don't think so, at least. bridget was always bouncing around flings, trying out guys for a few weeks, then cuttin' 'em loose." her smile grew wistful. "then she had her darling girl, middle of senior year. dad booked it, never looked back. don't think she's been with anyone since."

you frowned, too, hating the thought of someone abandoning your friend, as lovely and wonderful as she was. what a privilege it would be to be a part of her family.

"and matt?" you asked, as the car pulled into the parking lot. you ran your palms up and down your jeans.

ginger whistled. "that boy's been starry-eyed over her since grade five," she said, "but me and the girls aren't surprised he thinks he doesn't have a shot. his self-esteem's never been the highest, not like the rest of 'em."

"not like cole, who swears he could land a plane, if it came around to it?" you said, grinning.

ginger laughed. "exactly. and not like alex, who was never without a girlfriend, and not like your trevor, who's never needed anyone to tell him how great he is."

you sucked on your teeth. "but we do, anyways," you reminded her.

"that we do, honey," she finished, putting the car in park. "let's go cheer on those knuckleheads, shall we?"

the rink was colder than you thought it would be. the walls were practically made of aluminum foil. you wrapped your arms around yourself, blew out a foggy breath, followed ginger to the away section, absolutely packed with everyone you recognized.

as you settled into the stands, your eyes immediately searched for trevor.

"he's number 11," bridget said, coming to stand next to you.

you rolled your eyes. "and what number is matt?"

she shoved you, playfully, but when spoke, it was bashful. "12," she said. "cole's 22 and alex is 39. police chief is 8, fireman spence is the goalie, and griff is the ref."

you furrowed your brow. "isn't that a conflict of interest?" you asked.

she huffed in a laugh. "if anything, it's a disadvantage for us."

the game started, and you realized very early on that maybe trevor hadn't been lying when he said not all of them are as good. he practically flew around the ice, graceful, mesmerizing. and it was obvious that he wasn't looking to show off, either, that he was just playing to have fun, and if he really wanted to, he could run the scoresheet up into oblivion.

you could feel bridget smile beside you. "yeah," she sighed. "it's pretty crazy."

"he could play professionally," you breathed.

she shrugged. "he's happy," she said simply.

cole scored twice, the other team clawed their way back in. griff threw alex in the box for boarding, which old man peters, even with his granddaughter in his lap, would not let go, keeping a one-man ref, you suck! chant going long after the power play was over.

"does he know it's griff?" you asked bridget.

"of course he does," she said. "he'll buy him a beer after this."

such was small town life, you supposed.

in the end, fireman spence made some crucial saves, keeping it tied late into the third. with about a minute left, trevor made an unreal, practically magical pass to matt, who finished it off in a one-timer that sunk into the back of the net.

the crowd erupted. you and bridget jumped up and down, holding each other as the goal horn sounded.

the team went through the line in celebration, then skating by the away section before the next face off.

trevor blew you a kiss. you shook your head at him, but couldn't wipe the smile off of your face.

the game ended in a win, and the town migrated over to the local bar. you busied yourself with harry's mom, telling her that no, she had nothing to worry about, yes, harry was quiet, but he was kind as anything, and that was most important.

everyone cheered when the team walked in. you clapped along with them, feeling a smile tug at your lips as soon as your eyes locked on trevor.

his eyes found yours immediately, that lazy grin following as he squeezed past people to get to you.

you met him halfway, a hazy neon light over your heads, making color dance in his eyes like starlight. his long hair was damp, curly at the ends in a way that made you want to reach up and tug at them.

"speechless, eh, sug?" he teased, shrugging one shoulder with exaggerated arrogance. "i know, my play tends to evoke that reaction from people. i-"

you scrunched your mouth to the side, smacked him lightly in the chest. "god forbid i try to think of something nice to say to you," you said, smiling. you made to pull you hand back, but his warm, wide palm came up to cover it, holding it against his chest.

you exhaled, looked up at him, unsure.

"what was your favorite part?" he asked, those shining eyes careful. "did you like cole's between-the-legs? or maybe my last assist?" he winked. "always a crowd favorite."

suddenly confidence welled up inside of you, a vault. but we tell him anyways, you had said. that we do.

tell him, the overhead lights whispered.

"when you blew me a kiss," you said, reaching your free hand up to cup his jaw, textured under your touch from his five-o'clock-shadow. "that was my favorite part."

flame crept into his gaze abruptly, suddenly, shockingly. he settled his other hand on your hip, pulled you closer to him, his grip making your breath catch. "was it?" there was a roughness to his voice that felt tangible.

you nodded slowly, speaking to his mouth. you weren't scared. you weren't running. you weren't stalling. your skin was humming, your blood felt hot. he was so perfect against you, his hand over yours somehow the most intimate touch you could remember.

he ducked his head to yours, just a breath away, so you could see the gold in his eyes. "let me do you one better," he rasped, waiting for your single nod before finally crushing his mouth to yours in a kiss that felt like early sunrises, slow and meaningful and only the beginning.

you pushed up onto your tiptoes, looped both of your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, closer, as he kept one hand on your hip, the other grasping the back of your neck, keeping you from collapsing into him.

kissing your ex had felt almost robotic, scientific, stiff in an endearing way at best, stiff in an awkward way in reality.

there was nothing stiff about this, nothing scientific about him. this was all feeling, all malleable, all calloused hands and chapped lips. he kissed like someone who had to work for it, like someone who didn't have to prove anything to you but wanted to, anyways.

just that was enough for you to sigh against him, the fact that there were other people around the only thing stifling your soft moan.

he smiled into your mouth, like a low-spoken secret between the two of you. "taste like butterscotch," he mumbled against your lips, pulling away only just enough to make sure his words didn't disappear unheard down your throat, almost drowsily. "you like those candies i give you, sugar?"

your chest rose and fell against his. the low music in the background roared in your ears, the neon light making him look like some stained glass thing worth kneeling for. "like 'em because you leave 'em for me," you said, your fingertips tracing the top of his spine.

his eyes shimmered. "can i tell you something?"

you nodded.

he hummed, gave a guilty sort of smile. "gave 'em to you because i didn't like the taste of 'em," he started, smirk growing wider. "and i wanted to convince myself to hold off on kissin' you. not to rush you, you know."

you understood, and your swollen lips quirked at the story, but your eyes flashed with something like hurt. "you don't like the way i taste, trevor?" even if it was his own doing, you suddenly wanted to brush your teeth.

"that's the thing." he ran a steady thumb along your hairline. "think my plan backfired, 'cause butterscotch's my new favorite flavor." his thumb reached your chin, tilting it up to his mouth again. "can't get enough of it," he murmured, a man possessed, barely audible as he kissed you again, this time with a softness that cut like a dagger.

you swore your head was still spinning the next day. what was supposed to be just another shift at the diner quickly turned into a flurry of questions, of neighbors looking for a side of gossip with their french toast, of line cooks swearing there was something different about you.

it was hard to answer anyone, to do anything, honestly, when it felt like you were floating, like your head was far, far away, up in the clouds.

harry gave you a fist bump when he saw you. old man peters told you in a stern tone that public bars were no place for fornication, to which an ecstatic bridget patted his shoulder and reminded him that it was only a (sort of) innocent kiss.

she pulled all the details out of you, lit up as you flushed and stumbled over your memories.

the police chief made some joke about that boy being a bad influence when you accidentally brought him whole milk instead of soy milk for his coffee.

ginger and the girls were like some insatiable beast that only let you be when you reminded them that if they kept you much longer, the diner would go hungry.

of course, your heart instinctively fluttered when that tell-tale gust of loud laughter burst through the door, along with the drag of heavy work boots, the shuffling of canvas outerwear, the shoving of gloves into back pockets.

you made your way to the table with their regular pot of coffee, met trevor's dancing gaze almost sheepishly.

"morning, guys," you said, smiling at all of them.

they chimed their chorus of good mornings, pouring their coffee into mugs themselves, as they always insisted on.

"so, what's new?" cole asked, his head resting on his fists. "probably nothing, right?"

alex and matt hid their laughs.

you rolled your eyes, smiled nonetheless. trevor had a hat on, today, making his hair curl out from the bottom of the brim. you tucked a curling lock behind his ear, ran your nails soothingly along the hair at the nape of his neck.

anyone watching would have seen the way his gaze melted like milk chocolate, how his shoulders softened, his posture relaxing completely into your small touch.

he looked up at you, eyes so soaked in affection it spilled down his face like mascara-stained tears. "i missed you," he said.

his friends groaned, as if they'd heard this a million times. suddenly, with a blush, you had a guess as to what his morning had been like. perhaps he had been just as distracted as you.

"i missed you, too," you said, because it was the truth.

"he almost dropped a crate on my foot this morning," matt said, bitterly.

you put a hand over your heart. "how tragic." you looked up, making eye contact with your friend across the diner. "hey, bridge! matt almost hurt his foot this morning. has science found a cure for that, yet?"

she huffed a laugh as she approached, shook her head at matt when she stood in front of the table. she held the back of her hand to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. "are you sure you're okay, sweet boy? this sounds serious," she joked.

matt had paled. trevor pulled you into his lap and you hid your laugh in his collarbone.

"'m fine," matt bit out, to which bridget smiled.

"thank god, that was close," she said. her gaze wandered, landed on something out the window. she squinted. "did somebody dig up some of the flowers outside?" she asked.

"dig?" alex mused, "maybe rip is a better word, eh, trev?"

"right. almost forgot." trevor held you in his lap with one hand, reached the other to the side. suddenly several flowers were being held in front of you, thin, spidery roots still intact. "sugar, will you go to the valentine's day skate with me?"

you smiled, wide and toothy, touched one hand to his face as the other grasped the humble, earthy bouquet. "of course i will, handsome," you said, "what's the valentine's day skate?"

"pta event, tomorrow," bridget said, looking on with interest. "whole town shows up."

"this town shows up for everything," you replied.

she smiled fondly. "heart-shaped balloons and fruit punch and ice skates. what's not to love?"

you turned your neck to look back up at trevor. "'m honored to have been on the receiving end of one of your famous invitations," you teased, "even if it's not for a dance." his delight rumbled into your shoulders, the back of your thighs, firm and warm.

cole yawned, stretched. "duty calls, fellas," he said, making to get up.

you reluctantly pushed up from trevor's lap, quickly pouring his untouched mug into a to-go cup. the team filed out with their typical string of thank yous and goodbyes, matt's extra glance at bridget met with a returning smile.

then it was you and trevor, as the morning break always ended, like clockwork, like a bedtime story that was comforting in its predictability. he tucked a bill in your apron, several candies, the weight of them alone making you smile.

"did i tell you how pretty you look today?" he told you.

"no," you mused, your hands clasped behind your back, shifting on your feet.

he hummed. "so pretty, sugar, never been so nervous to ask someone out," he admitted, that smug smile lazy across his face.

you tilted your head. "don't be nervous," you told him. "you're the easiest yes i've ever had."

at your words he ducked his wide shoulders down to you, flipped his hat backwards on his head so as not to impede you in any way, kissed you with a rough palm on your soft face, your hands still behind your back as you met him up on your toes.

a different kiss, one so lovely, still, soft and beautiful, drenched in daylight.

would your head ever stop spinning, when it came to him? would you ever come down from the clouds, again? even if you did, would there not be cumulus tufts in your hair, wisps of cirrus in your lashes?

he was proving it difficult, especially that next day, the fourteenth of february.

you had the morning to yourself, existing slowly and methodically, reading and running errands, finally starting to get ready for your date in the late afternoon.

before you knew it, there was a knock at your door, just as you had swung your jacket on. you swung it open to find him leaning against the doorframe, the picture of ease, shoulders drooping the way they always did after a working morning.

"ready to go?" you asked, making to close the door behind you before pressing up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. he caught your face in a hand before you could, though, steering your lips towards his mouth instead. you laughed against his lips. "greedy," you taunted, pulling away, letting yourself lean into his warm side.

"got no idea, sugar," he admitted, voice twinged with a day of speaking. you walked together to the high school ice skating rink, only a few minutes away, the brisk february air biting at your nose, your ears. you caught up on the morning, what book you had finished, how annoying ginger's husband was being about the state of his rain gutters.

when you entered the rink, finally, pushing forward the old doors, you couldn't help but smile, and trevor couldn't help but watch you.

everyone was here, of course they were. balloons hung from the top of the glass, streamers decorating every archway and spare inch. a massive table of themed refreshments was just next to the bleachers.

it looked like something out a ninety's film, mixed with the unique small town charm and wintery love you had come to know so personally.

you and trevor quickly got your skates on, all lingering touches and knowing smiles, and headed for the ice.

you were shaky at first, but his hands were so tight on yours, you knew there wasn't a chance he would let you fall. he spun you around the rink easily, twirling you like a ballroom dance floor, ever the show-off, anything to make you laugh.

"hey, harry!" you called out, at one point, noticing your host-friend helping a taller, skinner kid his age onto the ice. he waved, his eyes glittery in a way you recognized. is that jason? you mouthed. harry nodded, smiled shyly. you gave him an impressed thumbs up, trevor whistled.

you asked trevor how he got into hockey, watched how his mind waltzed behind his eyes when he talked about outdoor rinks with his friends in elementary school, how even piled-on scarves and hats and puffer jackets didn't stop that flying feeling.

significance would gather in your stomach, butterflies morphing into something much more serious, the kind of flame you'd find in a living room fireplace, in the hearts of teenage lovers.

you skated by cole, scooping up the snow he had made with quick starts and stops, and alex, whose neck was becoming the new home of said snow.

alex grunted, immediately breaking into stride to catch a fleeing cole, whose bright and clear laugh echoed under the roof like church bells.

the fire and police departments had started a relay race, ginger and her girls had formed a circle close to the hot chocolate.

old man peters held his sleeping granddaughter in his lap, bouncing his knee gently, both of their smiles blissful.

trevor's hand found your far hip, pulling you into his warm side. you sighed, looked up at him as you let your fingers trace along his jaw.

"touchy today, sugar, hm?" he said into your hair, a rumble to his tone that told you he liked it.

you hummed, nodded. "you just look so..." you trailed off, in thought, thinking about what, exactly, you meant to say. he looked what? practically edible? like an ocean you wanted to drown in?

how could you tell him you'd been avoiding looking at his hands, for fear you'd blurt something out about wanting them around your neck?

you just swallowed, cleared your throat. his smirk was a flash of teeth.

"you feelin' okay?" he cooed. "should i take you home?"

you found yourself nodding, even though you hadn't been at the rink for long.

"yeah?" he mocked, taunting, his hand on your hip suddenly firm, burning.

bridget's laugh cut through the sizzling air like a stream of cold hose water. you both turned to look at where she now sat, having obviously fallen onto the ice. she peered up at matt through her blonde bangs. "some teacher you are," she laughed, "i knew trev was the right choice for my girl's lessons."

matt shook his head, a barely-there smile on his thin lips. he offered her a hand, steadily helped her to her feet, an almost undetectable shake in his breathing as bridget grabbed onto his forearm for extra stability. "alright, smart ass," he mused, "no help for you, then."

he made to drop her hands, to leave her on her own, but she latched onto him tighter. "yeah right," she said, "you're not going anywhere, sweet boy."

cole's laugh sparkled at matt's flush.

you and trevor were already on the way out, bidding your short goodbyes, half-assed excuses about not feeling well given and taken with knowing eye-rolls.

he walked you back to the inn, up the stairs, his hands on you ever-so-distracting, his voice a careless rasp, your heart beating heavy in your chest.

you finally made it to your closed door, your back against it as he looked down at you with that heated gaze, his frame boxing you in.

"well, get some rest, sugar," he said, slowly, smiling. "since you're not feeling well." he twirled a strand of your hair around a finger.

you sputtered. "what? trevor-"

his eyes widened in mock-surprise. "oh, is there something you want?" he asked.

you clutched at his shirt with your fist, pulled. "please."

"please, what, sugar?" he asked, so smug you wanted to punch him. "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

"you," you whined, but that wasn't enough.

"oh, is that it?" he drawled, ducking his head down to you, so close, but not close enough, not even a little.

you worked your jaw, so frustrated. "just," you tried, "just please, touch me, trevor, i just wanna feel you."

he smiled, held the side of your face in his palm. "am touchin' you, sugar," he said, "tellin' me this isn't enough?"

you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, groaned at his feigned confusion. "shut up," you breathed, his mouth an inch from yours.

"make me," he bit back, and then you were kissing him. you swore your lips would be charred, later, as if in proof. you reached a hand behind you, twisted open your door, while the other rooted in his hair, tugged him inside your room as he moaned against your lips.

one of his hands grasped the back of your neck, the other a bruising grip in your side, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees felt the blunt edge of the bed.

you barely registered as he reached under you, flipped you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he sat down on the comforter, far too caught up in this kiss, somehow still so different from ones you has shared before. so charged you felt the air might combust at any second, that, despite his relentless repairs, there was no way this inn could withstand the way he was kissing you, now. surely, the roof would cave in under the weight of your want, water would sear straight through the pressurized pipes.

he smiled against your mouth when you started to rock your hips back and forth across his lap, just so desperate for something, anything.

your exhales came out short, little pants as you reveled in the little friction you were getting against his firm thigh, covered in his heavy work pants, nothing close to what you really wanted, but something, at least.

mercifully, he moved your clothes aside, rocked you more forcefully, making the sensation practically blissful. you dropped your heavy head to his neck, moaned into it.

"oh, sugar," he cooed, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "so greedy for it, hm?"

you nodded into his neck, the tough texture combined with the heavy weight of his thigh catching you in just the right spot, urging a whimper from your throat.

"makin' a mess of me, yeah? could cum just from my thigh?" he said, almost like he felt sorry for you, but you could hear the smile in his voice. you bit down gently on the space between his neck and shoulder, your small retaliation, smiled at his groan.

you slowed your rhythm, picked your head up, let your chest rise and fall as you looked at him in the face, searched his eyes.

his face was slightly flushed, his eyes only just a bit glassy, but he looked at you like you were a wonder, like some divine power had made her way into his lap.

you pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, loved the way you could feel his smile crinkle and widen under your lips.

"please, trevor," you whispered, your touch so soft around his neck. "please just give me what i want."

you shifted on his lap until you felt him, hard and hot and heavy underneath you. his voice came out with a strain. "anything, sugar," he told you, "just tell me."

you lifted your hips up, could feel how wet you were, could tell you had probably left a trace of yourself on his pants. "wanna cum on your cock, trevor," you breathed, couldn't help your sly grin when he immediately began to tug his clothes aside. "please, please let me. i know i'm so greedy-"

he was nodding like he understood as he angled your hips up higher, shifted you so that you sat right above him as he pumped himself up and down, once, twice, so obviously ready for you. "you are, sugar," he said, so eager it almost sounded like a whine, "but i'll give you anything you want, swear it." his hands found your hips. "just promise you'll only be greedy for me, hm?"

you sank down onto him with a nodded promise, bit your lip at the slow, scorching pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulled at your middle, that you felt in your toes. you blinked, trying to get used to the sensation, trying to muffle the groan in your mouth.

"fuck," he moaned, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like you might float away if he let go, "all the way, sugar, 'atta girl." you huffed a short breath when he was all the way in.

words felt far away, suspended in bubbles that whirled around your head.

"speechless, eh?" he teased, and you had a sense of deja vu. "don't worry, sugar. common re-"

and you could have growled at him for alluding to the fact that other girls had felt this, that there were other people in the world who knew what this felt like, so you fitted a delicate hand over his mouth and rolled your hips up and back on him until he was the speechless one, moans falling from his mouth, his brow pinched in pleasure.

"don't worry," you breathed, your mouth an inch from his ear. "common reaction."

you began to move your hips up and down faster as the stretch gave way to something dizzyingly good, as he began to thrust back up into you. so hard and fast, but he held you like something precious. his rhythm built until your mouth fell open, until sweat shone on the high points of his face, until time melted away, until you were reminded of what you'd mistaken him for when you'd first seen him, all that time ago - some ancient sculpture. a work of art.

he cursed as your clit caught on his pubic bone, the friction so overwhelming, and you clenched down on him. "give it to me, sugar," he said, but the strain in his voice made it sound like a plea. "fuck, let me hear you, yeah?" his tone grew gentle. "been wantin' to hear you for so long."

you tightened around him further at his small admission, let your nails rake down his neck, probably a little too hard. he grunted, thrusted harder, shifted you closer to him.

you moaned his name at the new angle, one you felt in the tips of your ears, your hairline, your tongue.

you were so close, so impossibly almost there. "please make me cum," you whined, "please, need you so bad." your exhale was practically pained as you ran your fingers over the red marks on his neck your nails had left. "don't i deserve it, baby?"

he grunted, and it was different. you felt his stomach and thighs clench, his hips sputter as his head spun with the fact that you'd gone right to begging him, skipped the asking part. he pressed his hand to your lower stomach, let his thumb catch against your clit, sending you over the edge in moments. "'course you deserve it, sugar," he rasped, gravelly, in your ear as you rode out your high, his thrusts growing wild. "been so good."

you clenched down on him, forcing his own orgasm, fast and all-consuming, the smell of him everywhere, mixed with your perfume. your exhales were warm and heavy, transparent clouds that settled on the floor of your room, making it every bit the dreamland it had become in your mind.

he held you so close to him as he pulled you to his chest, leaned you both back on your bed. you stared up at the ceiling.

about time, one of the tiles whispered, holding a crisp fiver.

couldn't have waited another week? the losing tile muttered bitterly.

you smiled as his rough hand found your face, tilted it towards him. he was smiling. your stomach fluttered as you felt your own mouth pull wider.

"what?" he asked, his voice rough, drowsy with use.

you shook your head. "nothing," you said, "just you." your eyes crinkled under the weight of your happiness. "i'm callin' dibs on you."

his eyes lit up as he pulled you in for another kiss, slow and overflowing with meaning. he hummed. "butterscotch," he whispered against your mouth. "my favorite."

fin.

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wildernessuntothemselves · 5 months

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My family is dead. They’ve been bombed. 1 uncle, 2 aunts, five or more of their children, one of them newly graduated and newly wed with her baby. She was visting her mother. Her previous house had been bombed. Death followed her.

My uncle wanted to bring his family to visit Egypt. They were looking at places to rent. But for some reason or another it didn't go through. I will never again play a game of Remy with him. He will never tease me for being quiet. His daughter whose dream was to live in Egypt now lay torn to shreds.

Such a simple dream. Egypt? The country I escaped? That was salvation to them. Days before he died my uncle was asking my mother to put his family's names on the list to pass the border into Egypt. But they're not letting Palestinians pass, only foreigns.

Three of my family survived. They watched their parents, their sisters, torn to shreds. They can't even identify the bodies. One only recognized his sister by her Abbaya.

And none of it matters. Nothing will change. Israel will still win because at the end of the day it's not about humanity or loss of life or justice. It's all about money and power and Israel has all and Palestine has none.

The dead will be forgotten by the world and nothing will change.

#i feel like shit #i feel so guilty #i never reached out to them #never told them i'm thinking of them #never told them i loved them #all they'll remember of me is how I once defended israel as a teenager when I visited them in their colonized land years ago #free palestine

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devildomditzy · 1 year

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Wincing, you continue to wrap the mess of bandages around your damaged hand. Sure, you weren’t new to teleportation, and you can't even begin to count the times where Solomon failed to remind you to “stick the landing”, but you’re not sure if teleportation through time played by the same rules.

You’re lucky. Mammon caught you before you could hit the ground, because of course he does. Hell, just last week he caught you before you could trip your clumsy ass down the stairs in the hallway. Even in non threatening situations, his intuition to protect you over all else shone through his tough guy façade.

You instantly clung to him, because well, it’s him. Once you both landed, you leaned into his embrace. Though by now you were used to random cases of danger invading your daily life in the Devildom, plummeting from the sky unexpectedly is still enough to shake you up.

You let out a stuttering breath.

“Thanks, Mammon. I have absolutely no idea how I teleported up there. Maybe I don’t have as good a grip on my sorcery as I thought.”

You look up at him with a small smile, the one you know drives him crazy.

He returns it with a blank stare.

“How’d ya know my name?”

Something was clearly wrong.

“Not to be facetious, but I could heal that for you, you know. You could heal that for you.”

You glare up from your spot on the bed to make eye contact with Solomon.

“Gee, thanks for the reminder.”

His lips purse together in a thin line in a valiant attempt to hold back his laughter as he steps closer to you.

“You’ve got to admit, though unexpected, this turn of events is quite humorous, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m thousands of years in the past, my friends and boyfriend don’t recognize me, and I’ve only got you to keep me company. Hilarious.”

His lips upturn in a devious smirk. You hate that smirk.

“Aw, is it so bad to have to live with me? We’ve got all of Cocytus Hall to ourselves. I could wake up everyday and cook breakfast-"

“Please don’t.”

“We can divide up the chores, it’ll be like we’re newlyweds.”

Your wrapping halts so that you could look up at the pain in your ass. You need to ensure he sees the way you scrunch up your face in disgust.

“If I wasn’t in so much pain I’d slap you, but I won’t, consider it a favor.”

You continue wrapping the roll around your palm tightly, just like Mammon had taught you, as he did once before, right after you’d just met. A moment you remembered fondly, one of the first times that he hinted that he might see you as more than a friend. Even if he had a weird way of showing it. The thought makes you smile.

“Well, can we consider it a favor that I followed you all the way out here to ensure your wellbeing?”

You roll your eyes so hard he could probably hear them moving in your skull.

“Oh please, it’s you we’re talking about. There has to be some ulterior motive.”

He seems to pretend to ponder for a bit before tilting his head to the side.

“Ah, was I really that obvious?”

“Of course you were. 'Solomon the Wise' is anything but subtle,” you say, jeering his silly little nickname in a mocking tone.

A small chuckle shakes his head. “Well, I do really want to keep you safe, and return us back to our time with minimal temporal damage, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested to see what this time period had in store.”

You stop once again to give him a confused side eye. “Didn’t you already live this time period?”

His eyes seem to look a little far off, as they typically do when he’s lost in thought. “It was so long ago, I truly don’t remember much of it.”

“Hmm,” you hum finishing up the last of the wrapping and securing it in place. You attempt to flex your hand to the best of your ability. You swear you heard a pop. Your eyes begin to well up.

“Why aren’t you letting either of us heal you again?”, he questions after seeing your pained expression.

“I told you," you frown looking down at your sorry excuse for first aid. "I need a reminder that this isn’t some convoluted dream, or one of Levi’s weird games.”

“The fact that the brothers don’t remember you isn’t reminder enough?”

You know he’s joking, but Solomon always finds a way to get right under your skin in the worst way.

The tears that once threatened to bubble over begin to fall silently, streaking your face as you purposefully avoid eye contact.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, truly.”

You’re both quite for a moment. Surprisingly, the air in the room isn't awkward. It's just... solemn.

He breaks the silence first.

“I know how hard this must be for you, considering how close you all are. To be honest, I'm kind of jealous. So many people care for you so fiercely across all realms.”

You sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Sol. It was like I was nothing to him. He didn't even look at me like that the day I met him. ”

He sits down beside you on the bed, pulling an arm around you, allowing you to collapse into him.

“He only looked at you like that because here he doesn’t know you yet. In case you've forgotten, you weren’t exactly born yet,” he teases.

He gets a small chuckle out of you with that one.

As you calm down, you begin to really reflect on what you know, and what he’s told you so far.

“Wait, you mentioned temporal damage before. What did you mean by that?”

“That’s a tricky one. to explain. But I guess to put it in layman's terms; You cannot, no matter what happens, tell anyone that you and I are from the future. Doing so could have dire consequences.”

“Like, it could change how things happened in our time?”

“Precisely.”

“And doing so would cause-”

“Temporal damage, yes.”

You give a dejected sigh. “Doesn’t even matter if I tell them anyway, they’d never believe me.”

“On the off chance that any of them do, or you convince them of the fact, our original timeline could fall apart.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you might never get to go back to the brothers you know today.”

You can’t hide the worry that flashes on your face, even if it was just for a second. You’re the two most powerful sorcerers the world has seen for a very long time, and yet you feel so powerless.

“I-I can’t really feel them anymore. Their pacts, I mean. They’re so faint. B-But, it worked on Satan! So they have to still be in tact, right?”

Solomon smiles at the little glimmer of hope lighting up your face.

“Yes, it’s true that you haven’t formed your pacts yet in this time period, but you’re still the same you from the present. The invisible bonds you share between yourself and the brothers are still connected.”

“How is that even possible?”

“MC," he sighs, trying to figure out the best way to explain. " You didn’t die in our timeline. You didn’t leave, you didn’t cast any spells or trigger any curse. You were just gone. There only thing I could trace was this slight time distortion, so I went off the only lead I had. I’m glad I did.”

“I’m glad too, or I’m afraid I would be dead by now.”

“If I didn’t go after you, I’d be dead by now too”, he laughs, “The brothers aren’t too forgiving when it comes to you.”

The notion fills you stomach with a warm feeling. A warm, thick, bittersweet feeling.

You still have the boys, but they don’t know you yet.

You still have your magic, but not nearly as strong.

You’re not alone, but neither of you have any inkling on how to get back.

Meanwhile in a place in time thousands of years from where you sit now, seven panicked demons are tearing their realm apart high and low to try to find any trace of you.

#obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me nightbringer #omnb #om #obey me #omswd #mammon x mc #om solomon #om mammon #nightbringer mammon #obey me nightbringer spoilers #mammon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me drabble #om nightbringer

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 month

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Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 5

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

AN: This definitely should've been two parts...

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA, blood, Rhys is sweet but oblivious, autumn court men are pigs, SMUT (mwhahaha),

Word Count: 9,218 (I don't wanna talk about it)

For about the hundredth time that evening I had given myself the once over. The afternoon had been spent with handmaidens all over me, styling my hair, lining my eyes in kohl, polishing my nails in Autumn Court red, shining the diamond necklace given to me by Eris, and making sure I lived up to my name.

I was surprised by how simple the dress was that was chosen for me. The handmaidens said they wanted to let my natural beauty show, as well as my new collar, I mean necklace. I ran my hands over the large, freshly polished gems. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get used to the weight of it.

I made my way to the foyer where I knew my brother and his Inner Circle would be waiting. Anxiety filled my chest. Tonight I would be dancing and mingling with hundreds of people, but I only cared about one. The man Azriel was currently nudging with his elbow to get him to turn around.

Cassian was lethal in fighting leathers and he was deadly in his most casual clothes, but the jacket and pants he wore tonight? It was a miracle I was still standing upright.

His eyes shot to me and his mouth parted slightly, sucking in a breath. Those eyes, those hazel eyes, how they burned a hole right through my soul. Right through the gown and the jewels and straight into the heart of me. Cassian looked at me the way every female dreamed of being looked at.

“You look amazing sister,” Rhysand said, pulling my attention from Cassian.

I turned to where my brother stood with Mor, who was clad in her usual jaw dropping red. I hadn’t seen my brother in so long. With the war getting closer and things with Eris getting more intense I hadn’t seen him since that initial day at the Autumn Court four weeks ago. While I missed his face, it reminded me of the sacrifices he made for me, and reminded me why marrying Eris was so important.

“You clean up pretty good too, Rhys,” I smiled, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I have something for you,” Rhys grinned, waving a hand in the air to pull a dazzling tiara seemingly from mid air. “I went into the vaults and grabbed this. It was mother’s, and I thought you might like to wear it.”

The tiara was beautiful and the moment it appeared in his hand I recognized it. It was one of our mothers favorites, made to look like a crown of shooting stars flying across her head like a halo. I had forgotten how magnificently she used to dress everyday.

“Oh Rhys,” I cried, throwing my arms around him while tears welled up in my eyes.

“I know, I miss her too,” he murmured into my shoulder.

“Help me put it on?” I ask him, pulling away and wiping my tears.

“Of course,” he smiled with his own eyes glassed over. He bent down slightly to place the tiara on my head before standing back to admire it. “She would’ve been so proud of you.”

“I think she would’ve been proud of both of us,” I beam at him, rubbing circles over the tops of his hands. “Now enough with the nostalgia, I’m going to cry off all my makeup. Let’s go party.” I laugh off my tears.

“Yeah c’mon Rhys you’re going to make us all sad drunks,” Mor said, clasping her hand in Cassian’s and winnowing them out.

Rhys held my fingers tight as he winnowed us along with her and Azriel was moments behind us. The second that the smell of damp leaves and woodsmoke filled my senses I felt a shudder run down my spine. I told myself that tonight with Eris would be different, but if the last time he had too much wine was any indication of how this evening would go…

The ballroom was filled with members of every court as my brother led me into the large space, Cassian’s looming presence flanking my right side. It was impressive to see all the different types, colors and textures of clothing. It would make a lovely and chaotic painting if anyone ever had the will to commission it. Of course, Night Court black stood out like a sore thumb, but I certainly didn’t mind. It’s not like my brother and I weren’t the center of attention everywhere we went anyways. I looked to Rhys to find his eyes rapidly scanning the sea of people and I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“She isn’t here brother,” I said quietly into his ear.

“Who isn’t here?” he asked, trying to play the fool.

“The cursebreaker you’ve been searching the crowd for,” I laugh. “I asked Eris if she would be in attendance and he said that Tamlin and her had not replied to his invitation.”

“You asked Eris for me?” Rhys said, finally turning his head to me in surprise.

“Well I didn’t tell him why I wanted to know whether or not they were attending. I just asked casually. I secretly hoped you’d get to see her,” I smiled.

“You’re a wonderful little sister, you know that?” Rhys smiled, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Yeah yeah you big softie,” I laughed, nudging his shoulder. From the corner of my eye I could see Eris making his way through the crowd with two glasses of wine in hand.

“Rhysand, princess, we’re overjoyed that you could make it.” Eris smiled that conniving smile. “For you my little flame,” he said, handing me a goblet of wine and pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“We’re happy to have been invited,” Rhysand smiles and I swear I hear two females faint somewhere in the room.

“Walk with me darling?” Eris says, extending an arm to me. I take it but not before glancing to my right once to see the worry in Cassian’s eyes.

As we pace around the border of the room I see why Eris chose to promenade first and dance later. It felt like every single eye in the room followed the same pattern. First they widened at the sight of me, then they flicked over to Eris, down to our linked arms and finally back to me once again. Their stares were stifling, I hadn’t been around this many people since under the mountain.

Eris didn’t want to promenade first to finish our drinks, oh no. He wanted everyone in this godsforsaken room to see that the Jewel belonged to him. The smirk on his face was a dead give away.

“You look ravishing tonight little flame,” Eris whispered into my ear, his breath hot in my neck. “That's why they’re all staring.”

“Don’t worry I’m used to the staring,” I replied truthfully trying to avoid all the eyes on me.

“I’m sure you are,” he chuckled. “Stay used to it pet, I have every intention of parading you around all night. Let them stare all they want. It’s only a problem if they touch.”

His words sent ice through my veins. It didn’t matter how many cruel or shocking things Eris said to me. Each and every time they cut like knives, taking a little piece of me with them that I would never get back.

“Is that the Jewel?” crooned a too familiar voice. I turned my head to find Helion standing in all his glory, a friendly smile plastered on his face.

“Helion!” I smiled, embracing him warmly. It had been too long since I felt the warmth of my friend's gaze.

“My dear you look exquisite as always,” he smiled, twirling me around so he could see all of me. “Your brother keeps you on too short a leash, I haven’t seen you since, well, since we were under the mountain.”

Eris’ body tightened next to me as he slid a hand possessively around the small of my waist, pulling me into his side, “Indeed, Helion, but rest assured, she's in good hands now. And her leash is exactly where it needs to be.” His words carried a veiled threat.

“That’s right,” Helion smiled, ever the charmer. “I heard that Rhysand had finally given her away. Congratulations to the both of you.”

“Oh we aren’t engaged yet, just courting.” I smile nervously, placing my hand on Eris' chest in an attempt to keep him from blowing his top off.

“Yes just courting, for now,” he smirked, nuzzling my neck.

My body might’ve been wrapped around Eris like a lovesick fool, but I let my eyes convey the truth to my friend. Helion looked at me with a sad remorse and I knew then and there that he had put the pieces together.

“I’ll leave you two love birds be,” he said trying to hide his disdain. “I think I hear Thessan calling me.”

We bid our goodbyes and I slammed what was left of my wine and placed it on the side table of the chaise next to us.

“I didn’t think I’d have to share tonight,” Eris rolled his eyes, continuing our walk around the perimeter.

“You can’t court the Jewel and get upset that everyone else wants to as well,” I scoff at his insolence.

“I am going to be High Lord, I can do whatever I want,” Eris seethes, stopping our stride and pulling my arm towards him so that I slam into his chest.

“Eris stop you’re making a scene,” I say tightly trying to pull my wrist from his grasp.

“Good, that's exactly what I want – to cause a scene. Let them look,” he growls, hurling his lips towards mine. His kiss is anything but polite and High Lord-ly and from the strong taste of wine and whiskey on his lips I underestimated how drunk he already was. Behind me I could faintly hear gasps of the people around us, no doubt bearing witness to the very public display of power he was putting on.

He pulls his lips from mine and stares at me with a predatory gaze and as both our chests heave, “Now that’s better,” he smirks.

I resist the urge to wipe my mouth off as I pluck another glass of wine from a silver tray and down it. Gods this night was just getting started and it already couldn’t get any worse.

“I want to dance,” I say abruptly to Eris. If we dance there’s a chance that someone might cut in and save me for at least a minute or two.

“Fine, let’s go.” Eris grumbles downing his wine as well.

He leads me out onto the dance floor and the crowd of dancers parts for us. For what specific reason? I can’t name why. Maybe it’s to get a good look at me, or maybe it’s because Eris is truly that terrifying. Either way I can’t help but feel like I’ve been placed in a glass box and suspended where the crystal chandelier is in the middle of the room.

Eris leads me into a dance and I don’t miss how tight his grip is on my waist, practically warning off anyone who might try and whisk me away from him. There goes that wonderful plan.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Eris complimented me and I noticed him trying to seem more sober.

“Thank you, my father taught me when I was a little girl,” I replied looking around the room.

From the second I had stepped onto the floor I could feel that searing gaze that took me apart bit by bit following me throughout my waltz. Finally I saw Cassian at the edge of the room with Azriel. Both of them leaning against the edge of the wall, wings tight on their bodies to keep people from brushing into them. Azriel whispered something into Cassian’s ear that had him downing his drink.

“I wish you could see the looks of envy around the room,” Eris said low into my ear, his voice carrying an undertone of possessiveness. “Envy of what I have. Envy of what they'll never possess. You've been this mythical thing for so long, and now you're utterly tangible, and more importantly, you're mine.”

“I’m not yours yet, Eris. You would do well to remember that.” I utter to him trying my best to keep my voice even.

Before he can even have a chance to lash out at me, a throat clears next to us halting our movements. I turn my gaze from Eris' fiery gaze and find Cassian standing before us and I curse my heart from nearly leaping out of my chest at the way he’s staring Eris down, like he heard every word he said.

“Princess, would you honor me with a dance?” Cassian said, his usual tone of confidence laced with uncertainty.

“I would love to Cassian,” I smile, feeling my cheeks blush.

“Over my dead body would she dance with the likes of you,” Eris simmers, pulling me closer to him. His grip on my arm was like a brand.

“No, you don’t get to speak for her,” Cassian growls, grasping the hand Eris has on me.

“Eris this isn’t very High Lord-ish behavior,” I grumbled under my breath feeling even more eyes find our little disagreement.

“He’s a bastard pet, he would soil you.” Eris replies, trying his best to show his restraint as he and Cassian engage in the biggest staredown this court has ever seen.

“Yes, a bastard with nothing to lose and a dance with the Jewel to gain. Remember what I said about that arm Prince Eris? It would be a pity if you couldn’t hunt next season,” Cassain said back, his words a not so veiled threat.

“One dance,” Eris chides. “Then I want her returned to me.” He dips a hand under my chin to place a kiss on my lips, no doubt trying to antagonize Cassian further.

If Cassian is provoked by the gesture he doesn’t show it. He simply sweeps me up into a dance the second the next song starts. His arms around me contrast the feeling of Eris so well. They’re warm and strong compared to Eris, who has a touch so cold it could freeze over hell. I take a deep breath to ground myself, Cassian’s scent of cedar and leather fills my senses and puts me at ease.

“I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble,” he said and I could tell he meant it. He probably assumed that Eris would behave more accordingly in such a public setting.

“No you actually saved me,” I laughed, falling easily into step with him.

“You look beautiful tonight, I don’t think I got a chance to tell you that earlier,” Cassian said tightly, like the words might hurt him. The tension in the air following what happened with Eris still thick.

“No I don’t think you did,” I replied and mentally cursed myself at how dumb it sounded. I get compliments all the time, and I always respond with grace and poise like I was taught. But something about Cassian takes away every piece of training away from me, for a moment I’m just a regular person.

“Then I’m a fool and I should’ve said it sooner,” he replied, spinning me out and pulling me back in. I was surprised by how well he moved on the dance floor.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” I smile and his eyes that were previously on his feet now meet mine.

“I can’t. I had Mor teach me this one so I could dance with you at least once tonight. That’s why I’ve been so short with you, I’m counting my steps,” Cassian laughs, blush tinting his cheeks. “Once this song is over Az is going to cut in so I don’t have to face the embarrassment of trying to dance to whatever they play next.”

It takes me a minute to process all that he’s said, and as I’m trying to read his face to see if he’s telling the truth or not I can see his lips twitching as he counts his steps in his head. A smile breaks across my lips and I can’t help but laugh.

“Oh Cassian,” I giggle, pressing my forehead into his shoulder. His arms immediately pull me close and I relish the feeling. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. Thank you.”

“Of course, anything for you princess,” he smiles and for a moment I’m transported back into that dark hallway. I suddenly become all too aware of our joined hands, his hand on my waist flexing like he’s scared to have it there.

“You’re actually a really wonderful dancer,” I laugh trying to keep myself from throwing myself at him.

Cassian’s mouth turns up to the side as his eyes burn into mine, “one, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.” he counts. I let out another laugh as we continue to spin around the room, he even throws in a lift every now and then when he forgets the steps.

The song is over all too soon and within seconds of the last note being played Azriel steps in with a gracious bow.

“Princess,” the shadowsinger greets me.

“Azriel,” I curtsey.

“Thanks brother,” Cassian smiles, clapping Azriel on the back before heading out.

“Don’t mention it,” Az nods, taking me in his arms and beginning to waltz me around. “Did he tell you?”

“Yes he did,” I laugh remembering the blush that covered his cheeks when he did. Never in my life did I think I would see my general, The Lord of Bloodshed, blush. “Have you been practicing with Mor too?” I raise an eyebrow.

“No actually,” Azriel says, spinning me around in a circle. “Dancing has always come quite naturally to me.”

“Well I’d even dare to say that you’re a better dance partner than Eris,” I smile as Azriel dips me with the grace that only a warrior could possess.

“Speaking of Eris, I saw what happened. Are you okay?” Azriel asks quietly, pulling me closer so that no one can hear us.

“As okay as I can be. Gods everything about this room is stifling.” I roll my eyes.

“Would you like to get some air outside?” he asks me and I nod.

Azriel leads me out to the terrace at the back of the ballroom. When we get there I expect to see at least one couple sticking their tongues down each other's throats. But when the chill night air hits my bare skin it’s easy to see why we’re the only ones out here. I lean my back against the railing as Azriel closes the wooden doors behind us, the sound of the symphony and chattering people becoming muffled.

Az pulls a corked bottle of wine out from behind his back with a cheeky grin, “You looked like you might need this.” he says pulling out the cork with a pop.

“You’re a literal savior Az,” I smile, taking the bottle from him and putting it to my lips. It was the same wine I complimented Beron on and it slid down all too easy.

Azriel leans against the banister with me as we look out over the Autumn Court. Darkness envelops the land so that the only thing to be seen are a few fae lights and of course, the stars. I smile at the sky for a moment. No matter where I go or whom I marry, night will always follow me, and there’s a comfort there.

“So you’re really going through with this?” Azriel croons, his voice laced only with curiosity.

“I am,” I nod, swigging from the bottle again. “Eris is a viper, but he has something we need. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my people and my family safe.”

“You deserve to marry for love y/n. You deserve to be happy too. You think that Rhys is the only one who made sacrifices for you and our court but you went under that mountain too.” he points out using that big brother tone he loves to use so much.

“Saving my court will make me happy.”

“But is marrying Eris what you truly want?” he asks honestly, trying to get to the root of things. So I let him have it.

“Gods no Az. Look at me. Eris has already made me his little pet with this ridiculous necklace. I don’t think I could ever love Eris or be truly happy with him. But he’s been very clear about me bearing him many children, maybe I’ll find my happiness in them,” I rant, chugging more wine trying to drown out the sound of the voices in my head.

“What about Cassian?” Azriel asks and my heart nearly stops. I don’t even let myself breathe for a moment.

“What about him, Azriel?” I sigh, turning around and pressing my back to the bannister so that I could see the wooden doors that lead back to the viper den of aristocrats.

“You obviously have feelings for him,” Azriel scoffs like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“What makes you say that?” I laugh. Azriel is dangerously close to covering the truth, one I haven’t had the guts to admit to myself. Because saying the words out loud? They would crumble the very foundations I stand upon, and then what would be left?

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“And how do I look at him? Huh?” I try to keep the fierce facade.

“You look at him the same way every man, woman, and child looks at you.” Azriel blurts out, his voice laced with frustration. “Hell even I used to look at you that way till I realized I couldn’t hold a candle to the way you look at Cassian.”

I crumble. Every thought I have falls apart at Azriel making such a statement because I know it’s true. But to acknowledge it, or even worse, to act on it? How selfish of a person would that make me? To turn my back on my brother who saved me under the mountain. To possibly deny him the chance to be with his mate, the cursebreaker, because he dies in battle. To risk Azriel’s life because he has to be on the front lines. To risk the lives of every man, woman and child in my court.

I had thought about it, gods I had. Especially at night, when I woke from my nightmares of being under the mountain. Or when I dreamt of that small female puppy in Eris’ kennels. It would’ve been so easy for me to walk into Cassian’s room just one door down and ask him to hold me. Oh gods I wanted him to hold me. But it couldn’t be and that killed me.

“You’re bold shadowsinger,” I gritted my teeth, sipping the last of the wine. “I’ll give you that. But if you’ll excuse me, Eris is probably looking for me.”

I shove the empty bottle of wine into his chest and thrust open the doors. I hear him call out for me clearly feeling bad about what he had said, but I don’t turn back. Tears prick my cheeks and I know that if I face Azriel once more and show him the truth I’ll fall apart completely.

My eyes scan the crowd for Eris, and admittedly Cassain. The latter is nowhere to be seen, but eventually I find Eris lounging on a chaise with a few of his friends, all of them clad in Autumn Court attire laughing boisterously. I walk over to him dodging everyone in front of me, wine clouding my mind.

“There she is,” Eris slurs, the wine from 4his glass nearly spilling out as he sits it on an end table. “Come here my pet,” he smirks, pulling me down to sit on his lap.

I grab the wine he set down and sip from it as I take in the men around us. At first glance I can tell they are all pompous assholes by the way they rake their gaze down my body. One even has the nerve to cock his eyebrow at me and my head turns to Eris to avoid his gaze.

“Isn’t she exquisite gentlemen?” Eris asks, nuzzling my neck.

A collective murmur of agreement falls upon the small group.

“The Jewel of Prythian,” Eris says, kissing my neck and I try to squirm out of his grasp but he only pulls me closer to him.

“I’ll say!” one of the men cheer causing the whole group to chuckle.

Eris’ mouth falls from my neck to my collar bone, “Have I told you yet tonight that this corset is doing wonders for your perfect tits pet?” he murmurs licking a long stripe up the side of my neck earning a round of tantalizing ‘ohhhs’ from his friends. At this rate I’m surprised they all haven’t whipped their cocks to enjoy the show Eris was so happily putting on.

“He’s not wrong,” says another man and I feel Eris smirk against the tops of my breasts. He’s enjoying the game of dangling me in front of his friends. A forbidden fruit only he can indulge in.

“I wonder how many males have fucked those tits,” crooned another bringing laughter to the forefront once more.

Eris laughs, “She’s completely untouched,” he smirks into my skin. “I’ll be the first.”

The men utter how impressed they are. Some mention how jealous they are. My heart rate quickens knowing that I couldn’t have walked into a worse situation.

“Eris,” I hiss quietly, my eyes scanning the room for Cassian but he’s nowhere to be seen still. I even look for Azriel or my brother, but the room is so packed full of people I can’t make anyone out.

“You know I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Eris croons and I know that tone, the one that means something terrible is about to happen. “When you said I don’t own you yet?”

“Eris stop you’re drunk,” I say low as I try to wiggle out of his grasp but it only instigates him more.

“Well the idea that you weren’t truly mine yet based on a technicality didn’t sit right with me little flame,” he started, blatantly ignoring my protests. “So while I let you dance with your filthy dog I ran downstairs to the vault.”

No, no, no, no. This isn’t happening.

“And I grabbed this,” he says, pulling out a ring so large I was surprised he was able to keep it hidden. Eris grabbed my left hand with unnecessary force and slid the thing on my ring finger. The weight of it nearly made me hurl. “Now you are mine. I’ve lived up to my end of the bargain, it’s been a month of courting and I’ve decided you will make a very obedient and agreeable wife.”

“And don’t forget fuckable!” the first man who spoke cheered.

“Yes, I’ll enjoy ruining you, my pet,” Eris smirks, kissing me softly.

“Hell yeah we need an heir!”

These men know no morals, no shame, no compassion. If my brother heard a fraction of what they were saying…Yes, my brother. Gods he probably heard so much worse with Amarantha.

“I can promise you all that an heir will be in her belly within a month,” Eris announced to his cadre, earning cheers from them all as they drank from their cups.

I knew it was coming. I think in my heart I always did. From the moment I met Eris he had never once given me any indication that he wouldn’t marry me. Hell even if he hated me it was evident that he had every intention of marrying me just so he could say he deflowered and owned the Jewel of Prythian. I knew all of this and yet I still felt blindsided.

“What do you say pet? Shall we start trying now?” Eris croons, earning another rally from his companions.

“Eris that’s enough,” I grunt, pushing him off for good this time. The men around us laugh at my reluctance as I stand to my feet.

“You little!” Eris seethe standing up right after me and gripping my arm.

“Bend her over your knee and spank her Eris!” drunkenly laughed a man.

“You touch me right now and our marriage will be void by the laws of your court!” I growl, reminding him.

“I am the High Lord, I'll change them myself!” he growls at me.

“Not yet you aren’t,” I scorn him, nothing short of murder in my eyes. “I will see you in three days time to begin planning the wedding. I expect you to be sober and act with the morals befitting of a future High Lord.”

I free my arm from his grasp, leaving him to contend with the embarrassment of failing to control his future wife in front of his companions. I rip off the engagement ring and pocket it, unable to stand the weight of it. My eyes dart around for Cassian and when I don’t find him I grab a bottle of wine from one of the unattended tables. I make my way to the front door, choosing to walk all the way back to the Night Court if necessary. As I reach for the door it’s pulled back by the other side revealing a very disheveled Cassian.

“There you are, I was looking for you,” I grumble, still agitated from Eris’ antics.

“You look upset, what happened?” he slurs slightly.

“Are you drunk?” I ask tapping my foot in the still half open doorway.

“Yes, but you didn’t answer my question, what the hell happened?” Cassian grumbled straightening up and pushing the fog from his brain.

“Eris happened,” I complained, gesturing to where he sat laughing with his companions again. “He was just showing me off and talking about making an heir and all that shit. It doesn’t matter. I stole some wine, let's go.” I huff starting to move past him.

“No that’s it, I’m going to fucking kill him.” Cassian seethes and begins to move past me, but I place a hand on him stopping him.

“No stop,” I protest standing in front of him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Eris. “I’ve had enough drama for one night. Please just take me home.”

Cassian doesn’t take his gaze off the future High Lord, his breathing picking up, the siphons he had on his hands glowing.

“Cassian,” I whisper, his name for only him to hear. His gaze falls to mine and softens. “Take me home.” I plead.

His eyes go soft at my pleas and I see him come back to earth, “Let’s go,” he says leading me out the door.

We step out into the night air and waltz down the steps. Each and every step that we take pulls me further away from that cursed room, and as the sound of music and chatter get even further away I start to feel myself relax more. Cassian’s presence is like an anchor that keeps my feet on the ground. I am comfortable. I am safe.

We reach the bottom of the long stairway, and Cassian stops in his tracks. I turn to find him looking a little shocked, like he just remembered something.

“What is it?” I ask taking a step towards him.

“I uh,” he stumbles over his words. “I got you something.”

He turns around to a large potted plant at the base of the long steps leading up to the ballroom. His large form bends down to pick up something that’s behind it and when he emerges once more he holds a puppy in his arms. I can’t help but gasp as the puppy wiggles to life, looking comically small in the Illyrians arms. I set down the stolen bottle of wine so that I can see her.

“I might’ve gotten a little drunk and broken into Eris’ kennels to get her,” he laughs passing her into my arms. “You just loved her so much and you kept talking about her and… I just couldn’t leave her.”

The puppy wiggled in my arms licking my face like she had remembered me from our first meeting. I know I would know her face and markings anywhere.

“Oh Cassian you have no idea how much this means to me,” I beam tears gracing my eyes.

“I figured we could find her a better home, somewhere she will be loved,” Cassain smiled.

It that moment I don’t think I could’ve ever loved him more. I looked up to see him watching the puppy wiggling in my arms. Everything about him was so beautiful, from his sharp jawline to the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of his low bun. I couldn’t help myself. I stood on my tip toes and pressed a loving kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you Cassain,” I smile at him as I watch that blush return to his cheeks.

“Anything for you princess,” he reminds me. “Now we really have to get going before someone figures out I stole that thing.” Cassian laughs picking up the bottle of wine and then me.

We take off into the air and I can’t help but let out a laugh at how ridiculous this all looks. A general, his princess, a stolen puppy and a stolen bottle of wine making a beeline for the Night Court.

Cassian and I land on the terrace of the House of Wind in a fit of laughter recalling stories of his and my brother's adolescent lives.

“I couldn’t help myself, he was some prick in his new training clothes and I was a kid with nothing. He deserved to get a little beat up!” Cassian laughed, the most real one I had ever heard from him.

“He probably deserved it. Rhys is terrible at first impressions,” I giggle thinking of how haughty my young brother used to be.

Cassian opens the door to the kitchen and living room letting us both in. The house is dark save for a few fae lights over the kitchen island. I wasn’t sure where the shadowsinger was, but whatever lady he was entertaining was certainly a lucky one. The puppy had fallen asleep in my arms on the flight home, so I set her adorable self down on one of the many plush couches. The entire time I felt Cassian’s eyes watching me intensely.

“My buzz is starting to wear off,” I smile, turning from the pup and walking past Cassian and into the kitchen. “Let’s have a nightcap before we go to bed.”

I pull out my brothers expensive whiskey and a couple of glasses. I wait for Cassian to say something, anything, but he stays silent. The only indication that he’s still there are the raised hairs on my neck indicating that he’s watching the back of my head as I start to pour myself a glass.

“Single or double?” I ask him, my hands holding his glass and the decanter of whiskey.

I wait for a response, but the silence that seeps from him fills the room with an unexplainable tension. I’m suddenly all too aware of the lack of heat in the room as the hair on my arms rises and oh gods I can feel him. His presence behind me.

The sound of cool, calculated and slow footsteps echo off the walls of the room and suddenly he’s there behind me. His heat radiates towards me and I don’t dare turn around. His fingertips graze the backs of my elbows, letting me know he’s there.

“Y/n,” his voice is like a prayer as his hands dance around the backs of my arms. My breath hitches at the utterance of my name, he never calls me by my name and the sound of it on his lips makes my toes curl.

I slowly turn from the kitchen island and I’m met with a wall of pure muscle. I crane my head up to meet his intense gaze, and his eyes say everything. They pierce right through me. I rest my hands on his forearms letting the feel of the fabric over them ground me but it doesn’t help. He’s too close, and he’s too warm and he’s everything.

“Cassian,” I whisper for only him to hear.

I press a hand to his chest feeling his heartbeat beneath his shirt finding that it’s beating just as wildly as mine. My eyes meet his again and there’s a pleading there, like he might be suffering and I’m the only one who can end it.

“Kiss me,” I breathe.

His hand sweeps under my chin pulling his lips on mine and I suddenly realize why the romance novels I’ve read describe it as earth shattering. Cassian’s hands fall to my waist and I feel like I’m on fire everywhere his body meets mine. His lips feel like heaven against my own, nothing like the way Eris kisses me. No, Cassian kisses me like he might love me. My hands grip his shirt and pull him closer.

I feel his fingers slide down my waist and beneath my thighs. He hoists me up, dress skirts and all, onto the counter and I suddenly have much better access to him. His mouth wanders down my neck leaving wet kisses all over me. I place a hand behind me to get more support and the empty whiskey glass shatters on the tile floor.

The large necklace Eris gave me gets in the way of his kisses and I feel my blood boil for a moment. How could I belong to Eris when Cassian kisses me like this? When he holds me like I’m his everything?

I capture my lips in Cassian’s once more pulling him away from my neck. His mouth is warm and soft on mine. My fingers find the front of the ridiculous necklace and I tear it off, the sound of the clasp breaking reverberating through the house. Cassian growls and presses his hips further between my legs, my hand slaps on the granite counter for support, the gems of the necklace clattering with it. I release it so that my hands can fly to the buttons on his shirt. The growl that had come from his lips had changed something in me. I needed him now, and I needed all of him.

“Cassian,” I pleaded. The name rolls off my tongue with such ease. His hands roam my body and all I can think about is how I need more. More, more, more, more.

I get the top half of his shirt unbuttoned and I let my fingers roam the bare skin that lies there. He’s warm against my chilled hands, and as my fingertips brush over a long scar I can’t help but want to feel all of him. Know all of him.

“Stop, stop,” Cassian mutters, taking my hands in his and pulling them away from his chest.

My mind immediately starts to panic as he backs away from me. What have I done? I’ve ruined everything. I try to meet Cassian’s eyes from a few feet away but he won’t look at me. Instead he looks at his hands, like they’re covered in blood.

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” he mutters still out of breath.

My heart shatters. I had dreamed of kissing Cassian, of having him hold me like he was just seconds ago. Never did any of those dreams end the way this one is now.

“Cassian I-”

“I’m not worthy,” he breathes, never taking his eyes off his hands. “I’m not worthy of you.”

My already shattered heart shatters again.

I slide off the counter taking slow steps towards him waiting for him to flinch or move away but he doesn’t. I reach him placing a hand on the cheek feeling the stubble there, and despite his words I swore he leaned into my touch ever so slightly. My thumb caresses his face, begging his eyes to meet mine and they do. In that beautiful shade of hazel there’s a sorrow by likes of which I’ve never seen.

“Then show me every part of you that feels unworthy of my love and let me kiss it until it knows nothing but it,” I say to him, praying he hears every single word. His eyes soften.

“Y/n,” he breathes pulling my lips to his once more and I swear right then and there that I’d do anything that man asked me if he just said my name like that again.

My arms wrap around his neck pulling him down towards where I stand on my tiptoes to reach him. Somehow this kiss is more passionate, on both ends as I try to live up to what I’ve told him. His hands hoisted me up again, even though the skirt of my dress was debilitating.

I feel myself being carried down the hall into a room I realize is his from this scent enveloping me from every angle. He sets me down gently, like I might break and kicks the door behind him closed. My hands find the last buttons on his skirt and I get them off with ease, my next course of action has me reaching around my back to tug at the strings of the corseted dress. I get the tie undone, but the rest is tricky.

“Wait, stop,” Cassian orders, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “Are you sure you want this? Because once I start I won’t be able to stop.”

“I want this, I want all of you Cassian.” I nod still breathless and his eyes search mine for any hint of a lie. “Please,” I beg and I watch all resolve fall from his face.

“Fuck y/n,” he moans before pressing his lips to mine.

My hands find the bare muscles of his chest, and try to commit every line and scar to memory. I run my hands all over him, the warmth and feel of him addicting. My fingers fall lower over his abs and I swear I melt at the years of building muscle there.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You can’t touch me like that.” he growls using his hands on my hips to spin me around so my back is flush to him.

His lips find my neck and I swear I could fall apart just by the way his mouth feels on my skin. I feel the laces on my dress get looser and looser as his fingers work them apart behind me. The second the top one is loose enough the weight of the skirt pulls the top down leaving me completely bare. My breath hitches as I feel his calloused fingers gently coaxing me to turn around and face him. The second I do my cheeks flush and I fight the urge to cover myself.

“You’re so beautiful. I wish I knew a better way to say it than that. You are-” he loses his words, pulling me closer so my breasts are pressed to the bare skin of his chest. The feeling is euphoric. “You are everything.” he says, and it feels more like a confession.

He leans in to kiss me once more but I press my hand to his cheek to stop him, “Cassian,” I breathe and I feel his breath hitch at the way I say his name. “I love you.” the phrase echoes through the room.

I feel his body tense pulling me impossibly close. “Now I’m never letting you go,” he mutters, pressing his lips to mine in a fiery need.

His hands hoist me up and I wrap my arms around his shoulders for support. My aching core brushes against his abs and it takes all my self control not to shift my hips to get more friction there. He lays me gently on his bed, and I feel my back sink into his mountains of pillows. His clothed hips settle between mine and he pulls his head back to look at me.

“I’ve loved you ever since I met you. We had just barely become adults and I walked into the townhouse for the first time and saw you reading a book by the fire and I knew,” he confessed. “I knew I loved you before I even knew your name.”

I couldn’t stop the rogue tear that slipped from my eye at his confession. Cassian’s lips kissed the drop away before pressing his lips to mine once more. My hands threaded to his hair as he made his way down my neck leaving a trail of fire everywhere his lips brushed.

“Can I touch you?” Cassian breathed against the valley between my breasts.

“Yes,” I hiss needing him everywhere.

His lips attach themselves to the aching bud of my breast, pulling it taut. I gasp, arching my back off the bed watching him roll my nipple in his mouth. His other hand reaches to twist my other breast and I swear I’ve never felt so good in my life. My hands find his long hair and tug on it, earning a groan from him that sends vibrations through me. He switches to the other side giving it the same treatment and oh gods, this man would certainly be the death of me. His lips come off my breast with a pop as he takes in the sight of me.

“You’re perfect,” he says, pressing a kiss between my breasts once more.

“I want you inside me,” I groan, pressing my hips into him.

“No I’ll hurt you,” he grits, feeling my arousal press against him as he leaves kisses on my stomach.

“Cassian please,” I cry, tears threatening to fall from the sheer need I have for him. His eyes meet mine and I know I have him right where I want him.

“It’s going to hurt y/n,” he tells me.

“I don’t care,” I say, leaning up a bit to cup his face bringing his lips to mine in a quick kiss. “When I said I want all of you Cassian I meant it. You said you’d do anything for me.”

“Fuck y/n, okay but I’m going to get you ready first,” he groans and before he can pull away I press a kiss to his forehead.

His lips trail down my stomach once more until he gets to where I need him most. He skips over my core to leave kisses on the inside of my thighs. My body goes limp and I fall into the pillows again craning my neck to see him. A hand slides up my thigh and runs through my folds causing me to arch my back.

“You’re so wet,” he grits out feeling the pool of arousal between my legs.

“Cass please,” I whine, arching my hips to his mouth.

I watch his eyes flair at the nickname and within moments his mouth is on me licking a stripe up my core that has me letting out an unnatural sound of pleasure. His tongue swirls around my entrance before licking another long stripe through my folds once more, flicking his tongue at the top. He attacks an area between my legs that has me arching off the bed and seeing stars. Surely there could be no better pleasure in the world than this. I let out a guttural moan that has Cassian smirking from where he feasts on me, his eyes lighting up in male pride.

“Oh gods Cassian! How are you-ah!” I cry out feeling tears prick my eyes from the waves of euphoria gliding through my body, like every nerve was being caressed by his hands all at once.

“It’s your clit y/n,” Cassian smirks. “Surely all those naughty romance books taught you about your own anatomy?” he teases rubbing circles on the bud with his fingers.

“No I think they- Ah! They might’ve glazed over that part.” I cry out trying to keep my back from arching off the bed.

“Then allow me to enlighten you,” he grinned before feasting on me once more.

The feeling of his mouth on me had me reaching for something to grasp onto, something to ground me. Cassian must’ve noticed as seconds later I felt his rough hand grasp mine holding it tightly. His other drifted from my hip and I felt him sink a long finger into me slowly but surely. The new sensation had my heartrate picking up even more. It skyrocketed as he started pumping it in and out of me until he added another. The knot in my stomach started to build and I could feel my body pulling closer to the edge.

“Cassian I’m going to- OH GODS!”

I didn’t even have time to finish the sentence before I was falling over the edge, all over him. He rode me through my orgasm before pressing a kiss to my clit.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he says, voice deep and husky. If he had spoken to me like that in a setting where my clothes weren’t already on his bedroom floor I would’ve ripped them off just the same.

“I do?” I laugh, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah you do,” he smiles moving up towards me. “Come here,” he says, pressing his lips to mine.

I savor the taste of him and well, me. It’s new, and I can tell by the way his hand is ripping down his pants that he finds it just as arousing as I do. I glance down to where his aching cock springs free and it takes everything in me not to gasp at the size of it. His hand tilts my chin up to press another quick kiss to my lips.

“Forget what I said earlier. The second you want to stop, just say the word.” he tells me.

“No, I want this. I want you to be my first,” I assure him and I swear I feel his cock twitch against my thigh at my words.

“Okay I’m gonna put it in, if it hurts just tell me okay princess?” he says, pressing a kiss to my brow. I nearly shudder at him calling me princess again, but this time it’s different, it doesn’t feel like a title, it feels like a loving name.

“I will,” I nod to him.

I watch as he guides his cock to my entrance, getting it slick with the aftermath of the orgasm he just pulled from me. I feel him sink in a bit and I start to feel the stretch. I focus my eyes on Cassain’s face. His brow is furrowed as he watches himself start to sink into me. He pushes in further and the stretch starts to burn causing me to take in a sharp breath.

“Shhh baby,” he coos, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

“Keep going Cass,” I breathe out as tears prick my eyes.

He pushes in further and somehow even the pain feels good, because it’s him. Every single inch of him is flush to me and it still isn’t enough. It takes a moment but eventually his hips are brushing up to mine and he’s fully seated inside me, and gods, the feeling of being so full is the best feeling I’ve ever known.

CASSIAN’S POV:

As my cock finally sinks into her it takes everything in me not to pull out and slam back in. I curse myself for even thinking such a thought knowing how badly I would hurt her.

All the while I give her time to adjust her pussy flexes and clenches around my cock and godsshe’s so fucking tight. Sweat coats my brow and my muscles quake with the need to start moving but I won’t do it until she asks me.

“Okay move Cass, I’m ready,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my lips.

Cass

Gods hearing her speak to me so informally shouldn’t make my heart beat so fast but it does.

I pull out a little before slowly pushing back in, relishing the feeling of how warm she is around me. I look down at her to look for any signs of discomfort on her face. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and the little pants falling from those perfect lips are enough to send me into a coma. I begin to build a steady pace once I feel she can take it and as I do those little pants turn into cries and I swear I could cum right there.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” I groan into her neck.

She lets out another moan and I can’t help but smirk knowing what my words do to her. My eyes glance at her face as I fuck into her. Her hair sprawled out all over the pillows, her eyes closed, the look of pure pleasure on her face. I press my lips to hers unable to stop myself, not when I’ve dreamt of doing so for so long.

Fuck how many times have I dreamt of her writhing in pleasure beneath me? The feel of her delicate hands wandering my skin? My name falling from those perfect lips? I couldn’t stop the words from falling from my mouth.

“Gods I love you so much y/n,” I say pressing my forehead to hers.

“I love you too Cassian,” she breathes and I watch as another tear falls from her face. I bring my lips down to kiss it away, and in that moment I vow that I’ll kiss her tears away till they bury me in the ground.

Her pussy clenches around me again as I thrust into her and I can tell by the way her finger nails are digging into my shoulders that she’s close.

“Let go for me princess,” I murmur through ragged breaths pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“CASSIAN!” she screams cumming all over my cock.

It’s enough to drive me over the edge with her, “Fuck y/n,” I moan as I thrust into her one last time watching her beautiful face come undone for me before I cum inside her.

Snap.

My eyes go wide and I’m thankful that she’s still too blissed out to notice as I feel that thread inside me that connects me to her.

Mate.

All this time, she was my mate. The reason I fell in love with her the moment I saw her, the reason I couldn’t stay away from her. The princess was my mate. Her words from earlier continued to echo through my head…

Show me every part of you that feels unworthy of my love and let me kiss it until it knows nothing but it…

I searched her face for any sign that she felt the bond snap too, but all I saw was her beaming up at me. Gods she was so beautiful. My mate was so beautiful.

I reached for the other end of that shining golden thread and found nothing there.

She didn’t know.

Part 6

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts, @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21, @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @dissociated-always, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study

#cassian acotar #cassian angst #cassian smut #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x reader smut #a court of thorns and roses #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand angst #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand acotar #azriel x reader #acotar

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