You Said To Go All Out

Summary: afab!reader x Gojo // What happens when Satoru pretends to be your boyfriend for Christmas Eve and meets your family? Need any more be said? Warning: 18+, suggestive, fluff, crack fic?, Gojo being insufferable, Gojo being a daddy, Gojo fighting toxic masculinity, slight mention of sex and pregnancy, second-hand embarrassment Note: I'm such a ho ho ho for Satoru.

✦ Word count is 4.5k. ✦

"So tell me what's off the table."

"Nothing. I want you to go all out."

You reached forward to push the doorbell. The muted chime let you know it indeed worked. Seemed like your father fixed it since the last time you visited. You cleared your throat and shuffled under your coat to appear more presentable. There was a brief period of silence as you and Satoru Gojo stood still, your hot breaths omitting little clouds into the cold winter air. A second more and Gojo let out a snicker.

"Are you serious?"

"I am. Go crazy! Give 'em that Gojo charm."

The tall man next to you tipped his head back and let out a laugh. He seemed very amused. Did you realize the effect of your words though? Maybe you were just too hyper focused to think rationally, but you did just basically give Satoru Gojo permission to be unhinged.

Something he was quite good at.

So what was the permission for? Simply put, you were sick of visiting your parents for the holidays because every damn time they asked if you had a special someone in your life yet. Of course, as the eldest of the siblings, the extra added pressure was on. Pressure that was unwarranted and unneeded. You were not sure if you could go through it again without screaming. So when Gojo saw you deep in thought instead of paying attention to your students at Jujutsu High, he asked what the matter was. As soon as your eyes laid upon him, you broke out into a smile. Eagerly, you asked if he could pretend to be your boyfriend for dinner on Christmas Eve.

Honestly, you weren't sure what he would say. Thoughts of being humiliated had not even crossed your mind - that is until he just stared at you in thought with a wicked smirk pulling the corners of his mouth upward. That look made you second guess everything.

"Why should I help you out anyway?"

"Satoru, please! I'll do anything you want!"

Your breath caught in your lungs as soon as those words left your mouth. Why did you say that? Ugh, so desperate. His teasing tone made your face flush with heat. He hummed as he leaned in, peering at you somehow through that blindfold of his.

"Aaaanything I want?"

With a nervous smile, you stared at his gorgeous pink lips and then his eyes (or at least you thought you were making eye contact). No time to rethink this. Especially with Satoru tyring to outdo your confidence right then and there. You would not let him break you. Besides, couldn't he just agree? He was an old friend anyway! This was not even the craziest thing you two had done before.

"Yes!"

"Okay. I'll pick you up at three."

He pulled back with a smile, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling a tune. Before he closed the classroom door, he chuckled and gave you one more glance.

"Oh, this will be so good."

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. There you two were, dressed to impress and standing at your parents' door. It had been a moment, and still no one answered, so you pushed the doorbell again.

Gojo continued to press you.

"So hand holding?"

"Yup."

"Kisses?"

"Only on the cheek!"

"Can I propose?"

"Yeah, sure. I don't care - wait. You have a ring on you?"

When you whipped your head to face him, he just grinned and started cackling.

"I might." he purred, then explained the one he had was a family heirloom passed down in the Gojo clan. Naturally, you grabbed his arm and shook your head - telling him he could not just use such an important and sentimental item for this little, white lie. However, maybe your parents would actually believe a marriage proposal. You had known Gojo since you were kids, but you weren't sure if your parents would remember him that well. Would it look crazy?

"How about no proposal? That might be too much. Otherwise, just throw everything you've got into this, okay? You can talk about getting married, job stuff, buying a house, whatever."

"Can I talk about sex?"

"Absolutely not!"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you pouted at him. He gave an innocent smile in turn.

"Alright, I'll behave… for now."

He turned toward you, letting his dark sunglasses slip from his nose as he gave a little eyebrow waggle. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling because you needed to be firm with him. Not laugh and indulge him. It was no good as you pulled your scarf up to cover your smirk - something he did notice.

"You dog."

"That the best you got? I've been called worse."

A small squeak escaped your throat when Gojo's hand lightly tapped your ass.

"Satoru!"

"You said to go all out."

He smirked again. You opened your mouth, about to scold him, when all of a sudden the door flung open. Your mother squealed in delight and clasped her hands together upon seeing her beloved eldest child with their boyfriend. She profusely apologized for the wait, babbling on and on about how excited she was to see everyone, how she never saw you ever because you were always off doing jujutsu work, and oh - to see Gojo-san again after so many long years was a nice treat.

"Oh, my! Look at how tall you are! You are just a gorgeous creature!"

"Mooooom! Don't!" you stomped your foot on the ground, but you were clearly ignored as your mother reached out to grab Gojo by the arm. He snickered at how embarrassed you were and turned back to your mother.

"Oh, stop, please! I can't take this!" he smirked with a facetious tone which only made your mother howl in laughter.

"And look at this! Such a gentleman! He even brought my baby flowers!"

"Oh no, the bouquet is for you, ma'am." he handed over the stunning arrangement of red and white roses, adorned with a few pinecones and some candy canes mixed inbetween them all, tied together with a golden ribbon.

"Thank you for inviting me into your home. And, oh - I didn't know good looks ran in the family."

In the middle of hanging your coat and then Gojo's, your eyes widened at that comment. Gojo was definitely overdoing it and then some! After dear old Mom grabbed the flowers, she just started laughing and muttering oh my, oh my over and over. Well, at least Gojo had stolen her heart. This could all actually be believable. She turned her back for one second to let you two finish settling in, and you slapped Gojo on the arm as he was about to walk off. Stop it, you mouthed. He froze. Then, after eyeing you up, he gave you a push in turn as you nearly toppled over since you were removing your shoes and were a bit off balance. A cheap shot. Surely, he forgot how much stronger he was because you landed into the wall silently, nearly sliding down it (you didn't want your mother to see, so you tried so hard to be mute). Gojo twitched at you form clutching at the wall and swiftly hooked his arm beneath yours to steady you as he uttered a bunch of apologies.

Your eyes met, and you growled at him. The only thing you got in turn was another smirk and a stifled laugh. So you slapped him again, this time on the chest. He squinted his eyes. And he lightly slapped your arm in turn. Then you did it again. Then he did it again. Then arms started flailing everywhere. Then it turned into some stupid little slap fight straight out of a sitcom. When your mother called, you both immediately froze. She ushered you two into the dining room and in synch, you and Gojo merrily chased after her amidst the fluster.

When finally in the dining room, you gave hugs to your two sisters - one home from college and the other home from the Kyoto Jujutsu school (a teacher like yourself) - and greeted your dad sitting grumpily at the head of the table. You introduced Satoru as your boyfriend, and of course your sisters were immediately won over at how cute and tall he was. After that settled down, you placed presents under the Christmas tree and sat next to your beloved Satoru at the opposite head of the table. Among all the small chat, your mother came bustling in with an apron tied around her waist.

She frowned at Satoru, "Oh, honey, we're indoors. Take off your glasses!"

"No!" you slammed your hands on the table, and everyone turned to you with perplexed expressions. Realizing you were making an idiot of yourself, you stuttered. Your family was not super versed in jujustu, save for you and one sister, but you didn't want to explain how Satoru… um, functioned.

"Uh… um, he has… sensitive eyes!"

Satoru chuckled, extending out a hand to lay atop yours. He hummed in amusement as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

"I have excellent eyes." he drawled out, giving a small wink as you pouted.

"Don't be so modest, sweetheart." he purred, gripping the edge of his glasses between his thumb and index finger, "Besides, I don't want to be rude."

With a charming smile, Satoru removed his glasses. They brushed ever so lightly against his bangs, the white hair perfectly rolling off them. He opened his blue eyes, batting his snowy-white lashes before his gaze turned lidded. Okay, damn - but why did he have to make it so attractive? Your sisters sat at the edge of their seats, gasping as their faces broke out into wide smiles and for some reason, they grabbed onto each other and screamed. You slapped a hand over your forehead, groaning into the sky.

"Oh, my!" your mother exclaimed, placing a hand against her flushed cheek, "Gorgeous! Just gorgeous!"

Oh, god, why?

What an attention whore. Satoru knew he was good-looking, and he could absolutely back it up. If you thought about it, well… yeah, Satoru was fine as hell! Wait, that was beside the point! He was completely milking everyone there. Through all the cries, you all turned your heads at the sound of your father scoffing loudly and slamming a hand on the dinner table.

"Ain't no way my kid's marrying some sissy pretty boy!"

"Dad!"

You shrieked, face on fire from absolute embarrassment. Your sisters followed suit. He was the one bringing up marriage first? In a panic, you turned toward Satoru - babbling out apology after apology as you gripped his arm protectively. Oh, gosh you were not prepared for this rudeness, and you had not anticipated that your family might mouth off to Satoru. Dear old Dad was kind of rough around the edges, but no one could have predicted this. Satoru just blinked and calmly cocked his head to the side, seeming unphased.

As ironic as it sounded, thank goodness Satoru Gojo had an ego.

"Sir, I can assure you - "

"Alright, pretty boy. Get over here."

You all blinked as your dad firmly slapped his napkin on the table and rose from his seat. He walked over to the living room and pushed the coffee table out of the way.

"Let's have a little wrestle! Come on, let's see what you got!"

No.

No no no no no.

Except for Satoru who was amused, you all looked upon your father in dismay. Your mother ran into the room when she heard this crazy idea, and your sisters jumped up from their seats to urge everybody to sit down. This was the epitome of the embarrassing dad trope, but to actually ask Satoru Gojo to a spar on Christmas Eve? No, this had to be stopped!

"Bet he's never been in a real scuffle! Look at the car he rolled up in. I bet he's had everything handed to him his entire life!"

It surely went without saying that Satoru had definitely been in some fights and had definitely been through some things, but now was not the time to get into those details. It appeared the situation was only getting worse.

"This is ridiculous! We want Gojo-san to come back next year! Not scare him away!"

"Oh no, Dad, please stop this!"

"Not now, honey! Daddy's about to get to work!"

He took a fighting stance. It was insanely ridiculous. This could not get any worse, but you were wrong. So so so very wrong. Satoru chuckled as he fluidly rose from his chair, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Satoru, I - I'm so sorry! Please don't do this!"

A reassuring pat on your head silenced you.

"Now, now. It's fine. Daddy's about to get to work… and your old man is joining too."

Satoru winked. For a split second, you froze under his heated touch when his hand slid down your cheek and tucked underneath your chin, giving your head a gentle shake before he pulled away. A few seconds passed to register what Satoru had just said. Your face erupted into what felt like fire at the notion that Satoru just called himself daddy. At least he whispered it so only you could hear.

"Don't hold back on me just because I'm no spring chicken, pretty boy!"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." Satoru chided, giving a crack of his knuckles.

He paused.

"But I do need my good luck kiss from my sweetheart first."

Instantly, your eyes widened in shock, and your face went aflush with heat. "No, I don't think that's necessary… sweetheart!"

With crossed arms, you emphasized the cute petname as a warning. Poor you. That would never actually be enough to stop Satoru.

"You don't have to be shy, my love!" he stepped over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You were beyond frazzled. Now he was saying my love? Oh, he was really too much. His arms only tightened when you squirmed, and he pulled you closer. His lips puckered, and your eyes darted from them to his closed eyes to your family members staring at you weirdly for reluctantly not kissing him back. This display went on for a bit longer until you uttered under your breath.

"I said on the cheek!"

"Come on, they're watching. It's just a little peck!"

His arms gave a light squeeze.

"I could end this here and now and go home."

Right. Satoru really had no obligation to keep doing this favor, but did it have to be on his terms? Since the moment you stepped foot at the door, it was obvious he was going to torment you and behave in the most outlandish of ways. When you sharply took in a breath, you knew you had lost. He smirked. Nervously, your arms trembled as you struggled to lift your hands to his face. Quickly, you grabbed his cheeks and just pressed your mouth to his for not even a milisecond and pulled away. Satoru's arms let go of you, his eyelids drooping in a lusty manner. He smirked at the cute pout you gave him, eyebrows pulled together and everything. It was so embarrassing.

"Aw, thank you, my little good luck charm!"

Never had you wanted to run away from a family gathering so badly before. Your mom shook her head and giggled like a schoolgirl. Your sisters seethed with jealousy. Dad just squinted his eyes and grumbled in disgust.

"Oh, no you don't, pretty boy! Not in my house! Not without mistletoe!"

"Bring it on, old man."

The victor was long decided before the fight even started. You and your family watched in utter horror at Satoru and your father. You all jolted, clutching each other for support, covering your eyes, gasping, cringing, making faces as a few thwacks filled the air followed by your father's grunts and what sounded like bones cracking. Maybe Dad's spine perhaps? And before you knew it, Satoru had thrown him over his shoulder, and now Dad was on the floor.

And… Satoru was sitting on top of him.

Dad never stood a chance.

Satoru grinned, "I should have mentioned before that I'm an expert at martial arts!"

No no no no no, this could not be happening. You clapped your hands over your mouth. Dinner was over. Christmas Eve was over. Time to go home. You were prepared to high tail it out of there.

"O - Okay! I give!" your father screeched, "I'm sorry for calling you sissy! I misjudged you!"

Satoru got off him and extended out a hand to help your father up. At least he took those stupid insults with utmost grace. Mom ran forward with an ice pack in preparation as Dad cracked his back to loosen up once more. Instead of being livid… he just gripped Satoru's hand firmly in a handshake.

"Martial arts, huh? Very impressive, son!"

Oh, it was son now?

It was unbelievable that any of this was happening! Blinking off your initial shock, you ran right up to Satoru and curled your arms around his. With the fakest of smiles, you nuzzled your head into your boyfriend's arm.

"Oh, what a good fight! You're so strong, sweetheart! Now come sit down… and don't do anything!"

"Dinner's ready!"

Your father groaned as he sat in his chair, "G - great…"

Dinner went pretty normal. Satoru toned it down a notch for the time being. He laughed and placed his hand on your thigh when talking. He talked about his fancy car that all of a sudden your dad loved. They talked about Satoru's natural talent for martial arts again. He passed the potatoes when asked. He refused a glass of wine. There was some light conversation between the delicious food, and Satoru cracked a couple jokes here and there. Of course your tipsy parents laughed at everything he said and pried into your romantic life a bit more. They asked everything you could imagine, including why they hadn't heard you were dating Satoru Gojo sooner - however, Satoru was quick to explain it was all meant to be a fun surprise. At least he helped out there. It seemed he was bonefied boyfriend material.

But then, things started to go awry again.

When it was time to get up and move to the other room for opening gifts, Satoru promptly grabbed your hand and cleared his throat. As you stopped in place, you looked at him in a puzzled manner. He smirked at you, before placing a hand over his heart and sighing dramatically.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make!"

"I knew it! My baby is pregnant!"

"NO, MOM!"

Through it all, you whipped your head to angrily meet Satoru's gaze. He held onto your hand tightly. With pleading eyes, you just silently begged him to get on with whatever this was. Because, to be honest, you were so sick of all these surprises from your fake boyfriend. Slowly, he got down on one knee. You felt your eyes widen as your jaw slowly dropped open.

You specifically said no proposal!

"I know we haven't been together for very long, but everything just feels… so right with you. Sweetheart, I love you."

SATORU, WHYYYYYY?

He pulled out a small navy velvet box. He opened it up to reveal the family ring inside he told you about only hours earlier. Now that you had gotten a better look, it was very pretty. It matched Satoru's eyes. In fact, it was a perfect copy of all the shine, all the sparkles, and all the clarity reflected in his own six eyes.

"Will you marry me?"

Although it was a fake proposal, you couldn't help the fact that your face heated up. For a moment, you clutched your free hand to your chest and your eyebrows pulled together. Your head tilted to the side as you gave him a dreamy look and such an adoring smile. When Satoru gave you a wink and whispered nice under his breath - you snapped out of it. Oh, yes! Remember this was all fake! With a slight gasp, you turned to see your family with wide smiles painted across their faces.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. For some reason, your throat was tightening as your breath quickened. Your eyebrows twitched in nervousness, and you blinked when tears started pooling at the corners of your eyes. Satoru blinked, nearly losing his happy expression upon seeing yours waver. Seeing your family like that… so happy, and all for nothing. This charade had gone on for too long now.

"No!"

Satoru's smile faded. And although all fake, you couldn't help but feel your heart rip in two at that hurt face Satoru gave. The way your heart dropped deep into the pit of your stomach upon meeting his azure eyes. You had put him through enough too. The feeling of being so sick welled deep inside your stomach.

Your family was just stunned to silence. Immediately, you turned to them.

"I'm sorry! This is all fake! Satoru and I aren't really dating! I just asked him to pretend being my boyfriend because I couldn't take another minute of you all pressuring me to find someone!"

With a deep breath and a sniffle, you looked down at the man on one knee.

"And I'm so sorry for asking you to do this! I've made fools out of us!"

With that, you ran off crying. Everyone stood in silence. The only noise made was the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut. A few more moments passed, and your mother gripped at your father's arm. There were slight tears in her eyes as well.

"Oh, I didn't mean to… we just want our baby to be happy, and… oh no, I've been terrible."

Your father rested his hand atop your mother's, "Dammit, we screwed up. I'll go talk to - "

"I'll go."

Satoru got up off his knee as he closed the box, returning it to his pocket.

"Oh, honey - "

Your mother began, but Satoru closed his eyes and gave a light smile,

"It's okay. I want to. We talk about everything."

With a blink, your father motioned his arm down the hall to point out the bathroom where you were currently sobbing in. Satoru glided down the hall smoothly, and his knuckles tapped at the door.

"Open up."

"No!" you managed to croak out between hiccups.

There was a brief pause.

"I will break down this door if I have to."

No response except for a sniff.

"I'm gonna do it!"

When you heard the doorknob jiggle, you gasped and immediately flung the door open. Satoru could most definitely break down the door, and easily too. So to save yourself more trouble for the evening, you opened it. Immediately, Satoru pushed you back inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it. You both just stared at each other for a while, until between all the sniffs, Satoru wiped a tear from your eye with his finger.

"Hey." he greeted softly with a small smile.

"Satoru, why don't you just go home?"

"I don't want to."

If you weren't so upset, you would have asked why. There was no energy for that as you were still drying the last of your tears and composing yourself. In attempts to ease the situation at hand, Satoru smiled and spoke his next words so casually. As if nothing had just happened.

"I gotta ask you a very important question."

"Right now? I don't think this is a good time."

He smiled again, seeming to ignore you.

"Will you go out with me?"

A beat.

"Oh, that's real funny, you jerk!"

"I'm serious."

He grabbed your hands in his own, looking at you with a calm and collected face. His blue eyes were slightly lidded again. Even in the crappy lighting of your parents' bathroom, they still shined. They still looked good. And Satoru looked damn good too.

"You said you'd do anything in return, and I want a date."

"Are… are you for real right now?"

"I've been wanting to ask you for a while actually."

You licked your lips at him. You titled your head to the side at the soft look in his eyes. He wasn't laughing, nor was he smiling, and he still held your hands in his own. He continued.

"So let's go on one date. And then you can decide from there if I'm being real or not."

Remember, he touched your butt. He got a kiss. Plus, he proposed to you. All that and you weren't even together. All that, even when you told him not to. If all of that happened, and you weren't even dating yet, then what would the real deal be like?

Satoru was so insufferable.

Maybe… it was all a little fun. And maybe, it did feel natural. Throughout the night, maybe you did think about actually having a relationship with Satoru Gojo. He was everything you needed and more. He was always there, and he made you laugh. There were countless memories with him. On top of that, maybe he'd let you touch his butt once in a while too. He was kind of hot, after all. Just kind of. And the butt. So with a smile, you let out a giggle.

"Yes, I'll go out with you."

A grin broke out on his face as he pulled you in for a hug. You buried your face in his chest and smiled when you reached your arms around to clutch the fabric of his shirt at his back. With a deep breath, you never realized how truly nice it was to hold him. Promptly, Satoru pulled back for a minute.

"Oh, by the way I am totally not kissing you in your parents' bathroom. Not hot at all."

He grinned again, and you broke out into laughter. You threw your head back as tears collected in your eyes from how hard you were laughing this time. Once you were able to calm down, Satoru shuffled and stuck his hands in his pocket again to pull out the sapphire ring from earlier.

"Oh yeah, will you at least keep this dumb ring?"

"I could never! That's a family heirloom!"

"Aw, please? It's old and dusty. I don't even want it." he scoffed, basically shoving it into your hands. You took a moment to study his face. He wasn't even looking you in the eye, and a pink hue was at his cheeks. A smirk appeared on your lips.

"You might need it someday."

With a wink, you placed it back in Satoru's hand, slowly closing his fingers around it. You didn't think it were possible, but Satoru's cheeks went even darker and redder in color. Unlike him, you actually knew when to stop tormenting the person you had a crush on. So you quickly changed the subject.

"So when do you want to go on a date?"

"You free tomorrow?"

"I'm all yours."

"All mine?" he purred, "I like the sound of that."

a.n.: I can't believe this took me 6 freaking months to write. It definitely doesn't live up for the hype, but for some reason the words just wouldn't flow. In the mean time, I graduated! Actually went to prom! It kinda sucked, I really don't see the hype behind it!

Anyway, enjoy– and thank you for the patience to those that were interested in this story. If you're still interested by the end of this part– well, you'll know for yourself if there will be more lol ;)

Multiple perspectives (3rd and 1st person); Henderson!Reader; GN!Reader; use of Y/N; Billy Hargrove Survived (but he isn't a racist piece of shit); Everyone might be OOC, sorry lol; swearing; light violence; mostly fluff; English is not my first language! Sorry if something doesn’t make sense :p; no beta, we die like Vecna should’ve

4.5k words.

Third Time's The Charm.

Dustin’s day has been good, in his less than humble opinion.

School sucked the same as always, but hey! Everything other than that was actually pretty awesome!

His older sibling popping by on a whim wasn’t a rare occasion, far from it. When they first moved to college, he cried the whole day thinking he would only see them on Christmas, and now it’s like they never moved in the first place!

Well, maybe it’s because of the Upside Down thing and how they almost died about a million times in the last 4 years, but Dustin liked to believe it’s because they just love him very very much.

But, one thing actually did change.

Eddie.

“Dustin, my man, my favorite nerd, what a sight to the sore eye you are right now!”

Speak of the devil.

Him and Eddie have known each other for a while. I mean, how could he not when the metal-head has been his sibling's best friend for almost all his life?

And with the time to get used to each other, plus Dustin’s natural attentiveness and attention to detail, he can read this guy like the cheap rip-off comic of spider-man he is.

Eddie wants something.

“Is that a new upgrade to your walkie? Dude, that looks sick, what does it do?”

“Nothing, it’s just a normal radio actually.”

“Oh.”

A snort leaves his nose. Dustin shakes his head, setting the walkie talkie on the library table before looking up to his friend.

“You really aren’t subtle, my friend.”

“First things first: how dare you. Secondly-” Eddie pushes the nearest chair back, giving him enough space to sit on the old table. The notebook under him crinkles, but he just pushes it aside, clearly in too much of a rush to care about a random person’s notes. “I need your help.”

“If it’s about the whipped cream on Lucas’ backpack and his basketball shoes, it’s too late. The operation is already in motion.”

“Operation- wait, did you put whipped cream on Sinclair’s shoes?”

“What? No I didn’t. You didn’t hear that from me.”

“Mhm.” Eddie just sends Dustin a look, raising an eyebrow with just a very done expression on his eyes, before shaking his head. “You know what, I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear anything.”

He leans closer, likes he’s about to tell the biggest secret of his life. The notes beneath his butt crumble further.

“It’s about your sibling.”

“Y/N? What they have to do with anything?”

“I’m gonna ask 'em to prom.”

If Dustin were drinking something, he would’ve done a spit take right now.

“WHAT?!”

“SHHHH!” The other school library attendees shush him, all glaring in their direction. Dustin flushes a little, curling into himself, but Eddie doesn’t even flinch.

“I want to take your older sibling to prom, Henderson. Like, real bad.”

“Dude!”

“What?!”

“That’s my sibling!”

“And my best friend! So??”

“So–” Dustin sputters. How does he even respond to that?!

Don’t get him wrong, of all the people he could’ve picked to compete for your hand, Eddie would always be his champion. His two favorite people??? Sign him up!

Doesn’t mean his into it, tho!

“Why?!”

“What do you mean ‘why’?! You’ve ever met ‘em?! They're the coolest most beautiful, and funniest person I’ve ever known! Why wouldn’t I want to take them to prom?”

“No, not that- why the change? I thought you wanted to go with Chrissy??”

That gets a reaction out of him.

Eddie flinches, looking away. He passes a hand through his hair, half hiding himself beneath the brown curls.

“Chrissy… She’s…”

Dustin does not like the hesitation. The kid crosses his arms over his chest, squinting up at Eddie with distrust.

“Look, I’m all for you going after my big sibling–”

“Really? That wasn’t what it looked like two seconds ago.”

Dustin squints further, frowning, and Eddie groans.

“Just keep going.”

“As I was saying, I don’t mind you taking my big sibling to prom… If you actually mean it.”

It’s his turn to frown, a mirror of Dustin’s expression, but in confusion and a little bit of offense.

“What? Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

“You were just drooling over Chrissy, like, two days ago! I get you getting rejected, but don’t use them as a rebound, dude!”

“What?!”

“SHHHHH!” Strike two, the people around them shush them both again. Dustin doesn’t flinch this time, both him and Eddie a bit too enthralled in the topic at hand.

“How could you say that?! You know how much I care about Y/N!”

“I know that, but I also know how much they cares about you.”

“What does that has to do with anything?”

“Uh- Literally everything? What, you think you can just go and ask them all willy nilly to go to prom with you like it’s no big deal, and they won’t feel like it’s a big deal? Thye care, dude! What you say matters to them!”

Something in that makes Eddie pause, breath hitching on the tip of his tongue. He knew that, of course… Didn’t he?

His mind flashes back to the three years ago, just in the middle of prom season.

“Y/N Henderson, you did not–”

“Oh but I did! I did, despite it all!”

Eddie feels the bright afternoon sun on his back, the ever warming spring air making his hair and their hair flutter in the wind.

Today has been a weird day. His friends all seemed either jittery or smug, like they know something he doesn’t, a joke he didn’t get the punchline yet.

But the weirdest thing? His best friend wasn’t waiting for him by his parking spot.

At the end of class, he found a pretty envelope on his locker, attached to it a blue little flower– one of the few he recognizes. Forget-me-not’s.

“6 years sure go by fast. We’ve been through a lot in that time, didn’t we? And we will go through a lot more shit, knowing us like I do.

I was hoping you’d indulge me on a little game, just for old times sake.

Check the supply closet closest to you.”

From then on, he went on a surprisingly elaborate scavenger hunt. Passing through closets, to bathrooms, even checking in with his friends when the little clues told him to. Surely enough, each one handed him a new letter, and each one had a soft and excited smile on their lips.

After a good half hour of running around the school like a headless chicken, Eddie had accumulated enough clues to fill both his pockets and enough flowers for a small bouquet. The last letter sits on his hand as he dashes around the halls, a big smile on his lips.

“Ok, I promise this is the last one– for real this time, I swear.

This had been a rough year on you, but I was hoping to send it off with a bang. One last middle finger to the world before I have to leave you behind to fend for yourself in the lion’s den.

So, Edward Munson, meet me by the woods, in our usual spot.”

“Henderson, you absolute maniac!” Eddie all but jumps over the picnic table, practically throwing himself on his best friends arms. They don't even blink, only opening up and holding him. Firm, steady and warm. Their laughter feels like electricity and care all at once over his skin, and he breaks into goosebumps.

“Did you like it? Had any fun?”

“Hell yeah I did! How long have you been planning this, dude?!”

“Ah, who cares about that?” They flick their wrist, like trying to get rid of an annoying fly. Eddie’s way too used to their dismissive and nonchalant nature at this point, so he just laughs and hugs them close again.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

He can’t see, but their smile softens. The hold on him tightens, and they buries their face into the mess of his hair.

“You’re you. That’s more than enough.”

After a beat, they finally pull away from the other. Eddie doesn’t even questions at their dazed gaze, used to it at this point, even if he never truly knew the reason behind it. He squeezes their shoulders, still a little incredulous at the situation. Taking his little moment of silence as an opportunity, Y/N steps back and takes one last flower from their pocket. It’s a little bit beaten up after being squashed in the hug, but it makes Eddie’s heart feel tight anyway.

“Look, I know this hasn’t been an easy year for you. You’ve been through a lot of shit, dealing with shitheads like Carver and Hagan, and that you didn’t graduate, but… But I wanted to make the end a good memory, you know? Eat junk food, dress fancy for once in our lives, pretend that we’re the protagonists for once, you know?”

They take a deep breath, eyes locked on the little flower on their hand. It’s impossible to lift their head and finally gaze into the eyes of their best friend. The love of their life.

Bah, call 'em dramatic. They're already way too deep into this cheesy bullshit to care.

“So. Eddie. Eds. Angel. Would… You, maybe… Like to… Gotopromwithme??”

Well that was smooth.

Still, it doesn’t seem like he cares about their awkward stumbling.

Instead, he just pulls them into one more hug, laughing like a maniac.

“Yes! Of course I’d like to, you dumbass! You’re my best friend!”

And those words make their heart races and breaks, all at once.

They let the little blue flower fall to the ground, unbothered by the numbness on their fingertips.

“I know. You’re my best friend too, Eds.”

Eddie shakes his head, locks brushing against his nose at the intensity. This is a crisis for another time.

“I know, believe me. But I’m telling the truth! I don’t care about Chrissy, I legitimately want them to be my date!”

Dustin raises an eyebrow, feeling the genuine longing in Eddie’s tone. It’s a surprising match to his siblings, every time they talks about Eddie. That lingering bitter-sweetness in the end of the sentence, the longing in each and every word. He’s heard them rant and ramble, on and on, about the metal-head more time than Dustin feels like counting, he knows that tone. It’s a perfect match.

So, he sighs, leaning his head back against the library’s chair to the point his cap almost falls off.

“Fine, I’ll help.”

“Yes!”

“SHHHHH!”

…

Today was… Weird.

Maybe it was the way the sun was beating down my face, too hot for a spring day, maybe it was the fact that the 7-11 I passed by didn’t have my favorite slushy flavor, but something just seemed… A little off today. Like someone just tilted the world a little bit to the left.

I take a long drag from the cigarette between my lips, watching the shining sun from my spot by my car. Sitting beside me is none other than Billy Hargrove, the same glare up at the sky as mine.

It’s always funny hanging out with Billy by the school’s grounds. We used to beat each other up in this same parking lot, about two years ago! And now look at us, sharing a can of coke beneath the spring sky like two dads waiting for their kids after football practice.

“I can hear your brain about to cook up some weird shit to say, Henderson. Please keep it to yourself.”

I don’t even blink at his harsh tone, putting a sugary sweet expression and leaning to lay my head on his shoulder.

“Awn, I know you love my commentary.”

He’s quick to brush me off, with not nearly as much strength as he used to a few years ago.

“I’d rather hear the screams of children.”

All I can do is snort, laughing slightly before taking a sip of the can between us.

Billy is one of the only people acting somewhat normal today, same snarky responses that once made me lunge for his throat and same pissed off frown.

He’s also one of the few people I trust the most, funnily enough. What can I say, he’s seen the worst in me and somehow still sticks around- probably because I’ve seen the worst in him too, but still. Maybe that trust is what made me press the halfway burnt cigarette into the ground and turn to look back at him.

“Hey, dude?”

“Hm.”

“Is it just me or is everyone kinda off today?”

And to my surprise, he doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, he raised his own cigarette to his lips, taking a long and deep drag.

“Nope, just you.”

“Pfft, weird, something tells me your lying?”

“Something? What, like voices in your head? Damn, I knew you were crazy, Henderson, but this is new ground.”

“Billy.”

“… Hmph.”

He stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, sunglasses tilting down just enough to see the look he sends me. I shake my head and he relaxes. There’s a small pause after that. He flicks the cigarette ash off, before glancing to me again.

“Look, it’s nothing you have to worry about, ok?”

I can’t help but chuckle at his words, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Last time you said that, you were possessed by a god damned spider monster thing.”

“Yeah, but this time I’m not. So chill out.”

Isn’t he sweet?

I chew on the inside of my cheek, breathing in slowly before letting out a long long sigh.

“Fine.” A pause. But then I turn to look at him again, with the most serious expression I can. “But if you are possessed again-”

“Fuck off.”

“Pfft-”

The loud ringing of the school bell quickly brings our attention back to the front doors of Hawkins High. Like clockwork, they open and the sea of teenagers roll out, flooding the parking lot. My eyes drift between faces, looking for any sign of my favorite club, but the first thing I catch is a familiar cap and a mess of red hair.

Dustin immediately runs up to me, his cap hitting me on his attempt at a dive hug. Max is not so far from him, but instead of the affection attack she just flips Billy the bird… which he quickly reciprocates, smirking.

The two types of siblings.

“Hey, Junior.” The sarcastic and rougher edge to my voice quickly melts off, turning to the normally sweeter and more relaxed tone reserved only for my little brother. Dustin immediately turns to me, smiling like he always does- but, of course, there’s something off.

“Hello there, older sibling figure.”

… ok.

I just let out a chuckle, a little weirded out. See? It can’t be just me, everyone’s acting all skittish for some reason. Did I miss the memo?

Max pushes Dustin’s cap over his eyes before he has the chance open his mouth again, her eyes literally screaming for him to shut up. Then, she turns to me.

“If he hurts you, tell me. I’ll kick his ass.”

“… What???”

The hell’s going on?

Dustin clears his throat, pushing his hat back and sending Max a half hearted glare.

“As I was about to say- Eddie told me to give you this.”

From the depths of his many pockets, he pulls a… letter? A note, better said, scribbled in a chicken scratch of a writing I know way too well.

Before I can open it, he quickly pulls me so I look at him again.

“I’m gonna catch a ride with Max today I’ll see you later ok bye-”

And he practically drags Max to Billy’s car… which she weirdly let’s him do. I look back at the blonde next to me… and he doesn’t even blink at the interaction, stepping on the rests of his cigarette before turning away from me without a word.

What…. the hell.

As the familiar camaro drives off the parking lot, leaving me to my lonesome by my truck, I glance down at the note in my hands. Crumpled notebook paper, with the little bits used to wrap around the spiral still attached, and that familiar handwriting.

After a huff of amusement, I open up the letter.

“Greetings, dear adventurer! It is I, Eddie the Pardoned (we really need to workshop that title).

This is your formal request to join in on an adventure through the ever changing land of Hawkins High school. Walk across the mighty and dangerous hallways where jocks once slammed our faces into lockers, or traverse into the terrifying lands we call the gym showers!

Follow the riddles and clues, and if you’re lucky, the gates of a whole new adventure shall open to those with brave and worthy hearts.

Good luck.”

“Dramatic dork.” I mumble beneath my breath, but the smile on my lips can only be described as disgustingly smitten.

I look over the note again, flipping it between my fingers. Surely enough, more writing in the back.

“Those who trail my path are the best liars, but also the most emotional of artists. The many nights you’ve spent between my walls, you were never quite yourself. Oh, wow, he really wasn’t kidding on making riddles, huh?”

I can’t help but let out a chuckle, raising my eyes from the paper in my hands and looking around the parking lot. There’s a lot of people walking around right now, most speeding to get home after a long long Friday, but my eyes don’t catch a single hint of anyone using the familiar Hellfire shirt. Which is definitely weird, they’re normally the first ones to leave the school. Still, no sign of Jeff, or Bryan, or Gareth, much less Ed.

I look back down to the riddle.

“The many nights you’ve spent between my walls” So it’s a place, then? One I’ve been before, if Eddie isn’t being a little shit and using “you” because he thinks it sounds better.

“Those who trail my path are the greatest liars, but most emotional of artists.” Greatest liars? And most emotional of artists. Well, if it’s a place, related to art, then the art room? But then why the lying?

“You weren’t quite yourself.” Wasn’t… quite myself. Hm.

A place, probably one at school since I doubt he would’ve gone so extra as to go around the entire city, related to art and lying. “Wasn’t quite yourself.”

…

Wait, the drama club?

Art of lying- could he mean acting? A room related to acting in which I’ve been to before.

The drama club, at D&D nights!

My feet are moving before my brain is, crumpled up note being carefully stuffed into my pants pockets.

…

Not far…

“The bird has taken flight, over.”

“Dustin, will you stop with the codenames?! Just- Just get into position! Over!”

…

How many damn riddles can this man write??? I must’ve collected more than twelve by now!

There’s a small collection of notes in my left hand, my pockets too filled up to stuff any more of them without damaging. My shoes squeak against the floors of the mostly empty school, echoing in my ears as I run from room to room, classroom to classroom.

I swear, If this is some sort of elaborate prank, I’m going to kick Eddie’s ass until Halloween comes.

I let out a groan leaning down to reach another, stuck beneath my– well, not mine, it hasn’t been mine since I graduated– seat at the iconic Hellfire Club lunch table. When I turn to the back, I’m surprised to see there isn’t a riddle this time, no little set of verses to greet me. So, after a small hum of interest, I fold it open.

“If you’ve reached this point of your quest, fair knight, I’m proud to tell you your prize awaits you! (Because I’m not like SOME people who do FAKE OUTS THREE TIMES IN A ROLL)

All that’s left is for you to come and get it. Your king awaits in our usual spot.”

-E.M.

“Pfft– my king?” I can barely pay attention to the soft laugh that leaves my lips, chest too warm and filled with cotton to notice. Dork.

Still, I just set the note with the rest, walking to the nearest exit with a smile on my lips.

I’m still have no idea what Eddie is planning with all of this. Despite the dozen plus notes, he hasn’t gave me a single of hint for the reason of this scavenger… Hunt.

…wait.

I mean, it’s not– it’s not possible, right?

He was talking about inviting Chrissy less than a week ago!

Nah, nah, yeah, it’s not… He wouldn’t. Not me, anyway.

…

Well I just made myself sad.

A groan leaves my lips as I shake my head, hair flowing around with the motion before bouncing and stopping, strands sticking to my eyelashes. Enough with the self pity. I’m better than this. Whatever it is that Eddie has planned to me is going to be awesome.

The hallways echoes with my steps, the sound of my combat boots squeaking in the shiny tile flooring being the only sound as I leave the school. It’s late afternoon at this point, the sun starting to set as everything is painted golden. The walk through the woods is longer than I remember, the late spring wind ruffling through my clothes. After a while, I’m reaching the clearing…

And there’s no one here…?

“Eddie?” I spin in place, looking in between the trees for any sign of the silhouette I know better than my own. It’s quiet here, with the exception of the singing birds and early crickets. I stuff my hands in my pockets, and my brows twitch in worry. “Did I take too long…?”

When I pull them back, one of them holds the last hint. It’s impossible to be anywhere else– he literally said our usual spot, and this is it, isn’t it? Unless my first suspicion was right, and he really meant to spread these around the town– wait, no, then why would he set them up around school? What am I m–

“BOO– OW!”

“EDDIE?!”

My knuckles sting, heart beating louder than a drum as I stare at my fallen best friend, cradling his own face. Immediately I reach for him, falling to my knees by his side.

“Jesus Christ, Munson, you scared the shit out of me! I’m so sorry– Oh, god dammit, sweetheart, c’mere, c'mere… Let me see…” I gently tug his hands from his face, touches practically feather light and with as much care as I can channel. He laughs all the while, completely unbothered by the forming bruise on his cheek.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson– You pack quite the punch! Holy crap, I think you dislocated my jaw–”

“Stop saying shit like that, you’ll manifest it.” I chuckle under my breath (but do check his jaw, making sure everything is in place and I didn’t punch one of his teeth in.). “Why the hell you sneaked up on me like that? What thought process made you think that was a good idea??”

“I don’t know!” He laughs, falling limp on the grass while looking up at me. His smile is almost dopey, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he said he just got baked. He doesn’t smell like weed, tho. Just smoke and cologne, the one that makes me wish I could bury my nose into his neck and just live there. “I thought it’d be a good idea? All I needed to do was distract you for a little while!”

“Distract me?” I snort, brows tilting in a playful frown. “From what?”

“Shit–” And at the sound of my brother’s cursing, I lift my eyes from my best friend’s face.

What do I find if not the rest of the Hellfire club, haphazardly stacked on each other’s shoulders putting up a huge banner on the branches of the nearest threes. Jeff has Mike on his shoulders, while Bryan has Justin– and Lucas and Gareth watch a few steps away, clearly trying to not bring attention to themselves as I turn to them.

“Michael, if you ruin my jacket with your dirty ass shoes–”

“I’m trying not to! Stop moving!”

“Guys! Guys, I’m gonna fall! BRYAN–”

“You’re not gonna fall, Dustbin– stop being a pussy and just tie the goddamn thing.”

“What the hell…?” I mumble, even more confused than when I found the kids sneaking Eleven into Mike’s basement.

Eddie doesn’t answer me with anything but a cackle, getting up to his feet and jogging up to the rest of the club. His grin is so wide his dimples are lost between smile lines, brown eyes shining in the late afternoon sun that warms my skin and cheeks. He skids to a stop under the banner, not even waiting to check if it’s tied up properly before tugging the bottom and unrolling it.

‘COME DITCH PROM WITH THIS FREAK?’

And the arrows badly painted on the bottom point directly at him, that turns around to beam my way with his smile brighter than the sun.

…

I don’t know if the guys have fallen silent or if I just gone deaf, but I don’t have the mental power to look. It’s like the whole world turned… quiet.

My heart can’t seem to choose between skipping beats or skidding to stop. I can feel my skin tingling, my knuckles going from stinging to burning. As does the back of my neck and the bottom of my gut.

I read the words, over and over again, shocked…

“Is this…” My tongue feels like it’s knotted, tied and shipped to the other side of the country. No words could ever describe– whatever the hell I’m feeling right now. “Are you… Is– Are you for real??”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, the warm orange lighting almost making it look like his cheeks are dyed a soft red. His smile is confident, almost cocky and playful as he looks down at me. “As real as a I can be.”

My mouth feels drier than a desert, and I swallow harshly. I can’t turn my eyes from him, like I’m transfixed… which, in someways, I am.

He has hypnotized me, a puppet on his strings.

I feel starstruck.

Eddie takes my silent as a go ahead, because after standing under the banner for a second, he slowly walks to me again. For some reason, I don’t even think to get back on my feet until he’s almost right in front of me, his head obscuring the sun as if he’s the only star I need.

“Henderson,” He says, the smirk on his lips almost sheepish. “I’ve got to apologize. I’ve been… kind of a shit best friend for the last couple years. You’ve been my paladin, my white knight, the voice of reason when I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t even thank you properly.”

He extends his hand, the black stone in his ring finger catching the sunlight from his smile.

“So let me make it up to you… Will you let me take you with me to not-prom?”

My throat closes up, my eyes sting, but my smile is as bright as the moon.

“Yeah, I will.”

And I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.

taglist! @eddiesgirlforever @plk-18 thx for the support and the patience!! :D

Shameless - Arthur Leclerc

Pairing: Arthur Leclerc x Fem!reader 

Summary: Your tinder date is alright. His roommate is just better.  

Warnings: smut, swearing, me refusing to write anything other than the -we shouldn’t be doing this- trope :)) 

Words: 4.5k words of breaking bro code 

Author’s note: not my best work but I just had to get this man out of my system.Took some creative liberties to make it a college!AU so let’s just pretend that makes sense lmao. Also my French is doubtful at best so if you are a native french speaker and catch me writing absolute nonsense no you didn’t :)) Not proofread. Feedback very much appreciated!! Enjoy xx  

// 

You had told yourself it would never come to this. 

When your best friend first brought up the idea of downloading a dating app, you almost choked on the wine you had been drinking. During a night out she had been telling you non stop how you were too picky when it came to men, and that you just had to ‘put yourself out there’, whatever that meant. 

You wouldn’t say ‘picky’ was the right word exactly, more that for you there was a difference between finding a guy-good looking or nice, and actually being attracted to them. 

The idea of having to advertise yourself only for a guy to decide within approximately seven seconds if you had potential or not, made you cringe internally. But that was months ago, and you had to admit that between school and serving overpriced lattes to other students in the on-campus coffee shop, you had gotten bored…and lonely. 

Bored and lonely enough to download Tinder after tossing and turning in your bed for over an hour. Without thinking about it too much, you threw some pictures of yourself onto your profile and got to work. In the dark of your room, your phone screen the only source of light, it was easy to get over the initial embarrassment of it all and just give it a shot. 

After a while, you had gotten a few matches, but had absolutely no idea how to start a conversation on here to save your life, so instead you opted for putting your phone down and trying to sleep once again, the monotone action of swiping left or right having made you just the right amount of tired. 

The next morning as you got ready for class, you had received a message from one of the tinder guys. 

New message from Oscar: 

Hey, Y/N :) how’r you doing? 

He was cute, and looked like a nice enough guy. You remembered he had some pictures in racing attire, and that made him seem slightly more interesting. At the very least it gave you a conversation starter if you were to go out. You replied to him as you made your way out of the apartment, and continued to message back and forth the rest of the day. 

After about a week of sporadically messaging Oscar, he offered to take you out next friday. He hadn’t made a huge impression, but to be honest neither had you, texting had never really been your thing, so perhaps meeting up would give you an idea if this was something to pursue or not. You accepted, and you agreed on dinner and a movie at his place, being that his roommate would be out that day. 

You really hoped you weren’t gonna regret this. 

// 

The walk to Oscar’s apartment was cold and miserable, the rain promptly undoing the effort you had put into your hair earlier. When you arrived outside his building, you caught a glimpse of yourself in one of the windows and quickly tried your best to make yourself look presentable again before ringing the bell that had ‘Piastri/ Leclerc’ written on it, the last few letters were smushed together to make it fit on the small line of paper, making you chuckle slightly. 

Oscar opened the door and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as he showed you up to his apartment on the third floor. It was clearly inhabited by two college boys, the questionable interior design choices and posters that littered the wall a dead give away. You could tell he had put in effort though, it was tidy and the small table in the middle of the room had been set nicely. 

“Uhm, I’d show you around but, this is kind of it” Oscar said as he scratched the back of his head.

“It’s nice actually, way bigger than the shoebox me and my roommate live in” you chuckled as you placed your jacket over your chair. Oscar quickly moved to pull out your chair for you. 

“wow, a true gentleman, huh?” you smirked as you took your seat. 

“Yeah, I try, I haven't been on a date in ages so I’m, uh, trying my best. I made us pizza if that’s alright with you. I was going to ask you what you wanted but It’s kind of the only thing i know how to make, so” 

The dinner went by fast and luckily without any awkward silences. Oscar told you the full story about why he was studying here as an Australian. 

“I’ve always wanted to be a professional driver, but my parents want me to have a ‘back-up’ plan in case that doesn’t work out, so I decided to study here while training in Europe, that’s how I met Arthur, he was in the same boat as me” he explained before taking another bite of his food. 

“Your roommate, right? Is he also from Australia?” you asked. 

“Oh god no, pretty sure he wouldn’t last a day out there. Not really a bug person ya know. He’s from Monaco. Basically means he’s french but not really” 

When the two of you finished your food, you helped Oscar with cleaning the table despite his protests, and just as you were about to ask what movie he wanted to watch, the sound of keys rattling and the door opening took both of you by surprise.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” Oscar muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. 

You were soon greeted by a blonde boy standing in the middle of the room, looking at you like a deer in headlights. 

“Arthur, mate, what are you doing here? Thought you’d be out?” Oscar spoke as he approached the boy. So this was the roommate he’d been talking about. 

“Yes I was, but now I am back. You did not say how long I needed to be gone. I cannot study any longer than I already have” Arthur said as he raised his hands in defense, a thick french accent lacing his words. Oscar looked dejected, and slightly panicked as he turned back around to face you. 

“Sorry, Y/N, I had no idea he’d be here, maybe we can go to the cinema if you don’t wanna watch a movie here or-” 

“Oscar, you have still not introduced me to the girl, this is impolite, no” Arthur gave Oscar a pat on the back as he stepped closer. 

“Y/N, Arthur, my roommate. Arthur, this is Y/N”   

You smiled politely towards the boy, slightly taken aback when he closed the space between you to take your hand and placed a quick kiss on the top of it. 

“Bonjour, Y/N” Arthur replied with a smile of his own, and for a few seconds both you and Oscar were too stunned to speak. His smile was genuine and sweet, and you found the gesture more endearing than anything. You had barely managed to mutter a quiet ‘nice to meet you’ when Arthur dropped your hand and disappeared in one of the rooms. Oscar approached you with an apologetic look in his face. 

“Yeah, I told you he’s French,” he joked as he tried to regain his composure. 

“But seriously, we can head out if you want-” 

“No, it’s okay. We can watch it here” you interrupted him, you would rather spend the rest of your date here so you could get to know Oscar a little better, rather than the forced silence that accompanied the cinema. 

Oscar looked somewhat surprised by your answer, but accepted it anyway and invited you to sit down on the small L- shaped sofa in the corner of the room. After a short debate you had convinced him to watch Pride and Prejudice, but it took you less than twenty minutes to realize he was trying really hard to pretend to like it. The movie served more as background noise anyway as you continued to chat about the typical first date topics, mostly school and hobbies. During the conversation, Oscar rested his arm on the back of the sofa towards you, a classic move that made you hold back a smile. After about an hour, you had focused back on the movie for a while, only to realize Oscar had somehow fallen asleep in the last ten minutes, his head slumped into his own shoulder as his chest raised rhythmically. 

Great job Y/N, maybe go for a comedy next time, you thought to yourself as you awkwardly shifted on the sofa, not wanting to wake him but not exactly knowing what to do either. You eventually settled on letting the movie finish and hope by then he would wake up on his own accord, until the sound of a door opening made you turn your attention away from the film once again. 

“Oscar I promise I will leave, I'm just thirsty” Arthur was already rambling until the sight of you next to Oscar’s sleeping frame made him stop in his tracks. 

“Oh no, mate…” Arthur said with a disapproving look on his face, “This is why I tell him to stop studying until two in the morning, it just messes up the sleep schedule”

“I should probably let him sleep then, huh?” you wondered out loud. 

“Maybe that is a good idea, yes” 

A few seconds of silence passed between the two of you, Arthur was staring at you, taking you in, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed somehow. 

“Did he even offer you a drink?” Arthur said as he walked towards the fridge to examine his options. “Ok, so we have…water and beer, maybe that is why Oscar did not offer you anything”

You stood up from the couch as you were careful not to wake Oscar. 

“Actually I’m gonna head home, It’s getting late and I have work in the morning, so-”

“Okay, I will walk you home then, let me get my jacket” 

“No! No, you don’t have to do that” you protested, but he had already disappeared back into his room and came out soon after. You quickly scribbled a note for Oscar so he wouldn’t think you were rude just leaving without a goodbye.  

Thanks for the pizza and the company

Get some more sleep next time ;) 

(and I’ll choose a better film)

xx Y/N

You placed the note on the sofa next to Oscar and turned around to see Arthur grab two beer bottles and store them in his jacket pockets. You grinned in response as he looked at you, caught in the act. 

“One for the road, no?”  he smiled and gave you a wink as he held the door open for you. This night had not at all ended up the way you’d expected it to, but you weren’t complaining. 

The walk back to your apartment seemed to be significantly shorter than it had been earlier that night, as you and Arthur joked around while drinking the beers he had brought along. He spoke about Monaco, about racing and about his family, and you thought to yourself you could listen to him speak for hours if he’d let you. There is nothing quite like seeing someone's eyes light up when they talk about things they are passionate about. On a few occasions, he made you laugh so hard tears pooled at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time somebody had made you feel this way, like life suddenly wasn’t as scary and serious as it seemed sometimes. It felt like you’d known him for years.

 You thought to yourself how Oscar hadn’t really left the same impression on you tonight, but he was clearly tired and not expecting his roommate to show up, so he deserved a second chance at least. 

Before you knew it, you arrived in front of your building and turned to face Arthur. His eyes were boring into you again, always making eye contact but not in a creepy way, more like an…intense way. It was kind of nice, knowing he was intrigued by you and not just walking you back because he felt like he had no other choice. You found yourself not wanting to say goodbye to the blonde boy in front of you, but you couldn’t really go there, right? How would you explain that to Oscar? 

Thanks for cooking for me, but your roommate is hot and funny and you fell asleep so can you blame me? 

Not exactly the best impression to leave after a first date. You wondered if it had been Arthur that had been your Tinder match, how different the night would have been. As you were contemplating this, you were still facing each other in silence. 

  “I really want to kiss you right now” 

Arthur’s words felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over you, and you thought for a few seconds you had just imagined him saying it, but as he stood there before you, those beautiful eyes still firmly fixed on yours and full of anticipation, your body made the decision for you as you nodded your head. 

You caught a glimpse of his serious expression breaking into a smile once again as he leaned in, lips just barely grazing your own before he really kissed you. Your lips moved together as one of his hands found the back of your neck. You were so wrapped up in him it felt like you were the only two people on the planet. The kiss turned more heated as Arthur slipped his tongue into your mouth, working expertly against your own as his free hand drew you in closer by your waist.

 God, you had never been kissed like this before. 

The sound of a phone ringing brought you back to reality as Arthur broke the kiss and quickly reached in his pockets for his phone, face falling slightly as he looked at the screen. 

“Um, I think Oscar woke up, I should, uhm…probably head back” he said hesitantly. 

The reality of the situation had well and truly set in now and you suddenly felt guilty, even though Oscar was far from your boyfriend, it still felt like you’d done something wrong. 

“Ofcourse, yeah, you should go…thanks for walking me home” 

Shit, it was awkward now. You shouldn’t have fucking kissed him. What else were you supposed to say? Say hi to Oscar for me? Not exactly the best thing to say given the predicament you were in. 

“I will see you around, Y/N” Arthur spoke with a smirk as he walked backwards, keeping his gaze on you for a while before turning around and breaking into a small jog back around the corner. 

As you dropped down on your bed, your brain was working overtime trying to process the night you’d had. It had taken you exactly one tinder date to make a mess out of everything, fantastic. 

Just as you hoped you would fall asleep, the sound of your phone pining made you pirk up again, and curiosity got the better of you as you took it from the nightstand to see 3 notifications. 

2 New messages from Oscar

Sorry for falling asleep on you, remind me to never first date so close to finals week ever again

I had a great time, hope you’re up for a second date soon? 

But it was the third notification that really made your heart nearly beat out of your chest. 

Arthur_Leclerc requested to follow you on Instagram 

You sighed as you threw the phone haphazardly on your bed, suddenly wide awake again. 

Shit.  

// 

Two days. 

It had been two days since the tinder date fiasco, and Oscar’s message remained unanswered in your inbox. You didn’t have a clue what to say to him, and lying seemed just as bad as telling him the truth, so you took the easy way out and said nothing.

You’d accepted Arthur’s follow request and followed him back the morning after, but hadn’t had the guts to send him anything either. Guess you were back to square one then. Alone. 

The heavy doors of the library creacked in protest as you pushed through them, and immediately you took in the comfortable silence of the big study hall, only interrupted here and there by squeaking shoes or a student coughing. In between all of this, you had almost forgotten that you desperately needed to study for finals, so you decided to head to the library and hopefully focus on school instead. 

It seemed to work, but just as you were about to start the conclusion to the essay that had been giving you a headache for weeks now, a hand on your shoulder made you jump. The sound of surprise that you let out made a few students glance up from their books to see what the commotion was about, but you had no time to apologize because Arthur was standing there, so close to you that you had just about forgotten how to function properly. He took a seat next to you as you quickly removed your headphones. 

“Hi” he smiled, leaning one arm over the back of his chair as he gave you that signature look again. 

Hi? This boy had been the reason for your lack of sleep for two days straight and all he says is…hi?

“How is the studying going?” he asks casually. Okay, had he just forgotten what went down the other day? 

“Arthur, we should, uhm…talk. About the other night you know” you whispered as you took a quick look around, afraid somebody would overhear you. 

“Okay, talk about what exactly?” he challenged you, smirking. 

“You kissed me” 

“and you wanted me to, no?” he replied quickly. He was playing games and you knew it, so you decided to play along. 

“Okay, so maybe I did. You’re talking big game for somebody who was too scared to message me afterwards”

You were bluffing, obviously, pretending like you’d been waiting for him to make the next move when you were just as scared as he was. 

“Okay…what would you have wanted me to write?” he retorts, still seeming as confident as ever, carrying a more serious tone this time. 

“Would you want me to write to you how…how I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night?” 

Okay, so maybe he was better at playing games than you, and you were sure the look on your face was proof of your defeat. His normal joking tone had completely gone now, and his french accent seemed even stronger than it had when you had last seen him. You slumped back in your seat and unconsciously pressed your thighs together. Arthur noticed though, his eyes immediately following the movement. 

“Have you been thinking of me too?” he continued, his leg closing the space between you underneath the desk until his knee met yours. You silently cursed yourself for wearing a dress today of all days. 

“Yes” 

Your mouth had decided to act before your brain did, and you were telling him the truth. When you had failed to fall asleep that night, you had touched yourself thinking about him, thinking about that kiss. Even just remembering it now, it made a blush creep onto your cheeks as you felt your heartbeat quicken. 

His fingers brushed the hem of your dress underneath the table, and the tension building between the two of you was getting unbearable. 

“We can't,” you said, and Arthur's face fell slightly as he began removing his hand from your skin. 

“We can’t do this here” you continued as you closed your laptop and put it in your bag. 

You stood up, and leaned down to whisper in Arthur’s ear,

“Meet me at the coffee shop downstairs in 5”

Smirking to yourself as you confidently strutted out of the library. 

The shop had been closed for hours, but your boss had given you a set of keys for when you had the opening shift. You tiptoed your way to the break room in the back of the coffee shop, a small room with a two-person sofa and a vending machine, but it would make do. Once you saw Arthur appear outside the coffee shop, you went to unlock the door, quickly locking it again after he’d made his way in. You took his hand in yours and pulled him toward the room. 

You hadn’t even made it fully inside when he pushed you against the back of the door, shutting it in the proces. Once his lips were on yours again, you forgot about all the doubts and worries you’d had before. In this moment, you were exactly where you needed to be. He kissed you like he did that night, tongue exploring your mouth as your hands grabbed onto the hair at the back of his neck. Arthur removed his lips from your mouth, only to focus his attention to your jawline and eventually move further down your neck. You didn’t even try to suppress the moans he was coaxing out of you. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how difficult it was to act normal when I came back home that night…I couldn’t sleep thinking about you” 

If his mouth hadn’t already done the trick, his words sure were enough to make your legs tremble. You wanted him so badly.  

Arthur let his hands travel down, playing with the hem of your dress again, before looking back up at you. 

“Are you sure? I will not do this unless you want it” 

The statement seemed almost ridiculous at this point, because you had never been so sure about anything in your life. 

“Yes, Arthur, I want it, please” you were almost begging for him. If he’d asked you, you would have gotten on your knees and really begged, but he had beat you to it as he sunk down onto his knees, still staring up at you. 

“vous êtes si belle…Y/N” he muttered as he slowly pulled down your underwear, leaning forward to kiss your thigh in the process. You let your head drop backwards into the door, the sight of him on his knees in front of you almost too much to bear. 

Arthur bent one of your legs at the knee and hooked it over his shoulder before he got to work. 

He ran a finger through your folds once, looking up at you, not wanting to miss the way your eyes screwed shut as he let his fingers linger on your clit. 

“Tu es tellement mouillée pour moi,” 

You had a faint idea of what he was saying, but you were pretty sure he was talking to himself more than he was to you, so caught up in the moment he probably wasn’t aware he was speaking french. It sounded so good that you felt yourself get even wetter. Once he started eating you out, you were done for. You completely tuned out your surroundings, only focussing on how good he was making you feel. One of your hands grabbed hold of his hair, using it to steady yourself to the best of your abilities. 

Soon after, he slipped a finger inside of you, his thumb simultaneously drawing slow circles on your clit as he sat back, resting in the heels of his feet as he stared up at you in awe, his face flushed from his previous actions. You could see your wetness glistening around his mouth. He looked amazing. 

“God, I love the way you look at me” you said honestly, and he flashed you a signature smile in response. 

“I love looking at you,” he answered. He added a second finger, and when he did the leg that was supporting you trembled, threatening to give out. 

“I can’t..please, I want you inside of me” you whined. In this moment, you felt as desperate as you sounded. 

Arthur nodded as he put your other leg back down and took your hand to lead you to the small sofa. He let you catch your breath as he quickly tore off his shirt, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet. You realized why as he pulled out a condom from it. 

You pushed his shoulders, prompting him to sit down on the sofa, making quick work of unbuckling his belt and dragging his pants and underwear down halfway down his thighs. Even though you hadn’t touched him yet, he was so hard, a clear sign that he had enjoyed eating you out just as much as you had. He helped you put the condom on, eyes screwing shut as you 

You straddled him, knees either side of his thighs, and sunk down on him in one smooth motion. His eyes screwed shut as a plethora of french curse words and whines left his mouth. It felt so good you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and a few drops of sweat rolling over your temples. 

Arthur let his hands wander under your dress, grabbing a firm hold on your hips as he helped you build a delicious rhythm. You were so close, his teasing from earlier already having brought you on the brink of an orgasm. You were panting as you lent forward slightly so your forehead touched his. 

“You are going to cum?” he asked, and all you could do was nod. 

“Jouis pour moi, ma belle” 

That was all it took for you to let go, your orgasm washing over you as soon as the words left his mouth. Your toes curled and nails dug into the skin of his back as Arthur held you tightly, guiding you through it. The feeling of you clenching around him combined with your moans was enough to drive him over the edge. You were still feeling the remnants of your orgasm running through you as he spilled inside of you, burying his head into your neck in the proces. 

You held each other like that for a while as you both came down from your highs, heavy breathing filling the room. Eventually, you pulled off of him, sitting next to him on the sofa and letting your head lean on Arthur’s shoulder as he removed the condom and pulled his pants back up. 

“That was…” he spoke, unable to find the words, but you knew what he meant. 

“Yeah, I know,” you replied. 

“Y/N?” Arthur turned to face you. 

“Hmm?” 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” 

And with those eyes staring into yours, 

how could you ever say no?

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 3 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD, mentions of past SA, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: I'm terrible at summaries, it's just more fluffy smutty stuff like chapter 2. No beta. 4.5k words.

Kristina scrubbed her eyes with her fists and squinted at the sun light. They had fallen asleep, possibly overslept. Thankfully neither of them had a run planned. Daryl might have work detail, she wasn’t sure, but she had the day off. He would probably need to take Dog out soon. She yawned as silently as she could manage, not wanting to wake Daryl yet. She was surprised to find she had fallen asleep naked. He was still wearing his jeans. He was barely snoring but the soft sound made her smile. She snuggled in close to his side. One of his arms was flung above his head, the other draped across his chest. She put her head close to his arm pit, indulging in the guilty pleasure of how wonderful he smelled, embarrassed even though only she knew. She thought she might not care if he did know, he would probably like that she liked it. She curled next to him, took a deep breath, and slipped her hand under his on his chest.

He stirred just a bit, one eye opening to assess the interruption, then he swept his arm down and crushed her into his side. She smiled against his skin. The illusion of being small with him would never get old. She let her mind wander and relished being here, in the moment, no urgency. She savored it. Her thoughts drifted through the sleepy fog of memories from the previous night. She was more satisfied than she had been in years. She watched his stomach as he breathed, the sunlight from the window highlighting a few scars and fine blond hairs. It took all of her willpower to resist the impulse to touch them, move her palm over and down his stomach. The waist of his jeans was low on his hips, revealing the darker hair just below his bellybutton. Of course she noticed the bulge in his jeans. Her mouth watered. She suspected it wasn’t a particularly comfortable way to sleep.

Her lazy thoughts drifted through things she would like to do with him, to him, back to their present arrangement, and then to coffee. It was a luxury she had long ago learned to live without but this morning felt so normal, so like before, that she could almost smell the dark roast in the French press. An impromptu fantasy formulated in her mind’s eye of a world without walkers, Daryl in her bed in her last apartment. Laying with him on a Saturday maybe, windows open to let in the cool spring morning air. The smell of him, coffee, clean sheets, and the anticipation of toothpaste combined into a snapshot that made her a little melancholy. She let the thought of toothpaste guide her back to the present and wondered if he had any. He probably did, he had the basics most of the time.

She wriggled from under his arm. When she started walking to the bathroom she was very aware of her nakedness but didn’t cover up, just in case he was awake enough to watch her. She smiled to herself as she searched the bathroom sink and medicine cabinet for toothpaste. Fuck yes, she thought, as she picked up a flat, rolled up, tiny tube of the stuff. She never knew she would love it, miss it, so much. With just the tiniest spot of it on her finger she scrubbed at her teeth. Her toothbrush was at her place. She took her time, it was a lovely feeling, then sipped some water from the faucet and rinsed. She breathed into her palm, sniffed, and was satisfied that most of the morning breath was gone.

Daryl had at least one eye on her as she stepped out of the bathroom. He tried to play possum but she saw his eyelids flutter. She leaned against the door frame. If he was pretending then he would be curious when he didn’t hear the expected footsteps approach or feel the dip in the mattress as she got back in bed. Ha! There it was again.

“Playin’ possum, huh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh?” he opened his eyes slowly but his lips made a tight line as he suppressed a smile.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” she walked toward the bed. She tossed the toothpaste at him. “I’ll pay you back what I used and find some more on my next run. That shit needs to be a priority unless some hippie around here can make us some from tree bark and dandelions or some shit.”

He scoff-laughed and picked up the tube from the bed. She knew him pretty well, knew he wouldn’t care if he had water or not. In a pinch just the paste would do and she didn’t want him out of bed just yet. She stood at the side of the bed as he pushed his toothpaste around his mouth. No one ever looked dignified “brushing” their teeth with their finger. She waited until he was done and held out her hand for the tube.

“Wha?” he asked.

“Gimme and I’ll take it back to the bathroom,” she answered, making a grabbing motion with her hand.

“Nah,” he said, tossing the tube on the floor. “Com’ere.”

She blushed while she hesitated. She had wanted his attention, that’s why she hadn’t put on clothes. However, Daryl’s attention was intense, she kept forgetting that.

He put his hand out to her but he remained laying down. She gingerly stepped onto the mattress, using his hand for balance. She was unsure where he wanted her so she stood, one foot on either side of his hips. She felt a bit like an Amazon and didn’t hate it. He slid his hand out of hers, letting each finger trail down hers. His eyes moved slowly over her. Just before she was about to sit down or run or sink into a hole in the floor, he sat up and slid his hands up both legs from her ankles, over her calves, and cupped her ass. Their communication was simple, silent queues, pressure with fingertips, glances with eyes. She loved it. Some combination of his signs instructed her to kneel, straddling him. She did.

She shivered. It wasn’t a cold morning at all but she felt like all the heat in the room was now only where their skin touched. His grip on her ass never faltered. This helped her get to her knees gracefully instead of the careless, unsexy way she probably would have done on her own. He also wouldn’t let her sit back on her heels. As much as he was learning her, she was learning him and she had not moved her hands from her sides since he let her hand go. She was looking at him, shivering a little, and struggling to think of anything other than her bare pussy spread open exactly how he wanted it. She blushed a deeper shade of pink.

“Mornin’,” he said. Before she could reply he moved both hands in tandem to cup her ass cheeks. She bit her bottom lip. Then his fingers began to move between her thighs. One hand held her thigh from behind, the other found her pussy.

“Ya get wet real fast, huh?” he grinned. She nodded, lower lip still pinched between her teeth.

“How come?” he asked.

“Uh, you, uh,” she mumbled and gulped and remembered she actually knew words. “You make me wet. Thinking about you, looking at you, smelling you…” She trailed off. His eyes had flashed a little at the last one.

“Mmmmhm,” he responded. Then he started to move his fingers. The sensation of being played with from behind while looking at him made her knees weak and her mouth dry.

He pulled her legs toward him, for better reach, but she lost her balance a bit and steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. She was now straddling his lap, her stomach almost pressed against his. He looked at her and slowly shook his head. As soon as she understood she dropped her hands from his shoulders and made an apologetic face. His face was unreadable.

Then his fingers parted her lips and pressed against her clit. He stroked back the full length and then forward again, stopping to dip into her and then out quickly to circle her clit. He repeated the motion. God she was dripping wet. His hands were rough and felt amazing on her sensitive skin, on her swollen clit. She had never been stroked in quite this way before and found herself once again admiring his instincts.

“Oh Daryl,” she moaned. “Oh shit you feel so good.”

“Yeah, ya like that,” he growled. “Ya want me to make you come?”

“Fuck, please,” she begged. She had started to sway with his rhythm and her back arched to push her hips closer to him.

“Nah,” he said as he pulled his fingers out. Her eyes flew open at the sudden loss of stimulation. Before she could protest she watched him lick his fingers, tasting her, and she moaned.

His other hand still held her in place. Her breasts were nearly level with his mouth and he leaned forward sucking a nipple into his mouth. She squirmed and his grip on her thigh tightened. He placed his other hand on her side, high up on her ribs, and pulled her chest closer. She felt off-balance and unsteady. Every sensation from his mouth and hands on her tugged at her cunt with electric strings.

“Daryl, please,” she moaned.

“Please what?” he immediately put his mouth back on her nipple.

“Can I please touch you?” she whispered. She wasn’t afraid to ask but was unsure of the answer.

An mmhmm vibrated from his mouth through her nipple and straight to her clit. Her hands flew to his hair and grabbed fistfuls. Her hands roamed everywhere without thought. She caressed his neck and shoulders, his chest, arms, anything she could reach while remaining upright. She kept her eyes closed and made a mental map of him. He had given both nipples attention as well as the sensitive skin under her breasts. The sensory overload forced unintentional sounds from her.

He hands rested on his upper arms. She couldn’t get enough of his biceps flexing under her fingertips. She didn’t grip to steady herself, she didn’t need to.

His mouth moved away from her and his hands began to slide to her hips, his thumbs pressed hard in the hollow of her hip bones. He understood how much she enjoyed that almost immediately the night before. He gently pulled down on her hips so that she was sitting on his lap. Her knees ached but she cared with only a small sliver of her mind. His dick was so hard that she gasped when her pussy came to rest on the zipper of his jeans.

Kristina took advantage of the permission to touch him and slid her hands to the back of his neck. She held his gaze while she moved close enough to kiss him but stopped just out of reach. He leaned in to meet her lips and she pulled back, teasing, grinning a little. She enjoyed having his lips just out of reach, sharing his air, watching his expression change from control to something like pursuit. She darted out her tongue and licked his bottom lip. He was faster than her. He pressed his lips against hers and tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. She moaned into his mouth as he released it. She wanted to learn every way he liked to be kissed, felt she could do that all day. She moaned again when he forced her mouth open with his tongue. He responded to her moans by gripping her hips and adjusting his.

His jeans were rough and delightful against her. She was almost sure they were soaked by now. She was aching and couldn’t imagine how he must feel. She wanted to make him feel everything, help him experience everything, she was impatient. As they kissed she moved her hands from his neck to his chest. She ran her fingers through the rough hair and avoided the scars she could remember with her eyes closed. She was learning as quickly as she could but sometimes part of learning was testing. She let her fingertips graze his nipple, her nails tracing the muscles of his pecs, and returned to his nipple. Each time she did, he moaned and slightly rolled his hips.

She didn’t want to be made to choose but this new information was intriguing so she pulled back from their kiss. She placed small, delicate kisses up the line of his jaw to his ear, and breathed hotly next to it. She increased the pressure of her fingers as she passed over his nipple again. Slowly, she told herself, don’t rush. She circled her other arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. There was almost no space between them She loved this closeness. She got a bit braver and made gentle circles around his nipple. His short, quick breathes guided her. His head was in the curve of her neck and he was lazily sucking and kissing her neck and collarbone. She hummed, licked his earlobe, rolled her hips, and almost pinched at his nipple.

This was too much. Daryl grabbed her by the waist, moved her off his lap, and almost pushed her onto her back. He was hovering over her before her surprise had subsided. She giggled. She squirmed a bit, wiggling her hips and him, taunting him. Her giggles turned into quiet laughter at the look on his face. God it was endearing. It was a comical mix of delight and annoyance but with a trace of something like fear.

He began to smother her chest and stomach and hips with greedy, kisses, sucking and nibbling at times. Her laughter transformed into panting and moaning as he slipped a thigh between her legs. He ground the coarse denim against her as he kept kissing. When she felt his teeth she arched her back toward him, forcing her hips against his thigh. He groped and searched for her wrists while his kissing slowed. He brought them together in one hand and pinned them above her head. He raised up to do this and was looking down at her, hunger and need in his blue eyes.

Kristina defied him and raised her head to kiss his chest, reach her mouth almost a nipple. He pressed harder on her wrists, not painfully, and she dropped her head back on the pillow. She bit her lower lip in a challenge. He made a point to push his leg against her cunt as he moved off the bed. She knew better than to lower her arms. She had no idea what he was doing until he walked back into the room with one of his bandanas. He got back on the bed, straddling her. The cloth smelled of motorcycles and Daryl and earth as he wrapped it around her wrists. After he tied the knot he tugged on it and her arms moved but her wrists stayed together.

He looked at her. Just looked. She tried to make her face unreadable but the more she tried the hotter the blush felt. He got up from the mattress again. He assessed the scene and tapped the inside of one of her ankles. He was gentle but knew what he wanted. She spread her legs.

He nodded once, satisfied, and the rested a hand on the fly of his jeans. He held her gaze to ensure she was watching. He was insecure about almost everything about himself except his abilities to track and hunt. Only a day ago what he was doing now only existed in his imagination, nothing he could actually do. Kristina looked at him the way he looked at her. He wasn’t comfortable in his skin, might never be, but that seemed okay when he was with her. She didn’t expect him to be. Not that he thought she preferred he be some beat up mess but that it didn’t really matter to her or if it did at all it only made her enjoy him more. He always overthought, analyzed, tried to anticipate what would happen next. A survival skill he developed to dodge words and fists and pain. Last night he had moments when his brain took a break from the extra work, when his world was nothing but being wrapped up in her. He could do that as long as she would let him.

So with her he did things that scared him at first or made himself feel a little unhinged. He was sure her psychology shit had words for all that. The words didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to keep returning to that edge and finding out that he could go past it. And that he had someone who stood on the other side with her hand out, helping him. He rarely felt brave, he did what was necessary, but there was a small flicker of bravery when he pushed past the fear.

He watched as her eyes did what he wanted and followed his hand to his jeans. He cupped the bulge, pressed the zipper a little too hard against his dick, but the slight pain helped him focus. Once his jeans were unzipped his narrow hips couldn’t hold them up. He let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them. She licked her lips. He liked that a lot. He enjoyed being able to watch her shallow breathing in the sway of her breasts, how her belly rose and fell, close to panting.

He wrapped his hand around his dick and stroked, long, lazy strokes. Her eyes followed. He swiped the precum off the tip and she licked her lips again. Oh yeah? he thought. He leaned over the mattress and painted her bottom lip with it. Her eyes nearly closed as she slid her tongue out to taste it. Watching her enjoy that tugged at the base of his dick and he groaned through gritted teeth. He knelt down next to her, hand back on his aching dick, and licked at her nipples, her belly button, kissed her carefully above her pussy. He breathed in her smell. He wanted his mouth on her, to taste her, feel her with his tongue, almost as much as he wanted to fuck her. He had already moved his mouth away though. The very fucking last thing he ever wanted was to make her uncomfortable. He kissed her ribs, her arm pit, mostly to watch her squirm but also to learn all of her smells, kissed her elbow, and her curled fingers.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him sit down beside her. He reached over and helped her sit up, her bound wrists making that action particularly difficult. Then he guided her over him while he lay back. She let herself be led. He positioned her straddling him, she was so easy to move like this, compliant, willing, but, most of all, enthusiastic about letting him take control. She sucked in a small gasp of air when he had her where he wanted. Her pussy rested on his lower stomach and his dick was hard against her ass.

He slid his hands in tandem over the insides of her thighs, let his thumbs brush her swollen lips, press into her hips, and continued up her sides, along her ribs, and then pulled her down onto him. Her arms relaxed with her wrists on the pillow just above his head. She felt almost weightless. The only part of her not supported by him were her knees. When he breathed she felt herself lifted with him, her breasts pressed hard into his chest. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips as he moved his hands to her ass. She liked being able to figure him out and not be too many steps behind. He wanted her to get used to letting him hold her up, feel safe.

Daryl kissed her cheek, her neck, her arm beside his head, and started to lift her ass. For a moment he knew it would be awkward and difficult for her but he had her. Having her lay on top of him was a wonderful feeling. For a brief flash he wished he could communicate that to her in words but then he focused on where his hands were. He had to strain just a little to reach behind her. He guided the tip of his dick into her hot, wet pussy, taking his time to brush against her clit before fully sliding in. Then he slowly pressed her hips down with his hands. She didn’t make a sound, she only breathed, her head tucked between them. Her breath was warm and almost damp on his chest.

He groaned enough for both of them. He adjusted his hips for a better angle and they both hitched in breaths. He didn’t know quite where to put his hands so he placed one on her lower back. When he brought his hips up he could keep her steady with that hand. She made a soft purring sound when he did that. He pulled out a little and slid back in, repeated, just to hear that sound again. His other hand searched her body as he rolled his hips. He wasn’t fucking her yet. He wanted to go slow as long as he could. When his fingers grazed the fold of her hip she twitched away from his hand but pressed her hips into his. He touched the side of her belly, she was so soft that he sighed, nothing in this world was soft anymore. He gently worked his hand between them, palm on her stomach, and circled her clit with a finger.

She pushed down onto his hand. She wasn’t in control of her body anymore. Her hips moved without her instruction, her arms were jelly beside his head, her mind was empty, and now every nerve in her body was either focused on her clit or his dick inside her. The slow, steady rhythm of his hips and finger were overwhelming. She wanted to grope and grab at something. Her hands clenched into fists. With her wrists bound she couldn’t touch anything. Her forehead was pressed hard into his chest and she was breathing her own recycled air in the space between them. He held her still with his hand on her back and couldn’t fuck him like every part of her ached to do. Panting, her eyes closed tight, she could feel her lips on his chest. Without thinking she bit. She knew it wasn’t hard, probably not even enough to bruise, but it was the only action her mind could find.

“Shit,” Daryl groaned, at first in surprise and then a wave of intense feeling ran from her mouth to his dick. His hips jerked as a reflex and she gasped. The place where she had bit him throbbed momentarily. He snatched his hand from between their bodies. He grabbed her with all of his strength and rolled them over. Kristina made a small oof sound and when he looked at her to make sure she was okay she was smiling. In one smooth motion he pinned her bound wrists above her head with one hand and swept one of her legs over his shoulder with the other.

He thrust deeper into her. He leaned into her leg as far as he felt he could without hurting her and put his mouth next to her ear.

“This what ya want woman?” he asked through gritted teeth, quickening his pace with shallower, faster thrusts. “Ya wanna be bad, that it?”

“Yes, oh god, yes Daryl,” she yelled. “Fuck!”

“Fine,” he growled as he lifted himself up enough to move his hand from her wrists. At first he gently slid his hand to her throat. She looked into his eyes and nodded. He squeezed and she rasped out a please. Just a bit more pressure and they found the sweet spot. Her breath was ragged and her eyes rolled back. He felt her leg wrap around him, pressing on his ass to push him deeper. His thrusts became more erratic as her muscles tightened around his dick.

He watched her face carefully as his orgasm started to tug at him. Her lips were parted, her eyes shut, and her cheeks flushed. She was so beautiful. Seeing his rough, tan hand around her pale throat nearly sent him over the edge. He didn’t pull back on his last thrust, he ground his hips against hers. He felt her groan in his hand before he heard it. Then he released her neck and her body rocked against him. Her muscles pulsed around his dick.

Her orgasm tore through her. She yelled his name and gasped. Loud, hitching breaths shook her chest. He let her leg slide off his shoulder, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her breasts. His hips bucked against her. He felt her hands find his neck.The bandana strained against her movement. The sensation of the fabric on his skin made him moan a quiet, drawn-out fuck against her chest. He felt his cum pour into her. She wrapped her legs around him and held him as his entire body vibrated.

Kristina kissed the top of his head. She loved his smell and nuzzled her face into his hair for a moment longer. She felt his body relax on top of her. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her wrists, her cunt. His cum seeped out from between them before he pulled out. He slid his arms from underneath her and raised up to see her watching him. She held her bound wrists in front of her face. He didn’t think he had ever seen someone as beautiful as her in his life. He carefully pulled out of her with a small moan in his throat. He sat up and untied the bandana. He pressed his lips against each wrist. When he let her hands go she sat up and kissed him hard.

She flopped back down on the mattress, completely graceless. Daryl laid down beside her. She kissed his shoulder. It was so easy for them to forget what the world was like now. Walkers didn’t exist, they didn’t have to forage for toothpaste, potable water wasn’t a limited resource. Unfortunately this spell would break. They would have some daily tasks to do and normal human things to attend to but for a moment she enjoyed this small bubble of peace.

“Guess Dog’ll be needed some attention,” Daryl sighed. “Imma take him out and feed him. Ya want breakfast too?”

She smiled and nodded, her eyes half closed.

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Eleven

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: Unprotected intercourse, a little teeny bit of angst

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.5k

Khuzdul: kurduwê - my heart

  Abnâmul-beautiful

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If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Nina managed to avoid Thorin for the rest of the day, which actually wasn't all that difficult, as she remained in her chambers and had no idea where he had gone. He might have left, for all she knew. In fact, she almost hoped he had. It would make things easier. 

She saw him at supper, however, and it was with a mixture of relief and apprehension, as more than once, he looked over at her as if he was going to say something, only to turn back instead to Thranduíl or Legolas. Her heart actually felt as if it skipped a beat when he got up and moved to sit beside her. “We plan to leave at dawn’s first light.”

She nodded. “And should I meet you?”

“Only if you wish to travel with us.”

“Do you wish me to travel with you?”

Irritation flashed through his blue eyes. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I think it’s obvious, don't you?”

He glanced across the table at Dwalin, and then toward their hosts before looking back at her. “I apologize for overstepping earlier, Nina. It was foolish of me and right of you to halt things as you did.”

“You needn’t apologize,” she told him. “I overstepped just as much and I thought we were going to pretend it never happened?”

“I just—I sense you’re still angry with me.”

“I wasn’t angry with you at all. You were angry with me.”

He drew in a slow breath. “I wasn't angry with you.”

“So, then it never happened?”

“It never happened.”

“Good.” Although she smiled as if a huge weight had been lifted, the truth was, she felt anything but happy over this turn of events. On the walkway, when he kissed her, it reminded her of all the feelings she’d had that snowy night in Esgaroth, when she first laid eyes upon him. Reminded her of all the feelings that were so wonderful and frustrating at the same time and how she’d wished with everything she had that he would notice her.

And now he had and it was all for naught. She was no longer that same lovestruck girl. Too much had happened since then and now for her to ever be that girl again. 

Which was too bad, really, as she thoroughly enjoyed kissing him and if things hadn’t worked out the way they had…

She could easily fall under his spell, for the King Under the Mountain had no idea how truly desirable he was, and she had the feeling that Mirkwood was not the only thing magical around her. 

“So, I will see you in the morning,” she told him, pushing her chair back. 

“We will wait for you at the eastern gate.”

“Good.” She stood and smiled at Thranduíl. “Thank you for a lovely supper, Your Majesty. If you will excuse me, I think I will go and get what will probably be my last good night’s sleep for some time to come.”

“Of course,” Thranduíl replied. “Good evening.”

She turned and left the dining hall to go back to her chambers. After she and Thorin parted ways that morning, she had gone down to the stream that flowed not far from her chambers and gathered the clothes she wished to wash. Heeding his warnings about enchanted waters, she took great care to pay close attention to her surroundings, but nothing seemed at all amiss to her.

Even so, she’d washed everything as quickly as she could and laid it out on the rocks to allow it to dry and now, her sword at her hip, she went to retrieve everything. Hopefully, it would be dry enough to pack. It had been a clear day, with sun filtering through the treetops, so she thought there was a good chance everything would be just fine. 

Carefully, she picked her way around tree roots, branches, and the typical woodland debris as she made her way to the bank where her trousers and tunics lay spread out on rocks that were still warm.

She’d chosen wisely.

She was just folding her trousers when the sound of a branch snapping gave her pause. Her sword lay at her feet, so she swept it up and rose, saying, “Who goes?”

“I thought I told you to stay away from the streams?”

Her shoulders relaxed as Thorin came around the bend in the path. “You did and this one is fine.”

“Nina.”

“What? The air feels fine here. And besides, I am not your responsibility. I’m certainly of the age where I can decide for myself where to launder my clothes.” She resheathed her blade, then crouched to pluck the shirt she’d laid out from its rock.

“You need to be careful.”

“I am being careful.” She gave up trying to fold anything and just stuffed the mostly dry clothes into her sack. Then she rose, slipping the strap over her shoulder. “Why are you even here?”

“Because I wanted to make certain you made it back to your chambers all right.”

“Back to my… we aren’t in the wild, Thorin.” She pushed around him to march back toward her chambers. 

“We might as well be. I told you, Mirkwood is not always as it seems and dark magic permeates it. I am on cordial terms with the elves here, but they don't know you.”

“The elves have nothing to fear from me, either. And somehow, I think they know that.” She didn't slow down, didn't break her stride as she made her way along the path. “And stop following me.”

“I will. Once you are safe in your chambers.”

“Argh!” She rolled her eyes, and promptly stumbled over an exposed root, but managed to keep her footing and continue on.

At her door, she turned to find him still right behind her. “See? I’m fine. Now, you can just go about your business and I will see you in the morning.”

“Nina,” he reached for her, catching her just above the elbow to halt her, “I know this place and I know what it can do to a body.”

“And I am fine. Nothing reached forth from the water to grab me. No nymphs or balrogs or anything.” She opened her door and stepped over the threshold, setting her sack just inside it, her sword alongside it, and then sighed softly. “I appreciate your concern. But, I’ve made it all this way on my own, remember.”

“I know, but… I cannot help it.” He gestured to her. “May I?”

“Come in.”

He thumped into her chambers, his heavy boots echoing loudly against the wood floor. “I’m not checking up on you because I think you’re incapable of taking care of yourself. Or because I think you are inept. I’ve seen for myself you aren’t. But, I also want to make certain you are safe, Nina. And I’ll not apologize for that.”

“I’m not asking you to apologize for it. But I also don't need you to worry about me. Really, I don’t. I’ve been taking care of myself for quite a bit now, and I’m mostly good at it.”

He arched one brow. “Mostly?”

“Well… every now and then something goes wrong.”

“Such as a to-do at a tavern?”

“Exactly.”

“I know, but…” to her surprise, he closed the space between them and her heartbeat picked up as he reached to catch her face in his hands, “that won’t stop me from wanting to be certain, as I said.”

“Thorin,” her head spun, slowly at first, but as his thumbs swept lightly across her cheeks, the dizziness grew, spreading through her, “I thought we agreed this morning never happened?”

“I know,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips just brushed hers. “Do you truly wish to pretend that, though?”

“I just—” She couldn’t catch her breath as he brushed her lips with his again, the last of her resolve melting away at the gentle caress. No, she didn't want to pretend that at all. Not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to forget everything that led her to this point. None of it mattered. Not one bit. All that mattered was the feel of his hands against her skin, his lips sweeping hers, and the heat that rose from his body to sink into hers.

He pulled back just far enough to offer up a smile laden with promise and whispered, “You just what, Nina?”

She smiled and without thinking, caught the front of his henley in a fist and tugged him back. “Never mind. Just kiss me, dwarf…”

A low rumble of laughter rolled up from him as he did just that, and leaned in to capture her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It did not remain soft and gentle for long, however, as a slow fire crept into it, the tip of his tongue brushing her closed lips, teasing them into parting before sweeping along hers in silken caress that she reciprocated. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, as solid as the rest of him, the rise of muscle across them like granite. As the kiss deepened, she slid her hands up along the sides of his neck, into his hair, cool and soft against her fingers. On their own, her fingers twisted into those soft locks, her heart thundering like mad now as he backed her flush against the wall.

It wasn't like anything she’d ever felt before, the solid bulk of a dwarf’s body was so much different from the thinner, more sinewy Men who’d stolen kisses from her before. This was… this was like being engulfed by him, surrounded by a maleness that no Man could ever hope to possess. And when his hips slowly, steadily arched to meet hers, she shivered at the obvious  evidence of his arousal. How could she miss it, when that most definite bulge met her most sensitive cleft and she shivered against him?

His tongue moved slowly, teasingly along hers in a caress that sent her head spinning wildly and her heart pounding out of control. The room around them grew so hot, her breath grew so impossible to catch, and when he broke the kiss to sweep his lips along her chin and down the front of her neck, Nina was powerless to do anything other than let her head thud dully against the wall and let her eyes close as the delicious heat swept through her.

His fingers curled into the hem of her tunic and he swept it up, pulling away to allow her room to lift her arms for him to slip the shirt from her back completely. The air was a warm kiss against her skin, a caress as wanton and wicked as any and when he came flush against her again, the rough weave of his henley scraped sensually against her skin, against her nipples, which beaded from the friction. 

She bit down on her bottom lip as he brushed his lips over her chin. The coarse fur of his beard scratched her, but it only heightened her pleasure as he pressed hot kiss after hot kiss down toward the hollow of her throat, his breath warm and hard against her overheated skin. She clung to him, her hips rocking to meet his, his desire becoming her own as inside her, knots tightened and that heat surged through her. 

He slid one hand up from her hip, along the slope of her waist, and she sucked in a hard breath when it cupped her left breast and his thumb just barely swept over the already tight, aching bead of her nipple. 

Gripping two handfuls of his shirt, she tugged and he obliged, the rough garment sweeping up and off him to fall into the darkness at their feet. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, his skin hot and firm, the muscle like granite beneath his skin. She ached to touch him, to sweep her lips over any part of him she could, to explore and tease and make him ache for her the way she ached for him.

Because she did ache for him. Her entire body cried out for his, pleaded with her to find some way to make him spirit her to the bed in the corner, where her legs would part of their own and she would welcome him hot and hard and powerful inside her. 

Knots twisted in her belly. Delicious knots of sinful delight that tightened with each sweep of his tongue against hers, with each pass of his roughened thumbs over her oh-so-sensitive nipples. Her arousal came damp and hot between her thighs, and she wanted to peel off her trousers, to wrap her legs about him, and ease that ache in any way she could. 

His lips were hot and damp, his kisses punctuated with teasing flicks of his tongue, playful nips with his teeth as he moved along the curve of her neck, then swept back down along the same path.

He kissed down along the inner curve of her left breast and she whimpered from the fiery pleasure streaking through her. Her eyes were so heavy-lidded, but she forced them open, drinking in the sight of him as he sank to his knees before her while raining a path of teasing kisses along her belly.

He looked up then, his eyes smoked sapphire as he caught the button of her trousers and slid it free. The linen skimmed along her legs, and when he looked up, fire filled his gaze, his eyes blazing sapphire to steal the breath from her lungs. 

“Abnâmul,” he whispered, his voice husky and low as his fingertips just grazed along the backs of her thighs.”

“I—I don't know what that means,” she managed to whisper back. “I don’t speak your tongue.”

A devilish smile played at his lips. “It means you are beautiful.”

Heat flared through her. Heat from his words. From his gaze. From his touch. It was a wonder she didn't melt into a puddle right then, especially when he leaned in and pressed a hot kiss just below her navel. 

For a moment, she thought he might move lower, and she tensed in anticipation.

But then, he kissed her belly above her navel. And higher still. And with each kiss, he rose until he loomed over her once more. 

His mouth found hers again, hot and demanding and she matched his fire with one of her own, winding her arms about his neck, tightening them to pull him flush against her. He offered no resistance, wrapping his arms about her to lift her from her feet. She caught his sigh in her mouth when she teasingly wrapped her legs about his waist and in that moment, he arched into her. She couldn’t hold back her sharp inhale as pleasure zinged through her from the contact and she shivered against him. 

He carefully turned, moving slowly toward her bed, and when he reached it, he bent, pressed her down, and arched once more, this time his breath hitching when she rocked up to meet him firmly. 

Thorin drew back, straightening up and in the soft light, Nina was certain she’d never seen a sight as utterly amazing as the half-naked dwarf standing before her. The light played softly about him, highlighting the swells of muscle across his arms, his shoulders, packed beneath the dark hair spread wide across his chest and down along his belly. He wasn't slim, as Men were, but instead far more compact and solid, as if he could pick up a fully loaded cart, horses and all, and not even break a sweat.

He was beautiful.

And she wanted to see more of him.

She sat up and without thinking, bent to him, pressing her lips against his lower stomach, just above the fastenings of his trousers. His hands came down onto her head, his fingers threading into her hair, tightening on her when she flicked her tongue against him, through that crisp hair, against the warm skin beneath it. 

Her fingers moved nimbly, working open the fastenings, curling about the waistband, shoving down to send the heavy fabric grazing down his thick thighs, over his equally thick calves, to puddle about his ankles. He carefully stepped out of them, kicking them behind him.

Nina gazed up at him, her heart hammering her ribs as she hooked her fingers in his warm linen small clothes. In a heartbeat, she would finally see this man in all his glory and was as anxious as she was terrified at what awaited her.

“What is it?” he murmured, tracing a forefinger along the curve of her cheek. “Have you changed your mind?”

Her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth, which had gone far too dry to allow her to speak, she shook her head, swallowed hard, then whispered, “Have you?”

“I’ve not, no.”

“Neither have I.”

A hint of that devilish smile returned and he reached to cover her hands with his. “Then allow me to help you.”

With that, he stripped off his small clothes and  she smiled as she drew back to drink in the sight of him. 

He was perfect. 

Absolutely perfect.

His big body held very little fat, honed to perfection by whatever it was dwarves did that kept him in such fine form. She let her eyes feast upon him, let her fingers move lightly through the dark hair swirled thickly across his chest, down over his belly, where it joined a far denser patch.

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, thick and hard and proud and the pit of her belly fell away. He was the first naked man she’d ever seen and somehow, she felt there was not a man alive of any race who would ever top this one magnificent dwarf. 

Swallowing hard, Nina leaned in to press a hot kiss above his navel this time. That dark hair was so soft, tickling her nose and her lips. Thorin let out a low sigh as he pulled back, shifted, and bent to capture her lips once more. As the kiss deepened, he gently pushed her down onto her back and came up over her, his dark hair tumbling over his shoulders to surround them.

He caught one hand, pressing it down into the bed above her head, linking his fingers with hers to offer up a gentle squeeze as he carefully came flush against her and their lips met in a kiss that was more tender than fire, but no less passionate. 

With his free hand, Thorin let his fingertips dance along her skin, the caresses light and teasing, the sensations sweet and sensual as they fluttered through her. Her fingers threaded through his soft hair, twisted and tugged as those fingers swept lower, along her belly, down her thigh.

Into the darkness between them. 

Her legs parted of their own accord and her back bowed as he slid those fingers into the heat between her thighs, into the dark red curls damp with her arousal now.

He caught her gasp as he slid a thick, slow, teasing finger inside her and did something utterly magical. She couldn't hold back her cry as fiery pleasure swept through her, didn’t even try to hold it back. How could she, when it just felt so amazingly good?

Actually, good did not even come close to what Thorin made her feel. Nothing could compare to the white-hot pleasure scorching through her at that moment, the pleasure that made her blood sing and her body hum as he teased and tortured her in the most deliciously sensual way possible. She arched to meet him, his name a breathless whisper on her lips, every fiber in her body tensing with the need for release. She was so close… so very close…

“Thorin!” His name erupted in a cry that she immediately tried to quell by clapping a hand over her mouth. “I didn't mean to be so loud… I hope Dwalin doesn’t come in search of you. He might think we’re doing battled in here.”

“If he comes in search of me, I’ll tell him where to go,” he whispered back with a smile. Then, he did something magical with that finger that made her pulse all around him once more and as he eased it out, he shifted, and then—

He filled her slowly, allowed her to adjust to him, and she bit down on her bottom lip at the sensations running riot through her. She arched to meet him, to accept him completely, as he slid deep, he shivered against her. 

His first thrust was long and silken. His second, even more. His lips found hers, her rhythm found his, and they moved in a slow dance, the pleasure feeding from one to the other as he brought them both back to that summit. 

She tightened about him, throbbing as he arched hard and deep, and her fingernails sank into his shoulders, her hips arcing toward his. Nothing ever felt so wonderful. Nothing would ever feel so wonderful. It simply couldn’t. Each thrust brought forth and new and delectable sensation, a pleasure unlike any she’d ever felt—hot and sweet and wild and amazing. 

Knots of sweet bliss tightened hard inside her, aching with the renewed need for release. She teetered on the edge, her thighs pressed hard against his sides as she will him to send her over the edge. She’d go mad if he didn't shatter those knots and burned for him to do just that.

“Mesmel…” a low string of words she didn't understand bubbled to his lips as his thrusts came faster and harder now. The fingers linked with hers tightened about them. His climax bore down upon him, judging by the power of those thrusts, by the tension winding through him. 

He moaned low in his throat, his thrusts increasing in strength, in depth. The knots began to loosen now as the first sweet, fiery tingles took hold of her, swelling and multiplying as he growled her name and practically tore the linens from the mattress with his free hand, while nearly crushing hers with his other. “Nina!”

Her name exploded from his lips as he thrust hard and deep and came in a powerful shudder that triggered her own climax and left her clinging to him, her fingernails dragging hard across his back as her fingers tensed of their own accord. Her eyes squeezed shut at the explosion of her release, at the white-hot tingles burning through her. She wrapped herself around him, gave herself up to the fire that threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t hear or speak beyond a breathless cry. All she could do was let that wave wash over her, let it carry her out to sea, and so she did, her surrender complete.

Thorin sank against her, his breathing as rough and ragged as hers and tears stung her eyes as she wrapped her arms about his neck and his head came to rest against her breast. “Oh…” was all she could manage to breathe.

His own breath was a hot blast against her skin. “Oh, indeed…” he managed to whisper back, a hint of laughter woven into his words. 

He lifted his head to regard her with sleepy cobalt eyes, a sharp contrast to the long black hair that fell about them. He said nothing, but bent to capture her lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss that had every bit as much passion woven into it as their lovemaking had, and when he pulled back, he whispered, “Am I crushing you, kurduwê?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered back, reaching up to thread her fingers through his hair, tucking it back behind his right ear. She had no idea what kurduwê meant, but had no energy to ask. The tranquility that settled over them was unlike any she’d ever felt, a complement to the passion that had just raged between them, like the calm after a fierce storm.

Thorin shifted and eased from her, then stretched out alongside her, pulling her into his arms as he sank into the pillows. His breathing had return to normal, though his breath hitched when she curved up against him and laid her hand gently on his chest. She could feel his heart beat, which started out at a race, but slowed to a more relaxed pace and when she let her head come rest against him, she gave in to the peace and let her eyes close. 

The only sound was that of Thorin’s deep, even breathing and occasional snore. Nina lay alongside him, his arm about her shoulders, her head resting against him, but sleep refused to come. 

What had she done? 

What had they done? 

She had not meant for this to happen. It was a terrible idea to sleep with him because now her thoughts were muddier than ever. 

Carefully, she slipped from the bed, easing from beneath his arm, and held her breath as she waited for him to wake and demand to know what she was doing and why she had her sword out.

For she did just that. Crept over to where her sword stood against the wall and slid it from its sheath, then crept back to the bed. It would be over in a moment and she could slip off into the darkness. By the time Dwalin or anyone came looking for Thorin tomorrow, it would be too late and she would be in the wind.

It would be so easy.

Except…

He slept on, peacefully oblivious to her struggle. The silver streaks in his black hair glinted in the pale moonlight that filtered through the treetops, just as the sun did during the day. The long curls spread across the linens. His lips were softly slack. His chest rose and fell with each slow, deep breath.

Her gaze went lower, to the scars on his lower abdomen that she’d seen earlier, but couldn't bring herself to ask him about. She’d heard what happened at Ravenhill between him and Azog, although the pale orc was never called by name at the time. All Esgaroth survivors knew was that Thorin had been wounded in battle at the hands of a great pale orc. She only assumed now that orc was Azog. 

Her hands trembled as she brought the blade up and held it over him. The bounty Azog had offered for Thorin Oakenshield’s head had been a small fortune. Payable in gold. It would have been more than enough to keep her comfortable for a long time. 

This was her plan. This was what she set out to do, to avenge Lenna, and Rhys and Ena. 

One move was all it would take.

He was asleep. He’d never feel a thing.

She tried to make her hands move. Tried to make her arms listen.

She couldn't do it. 

Not any longer.

Shame, hot and steaming burned through her. Tears blurring her vision, she managed to return her sword to its sheath and crawled back into bed alongside him. Forgive me.

She had to tell him the truth. 

as the world caves in | ch. 10 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: wheewoo. it's been a while, and I hope you guys - whoever still reads this - enjoy this. I'm so so sorry for taking so long. We're nearing the end. iykyk. (warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of the apocalypse and atomic bombs, mentions of death, wwii) (word count: 4.5K)

ten: coffee

The aroma of coffee filled your nostrils as you stirred awake. You stretched your limbs on your bed as the soft sunrays of the early morning entered through the window.

Your feet made little noise as you padded towards the smell, though you knew Bucky’s super-soldier ears would pick it up anyway.

“Mornin’.” The husk of his voice, of his first word of the day, made your heart skip a beat. It was like a record you could keep forever on repeat.

You were almost glad he kept his back turned so he didn’t see you bite your lip and subsequently roll your eyes at your own reaction.

“Good morning.” You say it back once you get to the kitchen, smiling at him as you watched him move around. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. Here.” He slid a mug to you and took one for himself, seemingly satisfied with his job as you see him give a little nod after a sip.

You whispered your thanks and brought the drink to your lips, feeling the warmth of it through the ceramic. The reaction was immediate – as soon as you tasted it, your nose crinkled.

It’s sweet, the gesture itself surely was sweet. It’s too damn sweet.

Bucky had put sugar into the coffee pot.

“I cannot believe you.”

Your guilty, deer-in-headlights eyes looked up at him, who’s staring at you with a bewildered frown.

“It’s fine—”

“No!”

“I barely— I’ll still drink it!” You took another sip, licking your lips in sequence.

So. Much. Sugar.

“You can’t even pretend you don’t hate it.” He said, shaking his head. “And you call yourself a spy? With that face?”

“I was one,” You clicked your tongue. “All this time and you didn’t learn how to make coffee properly.”

“This is— it’s practical.” He rolled his eyes, sipping his sugary coffee. You followed. “Stop it.”

“I’m drinking it! You made it for me.” It wasn’t how your old-habits-self preferred it, but you have had it worse. Although somehow, that was making Bucky more annoyed instead of appeasing him.

He glared at you indignantly when you tell him you’re doing it to show your appreciation, then setting the mug down when he huffed. “What now?”

“Nothing.” Bucky stared at your ceiling and you at his profile. You tilted your head when he sighed. “…stupid thing to be arguing about.”

“We argue about stupid things all the time.” You took the coffee in your hands, but didn’t drink. “Argue-d?”

“Still do. Like when I tied your arm sling too tight.”

You grumbled that it was indeed too god-damned tight, and Bucky chuckled.

In truth, you had missed this. Even the bickering, yes, how the two of you were too stubborn to give in their very specific ways of doing everyday things. It made you feel alive, like you too had been frozen on ice with your two best friends.

One sip from you and Bucky was licking his teeth. He was faking the outrage, you could tell as you grinned at him.

 “If Steve was here—” You started, making him turn to you with a resigned smile.

“He’d just fix everything. Mediate, the Stevie thing he used to do. He hated us arguing.”

Disturbed his peace.

“I suppose now someone’s gotta...?”

The phone chimed before you could finish your sentence. It was Sam.

You coming, Top Gun?

You chewed at your nail as you read the words, transmitting them on to Bucky next to you. He nodded, cursing under his breath that he’d agreed to this cookout in the first place.

Bring Robocop with you.

You assured Sam – and Bucky too – he’d be there.

“I’ll complain the whole time.”

“That’s okay. He knows how you are already,” You joked, leaving the kitchen with your coffee in hand. He wouldn’t complain, at least not the entire time. You could see him having a fairly good time with Sam’s family and friends, even if he’d insist he wasn’t a people person anymore.

Before you disappeared into your room to pack, you turned to look at Bucky again. He was watching you from the kitchen counter, a small smile dancing on the corner of his lips.

Then it hit the realization that he’d stayed over. Actually stayed, and still made no signs of wanting to leave. You wondered if he had noticed that and didn’t care or if it was an inertia driven thing. One thing you knew: Bucky looked right where he belonged between your yellow kitchen tiles and mid-century cabinets. With his overly sweet coffee and darkened eyebags and sagging, tired, relaxed shoulders.

“What are you wearing?”

“A sundress. And a hat.” You smoothed the fabric, checking yourself one last time before you two left the hangar.

“I know it’s a dress, but—”

“Then why are you asking?” This made Bucky huff, his metal fingers tightening over the cake packaging.

Who brings birthday cake to a cookout? He grumbled about how it’s so much skin. You ignored it, because he didn’t have the right to complain about your attire, considering his own. “Listen, you might like getting a heatstroke with all that leather, but it’s warm today so I’m going to wear my dress.”

“Yeah, yeah, diss the jacket. But don’t come runnin’ after me when you get cold later.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

It was a short walk to the docks and the small crowd that were Sam’s friends and family. The welcome that was given by the new Captain America’s closest warmed your heart – soon enough, you and him were mingling, eating, giggling on a corner with Sarah about how all the kids and some adults were completely smitten with Bucky. She teased about how you were, too.

Even the cake was somewhat of a success. Bucky made sure to throw that on your face.

The day breezed by, and you only noticed the passing of time when fireflies started twinkling as the sun disappeared behind the river.

 “This doesn’t look like your jacket.” Sam hummed, joining you at a picnic table, a smirk on his face. You threw a lemon slice at him.

Bucky’s jacket felt heavy over your body. The warmth you got from it probably showed on your cheeks, but you had no intention of facing the chill of the night with bare shoulders now that it was offered to you.

“Shut it.”

“Just sayin’, just sayin’.” He laughed. You shook your head, casually sipping your cranberry limeade. “And all you had to do was look mildly cold. He left me talking to myself to put that over you.”

You smiled. There was no denying how that made you feel; especially to Sam Wilson who was now giving you an eyebrow wiggle.

Your smile dropped a little.

“Sam…I can’t.” You sighed. “Not now. Things are finally good as they are, and—”

“Are they?”

Sam was looking at you, in that Sam way that looked right into your soul.  You felt small, like you were maybe, ten, and not a-hundred-and-six years old.

“Yes. I just got him back. I already made the wrong call once, and I won’t do it again. Heartache be damned. I lived 70 years of it, hopeless and this… this is more than what I could ask for. Things are good.” You let out a breathless sigh. “Golly, say something before I start rattling on again.”

“Wow, that makes you sound so...” Sam started laughing when you kicked his shin, and amidst your own laughter you confirmed that yes, you were in fact old. “I was gonna say vintage!”

“And speaking of vintage,” He continued, and that’s when you finally realized the song that was playing.

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm so lucky to be loving you

People around you were saying oohs and aahs, couples new and old gathering to dance below the string lights while you glared at Sam. “You planned this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me. Look behind you.”

A hand was extended in your direction when you turned.

So lucky to be

Bucky was grinning down at you while you stared at him, dumbfounded. “C’mon, sugar. Don’t leave me hangin’, yeah?”

You took his hand quickly, shrugged his jacket off your shoulders and then you two stepped into to the spontaneous dance floor that had formed.

The one you run to see

“I haven’t done this in a long time.” He said and you looked at him, so beautiful under the dim lights. “Sorry if I step on your feet.”

All you could do was gaze at him, still a bit in awe as he swayed you to Margaret Whiting’s voice. He raised an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“Nothin’. You’re going back to your old ways, then?” You grinned, averting his eyes. “Know who you’re dancing with next?”

He tightened his grip on your waist and you pretended it didn’t make your chest tight.

“No one. I just figured we should… for old times,”

“Right.” You bit your lip. He was staring, and that feeling of being a teenager in love hit again.

“And it’s a good change from all that R&B.”

You laughed.

You've kept my love so young, so new

He made the pair of you spin around, and your eyes met Sarah’s from across the room. She was standing next to the speaker, giving you a thumbs up.

The little shit.

You turn your head, your cheeks reddening as you attempt to hide away in Bucky’s shoulder.

The Wilsons and their meddling. A family of wingmen.

Your new position didn’t help things, because the smell of Bucky’s cologne and the way he pulled you flush against him had your heart beating wildly inside your ribcage.

His was too. You could feel it, almost hear it this close.

You told yourself it was from the audience you only now were noticing. The other pairs were gone, leaving just the two of you dancing. You looked up at him, finally.

“Buck.”

He hummed, meeting your gaze. His eyes had a sparkle to them. Something different in the blue. Something secret.

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

Your lips parted, words at the tip of your tongue.

So lucky to be loving you

“You guys want another song?” Sam’s voice cut through the crowd, and pulled you from whatever daze you had been caught in.

Bucky grumbled and you stepped back, the wind chilly on your back now that you were out of his embrace.

You felt cemented to the floor, caught and exposed. The arms you had been safely tucked in gone from around you. Only turned when Bucky stomped past you, nearly knocking shoulders with Sam in the process.

Some wingman he was.

People returned to the dance floor as soon as a dancey 80’s ballad blasted through the speaker. Your dance partner from a minute ago nowhere to be seen. “I’m here to rescue you,” Sarah took your hand, leading you away from the eye of the hurricane.

They managed to squeeze three songs in before the rain started. Bucky’s sudden sour mood seemed to have summoned the clouds, now pouring themselves noisily over the tent you had sheltered under.

“I guess I ruined the mood, huh?”

“Goodness grief, Sam.” You chided, wrapping your arms around yourself. The chill now biting harder with the rain. “There was no mood. Everyone was watching. He’s—”

Embarrassed. “Self-conscious. You know.”

Sam nodded, and you went back to scanning your surroundings for any signs of Bucky.

“There was a little mood though.”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry, sorry!”

You were ready to berate him some more when you were enveloped in something warm, your eyes seeing leather and metal before you could turn and see Bucky, right at your back.

Soaked. To the bone, water dripping from him as he helped tighten the jacket around your shoulders. “James—!”

“’M sorry about earlier. I—” He then looked behind you, seemingly noticing the other people also huddled under the tent.

Sam was looking everywhere but at the two of you. He murmured something like Not here. Not even here.

“You wanna go?” You offered quietly, and Bucky’s eyes softened in gratitude.

“You guys can’t fly in this weather!” Sam poked his head at your side, and as if to hammer his point down thunder rumbled above all of you.

Suddenly even you felt too crammed and claustrophobic in the middle of everyone else. You were sure Bucky did too, his fingers tightening on your shoulders as the rain picked up.

“It’s fine. I’m used to—”

“He’s right. We can go back tomorrow.” Bucky rolled his eyes when Sam looked at him in shock, and you chuckled.

“Wait wait wait. Can you repeat that? On record—”

“No.”

“Sam…”

“Fine.” He tutted, and you sighed. ”You guys want to stay at the house?”

“No.” Bucky repeated, and you surprised yourself with the relief that hit you. “We’ll get a hotel or somethin’.”

“Carlos can drive y’all to the Monte Carlo? He’s going too.”

You couldn’t be more thankful for Sarah right now.

You used Bucky’s jacket to cover your head as the two of you ran from Carlos’ truck to the Monte Carlo Motel. A quick wave at him and you were inside, making your clumsy ways to the reception.

The girl behind the desk looked warily at Bucky and his soaked self, although it could also be because of the exposed metal arm.

“Hi, uh—one double room?”

You and Bucky blurted out a panicked no at the same time, locking eyes as the receptionist scrambled for another key. Then you also handed her a credit card at the same time.

“I got it.”

“Buck, it’s fine, I can—”

He scowled. “No. Said I got it.” He placed his metal hand on top of yours with your card and slid his own across the desk. You stared at him, schooling your facial expression to not show the surprise on your face. Nothing you could do about the color on your cheeks, though.

He sensed your eyes on him and looked at you, making you bite your lip. It’s like you’d forgotten how dominating he could be, and how it made you feel some type of way.

You blinked it away.  “You gonna ask for a vet discount? Senior?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Are you?”

“No one would believe me.”

“But would believe me?”

“You have that old man grouchiness to ya.” You said, shrugging. He shot you one of his glares.

“Iraq?” The receptionist pulled you two away from the bickering, giving Bucky’s card back and two room keys.

“Normandy,” Answered simultaneously, earning a chuckle out of you. She shot you a disbelieving smile.

“Told you she wouldn’t believe me.” You quipped as you went up the stairs.

“Oh, come on.”

You laughed, elbowing him playfully once you reached him at the top of the stairs. “She would’ve if she knew your music taste.”

“My music taste?” You squinted.

“I wasn’t listening to Vera Lynn on a random Thursday night.”

“That’s ‘cus you can’t operate a Bluetooth speaker.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing in annoyance. It came easy to you, the provocations, a much palatable feeling than the awkwardness from before. Bucky then turned to assess which way your rooms were in, leaving you to follow him as he trudged through the corridor.

He stopped in front of the 304, handing you one of the keys. “Mine is at the other side of the building I’m guessing.” The numbers 323 shown on his own keychain proved that to you.

It was both comforting and disappointing that you wouldn’t be sharing a wall.

“Alright,” You said, opening the door.

“Y/N, I—Sorry about earlier. About leaving like that.” He let out a heavy breath when you turned to look at him, hand on the doorknob.

“It’s okay. I’ve never been the greatest dancer.” You shot him a crooked grin, and he shook his head, expression still solemn.

“It wasn’t you— I panicked. The starin’…” He cast his eyes down, at his feet, and you gave his bicep a squeeze.

“I know. Nerve wracking,” You said softly, still a bit restless from earlier. “I loved dancing with you though.”

Bucky raised his gaze, meeting your own. Lips parted. Eyes darting down to lips. Nodded once. “Me too, sugar.”

You smiled. The words almost falling from the tip of your tongue again.

“I—”

“I should— get to my room,”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“G’night, then.”

You hummed. “Night, Buck.”

You had to fight the urge to slide down the door once you closed it, after watching his frame disappear around the corner.

The confession had almost come out of you, almost ruining everything. It was enough how you felt, how your pulse raced. How your fingers burned, wanting to touch. Those words were the one thing you managed to keep together.

90 years and counting.

You hoped, prayed – at whichever entity that lived above the ceiling – for sleep to take you before you could lose control of everything.

It was supposed to be a secret mission, with slim possibility of return. You and two other WASP pilots were to fly over Belgium and drop supplies to the men resisting at the Ardennes, knowing there was no chance the Luftwaffe wouldn’t bomb you as you crossed over their skies. The hundreds of men running out of food and medical supplies, struggling to resist Germany’s attacks, left you no option.

The three of you knew this would to be the outcome. You were ready to die trying.

“Goddamnit, Webster!” You shouted to yourself, Maggie’s intercoms no longer functioning as her cockpit was blown to smithereens from a German plane’s bomb.

There was only you and them in the air now, Dana Miller lost on the fly in. You could only hope her aircraft was the only casualty.

Thunder boomed right beside you. Except it was an array of shots that had destroyed your right turbine, causing your plane to lean comically to one side. Comically, yes, because laughs bubbled desperately out of your chest at the sight.

A few more miles and you’d be out of German occupied territory.

You only had to keep it together a little longer.

When gaining altitude became a lost battle to simply trying to keep your plane in the air, the Germans were nowhere to be seen. The RAF zooming by seconds later made you breathe a sign of relief.

You knew from the start returning home was unlikely. It mattered very little. One of your dog tags had lost its pair to the Alps. Steve had told you through radio before the rumors could reach you.

Bucky wasn’t coming home. What on Earth would be left for you if you did?

You grasped the chain around your neck as your plane plummeted towards the Belgian grass fields. The world at its end.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three—

You woke with a start, gasping for air as if you’ve been held underwater for too long. The covers had been kicked off you during the night, but even without them you still felt hot and choked up.

It’s been a long time since those kinds of dreams disturbed your sleep, you managing to keep them at bay enough that it was rare when they came now. Never unfamiliar though.

With a long sigh, you tried to pull it together. Washed your face in the sink. Drank some water and eyed the mini liquor bottles in the fridge. None worked. The sense of urgency overpowered you.

The feeling that everything was collapsing; that your plane was crashing over Belgium, half of it on fire, your sisters in arms gone, your two best friends gone.

You left your room with Bucky’s jacket held tightly against your chest, barely feeling the chill of the humid night air as you made your way down to the reception or wherever you could find something to distract you.

You found him on the landing after the first flight of stairs, leaning against the railing.

“Hey,” You called out softly, and Bucky turns to you in surprise. It goes away as soon as it comes, the moment he understands.

“Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “Bad dream.” You explained, and he nodded. Extended a paper cup in your direction, not saying anything. You took it gratefully, pausing before the first sip. “Did you—?”

Bucky gave you a tired smirk. “Two sugars, sugar. Still shit though.”

The pet name made you bite your lip. “Can’t be worse than Army coffee,” You shrugged. He was right though. It was shit. Tasted terribly, even worse than Bucky’s brew in the morning.

He chuckled bitterly at the face you made; his tone still light despite it. “And you still complain about mine.”

“Both taught me to appreciate the good coffees in life.”

Bucky clicked his tongue, and you both laughed. You shift, alternating the balance from one foot to the other. Wonder if you should say it.

Best friends don’t keep those things from each other. Best friends talk about their nightmares.

“It was a memory.”

Bucky blinked. Turned to watch your profile. “A memory?”

You hummed. It’s strange, talking about it— it’s not something you’re used to sharing anymore, not even with Steve. Some intimacies were so reserved to Bucky that you forgot you could do them with someone else.

“From when my plane crashed in Belgium. When I became ‘MIA’. Well, at least that’s the story S.H.I.E.L.D. made up while I was recovering from the serum.” Bucky’s eyes were soft when you looked at him finally. “Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”   

Best friends don’t look at each other like that.

“They’re worse than nightmares.” Bucky stepped closer. “To me, at least. It feels… real. Like we’re back there, reliving it again.”

You nodded. Shifted closer, so close you and him were shoulder to shoulder. “It felt like the world was ending.” Shaky breath escaped bitten lips. “Still does.”

“It’s not.” He shook his head as if he’d said the wrong thing. “If it was, we’d know. Two suns in the horizon. See?”

Bucky flexed his fingers, brushing with yours gently. Your eyes followed the horizon he was pointing at with his metal arm, where a single sun began to peek through in orange and purple.

“It did end though, didn’t it? When my plane crashed. When you fell off the train. It ended with the Blip and it ended with Steve,”

He shook his head. “We wouldn’t be here if it had. We’re still here.”

“Not as we were.”

“No. Not as we were.” He sighed, leaning against the railing. His fingers at a distance. Suddenly you felt the need for the jacket. “D’ja think we missed our window, Y/N?”

His question took you by surprise. You blinked, tightening his jacket around you. “I’ve always wanted you with me at the end.”

Bucky frowned, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head. “Not Steve, not anyone else. You. But you weren’t there.”

“What—I wanted you too, but—”

“But I wasn’t there. We missed each other’s ends of the world.”

He shook his head, his eyes scanning your face. Confusion and incredulity stamped so very clearly in his features. You shifted and continued.

“So maybe that’s why it didn’t end. That’s why we’re still here. Maybe… maybe this is our window.”

Realization dawned on him while you bit your tongue. Confession at the tip of it.

A smile softened the lines on his forehead and brightened his eyes. “What if they nuke us right now?”

“Then I’m glad I left my room tonight.”

Bucky offered his hand, splayed open next to you. Your fingers interlaced with his and warmth spread through your body.

“No regrets, sugar?”

“None.” Just the one. You hid your face on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat on your cheeks or the way your heartbeat picked up.

But that had been a long time ago. Maybe that window was truly lost. But you had this. And if the fiery hues in the sky were from an Armageddon and not the sun, there’s nowhere else you wanted to be.

Bucky kissed the top of your head. Wordlessly telling me too.

You raised your eyes at him, almost saying it. Almost loving him out loud.

“Sugar, I—”

Breath caught, hope spiking. “Yeah?”

A long exhale. “…we should try and sleep. Brooklyn’s a long way from here.”

Disappointment squeezed your heart. Foolish. What else could you be expecting?

“Alright.” You reluctantly got up, handing his jacket back. Not even that could protect you from the icyness at the pit of your stomach.

“No, keep it.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Red creeping up his neck from under the henley. “You can give it back tomorrow…”

You nodded. Your shoes looked very interesting as you wrapped the jacket around your shoulders again. “Okay. Good night, Buck.”

“Night, sugar.”

You walked away with weighted feet, as if fighting some kind of gravity that pulled you back to that spot next to him on the stairs. Not turning to see if there was an atomic sun lighting up the slow sunrise. Dissolving the world, only for it to reform again and throw you two back where you had always been.

The war. The train. The Blip. Steve.

This night.

Frustration made you hands shake as they hovered over the doorknob. How long could you stand to orbit him, and never make it to the destination? Nothing is made to fly forever.

One regret.

You have always been bold and brazen, except for this. Facing every challenge, fighting every fight, except battling this one fear.

Not this night.

Pretending the light in the horizon signaled the end and your time was running out, you ran back to where you had left Bucky. Relived that afternoon in England when you’d be separated in the morning and you should’ve run back to him. Summoning every ounce of courage the serum had left in your body.

Your resolve was set when Bucky himself rounded the corner. Blue eyes wild and dark brows knitted together in unruly urgency.

“Bucky! I—”

You managed a couple extra steps in his direction when he closed the distance between you, grabbing your face with flesh and metal.

A huff of surprise as you braced for collision.

It came in the form of a kiss, lips crashing into each other, the taste of yearning and coffee on your tongue.

You’d already taken the damn fall.

Javier's Having a Baby

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical descriptions but has backstory.)

Chapter/Series Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter Warnings: morning sickness, nausea & vomiting (1 instance), language, little bit of smoking, just a lot of fluff for this one.

Series masterlist

Chapter 2 : The Realization

The smell of pancakes and bacon wafted through the house. 

A far cry from the usual scent or lack thereof on a typical work week. Any other day breakfast was a quick grab and go in a race out the door, but this morning you resisted the urge to hit the snooze button and hauled out of bed early to whip up something special. 

The table was set, food dished out – it was all very Leave it to Beaver. 

You heard the heavy thump of a man on a mission barreling into the room. His brunette hair was tousled from raking his fingers through it repeatedly; his tie cockeyed, but at least his white button up and slacks were neatly pressed – thanks to you. 

Javier scanned the room, “Hey honey, where’s my-” 

“By the door.” His blood moon eyes shot to you then to where you were pointing. “Papers are in your briefcase and I packed you a lunch. Now, get over here before it gets cold.” 

Javier wandered over like once he got close it would suddenly disappear in a cloud of smoke. The idea that someone was taking care of him still felt like a dream. 

He sat down in the chair then kissed your cheek. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said, but the bags under his eyes said otherwise. 

“I wanted to,” you piped up, carefully peering over the rim of your mug. “It’s a big day after all.” The words rippled like skipping stones along the once calm sage liquid. His lips twitched with an ambiguous hum of recognition. You took a cautious sip of the warm drink while he doused his plate in syrup. “Do you know which way you’re leaning?” 

The conflict in his eyes answered first, then a subtle shake of his head. “Just gonna see how today goes.” He tried to smile, but only one side of his lips cooperated. 

Two months of endless back and forth phone calls and the DEA was throwing up a Hail Mary – flying out a half-dozen of their best and brightest to seal the deal. 

Since deciding to explore the option, the door on his time with the DEA and years spent in Colombia had been cracked open. Memories he’d long kept at bay flooded his mind. Vague stories slipped from his lips in the runoff of overflowing thoughts with nowhere else for them to go. 

Each one slotted into place – a near portrait of that period in his life. Composed of more pieces than just that of what Javier told you. Few were from Steve, far too many from Joe’s past ramblings; he boasted of his ex-partners deeds like they were somehow an extension of him. Then there was the rumor mill of his ex-colleagues which, like a Wikipedia page, held a bite of truth. It was odd how obsessed they were, jealous no doubt as they pointed out his absence at events such as Joe’s wedding; sharing not-so-hushed theories on why the agent hadn’t carved out time in his schedule as if Javier could leave Colombia at the drop of a hat. 

Obviously, Javier didn’t talk much about the more traumatic events. Just like the news coverage, his stories were censored but no less devastating. It wasn’t like there was any pretending that part didn’t exist. Especially when it came back to haunt him in the dead of night. 

Within weeks of dating you experienced the first of many night terrors. Knowing better than to wake him, he thrashed around like a palm tree in the midst of a hurricane while whimpering the names of faceless people you’d only ever hear of in his unconscious state; you helplessly waited it out by his side for that gasp of air, signaling his submergence from the past. 

Would it ever go away, you didn’t think so, but found some sort of comfort in knowing he’d never wake up alone. At least not anymore. His panic-blown eyes would always find you with open arms, there to ground him to the present with soft reassurances that never failed to lull him back to sleep. 

“You still not drinking coffee?” Javier pointed a half-eaten piece of bacon at your mug. 

You set it down with a small thump. “Don’t remind me,” you groaned. “I miss it but - I don’t know. Something about the smell still makes me wanna gag.”

Javier smacked his lips, “I thought you were feeling better?” He studied you from top to bottom. 

“I am,” you assured. His eyes went narrow and you sighed in defeat. “For the most part…but have ya ever thrown up on something and for awhile you can’t eat it without being reminded of how sick you were?”

Javier grunted, “Chicken wings.” He shuddered. “Still can’t touch ‘em.” 

The experience must have scarred him because he promptly dropped the subject. Veering the conversation far away to your itinerary for the day then a back and forth of what sounded good for dinner. 

Once finished, you gathered up the plates and dropped them in the sink. The scent of lemon coated the sponge as a small hum drifted around the room while you scrubbed at the sticky porcelain. 

Like a silent predator, Javier snuck behind you. His large hands framing the arc of your hips, making you jump at the sudden collision of your back to a warm, broad chest. 

He burrowed into the crevice of your neck and you giggled his name. The dishes clinking together in a forgotten heap as you swiveled around, looping your arms around his neck. 

His smile was soft but not assuring. Brown eyes wandering a stray and searching the depth of your eyes for guidance as if they were crystal balls that could show him the way. It tugged at your heart and you wished for it to be so simple. 

You teased down his hair then adjusted his tie. “Perfect,” you beamed with a pat to his chest. You handed him the suit jacket from off the counter. With a shrug, he fitted it just right over his broad shoulders. Very few people could pull off a tan suit but he was definitely one of them. 

“Very handsome,” you said and grabbed at his tie, tugging him closer. “Ya know,” you whispered, “I think someone might be gettin’ lucky tonight.” 

A pleased sound rumbled from deep in his chest as his grip on you tightened. 

“Now that’s all I’ll be thinking about.” His husky voice tickled the shell of your ear. 

“Hmm. Seems my plan is working,” you teased, then met his lips in a tender kiss. 

His hands surged to cup your cheeks and you relinquished control to him. The peck instantly turned heated as his lips moved with a sheer determination to forget his troubles in your pliant body and supple mouth. The weight that burdened his shoulders poured into you and it lifted for a moment. 

You were left gasping for air once he broke the kiss. The sound of your heavy breathing mingled in the space between you, his forehead resting against yours. 

“I should get going,” he whispered after a long moment, but remained stuck in place as if you were glued together.

“I love you, ya know that right?” 

He chuckled softly and grabbed your hand, guiding it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

Javier left your embrace with a low groan that mimicked the one he made when getting out of bed in the morning. You followed close behind as he headed to leave. He swung his briefcase over his shoulder and you handed him his lunch on his way out the door. 

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he said. You nodded and leaned against the solid wood frame. The fall air carried a chill in the morning and you wrapped your arms around you for warmth.

With one last glance, he waved goodbye before hopping in his jeep. The engine roared to life, and you watched until his car disappeared down the street. The brave smile you were sporting faded at the shut of the door. 

The rest of the morning continued much like any other after that. 

There was the usual morning traffic on your drive into work, luckily the commute was short, a perk of living just miles from downtown. Cordial, you greeted your coworkers with a smile on your way down the hall. Situated at the very end was your office. 

It was quaint with tinted blue walls just a shade above sanitary white. A desk, bookshelf and two armchairs filled the space. A chunky computer plopped in the middle of your desk, taking up the majority of the area. 

The morning was clicked away on the two-toned keyboard. Not a disruption to be had until lunch time when a small knock echoed on the glass pane wall overlooking the cubicles. Promptly followed by Amanda stepping in through the wide-open door. 

“Hey,” she said in that high-pitched voice that meant she needed something. “Sorry to bother you, but uh - ya happen to have a tampon?” She flashed an oopsie grin; she was always bumming them off you, not that you cared. 

“Yeah, I gotcha,” you said with feigned annoyance. 

A few worthless items tussled around the metal confines of the bottom drawer when pulled open. The sealed box of tampons was situated right in front. 

When did you buy those? You actually couldn’t remember. 

Amanda pushed the small of her back against your desk and leaned in. “Not gonna lie I was startin’ to panic a little, three days late, but-” She swept her bangs like they were a bead of sweat with a whoosh of air. 

You pushed out a half-hearted chuckle, trying to remember when your last period was. 

It was as if all her worries were suddenly transferred to you, the tampon acting as a baton. She stuffed the wrapper into her pocket with an easy grin. “You’re the best,” she said before sauntering out the room. 

Leaning back in your chair, a pen clutched between your teeth, you tried to think whether Amanda’s period came before or after yours. 

Well, it had to be before.

Right? 

A memory made your head tilt like a confused dog. Your eyes steadily growing wider and wider as you thought back on all those times when you’d been fresh out, instead offering her a quarter to buy a shitty cardboard one from the vending machine. 

But wait. If she was late…

The chair wheels skirted along the carpet, your body shot up like a revved up engine. Busting open the top drawer, you slapped the planner down in front of you. The paper slicing your finger, staining the corner of the week red. 

Sucking on it, you squeezed your eyes shut and sifted through your memories for when your last period was. 

Your eyes snapped open - it was the weird one; you’d never had a period so short and light, hardly any cramping. 

But if it was then. 

“Shit. Shitshitshit,” you mumbled under your breath while flipping back through the beginnings of November which had been plagued with a stomach bug – past October where talks of the DEA preoccupied your mind all the way to September. 

A soundless gasp parted your lips. You were late. 

No – you counted the weeks. More than late. 

You’d completely missed a period. 

A wave of nausea – no, vomit slammed into you. You slapped a hand over your mouth and dashed to the bathroom. The stall door boomeranged against the wall as your knees collided against the cold tile. 

Your spine curled over the toilet, the truth purged from you. This wasn’t a stomach bug, you were – oh shit. You gasped and gasped for air, “Fuck,” you hurled. 

After a few seconds, only harsh panting echoed around the toilet bowl. You wiped away the stray tears on your cheeks and the spit dangling from the corner of your mouth. 

The flush of the toilet roared as you slumped down, resting your lead-heavy head against the stall wall. 

Could it be? 

Were you pregnant?

---

“We hope to hear from you soon,” the silver-haired man said.

The undertone of impatience that slithered through the cracks of his grin made Javier’s plastered on smile falter. His nod coming as firm as his handshake. 

He waved goodbye to the others and took another look at the building. It was just as he remembered in 1988 – 70’s modernism with big windows and cold, beige concrete walls. Yet when he walked out of the atrium, it didn’t feel the same at all. 

With his hands shoved in his pockets, he headed off to his car. The door slammed shut behind him. He popped open the middle console immediately and rummaged through CDs, bypassing the loose sleeve of nicorettes for the red and white carton stashed at the bottom.

The slim stick perfectly slotted between his lips, and the familiar weight left his mouth watering. He clicked at the lighter, once – twice. Until it sizzled orange and sweet smoky relief consumed his lungs. 

He’d given up the bad habit – for the most part – but there were certain situations where a nicorette just didn’t cut it. 

The cigarette fell limp as he turned on the ignition, maneuvering out of the lot. When he arrived the sun had been proud in the sky. Now, street lights and neon signs lit up the near desolate streets. The meeting had run much longer than he expected. 

If it weren’t for the repulsive amount of ass-kissing, he would’ve been home by now. 

Home. 

His eyes closed and he inhaled again. 

The last thing Javier wanted was to reminisce on his ‘glory days’ but the endless prattling of expectations that followed wasn’t much better. 

They talked of the plans for the future. A new branch in El Paso was to be up and running in a few months time, his duties consisting of running the division along with a few others along the Southernmost border of Texas – as they claimed, that’s where the real war was at. 

The job honestly sounded similar to his role in Cali. He was the face, a person calling the moves but would it be like that again?

Was he just filling a role? A puppet in their game of rigged chess?

Javier took another long drag. 

The politics of it all had always made his skin crawl and the man who was leading the charge oozed with the charisma of a corrupt senator. Silver-hair quaffed to the side, he spoke with the ease of a summer breeze yet his every word carried the chill of winter. The fellow colleagues were all equally invested, spewing the propaganda with conviction. 

Courage. 

Devotion. 

Above all integrity. 

Integrity, he scoffed while lighting up another cigarette. 

He’d be the first to admit, he was far from perfect. He’d acted in ways he never would’ve imagined; bent the rules and compromised his ethics. And yes, it spiraled out of control and the consequences of it would forever horrify him but he could rest at least knowing it was never out of selfish ambition. 

His decisions came from a state of pure desperation – after watching innocent people pay with their lives – years of injustice winning time and time again. It wasn’t to further some corrupt agenda based on greed and deceit. 

Was he naive to have thought they were all on the same team – that the system had his back?

Was it credulous to think they cared about winning the war – not just pretending. He obviously knew others shared in his testament, Steve and Joe, along with countless others. 

But that didn’t matter. 

Not in the long run.

Not when the system backing all the efforts was compromised. Then he was just a pawn, a conflicting testament. 

How he wished to go back to when he didn’t know, when he had believed – it would be so much easier. 

Smoke flared out his nostrils; the cigarette flew through the crack in the window like a fly. He pulled into the driveway and his eyes fluttered shut, gaining the strength to gather his things from the passenger seat. 

The soft yellow hue of the porch light guided him home. 

A sweet, homey scent mingled with take-out Italian as he opened the door. His wife was standing in the kitchen with a gentle smile on her lips, he flew towards her. His briefcase thudded to the floor and his arms wrapped around her, the outside world seemingly disappeared in the familiarity. 

She nuzzled into his neck; the stench of cigarettes incriminating him like a hickey. Yet, she said nothing of it and clung tighter to him. 

“Hi baby.” The sweet whisper hit his ear and he hummed at it. 

“Hi,” he said, “Sorry I’m late.” He kissed the side of her head, stepping back as his stomach rumbled. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” She smiled, but it didn’t come with the same ease as others in the past. Before he could think much of it, she popped open the microwave. “I put it in for a few seconds. I’ve already eaten but I’ll sit with ya.” 

She insisted on carrying his plate to his seat then grabbing a beer for him. By the time she settled in next to him, he’d already scarfed down a quarter of the meal.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Javier swallowed and faintly shook his head. His thoughts were too cluttered and he needed time to process and sift through them. Funny. The whole ordeal was meant to offer clarity, but his brain was muddier than before. 

“Later. Promise.” 

The brittleness of his voice made her head tip to the side and hand squeeze at his forearm. The warmth of her palm was soothing. “How bout you tell me about your day,” he said not a moment later, needing a distraction. 

Her back immediately straightened up as if remembering something. “Oh.” Her eyes rolled skyward, arms folded in front of her on the table, a mindless tap of her fingers against her elbow. “Um - well, I just got off the phone with your dad.” 

“Yeah? What’d he have to say?” Javier took another bite. 

“Oh, not much. Just - uh - wanted to know the plan for Thanksgiving.” 

Javier’s chewing slowed. There was definitely something off about her. Her voice was a tad pitchy and she was fidgeting like a child at church. He’d thought it had something to do with his current predicament, but he realized there was more to it. Something else was causing her antsiness.

“Forgot that was next week,” he said, not giving away just yet that he’d caught on. He angled his body slightly towards her. “What about work? Any stories?” His gaze flickered around her, searching for non-verbal cues in a secret game of hot and cold. 

She hemmed and hawed through trifling tidbits until he couldn’t take it anymore and firmly said her name. “Tell me what’s really going on,” he said once he had her full attention. 

“Huh?” A look of feign confusion rounded her eyes. 

His head ticked back and forth, “I know somethings up.” Her gaze plummeted to the table with a gulp that zapped the playfulness from his demeanor. Replacing it with a festering ball of anxiety. “Woah - hey. What happened?” 

“It’s nothing,” she waved off like it was trivial but the slight tremble in her hand said otherwise. “Let’s talk about it later.” 

Alarm bells started to ring. That wasn’t like her, she never held something in. She was the complete opposite of him in that regard. 

“Why not now?” 

“Cause, Javi.” His eyebrows probed for an elaboration and she huffed as if it was obvious. “You just got home, it’s been a long-” 

His hand enveloped hers and her lips clipped together, meeting his gaze. A cloud of unmitigated suspense in her eyes.

“I don’t care what day I’ve had. Please, just tell me what’s goin’ on.” 

She shot him a look that said, you sure about that? Before relenting moments later with a small bob of her head, pushing up on the table to stand on wobbly legs. 

Her fingers drummed sporadically along her thigh as she dragged her feet to the kitchen. 

“I was gonna wait to tell you,” she said with a hint of a smile that quelled his unease a fraction. “But I guess I wasn’t very good at hiding it, huh?” 

He tilted his head with a lighthearted huff. 

To his confusion, she opened the miscellaneous drawer full of things like scissors and receipts of major purchases to pull out a shiny, slender, white box. 

If she wasn’t acting so nervous, he’d think she got him a gift, but whenever she surprised him with one in the past she was basically jumping out of her skin to give it to him. 

He could practically hear the count of her steps; the slight shake of the box in her grasp. Stopping at the edge of the table, she handed it over and then immediately clasped her hands behind her back. 

There was no hint of what laid inside. No label. Or wrapping. If she didn’t look so woozy, he would’ve shaken it. 

Ticking the lid open, her breath caught and he checked in before continuing. Her blessing came in a fast nod. 

Placing the lid on the table, he picked up the white, plastic stick. “What’s this?” He asked, squinting at the blue lines, a key on the side. 

Pregnant. Not pregnant. 

His head whipped up then right back down. Glancing between the fine print and a strong blue line, the smaller one while a tad faded, was ever present. 

Was he seeing this right? He blinked and opened his eyes as far as they would go. 

“I was gonna wait till you got home but then you were late and I just couldn’t take it anymore and I thought if I’m not then-”

“You’re pregnant?” He gazed up at her, his tongue darting out to wet his drying lips as his brow squeezed tight. 

Her gaze fell to her wringing hands as she quickly jerked her head.

“And - and you’re sure?” He asked, inspecting the device front and back. 

Pregnancy tests had come a long way since he’d last seen them; it honestly aged him. He’d basically used a chemistry set with Lorraine, seriously the thing had test tubes and droppers. This seemed far more reliable and generally foolproof; still, he’d experienced the elusive false positive. 

Luckily, if that was the case, it wouldn’t lead to a shotgun wedding and a runaway groom. 

“Well, I took two more just to be sure.” She swayed in the direction of the bathroom door where the other positive tests must’ve been stored away. 

“Oh,” he breathed out, lips stuck in a small o-shape. The reality of it permeated his skull but had yet to fully sink into his brain. 

He looked down once again at the test - specifically the word pregnant. It was happening. He was going to be - he gulped - a dad. 

The word echoed around his shell-shocked brain; his heart began to hammer into his throat. He choked out a sound and his hand shot over his mouth. 

He felt – actually he didn’t know how he felt. 

With Lorraine, it was doom; a feeling of being completely stuck. 

It was far from that feeling, but it was one he’d never experienced before. Was it fear? Panic? Disbelief? Perhaps excitement? Even joy? Was it possible to experience all the above at once? 

He shook his head to clear his mind. It didn’t work. 

“I know we didn’t really plan this,” She timidly said while twisting the band on her finger. 

Javier blinked up at her, worry marring her face. “I’m - I’m not - I just - I.” His jaw clamped shut, the feeling was ineffable. So he instead reassured her by beckoning her to him; he turned to the side of the chair, making room for her between his thighs. 

At eye-level with her belly, his hands smoothed over her hips and waist. He gazed up at her then back to her stomach to place a soft kiss before dropping his forehead atop it. 

Her breath escaped soft and surprised; the sound of it was a punch to his gut. She raked her fingers through his hair as a warm smile parted her lips with a giggle. 

He’d never seen her like this, she was glowing with happiness and his chest ached. The idea that she’d been so willing to give this up, this moment, any dreams of a child all because he meant more to her than any of it combined. Javier would never understand how he came to deserve her - how she could possibly love him so much. 

Rising from his chair, Javier cradled the back of her neck and tilted her chin up. The soft light of the chandelier danced across her glossy eyes. 

A saltiness simmered at the back of his throat, he swallowed it down but it seeped into his voice. “I love you,” he said and water brimmed in her eyes. “So much.” He kissed her forehead and the force of it had her steadying herself with the lapels of his jacket. 

“You’re not upset.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“Of course not,” he said, “Are you?” 

“No, no. Not at all.” She smiled so wide it looked like it hurt and he couldn’t help but return it. 

Javier intently listened as she buzzed through all the details, the moment of realization and all the missed signs. The longer he stood there, the clearer it became and when she kissed him, a resolve warmed his chest. 

“I’m not gonna take the job,” he said when he pulled away. 

“Javi, no - no. I don’t want you to give this up because of this. Look at Joe and Steve.” 

“It’s not that.” He shook his head and searched for the words. 

Javier didn’t know how to tell her that when they talked about him traveling to El Paso or Presidio that all he could think about was how much he didn’t want to leave her - how he’d grown so used to coming home and falling asleep next to her. 

He didn’t know how to tell her he enjoyed the peace. Maybe he really was getting old because the stillness had become more appealing than the life of a DEA agent. It no longer thrilled him; the sparkle had faded like a knockoff gemstone. 

Javier finally believed the words he had once spoken, he had done enough. While the words were bittersweet, there was a sense of tranquility that came with them. A closure that came with knowing there was nothing left to give to the DEA – not without the price of losing himself. 

Seemed his father was right, Javier had wanted to change the world, but it had changed him. The life he never imagined for himself was the one he was now choosing. 

He was scared shitless, but as he looked at his wife, he knew it would be alright. 

“It’s not the life I want anymore,” Javier finally said, and he meant it.

You Suck (So Passionately)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Komaeda and Reserve Course!Reader can't stay away and can't stand each other, so he gives you something to think of him by when you leave. Everybody wins and loses in this game of cat-and-mouse.

Or, in which the idea of hate-sex with Komaeda is rotting the author's brain.

Word Count: 4.5k

Content Warnings: Hate Sex, Power Dynamics, Under-Negotiated Kink, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Heavy Themes of BDSM, Degradation, Insults, Humiliation, Slightly Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationship, Use of Vibrators in Public, Semi-Public Sex, She/Her Pronouns for Reader When Applicable, Female Reader

General Tags/Themes: Brat!Reader, Brat Tamer!Komaeda, Reserve Course!Reader, Masochism, Sadism, Classroom Sex, Seriously He's Mean in This One, Orgasm Delay/Denial

A/N: I have.... two other wips of Reserve Course Reader and Komaeda... I'm trying to fit them into a Reserve Course Cinematic Universe, so I may add more chapters to this but it works as a stand alone, but I'll update it if they see the light of day <3

READ ON AO3

“Listen, uh, can we like… speed this thing up?”

Nagito paused mid-thrust.

“What?” He fixed you with the look he gave you every time you did something as stupid as he thought you were.

“It’s just that I have-” You interrupted yourself with a yawn. You really had no idea why you let him drag you out of bed so early in the morning when he demanded you come back to his room again basically every afternoon anyways.  “I have class in twenty, and I can’t-” He just laughed like you made a joke, then continued to fuck you at the same pace. Perhaps even slower, actually, and deep enough to elicit a squeak from your mouth at the sudden feeling.

“Are you seriously asking me for something for your pathetic excuse for classes?” He scoffed. “What does it matter if you miss ten minutes? Or thirty for that matter? What separates any of you from useless, normal, high school dropouts but the pity this school takes on you?” He purred the words like dirty talk, and if you didn’t find that so alluring, you certainly wouldn’t have been doing this- whatever this was between you and Nagito- for as long as you had.

“I hate your fucking guh- ah-” His teeth sunk into you, sending your nails into the skin of his back. You could feel his sharp smirk curled around your collarbone.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite make it out.”

“God, you’d fuck so much better if you stopped talking.” You growled. The smirk tensed just a bit into a sneer. Unfortunately for you, instead of making him speed up like you’d hoped, he only slowed more. You groaned in disappointment, both from your worry about the clock, and the loss of sensation.

“You won’t be able to trick me. Nothing scum like you could come up with could fool me. I’ll take my time with you how I’d like, just how I always do.” The slow drag of him, in and out, was like torture. You could do nothing but wrap your legs around him tighter, fruitlessly, and look up into his stupid, smug face. “In fact, I think you might actually be more useful as an Ultimate’s toy instead of sitting in your play-pretend classes.” He practically giggled. You couldn’t help but moan at the title, which he more than noticed. “See, doll? I think you agree.” He continued his pace, picking apart the threads keeping you together with each movement of his hips.

By the time you had both finished, you already knew you were going to be late for class. You let yourself take the smallest breather before stumbling up and pulling on your clothes. He’d thrown them around the room like he was trying to make it difficult for you. He simply watched you, drumming his fingers over the spot on the bed where you had just been, that infuriating look on his face you knew meant he had something planned. You pretended not to notice as you moved towards the door.

“Okay, later-”

“Wait.” He ordered. Your hand was on the doorknob. You grit your teeth. You knew he had waited for the very last minute just to fuck with you.

“What, Komaeda?” You turned around, glaring openly at him. “I need to go-”

“I know.” He sat up and began casually looking through his bedside drawer. It wouldn’t have surprised you if he’d begun to hum a tune to himself. Right as you opened your mouth, he pulled something out. It was a small, pink device made of silicone-

“No.” You said at once, shaking your head fervently. “No, no, no, no, no-”

“Put it on.” He said simply, holding it out for you to take. His tone was so serious that you almost obliged.

“Why? I would just leave it off anyways.”

“Do you ever feel ashamed about the questions you ask?” He cocked his head. For a split second, you almost thought it wasn’t a rhetorical question, only embarrassing you further. “Obviously I can control it. I’m not giving you something just because I think you’ll miss me. Now go on.” You glared at him, unmoving. He met your eye, as calm as ever. As always, this was a battle of wills. 

As always, Nagito won.

*****

“(L/N)-san, this is the second time this week you are more than fifteen minutes late to class.” Everybody in the room had their eyes on you. ‘God he should have just taped a ‘kick me’ sign to me. It would have been less fucking embarassing.’ “I’m afraid you know the policy. That’s detention tonight.” Your homeroom teacher frowned at you. You took the detention slip she wrote you without a word and took your seat with your eyes pointed towards the ground. As you sat there, book cracked open and immediately zoning out, you felt your anger grow towards Nagito instead of inwards.

‘That fucking freak. Getting me detention just to stick this thing in my panties.’ You felt much warmer than usual. In your panties was the small vibrator he had eventually coaxed on you in your effort to minimize your tardiness. ‘There’s no way he’d actually do it, right? It wouldn’t be fun to mess with me if he can’t even see it.’

Despite that, you could still feel it pressing against your most sensitive spots the entire day, shifting when you fidgeted, moving as you walked. You felt as though everybody must have been able to see how hard you were blushing, but not even your friends said anything. Besides that, you waited all day with baited breath and a hand ready to shoot up and loudly announce you had to go to the bathroom. You thought of at least six different excuses, each worst than the last, just to cover the potentially loud buzz of the device. By mid-day, you knew you had soaked through your panties, and you were terrified it was going to slip right out and onto the floor with how wet you were. But the clip held up, only to torment you some more.

When the last bell rung, you were the first out the door.

‘Just detention left, just detention left, just detention left and then I can go to the restroom, mop up, and go home.’ As you hurried over, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Nagito, as curt and demanding as it always was.

‘My room. 30.’

You snorted as you tapped out a response.

‘Yeah, no. Some asshole caused me to be late again today, which means I’ve got detention. Nice work, idiot. By the way, I think your stupid toy is broken. I didn’t feel anything all day. You’ll have to find another way to mess with me.’ 

‘What makes you think that I’d turned it on yet?’

“Cell-phone in the bin, please, ma’am.” A sunny, orange-hair woman who barely looked old enough to be out of the Academy herself said. It snapped you out of the slight sense of dread and shame as you read the text. You shook your head and obliged. You didn’t recognize her, or know what she was doing here. Usually, your homeroom teacher was the one who ran detention. As if she were reading your mind, she said, “I’m filling in for the usual teacher. I’m Yukizome-sensei. Please, take your seat and sit quietly or do some work.” You glanced around. A couple of other kids were already there too, most of them with their heads down. You weren’t usually allowed to sleep through detention. You decided this was a stroke of luck. You gave her a polite smile and gave her your slip, watching as she checked you off of a list. You sat down, glancing at the clock.

In your haste and smugness, you didn’t even think about removing the vibrator before you left, so it sat there as a firm reminder of the temper you’d surely be met with when you responded to Nagito. For the moment, however, you took off your blazer and arranged it into a sort of pillow, getting comfortable when-

“Ah, hello, Yukizome-sensei!”

‘No fucking way.’

“Komaeda-kun! Good afternoon, what are you doing here? Did you manage to get yourself detention somehow?” She seemed to be jokingly scolding him, but you knew it was only kind of a joke. The sweet smile on Nagito’s face was foreign to you. He floated in like he didn’t have a care in the world. You noticed that his hand was bandaged, and that it hadn’t been this morning. ‘Serves him right. What the fuck is he doing here?’

“Oh, no, I simply saw you as I was passing by on my way out. I didn’t know you ran detention.” He took the opportunity to glance out across the classroom. Nobody else seemed to care about what was happening up front. He met your eye for just a second too long, inscruitable, before turning right back to her. You did your best to act normal, knowing full well he was merely there to taunt you.

“Not usually- I’m filling in for another teacher. If you’re just here to chat Komaeda-kun, why don’t you come see me before class tomorrow-”

“Well, actually, I went to your classroom to see if you could help me out with some work I got today, but you weren’t there. I seem to have lucked in and caught you here! Would it be alright if we go over it for just a few minutes?” His smile was angelic, wholly innocent. You almost couldn’t believe that the sadistic man who’d once made you grovel and kiss his shoes just for kicks. Not that you hadn’t enjoyed that. You wondered what that smile would have looked like from that lowly angle-

“Of course! That’s no problem at all.” Yukizome said, making the pit of nerves in your stomach knot further. You didn’t know what Nagito had planned, but he always had something planned. You knew trying to sleep was a waste. You huffed a defeated sigh and pulled out one of your textbooks to begin working, doing your best to tune out the voice you could pick out of a crowd talking about algebra like he would anywhere else.

As you’d finally become a bit successful in your offer, your panties began to buzz.

At first, you were more alarmed than aroused. It was a strange sensation, and you almost couldn’t stop yourself from looking around to see if anyone had noticed, but you were rows away in every direction from the nearest person, and they were sleeping. You drummed your fingers on the desk. 

‘Okay. Okay. If I just… just shift this way, I can’t feel it as much-’ Right as you adjusted yourself, trying to move it away from your clit, but you jumped as the vibration increased and it backfired. You let out a small squeak, causing Yukizome’s eyes to drift over to you for just a second. Next to hers, a pair of cold, green, grey eyes lingered on you. You couldn’t tell if you imagined his smile being more predatory than before. 

‘This is fine, this is fine, I can just- I can just-’ But no matter how you moved, it was simply too much. Your insides twisted with the fear of your peers noticing, yes, but knowing that Nagito was here to watch you front and center was nerve-wracking. ‘That fucking sicko! He planned this all! He fucking knew! I’m gonna gut that twink like a god damn fish hnngahh-’ All of your thoughts short circuited as Nagito began a different pattern. You looked up, you had to know how he was doing this. In his hand was a small, pink remote. In the other, he pointed at something at the page and asked Yukizome a question.

And the truth was, you wanted him to watch you keep your composure. You hoped it would spite him. You grit your teeth together and tried even harder to focus on your work. You could tell by the way he simply kept clicking the speed up and up. You eventually had to bite down on your book, giving up on the pretense of work and now simply trying not to let your eyes roll up and into the back of your head.

The feeling was building and building, and truly nobody but you and Nagito seemed any the wiser. You were at the back of the room, and you’d kept pretty quiet so far. You began to consider letting yourself cum from this, and it only became more and more appealing of an idea as he toyed with you.

It seemed like he could tell exactly when you wanted to let your dignity falter and considered letting him win. He raised and lowered the speeds accordingly, keeping you on the brink, frustrating as always. But part of you didn’t even mind. You knew you could keep up the silence like this for the rest of the period, as exhausting as it would be. What you didn’t know was if you could when you came.

Still, every time you approached the brink, you got closer and closer to teetering off the edge, and soon you were barely even considering the consequences. Per usual, Nagito took cat and mouse to a whole new level. He batted you around until you were limp, helpless in his hands, though he always found the fight you put up entertaining. You could almost hear the annoying monologue he would surely give you if he ever heard you thinking like that.

‘And just like in the metaphor, the cat is simply stronger than the mouse. Everyone knows it will win in the end. And frankly, it’s almost sad it would struggle in the first place-’

“(L/N)-san? Um, are you feeling alright, dear?” Yukizome-sensei was looking right at you. You realized you’d been practically panting, red-faced and almost sweating. You couldn’t even imagine the picture you must have made. You couldn’t even look at Nagito.

“Ye- Yeah, I’m-” You croaked, your mouth dry.

“You look feverish. Come here, let me feel your forehead.” She waved you up. You felt your eyes widen in fear before you could cover it. Nagito did absolutely nothing about the vibrations. You shook your way to your feet and miraculously began to walk towards her. “Oh dear, does your stomach hurt?” Yukizome was clearly fretting now. She looked down at your hands, which were clutched over your stomach. It was completely subconscious, but hey, whatever you could work.

“Yeah.” You nodded quickly. You leaned over her desk to let her feel your forehead. Nagito’s eyes were boring into you, as palpable as Yukizome’s cool hand, but you completely ignored her.

“You’re really warm.” She confirmed. The laugh that escaped Nagito made you want to melt into a puddle, and your lower half seemed to have caught the memo. “Why don’t you go to the nurse’s office?”

“What?” Nagito scoffed at once. He gave you a quick once over. “She’s clearly just another Reserve Course making a pathetic attempt to fake her way out of detention.”

“Komaeda-kun!” Yukizome scolded. “Your Reserve Course peers are just as much a part of the school as you are.”

“Just as much a part of the school’s budget, perhaps.” He muttered quietly.

“Alright then, why don’t you escort her to the Nurse’s Office and make sure she makes it there?” Nagito opened his mouth. In that brief instance, your eyes met. A silent conversation was had. Your stomach twisted and turned into knots just looking at him, but maybe that was the toy too.

“Yes, Yukizome-sensei. Thank you for all your help.” He finally relented. He began to pack his work up slowly, and with a dramatic sigh. “Come on then.” He nodded towards the door. You stumbled out after him.

He said nothing as you walked into the hallway. You felt both more and less worried about being too obvious here next to him. He didn’t adjust the speed. However, he was walking slowly as you neared the end of the hallway, letting you catch up.

As soon as you turned the corner, however, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you away. You stifled a groan as he practically hauled you into the nearest empty classroom. He locked the door behind him.

“Woah, Ultimate classrooms lock?” You couldn’t help but look around in awe. He laughed, like he always did. It’d slipped out before you thought about it.

“This is a lab. Of course it locks.” He rolled his eyes. “God, you worms really don’t know anything about what it’s like not to crawl.” Even if you’d known nothing about him, the way he licked his lips with that glint in his eyes would have given away his perverted enjoyment. He wasted no more time, taking quick, sure strides to you and pressing you into the desk behind you so hard your back bent as you tilt yourself to meet his lips. The moans you’d been holding back came out in an embarrassing, guttural noise.You wrapped your legs around his waist, sliding back and sitting on the table.

His hands roamed over your body, groping you forcefully. His tongue found its way into your mouth with no hesitance. You couldn’t help but give into him. It seemed as though he was so sure that you were simply his, and he always had been.

“Turn around.” He ordered, like he wasn’t already moving your hips into the position that suited him best. You let him flip you over and push you onto the desk, hissing in pain. His hands quickly found their way under your skirt and under your panties. Things always moved quickly between the two of you, and today seemed to be the most rushed of all. Nagito finally, finally turned the vibrator off, pulling it from your panties with a wet noise. 

“Look at this-” He laughed, breathless as he held it up between his fingers right in front of your face. It shone in the sunset pouring through the windows. It would have been oddly beautiful if it weren’t just a luridly pink way for Nagito to fuck with you. You turned your head away, blatantly and needlessly disobeying him. He seemed less than impressed. He took your cheeks with the hand not holding the toy and angled your face towards him. It was a strain on your neck, but he just smiled at you. You hated that you had long since been able to determine what most of Nagito’s smiles meant. “If you don’t want this, then I suppose I could take it and leave.” 

“...then I guess you can stay.” Your words didn’t come out with nearly as much force as you wanted them to. His expression didn’t change. He simply made a soft noise of agreement, put the toy down on the desk carelessly on the desk, and plunged two fingers within you all at once. You practically shrieked, clutching onto the edges of the table with your nails.

“Ahaha… you’re dripping. I can feel it all the way down your thighs.” He purred. “I honestly didn’t even expect you to keep it in for a class, much less through the entire day.” He began to fuck his fingers in and out of you at a lazy, uncaring pace. You could barely focus on what he said. You’d covered up all day, and you simply didn’t have the energy to anymore. You could feel just how deep you needed him at the moment, and it had long since gotten uncomfortable. You shamelessly rocked your hips against his long fingers, hoping you could do it yourself if he wouldn’t. “Look at you! You’re even more desperate than usual. I’m sure you could have thrown yourself at any of those boys in your class.” He sneered, his pace quickening, as if it was your fault his imagination had angered him. Regardless, it was a welcome side effect. “I’ve seen the way they leer at women- at you- and you were so wet I think I could smell it-” 

“Shut up.” You whined, pressing your hips even more insistently against him. “God, you say such embarrassing shit!” You hissed, and if you weren’t already flushed, you likely would have gone red from just the way Nagito had phrased it.

“Shut up?” He repeated, tone even. His fingers completely stilled, just an inch of their tips still inside of you. You squeezed around them, bemoaning the loss. “Alright then, speak.” He grabbed ahold of your hair and pulled you up by the painful grip so his mouth was right by your ear. “I know you’re not above fucking in bathrooms and classrooms and even outside- so why not take one of them?”

You knew what he wanted. That was the only thing that made this violate, almost hateful thing between the two of you work. You always knew what he wanted, and he knew the same for you. You’d gravitated towards each other like the first look was a shared, whispered confession.

“I’m not interested in any of them.” You denied it to him. His grip on your hair tightened. The noise from your throat was frustrated, pained, and deeply aroused.

“Ah, no one from the class of rejects was interesting enough for you? Shocking.” His laughter was cold and mocking, the outburst of sound almost loud enough to be painful right by your ear. “But you don’t exactly show a propensity for interesting conversation, yourself.” He taunted. His hand slipped out of you, but around immediately to roughly grope one of your breasts. After only a moment, he slid it under your shirt and pulled down your bra. His fingers circled your nipples gently at first, which still threatened to cause your knees to give out on your over-stimulated body, but that only lasted a moment, too. He pinched and tugged, making you gasp and press your chest further into his hand. In that moment, he sank his teeth into the new bit of neck you’d just exposed as if he knew exactly how you’d react.

“You’ll leave marks-”

“What does it matter?” He cooed. “No one you’re interested in, right?” He licked the whole way up your neck and ear with the flat of his tongue, a warm, slimy feeling accompanying the filthy action. Despite that, you couldn’t help but want to get even closer to him, to feel that tongue over any inch of your body you could get it-

“Komaeda,” You grabbed at any piece of clothing you could reach behind you. “Komaeda.” You pleaded.

“Hmm?”

“I- I-” You knew exactly what he wanted to hear. You knew what he wanted. Always. “I don’t want them, I don’t want any Reserve Course guy-”

“Of course you don’t, who would?”

“No, no, I- I don’t want any Ultimate either.” The two of you had begun grinding against each other. You could feel his hard-on through all of your clothes. He was panting and moaning softly in your ear as you spoke. “Fuck, I- I want you, nobody else can- god, I want the way you fucking wreck me-”

There was a split second of unfastening and tugging and then-

“FUCK!” You shouted, making Nagito immediately clap a hand around your mouth at the reaction to his first brutal, perfect thrust. But even if he had had the capacity to scold you, you certainly didn’t have it to listen. Instead, you moaned unabashedly, though muffled by him, and spread your legs even wider. You wrapped your foot around the back of one of his calves and he set a pace that began to rock the desk with each thrust. You could do nothing but hold on as he gave as much as he got.

“Yes, yes, yes, my perfect, reprehensible pet,” Nagito babbled to his captive audience. His blazer had long since begun to slip off of his shoulders, and now he let it fall onto the floor. The sound of his hips hitting yours is almost louder than his voice. “You’re mine, you’re mine-” Even as you were connected intimately, he grabbed and squeezed whatever his wandering hands fell upon. “Mine to use, mine to make beg- they’re going to see your marks and know you belong to someone and not know who- like,” His crazed giggling broke his words apart. “Like some sort of stray with a collar!” He was laughing at you once more, but it felt only like another one of the overwhelming sensations about to make you cum. He grabbed your leg and put it on the desk as well, only going deeper within you. On the most lovely side of painful, he took you apart. Your mind blanked save for the feeling of his hands, his breath, his warmth against you-

With you tensing around him, he followed shortly after, his own moan unfettered by anything. The first thing you took note of was when you snapped out of your daze was the feeling of his cum inside of you. You were still too far gone to do much but moan, however, and slump onto the desk completely. Neither of you said anything when Nagito did the same, pressed up against and inside of you.

Deep cutting insults, praise that had been twisted and perverted, even the necessary intimacy for sex were easy for the two of you. The conversation that followed never was. More often than not, you gave up on it, letting the ringing in your ears speak for itself as you fixed yourselves to go back out to the world.

“Hey, um, where should…” You trailed off, holding up the toy. Nagito took it and stowed it away in his pocket. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Silence lingered on, and so did the two of you. You’d never admit it, but you always put on your clothes slower than usual when it was time for you to leave Nagito. To say you enjoyed his company was still a bit of a stretch, but right after you parted, the space around you always seemed so much more… empty. For a split second, your mind conjured an image of walking out holding hands, of going to grab dinner together-

“See you.” You said instead, shrugging your backpack over your shoulder, composed as you could while dismissing the man whose cum was still inside of you. He barely acknowledged you, a small nod and a twitch of the hand. You slipped out from the classroom, refusing to look back as you hurried your way down the dark, empty hallway.

Flufftober 2022 - Day 18 - Soulmate AU

[Also a modern AU, in this case!]

James Norrington/Theodora

It’s very long (literally like 4.5k words), I had a looot of fun writing it because I’ve always wanted to write a “what if they met in modern times” thing, I hope you enjoy! 

Theodora Byrne readied herself for that night's family get-together with a decent amount of cheer. They called it a family get together, but the word family wasn't quite literal - it was all her dad's war buddies, their kids, their families, so on. Found family get-together didn't have the same ring to it, though. Usually she never really put too much of an effort in for these things. Anybody showing up in their Sunday best would only get teased all night for it, so she often just settled for a band tee, a pair of jeans in a reasonable state, and a coat of red lipstick to pretend she'd put the effort in. Tonight, however, there was also not one but two birthdays to celebrate - so rather than the venue being somebody's front room-slash-garden, they'd rented out a hall, gotten a DJ, and made the effort, so she had to do the same, too.

In this case, making an effort looked like a silky emerald green wrap dress, sparkly gold heels, carefully curled hair, and a coat of red lipstick. As she applied the lipstick, the soul mark on the inside of her wrist went unnoticed where it barely poked out of her sleeve - save for when she secured a delicate gold bracelet over the top to obscure the three grey words written there. No, thank you. They were pretty shit words to have. Especially as somebody who had done a stint working in retail.

She'd heard right horror stories, too, of wrong'uns who specifically sought out folk with such vague marks, trying to trick them into thinking they were their match for an easy lay. As it was, she'd never fallen afoul of such people, she always kept hers covered, and her heart had stopped skipping a beat whenever she heard those words a good few years ago - easily by the time she'd turned twenty-one, at least.

"We've a new lad joining us tonight," her dad knocked a couple of times at her door before he poked his head into the room "Keep an eye out for him, will you? Fresh out - honourable discharge on a minor medical issue."

"Is he struggling?" She tilted her head.

It wasn't unusual for her dad to bring in some stray or another who was fighting a nasty dose of the horrors. If that was the case here, though, Theo wasn't sure she saw the wisdom in throwing him into the deep end like this.

"Not like that," he shook his head "He's just new, and he's very English - not that we're holding that against him - so he might need to be eased into it a bit. He's a bit serious, but he's a good lad."

"His name?"

"James. He's tall, you'll spot him easy.

"All right," she shrugged slightly "I'll keep an eye out."

The matter slipped from Theo's mind after that, right up until she arrived and she finally set eyes on the new "lad", who was less a lad and more a man. By her definition, at least. She could see how it was a fine descriptor for her dad, but he was definitely a handful of years older than her by her own reckoning. Then again, being a soldier had a way of ageing people prematurely so maybe she was wrong.

He was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome. It wasn't a word Theo often used - thinking it always sounded awkward and over-the-top from her own mouth, but it was the only one that fit the bill here, with classical features like his. His dark hair was brushed back away from his face, a shade longer than she'd expect from someone who held themselves so primly and properly - he didn't quite look like a Beatle, but the length brushes just past his ears, curling slightly at the ends.

Theo wagered there'd be a few broken-hearted women here tonight. Endearingly, though, he was also visibly…uncertain? He was friendly enough when folk spoke to him, smiling and shaking their hands and chatting, but there was a sort of tentativeness to his posture, and he never seemed to initiate those interactions. For that, she could hardly blame him - they probably looked like a right feral lot, and he was in the unfortunate position of only knowing one or two people here. He'd likely take a bit to find his bearings.

Was it weird that it made him oddly more attractive to her, though? It was a road she wasn't going to venture down. She wasn't immune to flings, but there was something depressing about getting to her mid-twenties without having met the fated one yet. Most folk by now either already had, or were just about to. There wasn't much point in getting involved in something to pass the time, only for them to find their soulmate a week, or a month later. In her opinion, at least.

She'd been there for about half an hour when she finally waded through greetings enough to reach the drink table. Taking up a bottle at random, she began to pour herself some into a clear plastic cup when she glanced up and found the newbie a little ways away to her side, considering the drinks himself. He must've felt her gaze, for he looked up and then blinked, hesitating. Offering a smile, Theo held up the bottle in question.

He glanced at it for a moment before shaking his head "No, thank you."

"Fair enough, it's an acquired taste - and it has to be acquired by force."

When her silly little joke garnered no response, she glanced up - mostly to see if he hadn't heard her, or if he was just really determined to not even pretend to be friendly - and found him staring at her wide-eyed.

"I was only kidding," she said unsurely "So long as ye steer clear of Tom, you'll manage to get out of here having safely avoided this stuff."

"I…yes. Thank you - I appreciate the offer. And the warning."

"Any time," she smiled "We've all run afoul of Tom at least once before - tends to make people go one of two ways. Either they take pity on the newcomers and charitably warn them of the danger that waits."

"Or they want others to suffer as they have and help him in his villainous endeavours?" He asked drily.

Theo laughed "Exactly. You're lucky I'm a kind and benevolent soul."

He smiled slightly - and more softly than his general demeanour so far would have suggested. Could it be that the sternness was just a front?

"I suppose I am."

It was then that they were interrupted by one of her uncles, already red faced as he approached to Theo's left, clinking through a selection of bottles as he tried to make sense of the labels so he could decide what he'd have next.

"There she is!" he greeted Theo with a grin "Risky Business herself! Are you going to be performing later, then?"

Great. That was all she needed. One of her top five embarrassing moments paraded about in front of the handsome newbie. But showing embarrassment was a kiss of death amongst this lot, so she grinned and shrugged.

"Only if yous all ask very nicely."

"We'll beg if you need us to, girl - it's tradition!" he found the bottle he'd been looking for, held it up to her and then to the new man in a sort of salute, and returned to the dance floor.

"Am I to take it your name is Risky Business? Common in these parts, is it?" he asked.

"Oh, aye, as common as Rebbeca around here," she teased "No, it's…ugh. You might as well know so they don't tell you first - on my eighteenth I made a judgement call, got absolutely hammered on all the drinks everybody was buying me, and apparently saw fit to do a rendition of the Risky Business dance when they started playing that song - you know the one, Old Time Rock and Roll? I don't remember it, but it turns out that it was so good that it demands a repeat at each and every one of these things."

"And you give in to those demands?"

"Oh, if they smell blood they'd just be even worse about it, so I might as well pretend it's not mortifying and give the people what they want. I'm benevolent like that, like we've already established."

"We have not yet established your name, though."

"Ah. Right. Theodora," she smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake.

"You're Tony's- that is, er, Mr Byrne's daughter?" he nodded slowly, accepting her hand and shaking it firmly.

"If any of this lot hear you calling him that, you'll have your own problems to live down," she teased.

It took another moment of her waiting before he seemed to realise he had not yet told her his name, flushing slightly as he smoothed a hand over his dark hair.

"I'm James - Norrington."

"The Englishman," she nodded sagely "Dad said you'd be coming. He speaks highly of you, you know."

"He speaks more highly of you."

"That's nepotism for you."

He smiled - and his resting face was so serious that the chuckle he gave was all the warmer in contrast.

"He wouldn't have brought you here if he didn't think you'd get on with everybody," she confided, and hoped her wasn't patronising him - nor overstepping "Just don't do any dances you're not willing to repeat ad nauseum for the better part of a decade. We're all a lot to get used to, but once you do you'll be just fine."

"Yes, I'm sure I will," he said "Thank you, Theodora."

There was something about the way he said her name - like he was testing out the weight of it. She wasn't unused to people being unsure about it, it wasn't very common, but with him it was different. For a second she almost opened her mouth to tell him just to call her Theo, but she stopped. She quite liked how the full thing sounded when he said it.

~~~~

Theo saw James on and off throughout the rest of the night - chatting to other former soldiers, getting to know those of her dad's pals that he didn't already know, and slowly but surely she noticed the tension easing from his shoulders and the smoothing of his brow. He even undid the top button of his shirt, although he kept his sleeves firmly rolled down and buttoned up. Sure, he didn't end up on the dance floor, but she got the impression that he would not do so unless dragged, and that was fair.

What she noticed most of all, though, was how many times she'd glance his way to find him already watching her. And how, while that sort of thing would usually creep her out from anybody else, she found that from him it made her blush.

It was later in the night, once she'd had enough drinks to make her feel exceedingly comfortable in her own skin (but not so much that she was a complete mess) that she sat down at a small abandoned table, sweaty, a little bit dishevelled, and in a lot of pain. Easing one of her heels off with a wince, she took stock of where it had cut into the back of her heel and grimaced.

"That looks painful."

His accent gave him away - his voice too, for that matter, since it was pretty distinctive - as he took the other seat at the table.

"It'll be even worse when I put 'em back on," she said sourly.

"It seems there are some things even nepotism cannot save you from."

"I'm sorry?" She blinked her confusion, tilting her head at him.

"Oh, er," he flushed "A joke - a poor one, I'm sorry, just that-"

"Oh - right, because earlier…no, I'm sorry - I'm slow on the uptake, that was my bad," she waved a hand.

"It was a very bad joke," he reiterated, brushing off her apologies "Here."

Holding out a hand, he offered her a fresh bottle of water - one that he must've gone to the bar to get, rather than the free-for-all table, judging by the condensation dripping off of it.

"For me?" Her eyebrows raised.

"You look as though you need it."

Any suaveness of the gesture was ruined when the lads at the next table over, either too drunk or simply too uncaring to keep their voices down, muttered to each other.

"Looks like our man over there's shootin' his shot with Theo."

"Very smart or very brave."

"It's very stupid or very brave, fool."

Theo was about to tell him not to pay them only mind, but when she looked to him she found him smirking.

"An ironic part to fumble, is it not?"

Breathing a laugh, she accepted the bottle "Thank you."

Cracking it open, she took a few sips and then capped it again, pressing it to her heel and hissing through her teeth as the cold plastic made contact. She refused to read too much into the gesture - outside comments aside.

Maybe he was flirting. Or maybe he was just being friendly. Or it could even be that he was trying to kiss her dad's backside by being nice to her. She sincerely doubted that last possibility, but she wasn't naive enough to rule it out. In any case, she didn't know, and it was a nice gesture - she wasn't about to spit in the face of it.

"Are you settling in okay, then?" She asked.

"I am," he nodded "Everybody here has been very kind."

"Good," she nodded "I'm glad. Tell me if that changes."

He snorted "Are you planning on fighting my battles for me? I'm not sure I need it."

"Oh I doubt you do - but it'd be funny. And half of 'em here wouldn't feel right about hitting me back, so it's a bit of a loophole, y'know?"

"Risky Business and the Englishman," he said drily "It sounds like a terrible police comedy-drama."

Theo laughed, raking her hair back from her face and smiling at him.

"Don't invoke that name - I've gotten away with not doing it so far, you're going to jinx it."

"My apologies," he said mock-solemnly, and then he tugged at the cuff of his sleeve "I…"

No sooner had he began to speak than a halting piano riff began to blare out over the speakers and Theo groaned aloud, watching as every head in the hall began turning, trying to spot her.

"See what you did?" She scolded, putting down the water bottle.

For a moment, she vaguely considered running. But then she sighed, put her big girl pants on, and took up one of the clean cloth napkins from the table.

"Here, will you give me a hand?" she asked.

He blinked his surprise and she didn't blame him, but when she pulled her hair forward to one side of her neck and began to tuck half of the napkin beneath the back of her dress, he eventually caught on and began to help her - although sparingly, like she'd tell him off if his fingers brushed her neck too much. And maybe she would - but only because of the way it gave rise to goosebumps going all the way down her spine. She hoped he didn't notice.

By the time the napkin was tucked down the back of her dress, half of it peeking up and out like some sort of bizarre backwards bib, he was staring at her like she'd gone mad. It was a pretty fair assessment.

"It's part of the bit, you'll see - but you have to promise you won't hold what you're about to see against me," she said.

She didn't pause to wait and see if he would agree to her terms - mostly because she knew if she did, she'd bottle it at the last second and not rise to the challenge. Sighing heavily, she stood and began to march towards the dance floor to raucous drunken cheers, leaving her shoes behind so she didn't snap an ankle.

~~~~

James watched, bemused and intrigued both as his unwitting soulmate strode barefoot out onto the dance floor as though this was something she very much wanted to do. The only thing that gave away her true reluctance being the bashful smile tugging at her lips as the piano intro to Bob Seger's Old Time Rock & Roll rang out so loudly that it shook the hall.

The piano riff repeated, and she struck a pose, and then tugged up the napkin to stand on end, like she was popping up a collar. It worked, for the onlookers lost it, cheering and falling into bursts of laughter. James smiled - he couldn't help it. Ordinarily he'd find displays like these juvenile. Attention seeking, perhaps. And maybe if he did not bear Theodora's first words to him on his arm, he would think so now, too. But perhaps not. She was charming, and it wasn't as though she was demanding that everybody gather around to witness her put on a show. It was a bit of good-natured ribbing, endured with a level of humour he couldn't help but smile at.

It made sense, he supposed. Were he fated to end up with one so serious as he was often accused of being, it would make for a dreary life indeed. But Theodora? Oh, Theodora was anything but dreary.

The song picked up in earnest next - all rough vocals and upbeat guitar - and she began dancing in earnest. She was a good dancer, too, swinging her hips and moving in time to the music with just enough exaggerated cheesiness to prove she wasn't taking herself too seriously. There was a level of comfort in her own skin that entranced him - like it didn't occur to her to be uncertain of her own body just as it wouldn't occur to a cat, or some other sort of feline.

By the time the second verse began, others began joining in. Content to take that as a sign that they were laughing with her and not at her (although there hadn't been much doubt on that score), and worried that if he kept watching his gaze would become less, ahem, respectful, James excused himself from the function hall and made his way outside into the night. When she learned the truth, she likely would not thank him for having witnessed her performance.

He would have to tell her soon. Tonight would be best. He already would have done, had they not been interrupted. It wasn't ideal - he was nervous, although he'd never let something so minor as nerves prevent him from doing anything - and he'd much rather have this conversation with her when she had not been drinking. But she was tipsy at most, from what he could gather, and if he put it off much longer he may be construed as hiding it from her…and he did not know when he would see her next. It almost alarmed him how distasteful he already found that last part.

There were a few smokers out here, clutching their arms about themselves to ward off the chill that bit all the more thanks to the humidity inside. They offered him nods or waves but did not approach.

What would he even say to her? How would he say it? Inside, he'd been intending simply to show her his arm, but would that be too forward? Should he leave it for another night? Drop by uninvited a few nights from now? Catch her as she was leaving tonight and ask her to get coffee with him tomorrow? No, it all seemed much too complicated.

He would go back inside, and ask for a moment of her time when she was done dancing. The song had already wound to a close, replaced by some eighties rock hit, she would not be missed if she slipped away. She would have to come back to the table for her shoes, and perhaps for her water. He would lead her outside, and he would show her. They would take things from there.

As if the mark on his arm was not sign enough, the fact that the moment his mind was made up, the old wooden double doors swung open and Theodora (now once again clad in her shoes) stepped out into the cool night air absolutely would have cemented his decision. The bottle of water he'd gotten her dangled from one hand, and her makeshift napkin collar was nowhere in sight.

Spotting him, she smiled bashfully and approached, walking stiffly - not doubt thanks to the return of the heels.

"It's too warm in there - needed a bit of air. Did you have the same idea? Or did my performance send you running for cover?"

"Not quite," he said, shifting uncomfortably and then sighing "But I think we had better discuss this."

Theodora stood in the amber light of the lamp affixed to the wall, watching in confusion, then dawning realisation, and finally shock as he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled it up, revealing the words wrapping around his wrist.

Her eyes remained wide as she stared at them, and then finally she gently curled her fingers around his forearm, angling his wrist towards the meagre lighting as though doing so would change what was written there.

Fair enough - it's an acquired taste, and it has to be acquired by force.

She let go.

"Oh god," she said, a hand rising to her hair of its own volition as she stepped away, like that would solve things "Oh fuck."

James' head bowed "I know I may not be quite-"

"No, no, it's not that, you're lovely, you're golden, and you're criminally handsome by the way, I'm actually pretty relieved I don't have to pretend I hadn't noticed so now, but it's…oh Christ, I did my Risky Business routine in front of you," she groaned, covering her face with a hand "Jesus, this is a new low. A brand new low. This is rock bottom's basement, you know?"

"You did not spend much of the night standing on the sidelines like a Victorian footman, failing to interact with anybody unless they spoke with you first, and barely able to formulate a response if they spoke too quickly before your ears could become accustomed to their accents."

"I put a napkin down the back of my dress, James," she bemoaned.

"It was an integral part of your routine, if memory serves," he smiled - not because he was teasing her, but because she said his name.

The next groan that left her was half sobbed out, and James took pity on her.

"You were lovely. You…you are lovely."

Slowly, like he was approaching a skittish stray cat, he closed the gap between them, reaching up to pull her hand away from her face. She allowed it easily, her eyes burning into his face as he drew back the sleeve of her dress, and then pulled away the delicate gold chain bracelet. There were the words. As if he'd needed the confirmation. No, thank you.

He knew what it would say, but it still offered a concrete explanation as to why she hadn't known as he had. He could only thank the powers that be that the one on his arm was much more specific, leaving no room at all for doubt.

"A tad less unique than mine," he deadpanned.

"Sorry," she breathed a laugh - not sounding too sorry, either.

"Don't be," he shook his head.

What came next? He'd heard stories of those who had met their intended and immediately fallen into bed with them. He was not so naive as to pretend he did not understand that - although it wasn't what he wanted. Well, it was what he wanted, but not like that. Not like this. Certainly not when she was not sober. He wanted to get to know her, he wanted to make up for all of the time they'd lost, he wanted to…

Following an impulse, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the words on her wrist - and bit back a smirk at the quiet intake of breath it drew from her. He couldn't be too smug for long, though, for the water bottle smacked off of the ground as she dropped it in favour of winding her arms about his neck. James dipped his head on instinct, meeting her halfway and kissing her back the moment her lips slotted against his, arms wrapping around her waist to steady her and pull her against him.

One hand slid up the smooth, silky fabric of her dress - feeling the curve of her spine, the slight jut of her shoulder blades - but before he could press his tongue between her lips, the door to the hall began to creak open and they sprang apart, suddenly aware that they very much were not in private.

Lifting a hand, he wiped the lipstick from about his mouth, and she smiled softly at him - looking up at him with a sort of admiration that threatened to steal the air from his lungs. As she tucked his hair behind his ear, he spoke.

"I'm not sure how we're supposed to go about this," he admitted, watching her keenly - he couldn't help it.

Mirroring her action, he twirled a strand of her hair around one of his fingers - it was like fire in the orange glow of the lamp.

"Me either," she admitted.

"Coffee. We could get coffee."

"When?"

"As soon as possible. Tomorrow?"

"Why not now?"

He smiled, thrilled to see his own eagerness reflected back at him "I'm not sure there's anywhere still open."

"There's a twenty-four hour McDonald's ten minutes away. It's hardly fine dining, but it'll give us a bit of time to ourselves."

James' smile widened "I'll get my coat."

He couldn't help but kiss her again before he did.

Not My Type (Like You) ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: you should like do a one shot or even another mini series about amortentia/love potions in general. i’d soooo read that

AU SEVENTH YEAR WHERE VOLDY NEVER CAME BACK <3 f**k that mf !

italics are for flashbacks <3 i love them if you couldn’t tell 

Warnings: mean!draco, cursing, more mature themes/ideas, little bit of spice towards the end teehee but not too much bc idk how to write smut to save my life

Words: 4.5K

A/N: I saw a tiktok that kinda inspired this and i couldn’t get the idea out of my heaaaad if anyone knows which one im talking ab send it my way so i can show !!!! ALSO I LOVE THIS ONESHOT I LOVE DRACO AND I AM IN MY FEELINGS this might be my new favoriteeeee

Draco Malfoy was insufferable.

The Prince of Slytherin was unbearable for many reasons, things you've been taking notice of since your first year at Hogwarts when you accidentally had the ”pleasure” of interacting with him when he called you stupid in a class for reciting a spell incorrectly. That day, a hostility blossomed. A hostility that ensued nothing but teasing, mocking, and criticizing that would sometimes go too far and you'd both have to be pulled away from each other by your friends�� before either of you said anything excessively harsh that had no return.

You often felt like Malfoy sought you out to bother you and only for that. You could be sitting in the Quad with friends, conversing and laughing like nothing in the world mattered, and a few minutes later you'd be hurling insults towards the blond across the courtyard after he would yell something infuriating to you with that smug smirk on his face and his goons laughing wildly beside him as if he just said the most hilarious thing they've ever heard. 

On the days you’d ignore him, not having the patience or the energy to deal with him, he would still somehow find a way to push your buttons. Little things here and there like passing you in the corridors and tugging at the ends of your hair gingerly like a child but enough to tick you off or sending you notes from across the class in the form a small fluttering bird with a lousy drawing of you usually with a message along the lines of, “Y/L/N, hopefully, this note finds itself in the nest of hair you have today xx DM.”

In all honesty, there wasn’t a day you didn’t encounter Draco and it’s been that way for seven long years. Neither of you ever gotten tired of mildly or spitefully bullying each other and neither of you ever dreamed of stopping. He was one of the few constants in your daily life, and you in his. It was like you both lived on annoying the other, and in the midst of all the chaos that you brought to one another; there was a small, teeny, tiny acquaintance - not that either of you would ever admit it. You may have noticed it the time you bet each other ten galleons for who would win in the Triwizard Tournament your fourth year and he bet on Viktor Krum while you on Cedric Diggory. (he’s very much alive i refuse to think otherwise.)

“So you’re telling me, your mother is the reason why you’re not at Durmstrang,” you scoffed. “This whole time I could have been saved four years of headaches.”

“You’re just jealous some of us have more opportunities than others,” he snarks back pompously. “Unlike you, I hardly believe you would be graceful enough to even be considered admission into Beauxbatons.”

You had gone to see the last task of the competition just like the rest of the schools, all packed tightly onto the stands and watching carefully the exit of the maze. Naturally, you had arrived with your own friend groups, but somewhere during the time of sitting there and even being a few rows behind the blond and his minions, the two of you had met in the middle bench after he was trying to prove something wrong to you. 

When Cedric appeared back in front of the stands with the glowing Triwizard cup held high over his head in victory and every Hogwarts student loudly celebrating, you had jumped up from your seat and shook wildly an irked Draco beside you. He roughly shrugged your hands off his stiff shoulder, looking up at you with a sneer that you met with a bright beaming smile.

“Pay up, Malfoy!” You held out your hand towards him, opening and closing your fingers to receive the bet money. “I believe it was ten galleons you owe me.”

He begrudgingly reached into his coat pocket and fished out the coins, counting them defeatedly before tossing them into your palm. “What a waste of galleons.”

“Hey, you made the bet,” you reminded him with a still very bright smile. You shoved the money into your pockets, keeping one of the gold coins in between your fingers, and gave him a small hair ruffle that he harshly recoiled from before you turned to jump back up towards the level of stands your friends were originally sitting at.

“Were you really sitting with Malfoy this whole time?” One of your friends questioned when you reached them, a goading smirk on his face.

“Ooooh, she definitely was,” another friend piped up, wiggling her eyebrows. “They’re obsessed with each other.”

“Shut up,” you smack her arm casually, showing the pair the one gold galleon you were holding. “We are not. I was only sitting with him to get my bet money.”

“Sure,” they drawled in unison, sniggering when you threw your head back in annoyance.

You looked down the rows to see the mop of white hair you just sent into disarray. He was slowly descending the stairs of the stands with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him. Almost as if he felt your eyes on his back, he turned back to look at you, his cold gray eyes gazing into yours. It was like everything around you went quiet, the only thing in your focus was him and all you could do was stare back. It wasn’t until your friends started stifling laughter and whispering “aww’s” that you snapped out of the short-lived and odd few second trance you were in. He waited for you to do something before he turned back around, and you did - by holding up both hands; the one golden galleon on your left and your middle finger on your right, grinning to yourself when he rolled his eyes throwing you the finger right back before he finally disappeared into the mob of people below.

You were briskly walking down the corridors, books held tightly to your chest with your friend at your side while you made your way to Advanced Potions with Slughorn after Snape finally made his way into the DADA position. It was an easy class, potions being something you had a knack for and it gave you enough leisure to mess with your “favorite” Slytherin who shared it with you. 

“Look there goes your boyfriend,” your friend teases, elbowing your upper arm roughly and nodding her head down towards the hall to the tall blond appearing around the corner and entering swiftly into the class.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss. “I’m tired of everyone saying that. I hate him and he hates me, end of story.”

“You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite,” she says tauntingly. “Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. Maybe, it’s just years of built-up tension that both of you have been too nervous to do anything about.”

“Tension? Yeah, I want to strangle him,” you laugh to yourself at the thought.

“Not that tension, idiot,” she shakes her head, “I mean sexual tension...clearly.”

You gave her a horrified look mixed between being disgusted and being offended. You held your hand over your mouth and pretended to gag as dramatically as you could. “I am appalled that you would even say that. I would rather be locked in a room with Filch and Peeves and hear them argue and fight all day than to be with Malfoy like that.”

“Come on, think about it,” she encourages, stopping the two of you a little ways away from the classroom. “You guys 'hate' each other?” She finger quotes the hate, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “When you hate someone, you don’t go out of your way to talk to them every day.”

“It’s not like that,” you wave a hand dismissively. “Also, this isn’t a cliche, this is real life. We hate each other, that is all there is to it.”

You picked up the walk again, your friend to following behind you while letting out a deep and exhausted sigh. You couldn’t help but think about what she said, sure, perhaps at one point you thought Draco was attractive with his bright silver hair, his glittering gray eyes, his little button nose that he would crinkle up every other word he spoke in his charming haughty voice, or the way he’d tower over you in the middle of a conversation gone wrong and he’d be talking lowly to you but all you’d be able to focus on was the sweet scent of apples and cologne that radiated off of him.

“No,” you whispered almost silently to yourself, forcing yourself out of your thoughts and shaking your head from side to side as if it was going to get the image out of your head. He was mean, disrespectful, arrogant, and insulted you daily - even if you both laughed about it or gave props for the perfect jabs.

The first thing your eyes landed on when you walked into the dingy Potions classroom was Draco, his focus trained on the ceiling as if he was deep in thought. Just as his eyes were about to flicker down towards you, and sensing that he was about to, you quickly avoided his gaze and concentrated onto Slughorn who was waiting patiently by his desk with a bubbling cauldron for you and your friend to join the crowd in front of him.

“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Slughorn began excitedly, fixing the sleeves of his robes as he grabbed the ladle in the cauldron and began stirring it while continuing his lecture. 

You were trying to listen, capturing only the professor’s last sentence as he called on someone who raised their hand. All attention was thrown out the window when you realized Draco was standing near said classmate, a look of annoyance suddenly clouding his features when his pale eyes met yours.

“What?” He mouthed. You ignored him, trying to turn your concentration back onto Slughorn but nothing he was saying made sense, and right as you caught a word you did understand, a shuffling and an abrupt arm knocking into yours threw you right back out of the loop.

“Watch it,” you snap hushedly when you notice who it is. “Why are you over here?”

“I can’t say hello to my number one fan?” He whispers back, snickering slightly when you scoffed quietly.

“Fan? Says the one who shoved his way through the crowd to come over here,” you grumble, crossing your arms. 

“I hardly shoved,” he mutters. “I only moved because I couldn’t see Slughorn from where I was standing. Not everything’s about you.”

“Really? Because to me, it seemed like you came over here for my attention.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, a patronizing smile making its way onto his face. The type of typical boy smile where his mouth is half agape with his tongue smoothing over his teeth as he stared off across the room with his fingertips rubbing thoughtfully against his jawline as he thought of what to say. You stood still as he bent down, nearing his mouth towards your ear and whispering hotly, “you wish, darling.”

Slughorn sent everyone to their paired tables, and as everyone began moving and Draco sauntered off away from you, you stood stuck there, shocked with the lingering chills that were sent down your spine from your archnemesis’ comment.

“I told you, you’re into each other,” your friend sang expectantly from behind you, grabbing onto your sleeve and directing the two of you towards your table. 

You were working peacefully at your workspace, cutting up, peeling, and crushing the ingredients that your friend was sliding across the surface to you. In the table behind you was where Draco was working annoyingly quiet, tossing the stripped stems of the roses at you that you had to peel, tiny thorns pricking at your ankles through your socks since the bigger thorns had been taken off for the potion. As payback, you would throw back loose extra pearl dust you ground up, giggling tauntingly when he would frown at you for getting the coarse white powder all over his Italian leather shoes and most definitely inside of them as well.

When you, and seemingly the rest of the class, had finally thrown in all the ingredients and the potion promptly finished brewing, beautiful clouds of white and pink smoke began rising from the cauldrons, each one having a lovely scent of first; freshly pressed high-priced linens, then a faint smell of a brand new racing broom out of a box with a freshly polished wood handle that then quickly transformed into a sweet harvest of apples, green specifically, and finally...

“Ugh, gross,” you pinched your nostrils closed, turning your body around and sending a scowl towards Draco’s way. “Malfoy, we get it, your cologne is expensive, now stop spraying it. I was smelling all these wonderful things and you ruined it.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Are you mad? I didn’t spray anything, I think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Well you laid it on too heavy this morning then, it reeks in here.”

“You’re one to talk, Y/L/N. Did you bathe yourself in that dreadful perfume you wear just now? And that ghastly lip shiner thing you use,” He sneers, crinkling up his nose. “I can’t even think straight, I might vomit.”

“Lip shiner? It’s called lip balm, you prat,” you retort, crossing your arms angrily. “Either way, I haven’t used or sprayed anything either so-”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Your friend suddenly exasperated loudly from beside you making you briskly whirl around to look at her, a look of pure annoyance etched onto her face. “Are you two really that daft? Honestly? Have you been paying attention to anything other than each other? For instance, the potion we just made?”

This gained the attention of your classmates around you in the surrounding tables, turning their heads slightly but not obviously with small knowing smirks on their faces while they snickered quietly and listened. It was soundless as you reached towards the book in front of your friend, pulling it painstakingly slow towards you in fear of the words that were written on the open page.

“Amortentia,” you muttered glumly as you read the page, pushing it away from you dejectedly as everything began to click.

“The reason you’re both smelling each other is because you’re what the other desires and is attracted to. Wow, what a revelation! As if the whole school didn’t already know.”

You were afraid to turn around. You could feel the cold and hard pair of eyes burning holes onto your back and the immediate amount of whispers and giggles of the people around you. Luckily, Slughorn was busy at the other end of the room, working diligently with another pair of students who managed to mess up their potion. 

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco announces finally.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” You questioned, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you turned again and took notice of the way his lips were curling upwards as if it was the most disgusting thing he could have ever heard.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” he deadpans. “Why would I ever desire someone like you?”

There had been occasions over the years when you were in this situation. None as drastic and as revealing, but there would be times when friends and others would poke fun and say the exact same thing your friend told you earlier. The usual, “they got the hots for each other!” and you would always brush it off and joke about how you could never, and he’d do the same. It was always amongst laughs and jokes, but as you looked at the Slytherin in front of you - there wasn’t a hint of amusement on his hardened face.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” you seethed, biting down hard on your lip to refrain from lashing out either in tears or in insults, you couldn’t decide. “If I’m so revolting, leave me alone from now on, I mean it.”

“I never said that,” he argues. “You’re just simply not my type.”

For some eerie, awful reason, the words tore into you like a sharpened knife going easily through butter. You were used to his insults, his mocking, his comments about your appearances - but this hurt, and you couldn’t explain why. You thought, for a second, possibly, that maybe your friend was right. Maybe there was a hidden attraction you had for the platinum blond that you buried deep away and one that he had for you. There was no way that was the case now, not at all. 

And for the first time in your life, you couldn’t be more sure of a simple little fact.

You hated him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

You don’t know how long you spent sitting in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, back against the cold tiled wall with your knees brought up to your chest. Your friends had tried to console you after the public rejection and humiliation, but their words only made you feel worse. You felt silly for being so bothered about being rejected by Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly someone you fancied, to begin with.

After dinner, you went off the grid and found yourself where you’re now sitting. The ghostly girl flew restlessly around you, popping out of her stall now and then to chat but then going back into her abyss of nothing when she learned you were still upset. You noticed it made her a little too pleased, considering the fact it was always her who was miserably wailing about her problems in the bathroom. She tried to hide it and let you talk to her about how you felt, but she gave terrible advice most of the time. 

“Well, if it was me, I would have never started fancying someone who was mean to me,” she mumbled. “Like when Paul Wighorn made fun of my hair for a whole year and laughed when I cried. I hated his guts then and I still do now.”

She had a point, but she was also Myrtle. Nothing about the overly dramatic ghost made sense.

“I don’t fancy him, It’s just weird,” you trail off. “I can’t imagine a day without him, even if he is a complete arse. We always joked about how we hated each other, but I didn’t think he actually meant it, I guess.”

“I think you do fancy him, though,” she whispers knowingly in your ear, making you flinch from her cold draft. “Stop denying it, it’ll only keep making you feel worse. Amortentia doesn’t lie, silly. Maybe when you drink it, but before that, all real feelings are there, whether you know it or not.”

You sat quietly, taking in her words before something came crashing down onto you like a wall of bricks.

“I suppose that means he’ll have to stop denying it too,” she adds thoughtfully. 

“Myrtle,” you rush to get up, smoothing your hair down profusely and fixing the wrinkles in your clothes. “You’re a genius.”

“I am?” She asks excitedly. “What did I say?”

You waved her off, giving her another thank you before rushing out of the bathroom and into the empty corridors. You were trying to go back to your dorm to sleep, hoping that when tomorrow came you would be bold enough to confront the Slytherin Prince but it was thirty minutes past curfew, something you didn’t notice until you were bustling down the steps in a rush and came face to face with the man of the hour himself doing his Prefect patrolling duties.

“Go to your dorm, Y/L/N,” he sneers. “I’ll take away house points, don’t test me,”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That I’ll take away house points? Watch me. Five-”

“No, you twat,” you groan, swatting his arm with your hand. “I don’t believe that I’m not your type.”

He stayed wordless for a moment, biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his jaw as he peered down at you from his lanky height. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t think you were my type until the amortentia made me aware of it,” you answer quietly. “Actually, my friend had a hand in it, but it was mostly the potion.”

Silence, again. Still and deadly. You could hear the large clocks around the school tick and tock, the hundreds of paintings snoring peacefully or chattering quietly. You avoided looking up at the boy in front of you, all of a sudden feeling small under his gaze until you felt cold fingers brush against your cheekbone and then softly through your hair causing you to finally look up into the soft wandering almost blue eyes. 

“I didn’t find out with the amortentia,” he muttered almost reluctantly as if it was the most difficult thing he had to reveal. “I’ve known I’ve liked you for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You curiously wonder aloud.

“I’m not telling,” he smirks. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

Both hands came up to rest on your cheeks, slightly cold but soft and tender. It sent chills throughout your body as he took a step closer to you and then closer, backing you carefully into the diagonally ascending stone wall that went in the direction of the stairs. Your breathing was getting uneven, you noticed the way you accidentally switched to manually forcing yourself to inhale and exhale normally when he leaned down with his face now being mere centimeters from yours. It was torture, having your eyes closed and feeling the way his nose was brushing against yours, minty breath warm against your lips as he ghosted over them with his. He was so close, you smelt everything that was in the damn potion that got you here. It sent flutters of warmth down your body, trickling down and seeping deeply into every bone in your body as if this is was the remedy its been needing. This is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally felt a soft pair of lips being pressed into yours, it felt almost unreal that you were there. It was awkward the first couple of seconds, both of you wondering how in the world had you gotten yourselves in this position, but after you relaxed and he found his Prince of Slytherin confidence - it was magic. His lips moved languidly against yours, affectionately and full of longing. He kept his hands on your cheeks, still timid to move anywhere else while you kept yours resting lightly on his sides. It scared you a little, how fast and how easily you melted into each other, like if this was something you’ve been doing with him for years rather than torment the other for laughs. 

You hated the feeling when he pulled away, a gust of freezing castle air passing through the space between you and cooling your lips and face from his contact. His hands dropped down to his sides and he looked down at you with a small smile, a teeny bit smug, but happy. You wanted to feel the same way, but a question still loomed over your head, overpowering the giddiness you were vividly feeling.

“Why did you lie earlier?” You question softly, directing your gaze to the floor. “In class, I mean.”

He thought about his answer for a second, sighing deeply when he realized he had to uncover more truths about himself to you. You took a mental observation at that, he didn’t like to talk about feelings. “You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I thought I’d beat you to it and reject you before you could reject me.”

“What made you think I’d reject you?” You coaxed. “Other than the fact that I made you a sworn enemy at eleven.”

“Exactly that,” he laughed lightly. “You’re unpredictable, Y/N.”

You smiled to yourself at the realization that he finally used your first name. “So are you, Draco.”

“Not really,” he grins. “Like in just a few moments, for example, I’m going to start snogging you.”

You opened your mouth to encourage him but shut it quickly when he closed the space between the two of you again, this time much closer than he was before. He was flush against you, and when you say you could feel everything; you could feel everything. You were almost begging for him to lean down and kiss you again by the time you felt his hands on you again, running delicately around the exposed skin of your hips when your shirt hiked up an inch on accident. He leaned down again, and with the advantage of his lowered height, you let your hands slide up his arms, biceps, and ultimately the nape of his neck where your fingers continued up into his hair. The breathiest gasp escaped his throat as you tugged at the ends gently, smirking to yourself when he closed his eyes in delight at the touch.

His lips came down onto your fast this time and hastily, pressing himself impossibly closer into you. You could feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hold moving upwards onto your waist as he continued to kiss you fervently. His teeth bit down softly on your bottom lip and you wasted no time in parting them slightly for his tongue to meet yours. You tugged at the platinum strands of hair again, feeling triumphant when a low groaning sound emitted from his throat at the sensation as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.

You knew you were done for when one of his hands slowly slid up your upper body, stopping first at your collarbones with warm fingertips fluttering over the skin, before he moved it upwards completely and he now had his large hand wrapped comfortably around your neck. You gasped in delight into the kiss, a swarm of butterflies going directly to your lower stomach as he squeezed against the artery in your neck meticulously, the coldness from his Malfoy family crest ring only adding fuel to the fire. He tore his mouth away from yours with his hand still clutched firmly around your throat and you were almost sent into orbit with the look he was giving you. A look filled with desire, adoration, and intensity - his pale gray eyes were much darker, almost a dark blue that resembled the starry night sky on a summer night.

Lips reattached themselves roughly and feverishly against your jawline, peppering long and tender kisses all the way towards your ear and then down towards your collarbones where he was beginning to undo the rest of the top buttons of your school dress shirt. You felt him smile against your hot skin when you’d writhe underneath him, emitting weak whimpers that you couldn’t hold back that he ended up having to clasp a free hand over your mouth as he whispered into your ear to stay quiet.

It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a poorly lit corridor where anyone could walk past and see the frenzy that was unfolding, nor did it matter to Draco that his Prefect duties were long forgotten. Your friend was right, and everyone else for that matter; it wasn’t hate you felt for the blond at all, it was years and years of a craving and a hidden yearning packed with displaced tension.

And now, you were both exactly where you wanted to be; together.

Last time I went about five months between doing a set of STAR WARS fic recs, this time it’s only been three months! Hurrah! It helps that, as always, this fandom puts out an incredible amount of excellent fic, so I feel like I’m never hurting for fics I want to yell about and shove at people, which is something I continue to appreciate as it often feels like so much of the world is such a huge tire fire. It helps to be able to find fics to retreat into, to have fun with, to express joy and creativity with, and so many of the authors in this fandom are just so good at this! To the point that these sets sometimes take awhile because there are always more fics I want to add, until the post starts threatening to be overly long instead of a decent length–in my defense, no seriously, you guys are just too good! Also, I forced myself to stop at 69 fic recs, because yes I do think it’s funny. (Nice.) STAR WARS FIC RECS: PREQUELS RECS: ✦ a comedy in four acts by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & dooku & yoda & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 4k    This was what time-travel is: staring at the dark sockets of skulls everywhere your gaze lands on. Being haunted by ghosts long gone. The apprehension of the slow yet sure approach of the inevitable which is sending chills down your spine. ✦ No Rest for the Weary by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & jedi & ocs, 61k    Needing a break from life at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, visit a Jedi AgriCorps settlement on the Midrim planet of Helia. There they encounter new friends, new enemies and have new adventures, all while attempting to navigate their sometimes turbulent relationship as Master and Padawan. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & kanan & mace & rex & obi-wan & cast, 10.5k    After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex & cast, 8.7k    During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ the master, the padawan, the Force by skatzaa, depa & caleb, 1.4k    Caleb expects things to be different after Master Depa takes him as her padawan, but really, it feels like nothing really changes. ✦ desecrate my lungs by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & cast, 16k wip    Time-travel fix-it in which Mustafar haunts Anakin decades after it happened and years before it would. ✦ Grace by dismantlingsummer, obi-wan & anakin, 2.3k    Shortly after Mustafar, Anakin realizes what he has done. He finds Obi-Wan to beg for death. ✦ Fifth Migration by wrennette, yoda & mace & obi-wan & ki-adi & yarael & coleman & plo & palpatine & cast, 2k    How about an AU where the Sith’s Grand Plan accounted for everything -everything that is, except the fact that the Jedi temple is actually an very ancient spacecraft and the second word got to the Jedi about there being clones on Kamino, all Jedi are called back inside and they take off immediately? Just imagine the dear chancellor’s face… ✦ fill pages with scribbled ink by magneticwave, obi-wan/padme & sabe & mace & quinlan & cast, 9.8k    A year after the Invasion of Naboo, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is invited by Queen Amidala to return to Naboo and participate in a rite known as the Night of Fireflies. Things kind of snowball from there. ✦ Mind Your Words by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, spanking, 7k    Obi-Wan reminds Anakin that there are consequences for careless behavior for young Jedi on missions. ✦ (you taught me) the courage of stars by grumpyhedgehogs, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 5.1k wip    Ahsoka Tano flees after a warrant for her arrest is issued, but not before receiving aid from an unexpected ally. (Ahsoka proceeds to go on a road trip filled with a bunch of strangers who all say the same thing: Obi-Wan Kenobi is much more than he has ever appeared to be.) ✦ they faked it (guess everything’s complicated) by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 4.5k    Ahsoka temporarily loses memories of the events of Obi-Wan’s fake death. To help with the healing process, Anakin and Obi-Wan have to pretend that they’re okay. ✦ programed to dream by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, body horror, 1.3k    The spaceship Comet-rider is the fastest, most efficient vessel in the galaxy, and is crewed by Separatist-funded pirates. Anakin Skywalker is missing. Unfortunately, these two things are connected. ✦ Unpleasant Truths by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin, 2.1k    Obi-Wan and Anakin are stuck in a room with one another while waiting for truth serum to wear off. ✦ moment’s silence by skatzaa, obi-wan & owen & beru & luke & leia (pre-obi-wan/beru-owen), 2k    Owen had long since resigned himself to trouble, whenever Beru got that particularly stubborn set to her jaw. ✦ hold gently and let go by shatou, obi-wan & anakin (pre-slash?), 1.7k    A troubled Anakin comes to Obi-Wan to discuss attachments. ✦ sun child by Ro29, obi-wan & anakin, 2.1k    (or; sometimes being so tied to the Force causes problems, Obi-Wan helps his Padawan as best he can) ✦ A Dinner Out by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & cast, 1.6k    Obi-Wan can’t get his young Padawan to eat much, so he tries something new. But trying something different has unintended consequences. ✦ Shades in the Desert by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & luke & owen/beru, 10.8k    Not even from a certain point of view did Darth Vader kill Anakin Skywalker. He wished he did, but the specter of the Jedi’s light escaped before he could finalize his fall to the dark. Meanwhile, Anakin is raising his son on Tatooine. ✦ somewhere along in the bitterness by CallToMuster, obi-wan & anakin, major character death, 3.8k    It was probably the twelfth day floating alone in space that Obi-Wan and Anakin realized no one was coming for them. ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & younglings, ~1k    The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ atmosphere level by softredscrunchie, obi-wan/satine & qui-gon, 1k    As a joke, Satine tells Obi-Wan she thinks Mandalore is flat. He doesn’t take it well. ✦ on sith holocrons and misunderstandings by billowypants, obi-wan & anakin & mace & yoda & cast, de-aged!obi-wan, 7.2k    or, de-aged!Obi-Wan has the same Force bonds as adult Obi-Wan, and he does not react well. ✦ Perseverance & Resilience by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin, 1.1k    In the aftermath of Naboo, Obi-Wan realizes he needs strength to protect his new Padawan. Growing up, Anakin needs peace. ✦ A Delicate Balance by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & yoda & jedi, spanking, 9.6k    As Anakin’s skills grow, so too does his penchant for getting into trouble. After a training mishap, Obi-Wan struggles with his role as Anakin’s master. ✦ mirror, mirror by CallToMuster, obi-wan & anakin, 5.4k    Obi-Wan has been rescued by Anakin after being rather embarrassingly kidnapped on the remote planet of Ilnuria during his investigation of rumored kyber crystals deep beneath the planet’s surface. …But is all as it seems? ✦ Mace Windu Appreciation Week by Redminibike1, mace & obi-wan & anakin & ponds & cody & jedi & cast, 12.5k    Set of unconnected ficlets for Mace Windu Appreciation Week, because he deserves it :) ✦ begin again as a quiet thought by skatzaa, obi-wan/quinlan, d/s, ~1k    Cool, smooth leather touched his jaw—gloves. Because of course Obi-Wan had thought of that as well. ✦ Drunken Lullabies by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin & siri & quinlan & aayla & garen & bant & ferus, 6.5k    “Do I really have to go to this thing?” Fourteen year old Anakin Skywalker dramatically sighed. “It’s sooo boring!” ✦ heaven knows how I love you by the_13th_battalion, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.2k    Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka are stranded on an unfamiliar planet overnight. They spend their time exploring the community- and maybe they get a little closer to each other along the way. ✦ A Reckless Padawan by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, spanking, 3.9k    When Ahsoka upsets Anakin with an act of reckless disobedience, it falls to her grandmaster to help her see the error of her ways. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ Too Hot by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k    Too Hot: A game where two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, that player loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser. ✦ Nostos by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & padme, NSFW, 17k    Or, how Obi-Wan and Anakin discover that there are many ways to come home. ✦ to touch the light, darkest by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.9k    Obi-Wan begins to fuck Vader back to the light ✦ encode by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & padme & handmaidens & cast, 26.3k wip    Instead of being accepted into the Jedi Order at the age of 9, Anakin Skywalker became a ward of Naboo. ✦ Hunting the Homeward Light by GreenQueenofClubs, obi-wan/anakin & mace & ahsoka & shmi & padme & cast, 31.9k wip    When Anakin Skywalker was nine, he left his whole life and mother behind to follow Qui-Gon Jinn to Coruscant and the Jedi Temple. When Anakin Skywalker was twelve, he left his whole life and Master behind to follow Mace Windu to the Outer Rim and away from the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker was twenty… ✦ use my body to break your fall by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, 44.7k wip    Obi-Wan Kenobi is too good at being a Sith Lord general of the Separatist army. The Jedi Council approaches Anakin with an offer he can’t refuse. These things are, actually, related. ✦ Over and Over by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin, 1.4k    “I love you,” he blurts out, loud and impossible to miss. Obi-Wan blinks once, twice. And freezes. The first time Anakin tells him is a mortifying experience. ✦ Exceptions by rinverse, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & mace & quinlan & cast, NSFW, modern au, 23.4k    Young and brilliant, Anakin is the mind behind JEDI Tech’s latest innovation. Obi-Wan is the company’s perfectly composed Director of PR & Marketing. And last night, they were just two strangers at a bar, looking for something quick and easy. But life had other plans when it crossed their paths again the very next day. ✦ Here There Be Dragons by Ghost_Owl, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, 10.1k    Anakin knows why he can’t shift into his animal form like every other Jedi. It’s because he doesn’t want to, it’s because he’s had a vision of what he would become, and he doesn’t want it. ✦ Waiting in a Sea of Stars by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan/anakin, ~1k    Stranded in deep space, Obi-Wan and Anakin wait for rescue. ✦ Tristitia by JSwander, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, 5k    An alternate timeline where Palpatine focuses his attentions on Obi-Wan Kenobi instead of Anakin Skywalker after the attack on Naboo. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 11: Communication, What Communication? by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, mobster au, 7k    a 7k obikin PWP that is somehow a prompt mashup of a mobster au, an accidental sugar daddy au, with a soupçon of an anakin never left tatooine au, and a pinch of qui-gon was anakin’s dad au ✦ who a person truly is cannot be seen with the eye by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, spanking, 3.6k    Anakin purposely avoids doing what Obi-Wan tells him to do. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 12: Potidaea, 432BC, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, historical au, 4.3k    Here is a short smutty scene inspired by all those classics asks, Alcibiades praising Socrates in Plato’s Symposium, and this vase c.490-480 B.C. depicting standing, face-to-face intercrural intercourse between a bearded man and a youth, which as far as we can tell was the most common and accepted position for it in Ancient Greece. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 13: Minikin and Tiny-Wan by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 5.4k    Happy May the Fourth! In honor of this happy day, I have written the fluffiest, crackiest, vanilla-flavored smut imaginable. Based on long discussions on discord with tomicaleto about her adorable Tiny AU. ✦ to hold until brightness by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.4k    Obi-Wan feared that it drew out the darkest in him, to bring Vader to these flashes of light, but it was a trade he would make again and again without hesitation. ✦ May Be Found, If Sought by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan/anakin & mace & quinlan, magical academy au, 2.3k    In which Quinlan, Mace, and Obi-Wan teach Non-Traditional Magical Philosophy in an institution rampant with academic snobbery and discrimination, something dark is stirring in the nearby forest, and no one is ever prepared for Anakin Skywalker. A small story about first meetings in magical academia. ✦ infinitely varied by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 2.2k    Also known as Obi-Wan and Anakin teach a tiny program called A.H.S.O.K.A. how to be something more than lines of code via the power of linguistics. ✦ recipe for disaster by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 9.8k    When Ahsoka tells Anakin she doesn’t want to learn piano anymore, Anakin is heartbroken. He doesn’t care about the instrument, obviously, but he’s practically in love with her teacher. Obi-Wan offers up a solution to their impending separation, and it’s not dating like any normal person would suggest. Instead, he’s gonna teach Anakin how to cook. Except Anakin’s a pretty well-known chef, and Obi-Wan is absolutely awful in the kitchen. ✦ Pretty Kitty by GayCheerios, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.2k    “Master, you always take such good care of me,” Anakin says, a little chirp coming after his sentence, as his thumb rests on Anakin’s plump bottom lip. ✦ As One, Into Eternity by Pseudonymoose, obi-wan/anakin, force ghosts, 3.1k    Death comes, but the man who was, and is, and will be Anakin Skywalker is not gone. And in the Force, he will never be alone again. ✦ does he make you laugh? by y0u_idjits, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, fusion fic, 3.6k    “Tell me it’s not about screwing the guy who’s screwing your husband.” ✦ Rotten Work by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, 2.8k    Obi-Wan: I’ll take care of you. Anakin, with bloodshot eyes and a broken back from hours of terrible posture: It’s rotten work. Obi-Wan, who needs to bathe this man for his own sanity and health: Not to me. Not if it’s you. ✦ afterimages by shatou, obi-wan/anakin, 1.3k    Mustafar is nothing but a bad dream. ✦ understanding is honoring the truth beneath the surface by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, 7.3k    Anakin asks Obi-Wan to take control. ✦ The strongest stars… by Tomicaleto, obi-wan/anakin & beru & cast, NSFW, 7.4k    The war’s end seems to be close, with everyone looking forward to it. And when Anakin is doubting himself the most, an unexpected visit arrives at the Temple. ✦ home has a heartbeat by izazov, obi-wan/anakin, 5.6k    Or: Anakin and Obi-Wan are together, but there are still some things left unsaid between them. ✦ turn back now (i’m haunted) by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & padme & quinlan & ahsoka & cast, modern au, ghosts au, 25k wip    Anakin Skywalker’s house is haunted. Luckily for him, Padmé knows a ghost hunter. Unluckily for him, it’s the hottest, most english-professor ghost hunter he’s ever seen. And extremely unluckily for him, he’s starting to get the feeling he understands maybe ten percent of what’s actually going on here, not to mention what’s at stake. ✦ game plan by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 11.2k    Or, Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It’s kind of a thing. ✦ Provocation by ToolMusicLover, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.9k    Or: Obi-Wan and Anakin attempt to navigate their complicated relationship with barbed words and wilful ignorance. It wasn’t going well. ✦ Languages by Crowgirl, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 6.5k    So Anakin pulls out a map and makes a list. REBELS RECS: ✦ The Scent of You by ambiguously, kanan/hera & cast, a smidge of nsfw, 2.9k    Everything changes after Malachor, and Kanan has trouble finding his balance. ✦ Heard It in a Love Song (Can’t Be Wrong) by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 2.7k    Kallus can’t quite figure out what makes Zeb tick, but he keeps trying. ORIGINAL TRILOGY/MANDALORIAN RECS: ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & mace, 2k    Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire’s sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader’s identity. ✦ staring down the barrel of the hot sun by magneticwave, luke/din & obi-wan & grogu & mace & cast, 25.7k    “Gone to a Child of the Watch, the Darksaber has,” Grand Master Yoda announces in his creaky little voice. “Peace, there is not, and yet peace, there must be.” ✦ Released by Peppermint_Shamrock, cody & rex & luke & cast, 6k    Nearly two and a half decades late, Cody’s chip is finally removed. Adjusting to having his mind returned to him after so long takes time, and Cody struggles with questions of his purpose of the past, present, and future. Fortunately, he does not have to struggle alone. ✦ A Tatooine Rainstorm by skatzaa, leia & luke & shmi, 1.7k    Leia meets a ghost. ✦ Dealing with the Darksaber by Peppermint_Shamrock, din & bo-katan & cara, 1.3k    After her recovery, Bo-Katan contacts Din to challenge him for the darksaber. Din is still very much not interested in the whole affair. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE

Where there is peace there is love; h.p.

Pairing: harry potter x fem!Ravenclaw!reader Timeline: The whole Golden Trio Era / DH1 Warning(s): contains mostly of memories, underage smoking, mentions of sweaty hands, Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Oliver Wood was originally four years ahead of Harry's batch but let's pretend he's only two years ahead for the sake of the story. Also, unlike my other works, I based this story more on the movies to make things easier.

The boy who lived. The boy who was left with nothing but responsibilities and lives sitting on his shoulder. He seeks comfort, he seeks peace. But how long will it take for the boy to finally realize she was already in front of him?

—

Run, hide, run.

Harry Potter could not remember the last time he took a proper walk. All their five months spent on the hunt move past him in a blur like a car driving on a highway. Things are overwhelming Harry. Running has now been their only defence and hiding is the only card they have for an attack. It makes him wonder, what would she do if she had been in his shoes. Would she turn back, face the enemies and send them hexes as an attack? Or would she be hiding and running just like him? But Harry can only guess at the moment.

If only she was here.

Five months and all they get was one out of six Horcruxes. Two were already destroyed. One being the diary of Tom Riddle which Harry himself destroyed and the other was the heirloom ring which was destroyed by Dumbledore. That leaves them to three more Horcruxes that no one in the group has any knowledge about. Harry wonders, if they have her on the hunt, would they be able to find the other Horcruxes in no time? Would they last this long?

If only she was here.

His stomach rumbles but the boy could not bring himself to fix a solution for it. Hunger has been part of their group ever since they reached their second month on the hunt. Their food supply running low and so does their sanity. His mind trailing again with all the questions of ifs. If Harry has her beside him, would he be conscious in his environment enough to not feel that he's hungry, tired and in pain?

If only she was here.

They say a chair could not be able to stand without its four legs. But three legs still work with proper angling and balancing. Now, a chair with only two legs, that's the fall we were talking about. With Ron gone, the chair with three legs could not function. It wasn't only because of the works of the dark magic living inside the damned locket but, they were out here for far too long. Patience has worn thin, there is depression in the air they breathe and they're just so tired. So tired that even if their friendship is being on the line they just couldn't put themselves to care anymore. He wonders, would their friendship be this broken had it been her being here?

If only she was here.

The Golden Boy is still sitting on the ground, his back leaning on a gruesome tree, his sight attached to the one he was holding: his broken wand.

Today was Christmas day and today for the first time since he knew his wizard side, he's seen his parents, only they were under the ground, fast asleep and will never wake up. This day should be memorable, and it is. But the day was only memorable because of the scenes that unfolded. He and Hermione were attacked by Voldemort's humongous snake and his wand breaking.

His wand was the very first possession of his that he got. It's not something passed by Dudley. It is entirely his. He remembers Ollivander and the way he brightened up from seeing the young harry. He never had anyone who looks at him that way. So he again wonders, would his wand be broken if only she was here?

If only Y/N was here.

His train of thoughts continued its journey from the very first time he met the girl. He remembers their first act of rebellion in school and finding out about the Philosopher Stone. He was in a place he's least excited to go about: the library.

"Hermione, we've already looked a hundred times!" Ron complains.

"Then keep looking until a thousand times! There is a Nicholas Flamel somewhere here. There has to be."

"Nicholas Flamel? The Alchemist?"

The three kids turn their heads to the voice. A girl their age was peeking through a gap on the opposite side of the shelf their hovering on.

The library was packed with students from different Houses, all are making up from their holiday break yet the aisle they were in was surprisingly deserted.

"You say he's an alchemist?" Hermione asked once they all settled at a table nearby. "How did you know that?"

Harry seated beside the girl, opposite them were Hermione and Ron. He watches her as she pushes her spectacle further on the bridge of her nose with her index finger. Sporting her golden framed eyeglasses with a Ravenclaw jumper—perfect for the cold weather Scotland always offers them.

"I'm a member of the Potions Club. Alchemy and Potions are siblings and since Mr Flamel has a big name in Alchemy, we know about his legendary works too."

"So who is he?"

"To start off, he's immortal. He just celebrated his 665th birthday last year." She paused to look at the appalled Gryffindors staring at her. Harry could not believe anyone living past 100. Life was devastating already in his 11 years, what could possibly be 665 years can offer him even. "He's well-known because of this thing he invented. Ever heard of the Philosopher Stone?"

"Well, of course, he's immortal!" Hermione commented mainly to herself. "He made that stone?"

"What's the Philosopher Stone?" Ron asked with Harry nodding his head to second his question.

"Mr Flamel-"

"Honestly, don't you two read? The Philosopher's Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It'll transform any metal into pure gold and produces the Elixir of Life which will make the drinker immortal!"

"And the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicholas Flamel, yes."

"Oh Merlin, well, we have to go now."

And before Harry can decipher what's going on, his arm together with Ron's was being dragged away from their position, sprinting off. Peering over his shoulder Harry could only feel pity, the girl looks lonely. They didn't even say thanks.

"That's what Fluffy's guarding. That's what's under the trap door. The Philosopher's Stone!"

The second time he's seen the girl was at the Hospital Wing. They were called by Professor McGonagall to inform them of Hermione's situation. Beside Hermione's petrified body was a girl familiar to Harry. Frozen as ice with eyes and mouth wide open in mid-scream.

"Isn't she . . ." Ron's voice lacing with wonder. Harry completely knowing what's concerning his best friend. The three of them have a few classes with her but have never been able to talk to since the Philosopher Stone moment.

"Yeah, that's her."

After a month passing, Harry and Ron successfully solved the Heir of Slytherin mystery. Hermione finally shows up at the Great Hall unpetrified and well.

"Welcome back, Hermione."

"It's good to be back. Congratulations. I can't believe you solved it!"

"We had loads of help from you. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Actually, it wasn't just me," she diverted her bright gaze from them towards the Ravenclaw table.

Their usually mesmerizing night sky was decorated with a bit more extra stars and colourful aurora above them, giving the students a more blissful and warmer feeling. There's a small excited mob just across from them. The girl was in the centre of that small crowd with a beaming expression, mirroring the sky above them. All her housemates were giving her cheers. Harry suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to join that crowd.

"Could I have your attention, please?"

The commotion was broken by the Professors at the front. Sitting in their respective seats, Hermione explained to them moments before she was petrified.

"I found her in the library and turns out she was solving the mystery about the Heir of Slytherin as well! So, we tried to solve it together-"

"You worked with her? That's new."

"-and came out with the pipes. That's where we found out about the basilisk. That's why we're both petrified together."

In their third year, Hermione has been going on their classes pretty late. Ron has suspected it weirdly unlike her.

"Hang on. That's not possible. Ancient Runes is in the same time as Divination. You have to be in two classes at once!"

"Don't be silly. How could we be in two classes at once?"

"We? Who are you on about?"

"No one. Honestly, Ron, if you ask me, Divination's a woolly discipline . . ."

Time travelling has never crossed Harry's mind that he would've had the pleasure to experience in his life. It was by far the highlight of his third year.

So as Harry was hiding behind a wall with Hermione (to hide from their own past-self) seeing the all-too-familiar girl hiding in a vicinity near them caught his attention. He remembers at this very moment from their past-present, he's seen her studying in the library when they returned a book after their Divination class.

"Hermione, are you sure you're the only one time travelling?" he whispers, afraid to catch any attention from other students around.

The girl beside him looking flushed. "Of course! I don't know why you'd ask such a thing."

Harry let it go and continue to watch Y/N hide from other people—or rather from herself. From then on, the bespectacled boy was engrossed with the girl.

"Harry, dinner's ready."

They ate in silence. It has been days since Ron left the two of them and the table has never been lonelier since. Harry silently wonders if things would've been the same if Ron was here. Would his wand be broken or would they be this deafening silent?

Harry glances at Hermione who is deep in thought as well, her piece of meat left untouched. "How did you know you're in love with Ron?"

The girl did not even blink. They'd never been open about their romantic life, even much more about Hermione and Ron's situation. Harry knows it from the very first start, he's always been the third wheel with the two. "The moment I swore to do everything to have him back."

He blinks insanity away from his eyes. For the first time in a while since their hunt, Harry had never felt more awake. If Y/N was there with him, he would do anything just to put her to safety. And if Y/N left them and lost her way back just like his best friend Ron, he would do everything to have her back.

"Go to sleep, Harry. I'll do first watch."

But Harry could not sleep. The day has exhausted him per se. He was drained mentally from all the moving they did, he's seen his parents grave and their destroyed house in Godric's Hollow, they were chased and attacked by their enemy's pet and they have to run away again.

It all just felt like an earthshaking slap. He wanted to cry, but all his tears had run dry from all the running they did. He wanted to scream, but he's too worn out, and he shouldn't. He wanted to be angry, but it wouldn't be worth it knowing his family is already gone. Without these special people in his life, Harry felt already dead. They're all just too much.

He tried sleeping, but he couldn't. The world around him is spinning, spiralling around him, mocking him how much they like to play his life. Despite the activities of the day, his mind is still succeeding in reaching his happy place. His mind is always incessant with thoughts of Y/N.

For their five months, it is not impossible to get under each other's skins. They've been living in depressing woods to another, surrounded by bloodlust death eaters and the desire of wanting to go home increases as every day passes. Only happy thoughts make them sane. And for Harry, his happy thought is Y/N.

The fourth year was the most memorable for the boy. Not because he was one of the champions for the Triwizard Tournament—he dreaded that part really. But because of what occurred in his and Y/N's relationship.

It was the second task and Harry was in the library failing in finding any spells about being able to breathe underwater. His friends abandoned him and he barely has 5 hours before the task begun.

"Shouldn't you be preparing for your task?"

"I am," he replies without realizing who was he talking with. His nose was buried in a book, a sight he never imagined himself to be in.

"Do you need help?"

Exasperated, Harry gives in. When he looked up, he then notices that it was the girl he took interest in. He suddenly felt an urge to spill her of his situation. So he did. He did and she listened. She joins her in sitting beside him and with no judgement she just listened.

" . . . bloody impossible if you'd ask me."

"I might know something . . . "

Before Harry can comprehend what they're doing, he found themselves sneaking into the Potions classroom.

"What are you doing? Snape's going to kill me," he said with a hushed voice.

Y/N did not respond but instead took a jar from the shelf, examining it first before giving it to the boy.

"Would you rather die in the hands of your Potions Professor or from a very dangerous wizarding game?"

He was left with no choice. Of course, he'd rather die from a dangerous wizarding game. It sounds cooler and heroic than being a victim of his crackpot of a professor. So he let her explain what the object is about and took the Gillyweed. They both sneaked out of the room unnoticed before agreeing to separate their ways.

"Oh, and by the way, I don't think your eyes glisten with the ghost of your past," Y/N teased before strutting away as Harry's eyes widen with embarrassment.

The next day he looked for Y/N to the place he always sees her.

"Thought I'd see you here."

"Congratulations," the girl announced without tearing her sight out of the pages.

"Couldn't have done it without your help, of course." He flashed a smile to show his gratitude even though she wasn't looking, a habit he picked up from having a bookworm of a best friend. He takes a seat opposite the girl. "You owe me. Say, could I ask another favour? This will be the last, I swear to Godric."

From the book she was reading, Y/N couldn't help but glance at the boy with a funny look.

"Please, there's just this girl I really like. Cho Chang, you know her, right? She's your seeker-"

"If you want me to ask her out on behalf of you, then I'm sorry in advance, Potter."

"I-I just, I'm just scared."

The book was now completely abandoned. "You? The Boy Who Lived? A Gryffindor? Scared?"

"Please, I'll do you a favour back as well . . . or two."

"Anything?"

"Just don't make a fool of me please, I've had too much of that already."

Harry stares at her with complete inquisitive interest. Sure, it was thick of him to ask another favour when he just declared that he owed her one. But he couldn't help himself from hopping into the opportunity right in front of him.

"Well, there's this boy I really like . . . Oliver Wood, I believe he's your Captain at Quidditch?"

"Seems fair enough."

Ever since the first task, Harry did his best to survive. Take winning off the list, he barely got out of the tasks without the help of his friends much more so than winning. So with this new task, Harry brought in with him, he did what he had to do to survive the humiliation of not having a date in the Yule Ball.

"How did it go?" With full of hope, he asked the girl the next day he met with her in the library. But Y/N's silence and distant look are enough of an answer for him. "She already has a date, huh?"

"Sorry . . . What about . . ?"

"Sorry."

So they ended up being each other's date instead.

Harry's lips broke into a smile from the memory. Their whole Christmas Eve was spent with them getting to know each other and exchanging stories about their huge crushes. Y/N has had her undying love for the Gryffindor Beater and Captain ever since she was in her first year, ever since she first laid her eyes on him in their Flying Lesson.

The Golden Boy did enjoy the Yule Ball all because of his great company. The three of them have never really spoken to other Houses especially the Ravenclaws as they give a very intimidating spirit from afar.

Now he was glad to get to know one and have one he can call his friend.

In their fifth year, despite the world turning against Harry, he managed to win himself a girlfriend. He finally got the balls to ask out Cho Chang, of course with the help of Y/N. Speaking of his friend, Harry saw her with Oliver Wood snogging just outside the shower room of the Quidditch Pitch. He was happy with his friend finally dating the love of her life.

Y/N was part of the DA along with her boyfriend, Oliver, but due to his ranking at school, him being the Captain of Gryffindor Quidditch Team and the Headboy of their House, their DA visits were very much limited. He wanted to have a perfect way to end his Hogwarts year with no trouble on all his records.

So when the incident at the Department of Mysteries took place, Harry wasted no time running to the new person he sought comfort from. The boy finds another serenity, he finds peace with her very presence.

Instead of the library, Y/N brought the boy to the Astronomy Tower. An area near her territory, an area where no one would judge him. Harry didn't have to tell her what happened as the whole school already knew. They just stayed silent and Y/N patiently waited.

A cigar was suddenly being lit up, a fact about Y/N that Harry didn't know. He hated the deadly object. He's inhaled a lot back at the Dursleys, both his aunt and uncle are intoxicated from the said toxin. They remained silent as Y/N offered her cigar to Harry. He almost contemplated on receiving but the boy was just too tired to reject the offer.

The Ravenclaw giggled when Harry came to a coughing fit. "That's enough for you, mister."

Then Harry cried. He cried and he cried. Until he finds himself in the embrace of his new serenity. The only intoxication that he'll let himself get devoured.

"Everything will work out eventually, Harry. You'll get through this."

She didn't say he'll be okay, she knows how much Harry hates hearing it to other people. But deep inside, Harry already knows that Y/N believes in him. She knows that if a thing may not be okay, he will find a way to work things out.

"How is Wood treating you?" He asked, still enveloped in her arms.

"He broke up with me, Harry."

Breaking the hug, he looked her in the eyes. "What?!"

"He will be out there, in the world. I still have another two years stuck in this hell hole we call school."

"I never imagined he could do something like this heartbreaking."

"It's alright, Potter. We'll find our way back together anyway if we're meant to be."

In the sixth year, Y/N was confused about how Harry topped her in Potions. Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. He's known for his love for Defence Against the Dark Arts and his abhorrence in Potions.

Meanwhile, Y/N was the Potions Master in their group of friends. She's been a member of the Potions Club ever since her first year. The Ravenclaw knows in a heartbeat that Harry is up to something, so, inviting him into the library for a study session and grabbing all opportunities she can grab to get him as her partner in all potions activities is something she took advantage of.

Harry felt cold. He wonders if Y/N was only here, would she have embraced him into a warm hug?

The boy disentangled himself from the sheets that helped nothing and went outside his bunk. He found Hermione sitting on the ground just outside the tent, the necklace tightly held in her hand.

He went to sit beside her and unwrapped Hermione's fingers from around the necklace. Harry felt his heart sink as if it hadn't been sunk to its lowest already. Unsure whether the feeling came from the presence of the Horcrux or the sight of his best friend.

The once called the Brightest Witch looks like the Darkling of her Age. She looks miserable and crying has never been a good image of Hermione. She always plasters the look of courage, the look of confidence, the look of a true Gryffindor. Now it's gone and Harry blames himself every day since that day he argued with Ron.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."

Harry wiped off the tear that has fallen on her cheek. She finally cast a glance at the boy and gave the most melancholic smile she could utter. "Merry Christmas, Harry. Merry Christmas, Ronald."

The boy was used to celebrating Christmas alone, or not celebrating at all. He couldn't imagine what Hermione must be feeling right now away from her parents on the day of the birth of love.

All they have is silence and it has never been this deafening. Even the crickets are absent that night. The night just felt so sullen, perfectly matching Harry's feelings.

"Is it Y/N?" Hermione broke the silence. The two girls kept their relationship after the Basilisk incident. They had been study partners and eventually friends, to say the least. "I saw you two at the wedding."

The wedding of Fleur and Bill at the Burrow is something even more memorable to Harry. Sure, the world was crumbling apart pieces by pieces at that moment, but Harry felt like the war was paused for a few minutes on his behalf. He wanted a break from all of it. He is not ready to face his battle just yet. He needed to experience just a small fragment of peace before the great battle.

Y/N wore a simple yet elegant dress. Her hair was bouncing together with the flow of her dress as she dances with her former boyfriend. Harry smiles at the sight of his great friend eventually finding her way back to her soulmate. The girl deserves it, she has been crushing over him ever since she stepped into the castle. It's a good thing Oliver finally made sense and didn't waste a person as precious as Y/N, Harry thinks.

The couple broke apart with a smile and he notices Y/N walking towards his table.

"Since when did you two get back together?"

"Oliver and I? No! That's scandalous," she giggled while reaching a glass of drink across Harry's face.

"What? I thought that you two are . . ."

Y/N flashed him a kind smile. "He's engaged, Har."

"Oh." His cheeks felt warm. Oliver left Hogwarts 2 years ago and he's gotten himself engaged already.

"Means, we're not meant to be huh." The girl declared, clicking her glass to Harry's.

The Golden Boy could not explain what he feels. Rejoiced? Satisfied? Relieved? For all he knows, this was Y/N his Ravenclaw friend. He helped connect her world to Oliver's. And yet, his chest feels warm.

"How did it feel? Being in his arms again."

"Surprisingly, I didn't feel anything! It's just like dancing with a friend. I wasn't too excited and . . . it felt normal."

He stares at the girl as her eyes twinkle on the newlywed dancing in the middle of the room. Harry stood up from the seat and reached for her hand. "May I have this dance?"

The boy received a smile with a pure adorned look in her eyes. His hand is now being enveloped. He brought her closer to him and swayed in sync.

Harry thought of the day McGonagall taught them proper dancing for a ball. He remembered having his hands all sweaty when entwined with a random partner on every practice. He would either accidentally step on his partner's foot or twirling them too fast. But when he came to dance with Y/N, things just went smoothly.

But on that wedding night, things aren't smooth. His hands are warning him that sweat is about to come out. His mind is distressed. He can hear his heartbeat beating too fast and suddenly his lower lip got interesting to bite.

"It was just like Yule Ball, huh?"

"Yeah," A twirl. "Gosh Harry, we had loads of fun then! I'm sorry you weren't able to go with your dream girl, Cho Chang."

"Eh, I get to date her the next year anyway."

"Touché."

The boy was reminding himself deep inside that this isn't his first time dancing with Y/N. It even came out smoothly the first time and was not as agitating as now. He wonders if she feels the same about him.

"Now, how does this feel?"

The whole wedding felt so far away from them. The room feels as if it had closed and the two of them were the only ones inside. They were so close, their chests are touching. Their stares grew more intimate and Harry wonders, if this will be the last peace he will be getting, why not savour every bit of it.

"My heartbeat's pounding so fast, my mind is racing, my legs are tingling—" but she was cut off with Harry kissing her at a lightning speed.

"Y/N."

"Harry."

They whispered as if the small bubble they created would've popped from a small amount of noise. The rush and delicacy from the kiss leaving Harry wanting more.

All this time, he was searching for a partner who will love and support him, a family that he will always have by his side, a peace that he can call whenever he needed a pause from the battles he calls his life. But he didn't know that he already has what he's been searching for.

"Y/N,"

But he was late. The pause button was pressed and was changed with play. Their bubble was popped from people pacing around the room with fear, apparating from the war that is coming on their way.

"Y/N!"

"Harry!"

But of course, everybody knows that sometimes, peace could also mean a calm before a storm comes. That was the last time the boy ever experienced peace.

His peace was taken, away from his sullen self, away from his miserable situation, away from danger. With his peace came his heart.

Not until tonight had he realized his feelings for Y/N. The only person that keeps him sane from this horrendous mission.

The boy felt Hermione's head on his shoulder. The night has turned even colder even with a friend beside him. Two lost hearts longing for their other half and Harry has never felt grimmer with this realization.

"You love Y/N."

And yes, he loves Y/N. He loves Y/N that he will do everything to have her back. So Harry sets his mind to win this war that a lack of love started. He knows that his life will remain warfare without Y/N. Because, where there is peace, there is love.

—

A/N: Gosh, I've written this in forever, I think! But, part 2 in Y/N's POV?

tagging these amazing blogs: @harryjamespotterxreader @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @harrypotterencyclopedia

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

The Dock

A/N: So I’m writing for Bucky now...☺️ I wrote this for @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge but also not? I’ve had the idea in my head for a while now so I thought I’d participate! I included the prompt, but it’s not so much the plot of the story so much as just part of it. Anyways, happy reading!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger!Reader

Summary: After a long time of mutual pinning, a night on the dock helps you and Bucky finally confess your feelings for each other

Word count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Swearing, reader gets catcalled, violence, excessive usage of the middle finger

Prompt: Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A]

---

You awoke to your head bobbing on the car window and the sound of crunching gravel as the car pulled into the driveway of Tony’s lake house. Your neck ached from leaning over in a strange position for so long and you groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

Bucky grinned from the seat beside you. “Sleep well?” he asked, nudging your calf with his foot. “You got a little drool there.”

“Oh, shut up.” You stuck your middle finger up in his direction. “I slept very well, actually. Thank you for asking.”

“I can tell.” You lifted up your other hand to flip him off again, causing him to chuckle. “Ooh, two middle fingers. I’m really scared now.”

The two of you were too busy teasing each other to realize that the car had stopped and Sam and Natasha had already gotten out of it. A knock on the window your head was resting on made you turn around, seeing Sam’s face a little too close for your liking.

“Are you two gonna stop flirting and help us with the bags or should I let you bake in the car?” he asked. With a roll of your eyes, you opened the car door, making sure to bump Sam in the process. Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks, glad that you weren’t looking over towards him to see it. “I’m taking this silence to mean that you do want to roast in the car.”

“Sam, would you shut up?” you laughed, casually sticking a middle finger up behind your back as you walked past him to the trunk.

“You and these middle fingers today,” Sam muttered.

“I have another one if you’d like to see it.” You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder.

“I’m good.” He picked up his bag from the ground before heading towards the house, which the rest of the team was already situated in. You went to grab your suitcase but Bucky swatted your hand away, grabbing it himself and closing the trunk.

“I got it,” he insisted like the true gentleman he was. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“Why thank you, good sir.” You bumped his shoulder with your own and walked ahead, jumping up the three steps to the porch and opening the door.

“All in a day’s work.” He lifted the suitcases up the steps with ease and slipped past you to get inside. The feeling of air conditioning inside the cabin was a major relief from the heat outside.

“Glad to see the lovebirds finally showed up,” Tony said once you and Bucky were completely inside the cabin.

“You better watch out, Tony. Y/N’s got middle fingers for days over there.”

“Shut up, Sam!”

A chorus of laughter rang out throughout the cabin and you made sure to shoulder check Sam as you passed him to get to the kitchen.  

---

“Okay, I have the perfect plan to get you and Barnes together this weekend,’ Natasha said as she pulled out clothes from her suitcase. You two were sharing a room for the week and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not. You loved Nat to death but lately she had been trying especially hard to get you to make a move on Bucky and it was only slightly annoying.

“The perfect plan, huh? Even more perfect than the last perfect plan?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I forgot to account for the fact you both have a tendency to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning last time. I promise it’s foolproof this time.”

“Well then, let’s hear it.”

“Alright. Before you got in here--you know, when you were busy flirting with Bucky.” She winked, to which you rolled your eyes. “Well Tony was talking about taking the boat out and going tubing. So what we have to do is get you and Bucky to go on the tube together. Tony’s a crazy driver so you’ll get thrown off pretty fast. Bucky will get so worried he’ll just have to confess his love to you.”

“Two issues.” You pointed a finger at her. “One, how am I going to get Bucky on a tube? It will be hard enough to get him on the boat alone. Two,” You held up another finger. “why would he confess his love at that very moment? That’s insane.”

“One,” She grabbed one of your fingers and put it down. “he’s whipped for you. I guarantee that if you ask, he’ll do it without a second thought.”

“Sure he would,” you scoffed.

“Uh, I know he would.” She gave you a knowing smirk. “Two, he gets worried about you all the time and I’ve seen him get close to confessing every time. We just gotta push him over the edge.”

“Bucky getting protective is just him being my best friend. He used to be just like that with Steve too.” You put your arm down, shuffling over to your own bed to take some clothes out of the blue suitcase on top of it.

“No, it’s definitely more than best friend love.” She moved to sit down on your bed.

“Either way, it usually ends in some kind of fight and I’d like to avoid that this weekend.”

“Who’s he gonna fight? Tony?”

“I mean, you never know.” It wouldn’t be the first time.  

~

“I can’t wait to get back and shove these things in my mouth,” you said with a grin as you exited the bakery behind Bucky, a bag of donut holes in your hand.

“Gee, really? It’s almost like you haven’t been talking about it for the past three days,” Bucky chuckled, reaching for the bag.

You pulled the bag away from him with a fake scoff. “Oh, I don’t think so, mister. We have to wait until we get back. The anticipation makes them taste better.”

“You’re insufferable.” He elbowed your side and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Damn, you looking fine over there, mama!”

You took in a sharp breath. It wasn’t all that uncommon for you to get cat called while out and about. You were in New York City, for fucks sake. That didn’t mean that it made you feel any less uncomfortable, though.  

As much as it stung, you didn’t want to start anything. You stared straight ahead and prayed Bucky didn’t hear it. Much to your dismay though, he stiffened next to you, subtly glancing back to see who was talking to you in such a vulgar way. Damn that supersoldier enhanced hearing.

“Hey, sweetcheeks!” You felt a tug on your shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You huffed, shaking the harsh grip off your shoulder and picking up the pace. You expected Bucky to keep going with you so you continued walking, frowning when you noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore.

“Listen here, you little shit,” Bucky seethed, stepping in front of the man and blocking you from his sight. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave her, and every other woman you ever lay your beady little eyes on, alone.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” the man smirked. “She need her boyfriend to defend her?”

Bucky stepped closer, crossing his arms and giving the famous ‘Bucky stare.’ “Doesn’t matter who I am. You better back the fuck away before I make you life hell.”

A few onlookers started lingering around, some with their phones out and recording the scene, almost as if they wanted to see a fight break out between the two men. ‘Winter Soldier vs Everyday Pedestrian  was sure to be trending somewhere soon enough.

“Buck,” you said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and ignoring the obvious stares you were receiving, most notably from the man whose face Bucky was ready to punch in. “Let’s just go.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to decide if he should let it go or punch the living daylights out of the guy. He let out a soft sigh after a moment, relaxing into your grip. With one last look at the man, he turned around and placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward.

“Aye, it’s all good. I’m sure I’ll see that tight ass ‘round here soon anyways.”

That was the last straw for Bucky. He growled with a ferocity you hadn’t heard before and whipped around, not even hesitating to use his metal arm to punch the guy. The crowd gasped, more bringing their phones out to capture what was sure to be a great fight.

“What the fuck was-” Bucky grabbed him by his collar, pushing him up again the exposed brick of a restaurant.

“There’s plenty more where that came from and, judging by the way you’re looking at me, I bet you don’t want to see it. So do the rest of humanity a favor and fuck off.” He let go of the man’s collar and stepped back, unclenching his fist and pivoting back towards you. “Come on, doll.”

You shook the shock off your face and fell into step next to him. His arm warped around you, pulling you into his side. You could feel the fumes radiating off of him as you walked back to the tower, choosing to stay quiet as you let him cool off.

You paused once you reached the entrance of the tower. Tony probably already knew about what happened and he sure wasn’t going to be happy about it. Bucky’s media presence hadn’t necessarily been bad lately, but it wasn’t perfect either. The public was still wary. To many, the Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier were still the same person.  

Things definitely felt off when you entered. You got the side eye from a few people in the elevator and you weren’t sure if it was because of the fight fiasco or because of how tightly Bucky was holding you to his side.

“Want to eat these in my room?” you asked once you stepped off the elevator.

“Sounds good.” His voice was distant as his eyes searched the room.

“Mr. Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice startled the two of you, making you drop the donut holes. “Mr. Stark has requested to see you in his office.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll be there in a few.” He picked up the bag and handed it back to you. “Apparently, I have business to attend to.”

You simply nodded. He went in the other direction towards Tony’s office pausing at the door before knocking. You sent him a thumbs up before he went in, but he didn’t look back at you to see it. You retreated to your room, placing your wallet on the dresser and popping a donut hole in your mouth.

“Maybe I should get a plate,” you wondered aloud. You needed to grab your water bottle anyways. Might as well make the trip. You put the donut holes on your bed and started making your way to the kitchen.

“She’s perfectly capable of handling herself, you know.” You couldn’t help but stop as you heard Tony’s voice through the door of his office.

“But she shouldn’t have to.” Bucky sounded stressed and you could only imagine the hell Tony was reigning on him. “Her ignoring him wasn’t going to do anything. I didn’t want to beat the guy up but he was harassing her and it needed to stop.”

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with any particular feelings you have for her, right?” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

“Tony-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Barnes. You know how the public sees you. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this.”

“That guy harassed her! I couldn’t stand there and just let it happen!” God, you wanted to give him a hug so bad right now.

“I don’t care what it was, Bucky. Having heart eyes for Y/N doesn’t mean-” You took that as your cue to leave. You grabbed a plate and two water bottles from the kitchen and made sure to take the long way around to your room in order to avoid whatever was going on between the two of them.

Bucky showed up a half hour later, plopping down next to you on your bed with a little more space than usual.

~

“I’m just saying, it could work.” Nat got off your bed. “The cookout’s starting soon. Put on something cute.” She was gone before you could respond, leaving you to look for an outfit that would, as Nat liked to say, “knock Bucky off his ass.”

---

“Ooh, Y/N, looking to impress someone?” Sam called out as you walked out into the backyard. It seemed that most everyone else was already out there, helping make dinner or sitting on the dock.

You stuck up your middle finger in reply, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Oh stop it, Sam,” Wanda said as she walked towards you. “You look amazing!”

“Aww, thank you! You look absolutely stunning yourself.” Wanda reached out her hand and nodded towards the dock, urging you to come with her and join the group. You grabbed it and let her drag you down there, giving a small wave to Bucky as you passed him near the grill.

Bucky waved back, a grin spanning the expanse of his face at the sight of you. He kept his gaze on you as you made your way down to the dock, not even realizing just how intently he was staring.

“Someone’s staring at you,” Nat said with a suggestive smirk once you were close enough to the dock.

“He has a starting problem. We all know that,” you argued, sitting down across from her.

“I don’t know. He looks like he wants nothing more than to-”

“Nat, I love you, but please shut up.” She raised her hands up in the defense and Wanda giggled.

“I’m just saying.”

“You okay over there?” Steve shifted his focus from the burgers to his 100-year-old friend for a second, of course noticing the sudden silence that ensued the second you entered Bucky’s line of vision. “Buck?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s head turned sharply in Steve’s direction.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” A shy smile.

“Are you going to ask her out soon?” He flipped some burgers over and pulled the lid of the grill closed.

“I’m getting to it, yeesh,” Bucky chuckled.

“That’s what you’ve been saying since forever.”

“And it’s what I’ll keep saying every time you pester me about it.”

“Well if you don’t make a move soon, maybe I’ll swoop in-”

“Nope! You will not do that.” He nudged Steve in the shoulder and started making his way to the dock. “You absolutely will not do that.”

Soon. He was going to do it soon.

---

“Who’s next?” Tony called from the driver’s seat of the boat. You handed Sam a towel as he got back on the boat, drenched from flying off the tube a second earlier.

“You should go with Bucky.” Wanda nudged you with a teasing smile. You glanced over to the man in question, seeing him sitting next to Steve. He wore a t-shirt and swim shorts with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, and he looked damn good.

“I’ll go,” you announced, standing up and taking your t-shirt off, leaving you in your favorite swimsuit and a pair of shorts. You handed Wanda the shirt so it wouldn’t get wet. “Anyone wanna go with me?” Wanda jabbed your leg and gave you a playful glare.

“Go with her,” Steve muttered to Bucky, bumping his shoulder with his own.

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky sighed. Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that his best friend just needed a little push. 

“Bucky will go with you,” Steve said a bit louder than necessary. Bucky groaned quietly at his friend, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his seat. He made sure to give Steve a certain look before making his way towards the back of the boat. You both grabbed your life jackets and started securing them as Sam moved out of your way.

“Cyborg!” Tony called out. “You going to take your shirt off?”

You felt Nat snort as she helped you off of the back of the boat and onto the tube. “Yeah, Bucky. Why don’t you show off your muscles for your girlfriend here.”

“Nat!” You paused for a second to look back at her with fake betrayal.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He snapped the last clasp on the life vest and checked to make sure you were all the way on the tube so he could start getting on.

“Oh, come on, Buckaroo!” Sam laughed. He started a chant of “take it off” with the rest of the team (even you, though you’d never admit it).

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled, hastily taking off the life jacket and shirt. He threw the shirt to the middle of the boat and resecured the lifevest, ignoring Nat’s hand offered out for help as he climbed on the tube. His famous Bucky glare melted off his face the second he saw your bright smile and he found himself smiling too.

“I don’t know how well this is going to go but it’s gonna be fun,” you said as he grabbed onto the handles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tony’s a crazy driver and we’ve never been able to get you on a tube before. I’m betting you’ll fly off in the first three minutes.”

The tube jerked forwards before Bucky could say anything else. You started picking up speed quickly and soon enough, Bucky was holding the handles with a death grip. You ended up being right and about two minutes in, you hit a wave that threw him off.

“Are you okay?” you asked in between laughs as he struggled to get back on.

“Yeah,” he muttered, a hint of annoyance on his face. You threw a thumbs up to Tony, who nodded and started moving again. “It’s like he’s trying to throw us off.”

“Well half the fun is falling off.”

“You people have strange ways of entertaining yourselves on Sunday afternoons.”

“What would you suggest we rather do then?”

“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve giving myself whiplash for ‘fun.’”

“You’re such an old man.” You let go of a handle to smack his arm. Of course, at that exact moment, you hit a wave strong enough to throw both of you off. You shrieked as you flew off of the tube before smacking the water. Whether it was the lack of paying attention or a scheme by Nat and Steve, the boat kept going, leaving the two of you floating in the middle of the lake by yourselves.

“Where are they going?” You furrowed your eyebrows, though a grin was still evident on your face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky ignored your question as he swam over to you, worriedly grabbing your face and checking for injury.

“Buck, I’m fine,” you said, though you didn’t do anything to stop his injury check. He sighed and looked towards the direction the boat went. It seemed that they were already long gone.

“That shriek had me worried there for a second, doll.” His hands dropped from your cheeks and you found yourself missing his touch.

“No need to worry. I’m all good over here.”

“Good.”

A lull of conversation fell over the two of you as you treaded water. You slowly moved closer, noses almost touching when Bucky glanced down to your lips. You nodded. I want this too.

His lips brushed over yours: eyes closed and hands dipping under the water to grab your waist.

“There you are!” you heard Sam’s voice shout. You quickly separated, looking awkwardly down at the water as you tried to focus on anything but each other. “Thought we lost you. Didn’t interrupt anything, I hope.” He smirked at Bucky.

This time, it was Bucky flipping him off.

---

You tried to be quiet as possible as you tiptoed through the hallway, hoping that you wouldn’t step on any particularly squeaky floorboards in the dark. You started opening drawers once you made it to the kitchen in search of a flashlight. Did Tony even own basic technology like that?

“What are you doing, doll?” A soft voice broke you from your thoughts. A pair of blue eyes stared back at you.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Oh, okay.”

“You look like a deer in headlights.” His lips turned into an almost smile. “Are you running away?”

“Just down to the dock. Need to clear my mind.” Nightmares.

He nodded. An unspoken understanding. Maybe that’s what made you such great friends.

“Mind if I join?”

“Sure.” You finally found a flashlight and grabbed it, sliding the drawer shut with your hip. You slid the glass door to the porch open, leaving Bucky to follow you out.  

Warmth surrounded you as you made your way to the dock. The humidity was atrocious during the day but at night, it was somehow comforting. The buzzing of bugs in the surrounding woods brought you a level of peace that the hum of air conditioning inside couldn’t. You sat down at the edge of the dock, dipping your toes in the cool lakewater.

Bucky sat down next to you a moment later. Your silence contrasted with that of the busy summer night, but it was comfortable. Nothing needed to be said; the presence of each other was more than enough.

“You know,” he started, his gaze not leaving the shoreline across the way. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

You glanced over to him for a second, taking subtle notice of his features when his guard was down. The dark circles under his eyes mirrored yours, yet he looked relaxed.

“And what if I don’t?” The slight stain of your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His head turned to meet you eyes. The soft upturn of your lips and content sigh told him that was the right answer. Your hand inched closer to his, your pinkies brushing on the splintered wood of the dock.

“How do you always know what to say?” Your gaze followed his across the lake, catching sight of a few deer grazing on the grass at the edge of the woods.

“I guess being alive for 106 years has to give me some kind of wisdom, right?”

You snorted, breaking the quiet atmosphere the two of you had created for the first time that night.

“I dunno. You’re still kind of a dumbass.”

“And you're still kind of a smartass, so where does that get us?” A grin spread across his face and there was no sight you loved more.

“God, I love seeing you smile.” A blush coated his cheeks at your words and he prayed you couldn’t see it in the dark of the night.

Your hands inched closer for a second time that night. A metal hand reached across to grab yours, his other arm going around your waist to pull you closer. Your head rested beneath his chin as he rubbed circles into your side.

“Thank you,” you mumbled after a few minutes of quiet.

“For what?”

“Your face.”

His chest rumbled with laughter and he squeezed you just the slightest bit tighter. “Glad I could be of service, doll.”

“Seriously, though . . .Thank you for being around. I know we joke around a lot but it really means a lot that you’re willing to sit out here with me.”

“I mean, technically, it was more of me inviting myself than putting myself through the torture of sitting here with you.”

You pulled away from his chest, shifting yourself so you could look at him better. “For real, Buck.” You put your hands on his cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Just do it, Bucky. Now’s the time.

He let out a breath as he smiled, looking anywhere but in your eyes as he contemplated what to do next. The hand not holding your waist came to brush back a piece of hair that had fallen in your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked shocked for a moment, leaving him to wonder if he’d been reading it wrong all along. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I thought that-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck as his grabbed your hips. It was everything you needed and yet it still wasn’t enough.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen,” you breathed once you pulled away. This grin on your face mirrored his as he pressed his forehead against yours, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“Actually . . . I think I might.” He dipped back in for another kiss, this one a bit softer than the first, but just as passionate.

A sudden breeze swept through the night and you shivered. It would have been a relief from the heat if you weren’t already having chills due to the man in front of you.

“Let’s get you back inside, doll.”

You were reluctant to let go of him. The moment you’d been waiting for for so long finally happened and you felt yourself scared to be too far from him.

You shifted your weight back so he could get up, not realizing just how close to the edge of the dock you were. Bucky let go of your hips before you could warm him and you felt yourself falling backwards in slow motion. A small yelp left your lips and Bucky’s attempt to save you was futile as your hands slipped through his.

“Cold, cold, cold!” you chanted once you surfaced, barely hearing yourself over how loud Bucky was laughing.

“Are you okay?” he choked out in between his laughter, kneeling at the edge of the dock and holding his hand out towards you. You grabbed his hand with a glare.

“I have half a mind to yank you in here with me.” His eyes widened at your words.

“Don’t you dare!” You tugged his arm lightly, just enough to get his face closer to yours.

“I guess I can spare you. Just this one time.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling yourself up onto the dock. “But I think I deserve a hug for my troubles.”

“Can’t deny my girlfriend that, now can I?” He pulled you into a hug, cradling your head on his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I’m your girlfriend, huh? Damn, we’re moving fast! Do you have the wedding planned already?”

“Oh please. I think we all know we’ve basically been dating for a while now.”

“Perhaps.” The two of you stayed in that position for a moment longer before another breeze came.  “Should we go in now that we’re both wet and cold?”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea, doll.” Keeping an arm around each other, you slowly made your way back to the cabin, already making plans for a proper date once the trip was over.

---

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Toxic Taste

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] It's a perfect day for a picnic with your friends. Well, it seems like one until you suddenly fall very ill.

Warnings: very minor cursing

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: this was requested by @amintyworld​! everyone just loves protective dream, don’t they? i had fun exploring this concept, and i hope you enjoy!

You hummed, fixing your hair in the mirror before giving yourself one last once over, nodding to yourself. Looks good. Just then, you heard the door swing open behind you, creaking with a quiet groan. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey, are you ready to go?”

Whirling around, your hand quickly grabbed the woven basket on the table beside you as you flashed Clay a bright grin, bounding over to his side with a skip in your step. “I am, now.”

Without having to say another word, he lifted his arm toward you, and you looped yours through his, your fingers tightening around the basket handle. The two of you stepped outside together, locking the door behind you before making your way down the oak path. Above you, only a few clouds dotted the cerulean blue sky, drifting along the gentle spring breeze.

It really was a perfect day for a picnic.

Turning, you cast a curious glance over at Clay. “Are you excited to see what everyone brought?”

He bobbed his head, his lips quirking up into a wicked grin. “Yeah—I can’t wait to make fun of whatever George made.”

You frowned, shooting him an unimpressed look. “George is a good chef in his own right,” you chided.

His smile widened, reaching over to gently tap your nose. “Yeah, but you’re the best.” He patted your basket cover, his viridian gaze swirling with mirth. “They’re gonna love your cookies.”

You rolled your eyes at him, snorting, but he didn’t miss the way your lips twitched. “You just say that because you’re my boyfriend.”

He hummed. “Just because I’m biased doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

You raised your brows at him. “Oh? So you admit that you’re biased?”

Leaning over, he brushed his lips against yours in a peck, pulling back with a dazzling grin. “Of course,” he murmured in that soft tone that made your cheeks grow hot, “without a doubt.”

You swallowed, trying to calm your frantically beating heart. “You’re so cheesy,” you said, adopting a passive tone, “no more dilly-dallying, now. We have a picnic to get to.”

He sent you a crooked smile. “Okay, okay.” His eyes flashed. “I’ll race you.”

“Huh, wh—?”

Before you could even process what was happening, he had suddenly bolted, his arm leaving yours. Almost immediately, your body yearned for the warmth of his pressed against yours, and you found yourself stumbling after him.

“Wait, Clay!” you called after him, your basket bouncing beside you as you watched him crest over the grassy hill. “That’s not fair! Get back here!”

He only turned to shoot you a goofy grin, laughter bubbling on his lips as he disappeared from view, his hoodie fading to nothing more than a tiny speck of green among the swaying blades of grass. You couldn’t stop the laughter from spilling from your lips, bursting from your chest like fireworks.

“You are so dead when I catch up to you!”

He called back over the horizon. “If you ever!”

Your grin only grew wider.

Oh, he was so dead.

“Your bread sucks.”

You gasped, lightly smacking Clay’s chest. “Clay!” Whipping around, you sent George an earnest grin. “George, I think your bread is wonderful.”

Beside you, Tommy made a face, setting his slice down on his plate with a disgusted glance. “Nah, I agree with Big D. This bread is pretty shit.”

Now, it was Wilbur’s turn to gasp. “Tommy!”

Tommy’s brows knit together as he scowled. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

George let out a long groan, his glasses threatening to slide off the crown of his head as he hung his face in his hands. “I am never baking, again.”

In an instant, Niki was on her feet, flailing her arms. “No, no, no! Don’t say that—baking can be a lot of fun!” She paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “I can teach you a new sourdough recipe, if you’d like!”

George lifted his head, blinking at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “You would?”

She nodded, a bright smile tugging at her lips. “Of course!”

Sapnap snorted, taking another bite of steak. “I can’t believe you have to learn from someone else how to make good bread.”

George groaned again, glowering at his supposed best friend. “Why is everyone ganging up on me, today?”

Clay was quick to butt in. “Haven’t you heard? It’s National Be Mean to George Day.”

Tubbo blinked, confusion clouding his features. “That’s not a real holi—” He paused, then gasped. “Oh, wait.” He grinned. ��Never mind.”

George’s glare only intensified, and he sighed. “Niki, forget it.”

While Niki practically shriveled into a puddle, Wilbur spoke up, offering him a reassuring smile. “Well, I think your bread is delicious, George. Genuinely.”

George flashed him a thankful grin, adjusting the glasses on his head. “Thank you, Wilbur.”

Letting out another laugh, you leaned back against Clay’s side, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as you snuggled against him. Your friends were always up to weird antics, and while you didn’t necessarily agree with their actions, you were willing to indulge in them, if only to see what would happen next. In front of you, you gingerly picked up the half-eaten fish skewer from your plate, lifting it to your lips as you took another bite. It was sweet, and vaguely tasted like saltwater, but you liked it. It was unique, in its own weird way.

You watched as Clay reached across the patterned blanket for the plate of cookies you had brought, gingerly picking one up. Glancing up at him, you opened your mouth. “Do you actually think George’s bread is bad?” you asked softly. “Or are you just trying to rile him up?”

He paused, the cookie halfway to his mouth, then shrugged, biting in. “It’s a bit of both. It isn’t half-bad, I guess.” He shot you a cheeky wink. “Yours is still better, though.”

You groaned, feeling your face grow warm. “Stop that.”

He tilted his head at you, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he chewed. “Stop what?” he said, leaning in close to you. “Being honest?”

You did your best to send him a glare, but you knew it was half-hearted at best. “Yes.”

His grin widened, his eyes glimmering with affectionate arrogance. “Never.”

As his eyes locked onto yours, you felt your glare melt away. With a small hum, he dipped his head to yours, pressing his mouth to yours with a smile. His tongue lapped at your lips, and you grinned back. He tasted like chocolate chips and sunshine. You pulled back with a quiet gasp, your cheeks burned with heat as his emerald eyes bore into yours, crinkling at the corners.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered for you and you alone.

Your heart swelled. “I love you, too.”

He stared at you for a moment longer, then pressed his forehead against yours, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Also,” he added, “you taste like fish.”

You sent him a horrified look before smacking his arm again, your heart flipping as he wheezed at your reaction. “S-Shut up!”

He only wheezed harder in response, and despite your embarrassment, you felt a smile tugging on your lips. That was the thing about Clay that got you every time—as much as he would tease you and make your heart go wild in your chest, you knew he meant every single thing he told you. He was just so sincere like that, and it made you want to sink straight into him.

God, you were so, so in love.

Just then, a howl pulled you away from your attack on Clay. You turned to see Quackity, his mouth agape as he pointed at Niki, a bewildered look plastered to her face. “Niki!” he screamed. “You brought cake?”

She blinked, stunned for only a moment before she smiled, nodding. “Yeah! It’s homemade and has vanilla frosting.”

Quackity immediately sank down to one knee, one hand outstretched toward her as he said dramatically, “Marry me.”

Niki’s smile didn’t falter for even a second. “No thanks.”

Quackity’s arm dropped, and he let out a whine. “Damn, you didn’t have to say it so quickly.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat down with a pout. “You could have at least pretended to think about it.”

You all burst into laughter, giggling as Niki simply set her cake down on the blanket next to George’s bread. Wilbur had brought three watermelons—how he carted them over by himself, you had no idea—while Tommy brought pork chops. Tubbo had also caught fish for the occasion while Sapnap packed steak. Meanwhile, Quackity had carried a sack of apples over to the picnic, but you had a feeling he may or may not have stolen them, since he didn’t exactly own an apple orchard of his own.

You opened your mouth to ask for a slice of Niki’s cake when you suddenly froze, a bolt of what felt like lightning tingling up your spine. Your head spun, and you could have sworn your vision darkened at the edges. An uneasy pit grew in your stomach, and you frowned. Why do I feel so... strange?

Pushing yourself forward slightly, you tried to sit up straight, only to feel your arms wobble before you crashed back into Clay’s side once more. In a flash, his arms were around you, holding you steady as his green eyes peered down at yours.

“Hey,” he said, his tone growing serious, “are you okay?” He wrinkled his brow. “You look a little off.”

You blinked, feeling your stomach churn with uneasiness. “I’m, um—I feel kind of sick.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Clay was on his feet, stretching his arm out to you. “Here, let me help you up.”

You slipped your hand into his, doing your best to hang on tight as he tugged you upward. You expected to simply stand on your own two feet just as you would in any other situation, but the moment you were up, you suddenly felt your knees buckle beneath you, your legs going numb. You gasped as your feet went flying out under you, your fingers digging onto Clay’s palm.

“Clay—!”

With a whirl, his arms held you to his chest, your sides shaking. A rush of anxiety rolled through you, and you looked down, desperately trying to move your foot, only to find that you couldn’t. It remained as still as a rock, and you wanted to cry.

“[Y/N],” Clay breathed, his hand on your face as he supported your weight with his other arm, “what’s wrong?” His eyes desperately searched yours for any clue as to what was happening, but all you could manage was a broken, choked whisper.

“Clay, I—” You swallowed, your hands trembling around his arm while something stung at the back of your eyes. “I can’t move my legs.”

He froze, his voice dropping to a deadly low whisper. “You what?”

You shook your head, hanging onto him for dear life. The spinning had gotten worse now, and you felt sicker and sicker by the second. “I-I don’t know, I don’t feel good and something’s wrong and—Clay,” you breathed, tears welling up in your eyes, “I’m scared.” Your heart pounded in your chest, but for all the wrong reasons. “Am I going to die?”

His gaze hardened, filling with determination as his hold around you tightened. “No,” he said without even an inkling of doubt, “you’re not.”

Before you could react, he suddenly swung one arm beneath your numb legs, easily hoisting you up so that you were carefully pressed against his chest. You gasped as your friends’ eyes landed on you, their faces full of worry as your head lolled against Clay’s shoulder.

“Everyone,” he said, his voice booming across the field, “there’s something wrong with the food.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t eat it.”

He turned his head, dipping his head toward George as he said, “George, I need you to get me as many regeneration potions and golden apples as you can, ASAP.”

George was on his feet as fast as he could, already turning on his heel. “I’m on it,” he shouted as he took off, already booking it down the hill.

Finally, Tubbo spoke up, asking the one question that had been on everyone’s mind. “Dream, what’s going on?”

Clay’s eyes darkened, and you could just barely feel his hands tighten around you while your vision swam.

“[Y/N]’s been poisoned.”

Wilbur gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god.”

Sapnap whipped his head around, gazing at the once serene picnic blanket with sheer terror. “What the fu—”

Suddenly, your hand shot up to grip Clay’s collar, his eyes immediately darting to yours. You gasped, your head absolutely throbbing as your heart rammed against your rib cage all too quickly. You opened your mouth, your spit tasting like salt and ash.

“Clay, I—”

The words died in your mouth as the world went dark, enveloping you in cold darkness.

You awoke with a start, bolting upright as you gasped, the cool air flooding your aching lungs. Immediately, you felt your stomach churn in retaliation, and your skull practically screamed at you to lie back down again. Slamming a hand over your eye, you felt the spinning of your head slowly fade away. Disoriented and dizzy, the blurriness of your vision began to lift as you blinked, taking in the sight of the room around you.

You didn’t recognize the windowsill at your side or the mattress you were lying on. The closed door stared back at you as your gaze swept over it, almost as if it knew you were confused. Not even the sheets looked familiar.

Where... am I?

You swallowed, something sharp and uneasy prickling up your spine.

What happened?

Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you tried to recall the events that had led you up to this moment.

You remembered... cookies. And a picnic. Clay’s hand in yours. There was food, and laughter. Then suddenly, you were queasy. Sick. Something wasn’t right. Then... nothing.

You blanched. Did I pass out?

Just then, you heard the door click, the hinges swinging open with a creak. Your eyes flew open and your breath hitched in your throat, and you turned, your fingers curling tighter into the sheets. Your eyes went wide as Clay walked in, one hand on the handle and the other holding an apple. The moment his eyes met yours, he froze.

“Clay?” you whispered, your voice sounding hoarse.

The apple dropped to the ground.

In an instant, he was in front of you with his hands on your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. His emerald eyes bore straight into yours with an intensity that sent your heart reeling. The words flew from his mouth in a flurry, his gaze never leaving yours.

“How are you feeling? Can you hear me? Is everything feeling alrig—”

“Woah, woah,” you said, waving your hand to cue him to stop, “what happened?”

His fingers trembled against your cheeks, and you could have sworn his eyes flashed with something wet. “[Y/N], oh, I’m—” He swallowed, his neck bobbing as he sent you a grateful smile. “I’m just so glad that you’re here.”

His hands pulled away from your face as he stood upright once more, heading for the open door. “Here, I’ll be back in a second.”

You raised your hand toward him, opening your mouth to say something, but he was already gone, having disappeared down the hall in a flash. Blinking, you sat stunned and even more confused than before, left only to wait and hope for an explanation once he returned.

Hardly even two minutes passed before you heard the rumbling of footsteps racing toward the open door. You squeaked when a series of faces filled the room, their cheeks red and chests heaving as they caught their breath. Clay immediately shuffled back to your side, slipping into the space on the bed next to you before grabbing your hand, squeezing.

“[Y/N]!” Niki cried, her eyes filled with panic. “Are you okay?”

Beside her, Tubbo’s hands shook at his side. “We only just heard from Dream that you were awake.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, your mind still hazy with everything that had just happened. Struggling to come up with an answer, you found yourself blurting the first words that came to mind. “How long has it been?”

You saw George shoot Sapnap a look, shrugging his shoulders before glancing back at you. “Uh, like, half a day.”

You shot forward, gaping. “Half a day?!”

Tommy flashed you a bright grin, leaning against Tubbo’s shoulder with a teasing look. “Yeah, you should have seen Dream run around! He spoon fed you regeneration potions and probably even read three whole fuckin’ libraries’ worth of books on poison antidotes while you wer—”

A hand suddenly smacked into Tommy’s skull, and he yelped. Behind him,  Wilbur scowled. “Tommy!” he scolded. There was a soft giggle, then Wilbur whirled, his eyes narrowing. “And Quackity.” The giggles stopped. “Don’t think I didn’t see you laughing. This is serious.”

There was a slight pause. “Okay, but it is funn—”

“[Y/N],” Clay suddenly said, cutting Tommy off as his hand squeezed yours.

You blinked, trying to ignore how low his voice sounded right about now. “Y-Yeah?”

He cocked his head at you, gesturing to the sheets covering your lower half. “Can you move your legs?”

“Um...” Lifting an arm, you flung the sheets off of you, carefully shifting your leg back and forth. “Y-Yeah. I’m still feeling kind of funny, though.” You wrinkled your nose. “I’m not sure if I can stand, yet.”

He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. I had a feeling this would happen, but I still wished it wouldn’t.”

Quackity took a step forward, his hand outstretched toward you. “Here, [Y/N], try—”

A snarl ripped itself out of Clay’s throat, and his shout echoed off the walls. “Don’t touch them!”

A tense silence immediately fell over the room, and Quackity back-pedalled, pulling his hand back as if he had burned it on hot coal. You watched as a pang of guilt shot across Clay’s face before he sighed. “Sorry, I mean—” He shook his head, lowering his head. “Fuck.”

Sapnap sent him a small smile, sincere and reassuring. “Hey, man,” he said softly, “it’s alright. We get it. You’re stressed. I’d react the same way if I was in your position.”

Clay raised his chin a little, his lips quirking. “Thanks, Sap.”

Wilbur suddenly spoke up, his eyes trained on you. “Dream, I think we still have some questions we should ask.”

Clay blinked, then nodded. “Right, thanks, Wilbur.” Clearing his throat, he turned to face you head on.” Do you still remember the picnic?” When you nodded, he continued. “Did anything out of the ordinary happen?”

You paused, then shook your head. “Not that I can remember. I woke up, packed up a basket, walked over to the field with you, ate with everyone, then...” You gestured vaguely. “Well, y’know.”

His gaze hardened. “What did you eat?”

You thought for a moment. “Um, I ate an apple, and I had two slices of George’s bread.” You paused again, furrowing your brows. Then, your eyes lit up. “Oh, and I also ate some of the fish.”

Clay stared at you. “Fish?” he parroted.

You bobbed your head, humming. “Yeah. That’s about as much as I remember.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you could practically see the gears turning in Clay’s head. “Did anyone else here eat the fish?” he finally said after a while.

Your friends cast curious looks at one another before George raised his hand, shaking his head. “No.” He jutted his head toward you. “[Y/N] was the first and only person to, I believe.”

Clay pursed his lips. “Tubbo.”

Tubbo jumped, looking panicked and shaky as he stammered out, “Y-Yes, Dream?”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “Who exactly brought the fish?”

Tubbo gulped. “Uh, it, um, ah—” He inhaled sharply at the look on Clay’s face, then sighed. “I did, Dream.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Then, Clay sighed, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Oh, it all makes sense now.”

Now, it was Tommy’s turn to speak, his expression clouded with confusion. “How the fuck does that make this make any more sense than it did before?”

Clay suddenly slipped his hand out of yours, your palm meeting nothing as he rose to his full height. You felt the air grow cold.

“Tubbo,” he said slowly, casually—almost too casually. A crooked, charming smile spread across his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What kind of fish was it?”

Tubbo lowered his gaze to the ground. “Pufferfish,” he said in a tiny whisper.

Tommy stared. “Oh.” Understanding flickered across his face before being replaced by horror. “Oh.”

Clay took a step forward, the grin never leaving his face. “Tubbo—”

Your hand shot forward, grabbing onto his wrist before he could take another step. His arm was tense underneath your touch, but he stopped the moment your skin met his. “Clay,” you said quickly, your words rushed and hurried, “stop, please.”

He turned, looking back at you over his shoulder. You shook your head at him. “I’m sure it was an accident. Tubbo would never poison anyone deliberately, let alone me.”

You heard a soft hiccup, then Tubbo spoke. “I-I wouldn’t, I swear it! I just... I thought cooking pufferfish would make them less toxic for other people.”

Niki raised her hand, her face pleading as her eyes darted back and forth between Dream and Tubbo. “I can vouch for him, and not just because we’re friends. He might have built up his own tolerance for pufferfish poison, but I don’t think he realized just how bad it could turn out to be.”

Tubbo nodded frantically, looking smaller than ever as he finally lifted his head. “Seriously, Dream, I would never do it intentionally, I promise.” He turned to look at you, his sides shaking as your gaze met his.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he whispered, honesty and desperation soaking into every syllable he spoke, “I really am.”

Your face softened immediately, and you could only hope he knew how sincere you were being. “I forgive you, Tubbo.” Your eyes flit to the man in front of you. “Do you, Clay?”

You couldn’t see his expression from where you were sitting, but the look of terror on Tubbo’s face said it all. “Yes,” he said, “but only because you do.”

Your grip around his wrist tightened. “Clay, I’m positive. Please, just let it be.” You tugged a little, and he turned, watching as you kicked your legs at him with a small smile. “I’m all better now, see?”

The coldness in his gaze finally seemed to melt, and he shook his head at you, his lips twitching. “Fine.” Walking back over to you, you tucked your legs back against you as he sat on the bed, levelling a glare at the crowd gathered in front of you. “Now everyone, get out.”

There was a whistle. “Jeez, aggressive mu—”

“Tommy,” Wilbur said again, already tugging at the blond’s collar as he tread toward the hall, “an angry Dream is not someone you want to mess with.”

Tommy glowered as everyone filed out of the room, his voice fading away as they disappeared outside. “Ugh, you are such a killjo—”

Sapnap sent you a friendly smile as his hand wrapped around the door handle. “I hope you feel better soon, [Y/N].”

You returned his grin with a grateful look. “Thanks, Sapnap.”

With one last wave, he pulled the door shut, leaving you alone with Clay. Shifting forward slightly, you swung your legs off the bed, nudging him with your side. “Clay?” you murmured, your eyes searching his face. It was at times like this he was easier to read.

With a sigh, he hung his head in his hands, the vein in his neck bulging out. “God, I know he means well, but I still kind of want to wring Tubbo’s neck, right now.”

You leaned against him, pressing your cheek to his bicep. “Clay, don’t say that.”

He lifted his head, growling. “I know, I know! It’s just—”

He bit his lip, then sighed again, his arm reaching up to pull you onto his lap. Shifting you around so that you were facing him, his leaned his forehead against yours, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“You don’t know how scared I was,” he whispered, sincere and true. “I never want to lose you. Ever.”

Heat crawled up your neck, and your head spun, but not for the same reasons as before. “C-Clay.”

His hand stroked along your back. “It’s the truth, y’know? I’d never lie to you, and I mean every word.” Leaning upward, he pressed his lips to your forehead as he spoke, the words shaking against your skin. “You mean more to me than you may ever know.”

You hummed, your heart blossoming in your chest. “Even if that’s the case,” you said, “you don’t need to be so upset, anymore.” You felt his lips leave your forehead, and you peered up at him through your lashes. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

You leaned back in his arms, reaching up to brush your fingertips over his freckles. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched him melt a little at the gesture. “Now,” you said, quiet yet firm, “promise me you won’t be mad at Tubbo the next time you see him.”

He blinked. “W-What?”

You pursed your lips. “Clay.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I promise.” A sly grin slipped onto his face. “But only if...”

You raised a brow at him. “Only if...?”

You half-wanted to smack the stupid grin off his stupidly perfect face. “Only if you give me a kiss.”

You giggled, slipping your arms over his shoulder and around his neck. He always knew how to make you laugh, even at serious times like this. Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. He still tasted like freshly squeezed lemonade, gleaming in the light of the sweet summer sun. You felt him smile against you, and you pulled away mirroring his expression.

“There,” you whispered, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Does that seal the deal?”

He hummed, tilting his head at you while mischief danced in his eyes. “Maybe you should do it again just to make sure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t stop the giddy smile from spreading across your face.

Your picnic may have been a disaster, but you wouldn’t mind ending your days wrapped in Clay’s arms more often.