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celestie0 · 3 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.5 these feelings are hard to find

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 5/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.4k

a/n. aaaa this chapter took me a while because i was having some pretty bad writer's block. i seriously can't believe it crossed over 10k words, i very poorly planned how much i wanted to get done by this chapter, but i didn't feel like splitting it into two so oh wellll. hope you enjoy! pls excuse any typos we all live on a floating rock.

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

“I really don’t understand why I’m here…” you’re grumbling as you, Mina and Todo make your way up the pavement of the driveway leading to the house party. You glance to your right where Mina and Todo are holding hands, arms swinging as they keep pace together.

It was finally Friday after a particularly long and stressful week, so you were extremely excited to just spend the rest of the night relaxing at home. You had already poured yourself a glass of wine when you returned from your evening class and were sitting on the couch with a blanket on, scrolling through Netflix, when Mina approached you while she was talking to Todo on the phone. She mentioned something about an SAE party tonight that she wanted you to come along for and Todo said he’d extend his other invite to you. When you politely declined, Mina slumped down on the couch and told Todo she had no interest in going unless you also came. And then Todo was bribing you with a hundred bucks. Easiest hundred bucks you’ve ever made.

“Don’t be a downer. You’re here because I think you’ve been working hard and you need to relax a bit,” Mina chirps, now clinging onto Todo’s arm, “and there’s no better way to relax than getting drunk.”

“I could be getting drunk at home,” you mumble to yourself, the night you were imagining for yourself all day being very different from where you find yourself now.

The guy that was bouncing for tonight’s party was scanning people’s phones and engaging in some small talk before allowing people inside. He was pretty handsome and you wondered if there was some sort of requirement written in the rules to the SAE fraternity that they must be good-looking to join.

“Hello, my brother,” Todo says as he approaches, smacking him so hard on the back in greeting that the man stumbles over slightly and sends an irritated glare Todo’s way before he regains his balance.

“Hey, big guy, are these your invites?” He gestures towards you and Mina, his eyes landing on yours and lingering for a moment. You blink at him.

“Yes, this here’s my lovely lady, and this here’s my lovely lady’s friend,” Todo says with a faux suave that only makes you narrow your eyes at him. The man at the entrance sighs and nods before stepping out of the way and motioning the three of you towards the entrance.

The minute you enter, you immediately realize that this party felt very different from the one you were at last week. It was slightly less crowded, but there were still plenty of people bustling around the large expanse of the ground floor with loud rap music that practically shook the walls. It was dark, much more edgy, with the only source of light being the sporadic flashing of lights over by the DJ’s booth. You felt disoriented from the atmosphere, and the smell of weed and alcohol only further dazed you.

“This is insane,” you barely hear Mina say beside you over the music as she looks around the expansive interior of the house. In between the brief flickering lights that lit up people’s faces, you register that Todo is grinning at her as though he was entirely satisfied by her reaction.

You only make it a few steps inside, trailing behind Mina and Todo, before feeling the need to excuse yourself to get away from the intense environment for a second. “Hey, I think I’m going to use the restroom real quick. Todo, do you have any idea where it is?” You feel like you’re shouting just to be heard.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “There are some downstairs but they probably have lines. You could try upstairs.”

You give him an appreciative nod and head over to the base of the staircase at the right, glancing up before making your ascent. There didn’t seem to be anyone else upstairs, which surprised you, but you figured you were just in luck and began to walk up step by step until reaching the top. The music downstairs begins to sound muffled as you turn around the railing post and make your way to the left into the narrow hallway likely leading towards the bedrooms. There's a white door somewhere in the middle of the hallway that could only be either a closet or a bathroom. You wrap your hand around the cold metal door handle and twist, satisfied that it wasn’t locked.

The mumbling noises of people inside doesn’t register in your mind until you’ve already cracked the door open half-way, and your entire body recoils in the immediate rush of embarrassment washing over you as you take in the sight of two people, a man and a woman, getting handsy with one another in the bathroom.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” is all you manage to squeak out, blinking dumbly at the scene.

You’re quick to avert your gaze and about to close the door, incredibly mortified by what’s just happened, when the familiar silhouette in front of you causes you to freeze. You slowly lift your line of sight from the bathroom floor until Gojo Satoru is looking you straight in the eye from where he has a girl on the bathroom counter clinging to his shirt.

“I…” you stutter, face feeling immediately hot as you let go of the door handle and look away from his shocked face. “Sorry,” you say again, this time barely above a whisper, before turning on your heel and making your way down the hallway in such a hurry that you don’t even realize you’re going the wrong way. You hear a feminine voice echo something in the bathroom like what the fuck are you doing?, and then there’s footsteps following after you that sound faster than your own. Ignoring the call of your name, you practically storm into one of the bedrooms, entirely relieved that it was empty, and can only take a couple of steps inside before a hand grabs at your wrist. A chill runs down your spine from the contact.

“Wait, y/n,” Gojo says behind you from where he’s followed you inside, sounding like he’s out of breath. His hand is still holding onto you, keeping you still and you can feel the roughness of his calluses against your skin. When you turn around to face him, he’s close to you and you see his chest is heaving, his hair is disheveled, his shirt is wrinkled at the front and there’s a crease in his brow.

Your eyes don’t stay on his for long before you’re looking away from him again. “I’m…I’m really sorry, that was really awkward,” you say with a forced laugh and an attempt to wiggle yourself free of his grip but he’s unrelenting. The image of his fingers sliding up that girl’s top was still burned in your vision and no amount of excessive blinking at the carpet beneath your feet seemed to make it disappear.

“No, I’m sorry, I was supposed to lock…” his trails off and you notice there’s a rough quality to his voice, “that was just-, we were just-”

You finally brave yourself to look up at him and he somehow seems closer than before, his face just inches away from yours and his eyes briefly flickering to your lips before he meets your gaze with a tense expression on his face. You haven’t seen him look so flustered before, and you’ve certainly never heard him struggle this much to find his words either.

His other hand rubs the back of his neck as he closes his eyes in what looks like frustration, then takes a deep breath to seemingly calm himself down before speaking again. “She’s…We’re just friends,” is all he manages to say.

There’s a silence between the two of you as you blink at him and he stares at you, his thumb pressing into the skin of where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. You try really hard to bite back the words you’re about to say, but no amount of willpower could’ve helped you. Your chin tips up, looking at him more decisively, and his gaze is flickering to your mouth again. “Just friends…can’t say I’ve ever tried to get my friends naked in the bathroom at a party before.” You didn’t understand why your tone came off so hostile, but it felt good to criticize his choice of words for some reason.

His lips press together, gaze narrowing slightly and eyebrows furrowing further at your words. He leans in closer to the point where your senses were entirely occupied by him and it was impossible to think of anything else. “Well, you weren’t supposed to see that.” His eyes are contrite but his tone is vexed.

You relax your body language and use your other hand to forcefully slide his hand off of your wrist, encountering some resistance from him before he acquiesces. Your skin tingles from the absence of his touch and you take a step backwards away from him. His posture straightens slightly, eyes continuing to dart across the features of your face and wide in anticipation as though he was patiently waiting for you to say something that would put him at ease.

“It’s fine,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice as level as possible, “I accidentally walked in on something I shouldn’t have. You don’t owe me any sort of explanation for it.” Gojo seems to tense up even further at your words, his expression briefly contorting into one of confusion before it reverts to concern again.

You walk around him towards the bedroom door and see him in your periphery watching every step you take until you eventually exit the room. This time, you don’t hear his footsteps pursuing you from behind. It’s only when you make it past the bathroom, not even daring to take a look inside of it, and about halfway down the hallway that you unsteadily let out the breath you were holding in. Your hand takes its place over your chest in a flimsy attempt to calm your heart down as you quickly make your way down the stairs. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach and you knew you just had to get as far away from here as possible.

You’re barely able to spot Mina from where she stood with Todo in a corner near the backyard screen door, and briefly notice that Nanami, Geto, as well as a few of their other teammates were clustered there too. You politely acknowledge their pleasant greetings to you as you approach Mina, pulling her to the side.

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” She asks, stumbling a little bit and you let go of her sleeve.

“I’m going to go home, not feeling well, I think I just got my period,” you easily come up with a lie, “Nobara says she’ll pick me up.” In truth, you were planning on just calling an Uber for home, but you knew that Mina wouldn’t let you go home by yourself. You didn’t want your confusing and heightened emotions ruining her night.

“Wait, are you sure? I’ll come with you,” she’s quick to say, taking a step towards you but you shake your head.

“No, it’s fine, stay here with Todo,” you demand, “and call me if you need me to pick you up. I’ll let you know when I’m home.” You give her a little hug and she’s standing there confused before hesitantly nodding, and then you make your way to the door. The loud music, flashing lights, and blurred faces around you were so intensely stimulating that when the cold air from outside finally hit your skin, you felt like you were human again.

The Uber comes by in less than ten minutes as you wait for it on the sidewalk. The driver drops you off at the entrance of your apartment complex and the biting chill of the air has you wrapping your arms around yourself as you wait for the elevator to take you upstairs. Glancing down at your phone to check the time, you see a message from Mina asking if you were home yet. You also see that it’s nearly one in the morning.

Finally making your way inside your apartment, you lock the door behind you and text Mina that you’re home, then slide down with your back against the front door until you’re sitting on the floor. The heat inside was so comforting that you just spent a moment to warm yourself up and just breathe.

Memories of your conversation with Gojo from just half an hour ago instantly come to the forefront of your mind and you’re shutting your eyes to try and repel the thoughts away. Still so embarrassed that you walked in on him making out with someone, your brain decides to mortify you even further by asking what if you had walked in a few moments later instead? What would you have seen then?

You squish your cheeks between your hands defeatedly before letting out a sigh and drawing your legs in towards you, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t understand why you were so affected by what you saw. You’ve only met Gojo twice, and you knew even before you met him that he was that kind of person. He had a reputation of being involved with a lot of women, so his rather eager desire to explain himself to you just puzzled you even further.

Standing up, you head over to your bed and flop down on it. Your wrist still burns with the memory of the heat of his hand, and all you can see behind the lids of your eyes when you close them is the sight of him so close to you, stealing glances at your lips.

Somewhere along the night as you drifted in and out of sleep, Mina called to let you know that she was on her way home. When you hear her open the bedroom door and set her purse down on the nightstand near her bed, your body finally convinces you that it’s okay to rest, and that’s exactly what you do.

---

The weekend is over in the blink of an eye, simply not enough time to mope around in bed, and you’re walking out of your last class of the day on Monday. You check your phone pretty much every other minute to see if Gojo has sent you any messages regarding their new practice schedule for the week, which you’re sure he’s received by now, but there’s nothing. The last messages sent between the two of you were before the party on Friday, and an uneasy feeling has been settling in. You spent most of last week appreciating how helpful he was being so far, but you didn’t even consider the possibility that he could rescind his help at any time too.

You head over to the Department of Communication & Journalism building, making your way up the stairs until you reach the graduate division floor and walk down the hallway to Room 212. As you make your entry, a toasty and rich scent overtakes your senses.

“Ah, y/n, hello! So good to see you, thanks for coming by. I missed seeing you last week,” you hear Utahime say as she sets down a cup of coffee for you on the conference table in the middle of the room.

“Sorry, I was just…very mentally occupied last week,” you admit to her, setting your tote bag down on one of the chairs before taking the seat where the cup of coffee was placed, the fragrance instantly waking you up as you take a sip. “Thank you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you, just working through my thesis,” she says with a sigh and takes the seat next to you. “Just a few more months…just a few more months, and I’m free!”

You smile at her and watch as she pulls out her laptop, the start-up noise chiming before she starts clicking away at the million tabs that were open. “Did you receive the email I sent you for the newsletter shots?” You ask.

Utahime was a 4th-year graduate student in journalism and was also the head of the school’s newsletter. She has so graciously allowed for Film Club photography shout-outs in every monthly issue for the past couple of years.

She nods. “I did,” she says, resting her elbow on the table and tapping her index finger to her chin, “how come I didn’t see any of your photos in there, though?”

You sigh, sulking your shoulders slightly as you peer down into the brown liquid of your cup and watch the steam evaporate. “I didn’t really take great pictures this month.”

“Aw, well are you working on anything right now?” She returns to clicking away at tabs.

“Yeah, I’ll be taking film photos out on the field of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni next week. It’s for an assignment,” you tell her and watch as her face lights up.

“That’s wonderful! That’s a pretty big gig, they usually only let professionals out on the field. How were you able to secure that?” Utahime asks you as she tips her head to the side.

“Ah…let’s just say I have some sort of deal with one of their players?” You say. Your heart drops a little when you remember the lack of communication from Gojo as of recently, wondering if he was able to get that referee permission for you.

“Which one?” Utahime asks with a teasing smile, leaning over to nudge you with her elbow.

“Gojo Satoru,” you say and then she’s pulling away from you and rolling her eyes, an annoyed look making its way onto her face. You let out a small laugh at her behavior. “Okay, well now I’m curious.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh as she peers beyond the window of the room. “I was his TA when he was just a wee-little freshman. He was always showing up late to class and trying to flirt his way out of completing assignments,” she grumbles, “is he still a little brat?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking way harder about her question than she had probably intended. “I don’t know…I don’t really know him all that well.” You look down at your hands. Despite the fact that you’ve only known Gojo for a short while, for some reason you felt like you did know him well. You knew the kinds of things that made him smile, you knew the look in his eyes when he was deep in thought about something. You knew what the heat from his body felt like, what the fragrance of his clothes smelled like.

Utahime is silent for a moment as she studies you. “Hmm,” she’s humming next to you, “well, tell you what, send me your photos when you’re done with them. If they’re good, I’ll use your photos for the sports recap in the newsletter instead of the professional ones we get sent from the school. I can compensate you for them as well.”

Your eyes widen as you look at her, jaw dropping a bit as you blink in disbelief. “Utahime…you would do that for me?”

She gives you a smile and a wink. “Of course, talent helps talent. And it’s my newsletter, I can do whatever I want with it. Besides, you want to get into the school’s film graduate program, right? I’m sure it would look great on your application that you’ve had some of your portfolio published to the school’s official reports. The photos have to be good, though.” She points a finger at you and gives you a strict look.

You feel tears prickle in your eyes from her words, so overwhelmingly grateful for her support, and can barely whisper out a thank you before she’s rushing over to the other table to grab a tissue box and set it in front of you.

“Gosh, why do all my undergrads cry in my presence?” she complains as she pulls out a tissue and hands it to you.

You dab it to your eye. “Because you have such wholesome mom energy.”

You say goodbye to Utahime after discussing a few more things and then leave the room. You check your phone and your heart skips a beat when you see Gojo’s name in your notifications.

|| 1:43PM Gojo Satoru: Hey, just wanted to let you know I was able to get that referee permission for you for next week

You let out a tiny gasp when you read his words then clutch your phone to your chest in relief. Utahime’s offer of the prospect of getting published in the school’s newsletter gave you a large sense of purpose, and you felt like it was time to take this assignment of yours extremely seriously to secure the opportunity. And Gojo was the one with the power to help you do that.

|| 1:52PM You: thank you so much, i really don’t know how to repay you

You sigh as you make your way to the stairs, grateful that you were getting some communication from him. The big game on the 28th was next Thursday, and you really needed to practice taking photos with your film camera. You open Instagram again to ask him for his practice schedule, but you see that he had sent you another message.

|| 1:54PM Gojo Satoru: No need to repay me, consider us even. Also sorry for the late notice, but we’re having a formal practice match in about an hour with one of the teams we played against earlier in the season. Do you want to come by?

After reading his message, you quickly shuffle your tote bag open and peer inside to see that you did indeed bring your film camera with you to campus today. Excited, you type out a response.

|| 1:55PM You: yes! i’ll hesd over right now

|| 1:55PM You: *head over

|| 1:55PM You: lol

You see little bubbles indicating typing in the left side corner.

|| 1:55PM Gojo Satoru: Meet me by the art sculpture, I’ll walk you over

You blink at the message for a few seconds, starting to type out a message before deleting it, and doing that a couple more times over. When someone tries to shuffle around you from behind, you notice you were standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs so you step away and lean against the wall. You press your lips together in consideration as you realize that today would be the first time you’re going to see Gojo again after that awkward interaction that you had with him at the party last Friday, and you were really not sure how you were going to feel having to be alone with him again.

|| 1:57PM You: that’s okay, i don’t want to trouble you

His response is instant.

|| 1:57PM Gojo Satoru: Just meet me there

Once you’ve made your way across campus, you spot Gojo sitting on the concrete barrier surrounding the art sculpture by the fields practically right in front of the please do not sit on the concrete barrier sign. His head is turned away from the direction you were approaching from, arms crossed at his chest and one of his legs impatiently bouncing up and down. You notice he’s wearing the school’s colors, a teal blue shirt and gray shorts that had some highlights of a sunset yellow, as well as gray athletic soccer shin socks and cleats. He looks so ridiculously sports boyfriend that you have to shake your head to try and physically fight the effect of how attracted you were to him.

He must’ve heard you approaching as you crossed the street towards him since he turned his head in your direction. He’s wearing a black sports headband across his forehead that’s pushing the hair up out of his face and you’re startled by the intensity of his blue eyes on you. When he stands up, his arms fall to his side, making you sad that you could no longer shamelessly stare at the way his biceps flexed when he had his arms crossed.

“Hey,” he says simply, staying perfectly still where he stood.

There was only one way to dissolve an awkward situation, and that was to pretend like it never happened in the first place. You tip your head to the side, giving him a curious look before skipping right on up to him. “Hello, there,” you cheerfully say. He looks at you with a borderline annoyed expression.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he comments, his voice sounding deeper than usual. Almost tired.

“Yes, very good mood,” you chirp as you walk past him, “I just got a very good offer.”

The sound of the bottom of his cleats on the sidewalk follow after you as you head in the direction of the softball batting cages. It's not long before he emerges at your side in your periphery. “What kind of offer?” You can tell from his tone that he was trying to restrain his curiosity.

“Oh, you’ll see,” you say as you look up at him and smile. He gives you an irritated expression due to your lack of transparency but you continue to skip forward until you’ve made it to stairs that lead up to the grassy hills.

Gojo’s about a step’s distance behind you as you lightly frolic across the land, your heavy tote bag bumping against your hip with every jump. You feel something fly out of it which halts you in your gleeful stride and look behind to where your bluetooth laptop mouse has fallen onto the grass right in front of Gojo. He’s sighing before crouching down to pick it up, then takes a step towards you and extends it out to you. When you glance up at him, he’s not looking at you and his face is hard to read.

You grab the mouse from him, fingertips brushing against the skin of his palm, and he ever-so-slightly shivers at the touch. His gaze finally meets yours.

With a sigh, you toss your computer mouse back into your bag. “I’m trying really hard to not feel awkward around you right now, but you’re making it pretty difficult.” You were so used to feeling like he has the upper edge of conversation when you’re with him, but now you felt like you were the one with the power.

He raises an eyebrow at you and when you look at his hands, you notice he was apprehensively cracking his knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel awkward if you actually stayed to talk last Friday.”

You cross your arms across your chest, disliking his tone. “Stayed to talk? About what? How not close you are with your ‘friends’?”

He tips his head up to the sky and closes his eyes, his brow furrowing like he was entirely frustrated by you, before he looks back down at you again. “If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine, but what’s with you always running away whenever I try to talk to you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well that night,” you mumble to him as you turn away and continue to walk towards the practice field. It was the truth, you weren’t feeling well that night, and it was because seeing him kissing another girl made your stomach drop to the core of the Earth. But that wasn’t something you were going to admit to him. It wasn’t even something you were ready to admit to yourself. “Also, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I don’t care to believe you.”

“But why don’t you care?” he’s asking you, his voice sounding desperate now as he makes his way to your side again. He’s looking at you but you’re looking straight ahead.

You roll your eyes, continuing to march forwards. “Not everyone cares about your love life, Satoru. Contrary to what you might think.”

He jogs ahead a few steps, now walking backwards in front of you and you narrow your eyes at him. His tongue is poking at the inside of his cheek and then there’s a boyish grin on his face. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” you ask.

“My name,” he says.

You almost roll your eyes out of your head when you see his amused expression. “I seriously can’t believe this right now,” you’re muttering under your breath and walk past him down the large hill leading to the practice field, his gaze on you burning through your skin until you’re rubbing at your cheek with the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to physically wipe the blush away.

The practice field was much more crowded and busy than it was during the first practice you went to last week. Looking across to the other side, you see a group of men huddled near one of the benches, all of them wearing maroon-colored shirts with black shorts that have gold stripes running down the side of them. None of them were wearing jerseys, but you assumed they were wearing their school colors as some sort of distinguishing clothing that would help them during the practice match.

“Satoru! Where the hell have you been?” You flinch upon hearing Coach Yaga’s stern voice nearby and you look over to where he had his arms crossed and glaring at Gojo through his thick sunglasses.

Gojo walks past you towards the benches and gives Coach Yaga a salute. “Sorry, sir, personal business.” He then makes his way over to the rest of his teammates that were huddled on this side of the field. There were a few tables located on the sidelines that had refillable water stations, bottles of Gatorade, towels and all sorts of other athletic gear. You walk up to one of the tables and fix the settings on your film camera before taking a snapshot of the items laid out on it.

The atmosphere is light since this wasn’t an official match and so you spend some time fidgeting with your camera before they get started. You can only imagine how tense it must be during a proper tournament game at the actual stadium off-campus, the thought of thousands of people spectating from stands sending a shiver down your spine. Athletes were of a whole different breed, despite how wholesome and down-to-earth most of the UTokyo soccer players you’ve met so far were.

Eventually, Coach Yaga and the other coach from the opposing school blow their whistles, both acting as referees for the match, and the players scatter themselves across the field. You notice Gojo is at the center of the circle in the middle, his foot on top of the ball as he scans his eyes across the field to each of the players with a focused look in his eyes. He draws his foot back, and just when you think he’s about to kick it forwards to where he was looking, the back of his heel makes contact with the ball instead and it’s sent swiftly behind him towards Geto. Instantly, all the players begin to move across the field, some of the offensive opposing side charging towards Geto as he shuffles the ball between his feet before kicking it way ahead of him to another one of their teammates. You bring your camera up to your face and take a snapshot when one of the opposing team’s defenders makes an attempt to steal the ball.

The play continues further, both teams playing a push-and-pull with the ball. Gojo makes an attempt at a goal before the opposing team’s goalie lunges for the ball that was flying in the air straight towards the net, catching it in his arms and then crashing down onto the ground. Somewhere along the intense match, the coaches call half-time and you’re shocked by how fast the first half went by.

Some of the players retreat to the benches to quench their thirst and wipe the perspiration off their faces with their towels, while others remain on the green expanse to pace around while catching their breath. Your attention is drawn to Gojo who stood at the center with his hands on his hips and breathing visibly heavily. He leisurely shuffles the ball between his feet with an innate rhythm before passing it off towards Geto who stood a few feet away from him. Gojo pulled his headband off of his face, his hair falling over his forehead onto the sheen layer of sweat above his eyes. With each breath, his chest rises and falls, lips parted in a display of exertion, and then he grabs at the hem of his shirt to lift it to his face, exposing his toned torso, as he wipes away the sweat at his temples. Your eyes widen at the sight, almost entranced as a wave of arousal suddenly consumes you, before he releases his grip on the fabric and it falls back down. He pushes his hair back up out of his face with one of his hands, the other securing the headband back onto his forehead with a snap, and the muscles of his arms tense fluidly with every motion.

You quickly look away from him, afraid he'll catch you staring, and blink at the grass as you notice the fast beating of your heart. Coach Yaga's whistle blows, causing you to look back up again. Players were making their way back onto the field and Gojo found his position at the center again. His eyes darted across the field, making their way onto the faces of each player, and then they eventually landed on you. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly into a small smile before he's looking back down at the ball by his feet. And then they start the kickoff.

UTokyo ends up winning 3-1, and by the end of the match the sun is starting to set, painting the sky beautiful hues of purple and orange. You lean over to pick your things up off the grass as the players make their final retreat to the benches, and you gently place your film camera back into its case when Gojo’s voice next to you makes you jump.

“Hey. Please don’t run off,” he says. When you turned to look at him, he was still breathing a bit fast and he had a flushed, almost serene, look across his face. “Give me your phone.” He extends his open palm out to you.

“My phone?” You ask him, reaching for where it was located in your back pocket and pulling it out. He nods without any further explanation. You place it in his palm and he’s tapping away at it before handing it back to you. When you look down, you notice he gave a random number a call.

“That’s my number. Save it,” he says. You blink at him. His expression is soft for a moment and then he’s turning around and away from you, heading over to where his teammates were crowded around one of the tables and giving each other pats on the back.

You tip your head to the side to watch him as a couple of his teammates sling their arm around his neck and smack his chest, masculine laughter and jokes filling the air. You can’t help but smile before you pick up your things and start making your way up the hill away from the field, back towards the heart of campus.

---

The following days of the week where you don’t see Gojo play soccer seems like a waste, because why weren’t you spending every single day of your life watching him play soccer? You sigh to yourself at the question as you use clothing pins to hang up the film photos you took up onto a wall in your school’s photo lab. You finished developing the photos from Monday’s practice match, only to realize that you accidentally took them on one of your black-and-white rolls instead of full-color. You step back to take a look at all the images you had clipped onto the string pinned to the walls, snapping a shot of the collage with your phone, before pulling them all back down and stuffing them into a Manila folder.

The only time the photo lab wasn’t bustling with other film & photography majors was usually after sunset, but by the time you finished having dinner with one of your friends on campus, you had made it there around 7PM. By the time you leave and make it to your parked car, it’s pitch black outside. As you step inside your car and turn the key to ignite the engine, the windshield wipers automatically swiping as the control lights inside come to life, the clock on your dashboard reads 10:37PM.

The GPS for some reason prompts you to take an alternative route back to your apartment that avoids the freeway in an attempt to save you from twenty minutes of traffic, and you consider what to do for a moment before the exhaustion in your bones convinces you to take the allegedly faster way home.

As you begin to head in the unfamiliar direction, the excitement you had to make it home as soon as possible slowly starts to dwindle more and more as the streets morph from well-lit and bustling with people to dark and surrounded by trees instead. What used to be a three-lane street turned into one, and you count the seconds between every passing car you see coming by in the opposite direction. You’re worried when your counting makes it past sixty seconds.

You turn your music up in your car to distract yourself from the fear of driving down the secluded and dark road. There was a slight fog settling up ahead in front of you to where you could only see clearly about thirty feet ahead. You spot something on the road, blinking rapidly to focus your vision, and then your eyes widen when you realize what it was. Rocks.

You’re instantly swerving your car to the side, attempting to deftly avoid the scattered rocks but unfortunately you drive over a few of them, causing your tire to pop and you let out a scream when you lose handle on your car. One of the rocks flies up and hits your windshield, cracking the glass, and suddenly you’re driving up over the curb to the right before you finally regain control of your car and swerve back onto the road, slamming on the brakes.

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your body, and you grip onto the steering wheel while you try to regain your breath. Your windshield had a large crack in it, large enough to where the cold air from outside was whistling its way inside your car, and you were slanted in your seat due to the punctured tire at the front. As you took deep breaths, you noticed how alone you were on a dimly lit street where you hadn’t seen a single car in more than five minutes, fear and anxiety surging through your body. Your hands reach for your phone, shakily turning it on and exhaling in relief when you see that you have reception, then call the emergency telephone line.

“Hello, how can we help you?” a feminine voice on the other end of the line says.

“Hi, um,” you say, voice sounding shaky, “I just got a flat tire on Musashi road, about five miles from the Main Street intersection. I don’t have a spare on me, and my windshield is cracked too…could you send roadside assistance?”

“Yes, absolutely,” the woman says kindly and begins to take down some information from you. “Thank you, ma’am. Unfortunately, there has been a big accident on the freeway, so many of the tow-trucks and officers have been dispatched to that area. It may take about an hour for help to arrive. Are you able to call someone to come stay with you as you wait?”

“Oh…” You press your lips together in thought. “Yes, I should be able to.” After working out a bit more logistics with the woman on the other line, you hang up and then you’re scrolling through your contacts. You first call Mina’s line, which goes straight to voicemail, and then you remember that she was out of town for tonight and half of tomorrow visiting her family. You call Nobara, who also doesn’t pick up, and then a couple of your other friends who go straight to voicemail as well. You start to panic slightly before calling your friend Maki who lives two hours away.

“Hello?” You hear her voice say when she picks up.

“Maki! Oh my gosh, thank you for picking up,” you say to her through the phone, your hand on your chest as you sigh. You explain your situation to her and she’s instantly providing you with soothing words.

“Is there no one that can come stay with you? I feel awful that I’m so far away,” she says.

“It’s okay, they said that help will be here in maybe fifty minutes now…I just really wanted to talk to someone,” you say, peering out into the darkness of the night. You’re still shocked you haven’t seen a single car drive by in the past ten minutes. You pull your phone from your face to check the time and see a notification on your phone that says 5% battery remaining. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Maki asks worriedly.

“My phone is running out of battery…” you say with a defeated tone. Your anxiety starts to rise in your chest again. “I don’t know if I can stay on the line.” You scroll through your contacts again, finger halting the screen when your eyes land on another name. “I…I think I have someone else I can try calling.”

“Good, try that. I don’t want you to be stuck out there with a dead phone and a flat tire. Let me know if this person doesn’t pick up, okay?” She’s saying to you and you send her your location before hanging up.

You’re breathing heavily from fear when a particularly harsh gust of wind pushes more cold air through the crack of your windshield. Pulling your phone from your face, you click on the name in your contacts and bring your phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, almost a third time before you hear a click and then a voice.

“Y/n?” Gojo’s voice calls out, sounding surprised.

Hearing his voice immediately causes a wave of relief to wash over you and you lay back in your seat, having to muffle the abrupt sob that threatens to erupt from the tightness in your throat. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asks.

“Mm…no,” you admit to him, sniffling slightly and swiping at the stray tear that rolls down your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m just a bit scared right now.” Your voice cracks towards the end of your sentence and you silently berate yourself for not mustering enough emotional strength at the moment.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his voice starting to sound uneasy.

“I was driving down this road, it was dark, I couldn’t really see much…but I ended up driving over these rocks and my tire punctured. I called for roadside assistance and they said it would take about an hour for help to arrive,” you ramble, “I tried calling Mina, and some of my other friends to come and wait with me, but-” You run out of breath to finish your sentence and you’re sniffling again.

“Send me your location, I’m heading over right now,” he says and you hear what sounds like keys jingling in the background along with some other shuffling noises, “can you stay on the line?”

You pull your phone from your ear and see that you’re at 3% now before sending him your location. “No…my phone is running out of battery.”

He’s silent for a second on the other end. “It says I’ll be there in twelve minutes. Just…hang tight, okay? Make sure your doors are locked.”

You nod before remembering that he can’t see you, so you say I will. He’s hesitant to hang up on you but when your phone flashes from 3% to 2%, you tell him you don’t have much of a choice and then he’s giving you another word of caution before reluctantly hanging up. You’re all alone to your thoughts in your car again, shaking from the anxiety and blinking tears away.

The twelve-minute wait felt so long, and eventually Gojo texts you that he’s one minute away when your phone is at 1% battery. You see headlights approaching behind your car in your rearview mirror, the first sight of another human being you’ve seen in probably the past thirty minutes stepping out of the driver’s seat and you immediately recognize his silhouette. He walks up to the passenger side door and tips his head down so he’s visible through the window. At the sight of him, you finally release the breath you were holding in before opening your car door and stepping outside. You both look at each other across the top of your car and you notice him letting out a deep breath of his own as his shoulders relax at the sight of you.

He makes his way wordlessly around the front of your car to you and he’s studying your face intently. You look away from him when you realize he could probably tell that your eyes were puffy and that you had been crying. From your periphery, you see the back of his hand reach out when he’s right in front of you, hesitating slightly before it briefly brushes against your cheek, dabbing at a tear that you must’ve missed. His hand is warm against your skin and the sudden desire to hug him consumes every single fiber of your being, but when you look up at him, the soft expression on his face renders you still.

“Thank you for coming,” you’re whispering to him.

He lets out a short comical exhale through his nose. “I wasn’t going to not come. What kind of person do you think I am?”

You shiver as another gust of wind passes through, crossing your arms across yourself. Gojo slips the jacket he was wearing off, revealing a beige sweater underneath, and then he’s circling around you to place it over your back. It’s cozy and it smells like him.

You’re about to voice your concern for him but his voice behind you cuts you off. “I run warm, don’t worry.”

He walks around to the front of your car, bending over to the side to assess the flat tire at the front, his hands shoved into his pockets. You pull his jacket around you tighter. “Damn, the tread on your tires is horrendous. No wonder. You should really check on them more often.” He straightens himself up and peers at the crack across your windshield. “And that’s definitely not gonna be cheap to fix.”

You sigh in annoyance, his casual tone causing your eye to twitch slightly, but when you noticed your heart was calm and your breathing was normal again, you looked at him with the realization that him just being here managed to soothe you.

He looks back over at you with a considerate expression. “Do you want to sit in my car? It’s chilly out here.”

You press your lips together before shaking your head. “I feel like I need the fresh air.”

Gojo’s walking over to the patch of grass on the pavement at the side of the road and sits down on the curb. He pats the spot next to him with an awaiting look on his face and you make your way to him, sitting to his left. He looks down at the distance you’ve put between the two of you, almost three feet, and he’s sighing before scootching closer to you. “Don’t be greedy with your body heat. I said I run warm, not that I’m a furnace.”

His shoulder brushes against yours and his knee bumps against your thigh as he gets comfortable. You bring your legs closer to you and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin on top of your knee. Gojo was leaning back onto his outstretched arms behind him, legs extended in front as he tipped his head back up to look at the sky. You look over at him. His gaze slowly shifts from one point in the sky to the other, and you wonder what he’s mapping with his eyes.

“Thank you for getting the referee permission for me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him in person. “I’m excited to take photos out on the field next week.”

“Sure thing, my freaky little photographer. I’m sure you are,” he chimes.

You stick your bottom lip out in an annoyed pout. “So, we’re even now.”

He looks over at you and smiles. His blue eyes were a bit darker underneath the starry sky with less light to reflect off of them, and the quality made them look gentle. “No, you’ve gotta make sure Mina stays interested in Todo.”

You can tell he’s just joking, but you respond as if he’s serious anyways. “That was never part of the agreement,” you say, “besides, I don’t really think that’s necessary. She seems to be pretty taken with him already.”

He laughs. “And you’re not worried about that?”

“What’s there to worry about?” You ask.

“I don’t know, the fact they hit it off so fast?” He shrugs and you feel the friction of the movement against your shoulder.

“Hmm, no. Mina’s a smart girl, she’s good at sniffing out those red flags,” you say assuredly before lifting a suspicious eyebrow at him, “should I be worried? He's your friend. Enlighten me.”

Gojo shakes his head musingly at your concern. “Todo’s a good guy,” he says in a soft voice.

“He’s not on the soccer team, right? I didn’t see him the past couple of times I was on the field,” you say with realization.

“Nah, he’s just a mad lad I met in my freshman year econ class. We’ve been friends ever since,” he says, swaying his knee from side to side. “He’s the one that got me to join the frat.”

You two are silent for a moment, listening to the noise of the wind through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. The previous anxiety you had from the night completely dissipated into peacefulness instead, and the man beside you was responsible for that shift.

“Can you tell me what that offer was that you were so excited about earlier this week?” he asks.

You look up to the sky briefly, trying to remember what he was talking about. “Oh. I might be able to publish the photos I take of the game next week to the sports recap in the school newsletter,” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, eyes widened. “Woah, seriously? That’s so cool. Can you make sure I look hot?”

You roll your eyes and go back to resting your chin on your knees. “Sure.”

A comfortable silence settles before he’s speaking again. “What inspired you to be a film photographer?” He’s turning his body so he’s facing you a bit more directly.

“Well, the end goal is film movie making…but my professor says that it’s important to understand the art of film photography before that,” you say, twiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “He says that ‘if a filmmaker cannot master the single frame shot, then how can they possibly put together a film composed of a million of them’?”

Gojo is humming beside you and nodding in agreement. He turns away from you to face forward again and he starts tapping his foot on the pavement of the road. “Huh. That’s kind of similar to something coach says during drills.”

You glance over at him, a little surprised. He continues to stare forward with a somewhat innocent expression on his face, and then you can practically see the moment another question pops up into his head.

“Why don’t you make your Instagram public? Your photos would probably get a lot more views or likes that way,” he says in an excited tone, like he’s cracked some code.

You let out a small laugh and bury your face into your knees, your voice sounding muffled when you speak. “I did have it public for a while. Until a troll spammed a bunch of hate comments on my posts and I quickly switched it to private after that.” Saying it out loud, you felt a bit silly. You’re apprehensive as you say the next few words. “I guess I’m scared that I’m not good enough to be acknowledged or successful, and that somehow other people will see that truth before I can.”

“Oh come on, y/n,” he’s saying beside you, gently nudging your arm with his elbow. The contact causes your breath to catch in your throat. “You just have to go for it. You can’t accomplish anything if you don’t face your fears.” When you watch those words leave his mouth, you notice he now has a thoughtful expression as he stares ahead to the other side of the road.

Another beat of silence goes by. “Why did you start playing soccer?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a long time as he blinks, to the point where you’re unsure if he even heard your question, but then he finally answers. “My dad used to play in college. He introduced me to the sport when I was younger and I fell in love with it.” Your perk up slightly and tip your head to the side in curiosity. He’s looking down at his lap now.

“That’s really wonderful, Satoru. Was he also center forward in college?” When you ask him this, you don’t miss the way his eyebrows pinch together for a split second before his expression relaxes again.

“Yeah, he was,” he responds, “he got injured in his last year, though. Never got to play after that.” There’s an inflection at the end of his sentence that makes you think he’s about to say more but he doesn’t.

Your face softens when you see him stare down at the curb with a slightly troubled expression. In a moment of tenacity, you place your hand on his thigh and his eyes widen when he sees the movement before he’s looking over at you.

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to brush a few strands of his hair away from his eyes. Both of you are shocked at the intimate gesture and you’re quick to withdraw your hand.

Your faces are close, his side still pressed against yours, and neither of you break eye contact. You take a moment to study the handsome features of his face and your heart aches a little. The cold air has you licking your lips and Gojo’s eyes dart to them, gaze lingering, and you blink slowly when he leans forward slightly. Blue eyes find yours again and he stills himself, searching your face for something, and when he doesn’t see it he continues to lean forward and you lean towards him too. And then his lips press against yours, so chaste and so light that it’s possible you could have imagined it, but just when you feel his warm hand cup your face and he’s about to deepen the kiss, a loud honking noise startles the two of you and you both jump, pulling away from one another. You see Gojo’s face illuminated with bright golden lighting as he winces and holds up one of his hands in front of his face to shield himself from being blinded by it.

You turn your head to the left towards the source of the light and see a tow truck approaching. “Hey! Is this the flat and windshield crack?” you hear the driver shout out from where his head was stuck out the window.

You’re speechless, cheeks feeling flushed from the realization that Gojo had just kissed you, and you turn to look at him. He silently stands up with a weary exhale and a calm expression on his face and then shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, it is.” He makes his way over to the tow truck and you hear him make conversation with the driver as well as the man in the passenger seat. You’re still sitting stunned on the curb, bringing your fingers up to gently touch your lips that were still searing from earlier. Gojo’s suddenly standing in front of you and you’re staring at his legs before you tip your head back up to look at him.

“Do you have any valuables in your car?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of your car.

“Ah…my phone and my tote bag,” you say. He crouches down in front of you, earnest eyes level with yours, and his hand reaches into the pocket of his jacket where you had stashed your keys. He removes only your car key from the ring, handing the set of other keys back to you, and then he’s unlocking your car to get your stuff out of it.

You remain on the curb, watching as Gojo handles the entire interaction with the tow truck helpers. When they’ve successfully anchored your car to the tow truck and one of the men comes around to shake Gojo’s hand, you see him reach into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing the man some cash. You stand up in a bit of a panic and head over.

The tow truck is already pulling away with your car from the curb when you make it in front of Gojo. He hands you a business card with the towing company information on it and then looks down at you with a mild demeanor, letting out a long exhale. “Ready to go home? You’ve had a long night.”

Exhaustion suddenly consumes your entire being and you hesitantly nod.

The interior of Gojo’s car is nice. It’s clean, smells like him and pine, with nice leather seats that have warmers. You’re still wearing his jacket, clenching it tightly around you, as he inputs your apartment address into his GPS and starts to drive you home.

Neither of you say a word to one another during the ride. You watch his hand tighten its grip at the top of the steering wheel occasionally as he drives. He turns his car into the entrance of your apartment complex and parks in the loading zone. You watch as he makes his way out of the car to the passenger side door, opening it for you. You step outside and thank him.

“It’s okay, I’ll head inside from here,” you say, already feeling like you’ve caused him enough trouble. You abruptly remember that Mina isn’t home and the realization that you’ll be all alone tonight creates a hollow feeling in your chest.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Come on,” he says, walking past you to make his way to the elevator and pressing the up button. It dings before immediately opening and he walks inside like he’s the one that lives here. He places a hand out to hold the door sensors when he sees that you don’t follow him inside. You jump out of the mild trance you were in and quickly rush in before he withdraws his hand and the elevator door shuts.

“Which floor?” He asks, finger hovering over the control pad. You tell him three.

Once you reach the third floor, you step out into the hallway and he follows suit. Your apartment was just seven units down towards the right and the two of you eventually made it to the door. You turn around to look up at him. His expression becomes slightly distressed and when you don’t say anything to him, he shoves his hands further into his pockets and sways back and forth slightly.

“Alright, mission accomplished, I got you home,” he says with a forced jovial tone, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. You notice he does that when he seems nervous about something.

Your mind recalls the kiss from earlier, the feeling of Gojo’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed up against you in the cold, the tender way his hand held your face still so he could have more of you, only for it to be cut short. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and your cheeks flush with warmth. He’s looking down at you intently and you’re looking up at him pensively.

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself. Not yet.

Your hands reach into your tote bag to pull out the keys to your apartment. “Yes, home.” He watches you jingle the metal in your hands. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he says and he takes a step back. Turning around, you push your key into the keyhole with shaking hands, turning it, and open the door to your apartment, letting yourself inside. You look at him from the entryway with the door still ajar.

“Good night, take it easy,” he says to you.

“Thanks, you too.” And then he’s out of your sight as you shut the door.

You lean back against the front door, letting out a sigh and biting down on your lip, the thumping of your heart pertinent throughout your entire body. There was a lingering truth to all of the emotions that you’ve been having recently. It followed you in the early hours of the morning, it followed you as you tried to fall asleep at night, it was present in the silence, lurking in the dark, and it was there with you tonight for every second that he was by your side.

You had feelings for Gojo Satoru.

a/n. thanks sooo much for reading and i hope you enjoyed aaa idk this week felt off for my writing for some reason but i heavily edited it so i hope it came out okay in the end.

➸ take me to chapter six!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru

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flowerandblood · 14 days

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (23)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, manipulation, blackmailing and threats ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Alys had always known that, like any bastard child, she could only rely on herself. Her existence was merely an unfortunate accident to her father and brothers, with which they nevertheless came to terms, and she, in their minds, should be grateful for being allowed to stay and serve in Harrenhal.

Indeed, she never considered herself to have been significantly harmed by fate.

Compared to women who had to sell their bodies for money in order to survive, her function as herbalist and wet nurse completely satisfied her.

Milk filled her breasts along with the baby that one of the guards had put inside her. When he pressed her against the wall and lifted her gown, panting that he had desired her for a long time she did not stand up to him, even helping him by bending over and spreading the folds of her womanhood before him so that he could more easily hit the right spot with the thick tip of his length.

This particular man never aroused her desire, however, he supervised her chambers, and since she allowed him to enjoy the pleasures of her body, he closed his eyes to when and where she went out, giving her more freedom.

His wife, however, was not comforted by the fact that her husband had a mistress.

She could not conclude that her husband was a good lover; his hands only clenched greedily on her firm breasts, his thrusts violent, fast and deep. She knew that as he chased his fulfilment hissing that he would fill her with his seed, it did not even cross his mind to touch her between her thighs or ask what would give her pleasure.

She did not, however, resent him.

She recognised that this was how men were.

Although she tried not to think about it, the sight of his wife, one of her father's servants, filled her with remorse, for although she knew that this woman did not love him, she humiliated her every time she took away what belonged to her.

She had nothing to justify it, but she knew that if she told him to stop she would arouse his anger and his behaviour towards her would change.

He might want to take revenge on her for rejecting him.

She couldn't allow this to happen.

What he didn't know was that he wasn't the only man she allowed to sink between her thighs for the benefit; it was easier and sometimes even more enjoyable than trying to bribe them with money, which she didn't have much of anyway. What she was able to do perfectly was to observe people from the sidelines − their reactions and desires, coming to her own conclusions about what they needed and wanted.

Usually these men wanted not only sensation and elation, but also reassurance, a warm word and understanding; they lay with their faces cuddled between her breasts, muttering for her to stroke their heads, and she did so, allowing them to turn from men into innocent children for a moment.

The women in the fortress began to whisper among themselves that the ease with which she seduced men and with which she maintained her beauty despite her age was due to the fact that she was a witch.

She smiled piteously as she strolled through the corridors of the fortress, overhearing their conversations from afar, hearing about the potions she gave to poor, unaware men so they could not forget her, that she bathed in milk and blood to keep her face young and bright.

She did not deny the accusations, because she derived satisfaction from the fact that they feared and avoided her.

Fear, however, also tended to provoke interest and curiosity, and the young, newly arrived servants who were just learning their trade could not tell what they thought of her.

When she needed a break from the men's sweat and their aggressive, deep thrusts she sought peace and solace in the arms of young girls, much more gentle and understanding when it came to the nature of female fulfilment, their sweet moans and surprised expressions as she caressed them made her feel a pleasant pulsation between her thighs.

Although the prospect of becoming a mother did not fill her with particular joy, when she woke up one morning, feeling a pool of wetness under her thighs and saw blood, the squeeze in her throat and the tears she felt under her eyelids were proof that some part of her hoped she could love this innocent creature that was growing inside her womb.

This did not happen, however, and she, not wanting to waste her milk, from which her breasts had already swollen, decided to feed the children whose mothers had too little nourishment.

She considered her life quite prosperous and peaceful until her father and half-brother died in a fire.

Until Larys became the Lord of Harrenhal.

Everyone, including her, feared him.

He was like a writhing viper, tightening slowly around the necks of those who aroused his suspicions, his gaze black and completely blank, as if he experienced nothing, felt nothing inside himself.

He could not be seduced, appeased, pleaded with, persuaded.

He was like a stone, merciless, cruel, taking satisfaction in domination and power.

She never got in his way.

One evening, however, he summoned her to his chamber, and she feared what he desired.

When she stepped inside he was sitting at the table, having just eaten his evening meal. He smiled slightly at her in a way that made her feel the cold sweat on her back; his eyes remained indifferent, glowing mischievously in the firelight.

"Sit down, sister. I wish to discuss something with you." He said softly, and she swallowed hard, keeping an indifferent, satisfied face, looking at him from under half-closed eyelids. She sat down opposite him in one of the chairs, spreading out comfortably in her seat, sighing quietly and nodded for him to speak.

"We will have guests of honour. Prince Aemond and his wife will be arriving here within two days to spend the night here and then head off the next morning to meet Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon." He said calmly, putting a few pieces of cake from the tray onto his plate, with a hand gesture he encouraged her to eat as well, but she shook her head, analysing his words quickly.

She had heard of them.

Prince Aemond had married and taken his niece's maidenhood on the same night he chose Maris Baratheon as his wife.

His brother the King, to save the situation, married them in the eyes of the Seven before an enraged Borros Baratheon could arrive in King's Landing demanding justice.

There would not have been all the commotion if Prince Aemond had taken her as his second wife, but he clearly only wished to have one, therefore, Maris was sent away with only a dowry and humiliation.

Her half-brother continued, seeing the lack of response on her part.

"I want you to host them well. Both of them, if you understand what I have in mind. Myself and his grandfather do not believe in the success of their mission. Like most of the kingdom we know how it will end: with a war. A war we wish to win. However, our Prince, if I may say so, does not think with his mind now, but rather with what he has between his thighs. He gives in to his wife and her persuasions to bring about a reconciliation. I know you are well acquainted with human nature and will surely win both her trust and his heart."

She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at her fingers, trying to hide the horror and squeeze in her stomach she felt.

He wanted to expose her, to put her head under the Prince's sword if it turned out that her attempts would only enrage him, and he could wash his hands of everything.

"In any case, in a few days' time the matter of the succession will resolve itself with the help of my birds in the Eyrie. They know what to do. Of course, I'll let our Prince believe that his decision matters, however, everything is already arranged. I hope this should settle the matter. With the help of the gods, the girl might try to take her own life for the second time. Let us raise our cups for that." He said lightly, as if indeed such a course of events would please him the most; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking that she had not even noticed when he had become such a disgusting creature.

A monster that, like a black, empty hole, was consuming everything around him, destroying it and crushing it.

She wasn't in a position to refuse, and he knew it.

That was why she walked out with him to greet their guests, thinking she would simply do what he ordered her to do.

She blinked as the figure of a petite, pretty girl jumped down from the shimmering blue and silver dragon, her long, dark hair of a shade similar to hers tied into a braid, its unruly strands dishevelled by the long journey through the skies.

She stepped out in front of them, breathing heavily, her eyes big, full of curiosity and uncertainty, her gaze warm, kind, her cheeks all flushed from exertion. She stopped in front of them and forced herself into an innocent, almost childlike smile, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

Gods, have mercy.

"My Lady. What a joy." Said her brother. The girl blinked, not knowing for a moment what to answer, shifting from foot to foot.

"My Lord Strong. Thank you for being willing to host us." She muttered at last, clearly tense − her was voice pleasant, melodious, soft, the kind that gives comfort with ease, brings peace of mind.

They all turned their faces towards the approaching figure as they heard his footsteps; Prince Aemond in his long black leather coat and black eye patch indeed looked like someone menacing, commanding, as powerful as the great dragon he was riding.

What immediately caught her attention was that as his gaze traveled over their faces he stopped at his wife, assessing her figure from afar as if quickly examining whether she had suffered any damage after such a long journey and whether she was well.

He must have evidently concluded that she was, for his gaze turned after a moment towards her brother.

"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters."

The Prince and her brother moved first, followed by his wife, looking around the interior of their fortress with genuine curiosity, not even listening to what her brother was saying.

She didn't even notice that her uncle was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, checking that she was near and in no danger.

She thought he would sooner stab her in the heart than take her to his bed.

Her brother opened the door of the chamber that had been prepared for him, the largest in the entire fortress, not coincidentally located close to hers. The Prince, however, did not look impressed; his lips pressed into a thin line in disapproval when he heard that Lord Strong had assigned his wife other quarters.

"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." He said coolly, as if the very suggestion was offensive and insulting to him.

He had kept her with him the whole time, she thought in disbelief, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the girl standing next to her.

She stood, gazing at her uncle as if she were looking at a statue of one of the gods; her bright, shining eyes large and filled with affection, devotion, longing, even though, after all, he was standing in front of her, at her fingertips.

She realised, swallowing quietly, that he had not taken her by force the night he married her or any night after.

How long had they looked at each other like this?

"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you." Her brother replied.

Prince Aemond then looked at his niece with a gaze as if he was about to explode − his wife pressed her lips into a thin line, immediately understanding what the expression on his face was meant to convey to her, her look of understanding and sigh was meant to add to his patience.

His gaze softened and after a moment he nodded, letting her go.

The girl looked at her, so she smiled quickly and pointed with her hand the way they should go to her quarters. Before moving behind her she looked at her husband, the Prince leading her away with a cold, sharp gaze.

Overwhelmed by this revelation, no longer knowing herself what she thought of it or what she should do in such a situation, she simply followed her into the room, closing the door behind her. She watched quietly as the prince's wife walked to the window, placing her hand on the glass, and smiled slightly, noticing something outside.

Had she been like this all the time?

"Do you desire to change into something…more comfortable, My Lady?" She asked finally, recognising that she needed to start any light conversation, to try and understand who was standing in front of her.

The girl shuddered and blinked, as if forgetting her presence for a moment, turning to face her. She nodded, forcing herself to smile, unsure and embarrassed, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex.

"Yes. What do they call you?" She asked lightly and kindly, willingly shortening the distance between them, which surprised her.

Usually women of her ilk took satisfaction in calling her Lady Rivers, reminding her every time that she was a bastard.

But she, even if she was married to the Prince, was also one.

She was her relative, her brother's daughter.

She swallowed hard at that thought, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

"Alys, my Lady."

She lowered her gaze, as if pondering something for a moment, and then her bright eyes looked at her again.

She thought with pain that she was like a small flower, a daisy or a forget-me-not, which one picked to weave into one's hair, to feel as innocent as a little child again.

"I would not wish to… misunderstand who you are and what you have in common with Lord Strong, Alys." She muttered with some sort of embarrassment, from which she involuntarily burst out laughing.

Good gods.

"I am not his mistress. I am his relative, though I do not bear his name, as any bastard would." She said softly, amused; her gaze shifted, her brow furrowed in concern and curiosity.

She knew what she was going to ask her, she could feel it in her bones.

"Did you know my father?"

She named him as her father even though she was officially Laenor Velaryon's daughter.

She admitted to her that she too was a bastard without a grimace of embarrassment.

"Yes, my Lady."

Her whole body tensed, her hands clenched into fists.

"His death wasn't an unfortunate ordeal, was it?" She asked in a trembling voice, and her lips involuntarily lifted in a dangerous smirk at the thought that her directness was surprising her.

Was this how she spoke to her husband?

Was this how she forced her way into his heart?

"There are no such thing as unfortunate ordeals, my Lady."

A silence fell between them filled with the weight of their words and what they meant; she licked her lips involuntarily, feeling that she was incapable of denying herself the pleasure of having to see her reaction to her words.

To see if she was right.

"After the word has reached us here all the way from King's Landing, I have been looking forward to our meeting with impatience, and while I will admit that it is not what I expected, I am beginning to understand your husband's desperation." She said with amusement, feeling a tingle in her fingertips and in her lower abdomen at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

"What do you mean?" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed; however, it was not shame feigned and exalted, but more an expression of genuine surprise and excitement at her words.

"Men are easily driven to desperation, though it usually takes time. They like to gain and take pride in what they have conquered; the greater, in their mind, the value of what they enclose in their embrace, the less they are willing to let it go." She said calmly, turning her head away, immersed in her own thoughts.

"Your husband follows you with his thoughts even when he is not looking at you. His head, even when he is not speaking to you, is directed towards you so that he can see you out of the corner of his eye. When he feels discomfort, he involuntarily seeks your face to experience understanding and comfort."

She looked at her, wanting to see her reaction, and sighed almost imperceptibly, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at the sight of her parted, plump lips, her dreamy, hot gaze.

She knew that she had felt something at her words, that it had taken deep root in her heart and made her return with her thoughts to her husband.

Was this how she had looked at him when he made love to her?

She could not imagine that he could take her maidenhood brutally and cruelly, that he would allow her to cry beneath him in pain.

No, she thought − he surely took her with slow, lazy thrusts of his hips, letting her get used to his shape deep inside her, assuring her in a whisper that just a little more.

She felt a strong throbbing and tickling between her thighs at that thought and licked her lips, looking up at her again − her gaze lowered meekly to the stone floor, a soft, thoughtful smile on her face.

She decided on second thought, helping her change into one of her gowns, touching her soft skin, smelling the wonderful scent of vanilla in her nostrils, that she would braid the most elaborate hairstyle she could think of on her head, just so she wouldn't have to leave her chamber before supper.

She knew that her half-brother expected her to then take the opportunity to venture into the Prince's chambers to make sure he was not missing anything.

Therefore, she began to braid her soft, long, dark hair, creating a beautiful, complicated hairstyle surrounding her head.

She escorted her to the proper quarters and bowed, Larys gave her one impatient look.

She felt a cold sweat on her back, leaving immediately.

He was not pleased.

She thanked the gods that the Prince's wife had summoned her herself, wishing her help with her bath, giving her another reason not to head to her husband's chambers.

She thought that if she went on like this perhaps the situation would work out in such a way that she simply wouldn't have the opportunity to do anything, though even if she did she wasn't sure Larys would believe her.

As she walked into her chamber she saw that she herself was trying to untie her bodice, so she approached her, undoing the tangles with ease, looking at her face with curiosity.

"Was the Prince pleased with his wife's appearance, my Lady?" She asked softly, noticing from the corner of her eye that the girl had lowered her gaze, ashamed and saddened.

"Yes. Though he expressed his opinion that he prefers it when my hair is loose." She said with resignation, and she couldn't stop the smile that appeared on her face.

Of course, she thought.

The sight of her loose hair reminded him fondly of how it had been spread in disarray around her head, shining in the darkness of his chamber as he fucked her greedily.

"Oh, that's understandable. He surely associates it with your intimacy and closeness, as any man would. The entwined curls and braids are for those around you, meanwhile the softness of your hair, the smell of them, the sight of them spread on the bed is something meant only for him." She replied lightly, for some reason wanting to lift her spirits and comfort her; she heard her move in place, the sweet blush appearing on her cheeks again.

She was embarrassed, she thought with disbelief and tenderness, as if she were looking at a small child.

She was so innocent.

Was that what attracted him to her?

The idea that he was surrounding her with himself like a dark cloak, devouring her again and again?

"You know a lot about men…don't you?" She heard her uncertain, curious voice; she looked at her in the reflection of the mirror, noticing that she immediately lowered her gaze, as if she could not bear the intensity with which he was looking at her.

"Yes, my Lady."

"Have you seduced many yet?" She asked intrigued, and she smiled again involuntarily.

"Yes."

When her gown finally fell to the floor she saw her girlish, pleasing curves peeking through from under her nightgown. She watched as, with a light, confident step, she walked over to the bath and bore herself into the hot water, tilting her head back, sighing in relief, her head still adorned with the braids she had woven herself.

Such a pretty little thing.

"I would like to … make my husband happy tonight. I know he needs relief from what's about to happen tomorrow. However, I can't do it, at least for now, in the way I usually do." She mumbled out at last, looking at her with those big, warm eyes of hers, seeing in her apparently her guide, someone who could help her with these complicated and intimate matters.

She felt a pleasant squeeze in her lower abdomen at the idea that popped into her head.

"The easiest thing to do in that case would be for you to use your mouth." She replied amused, drawing out of her exactly the reaction she wanted − her cheeks turned scarlet, her gaze fled downwards, her tiny long fingers clenched into small fists.

She was wonderfully embarrassed, so sweet that he would have gladly shown her everything, step by step.

"I'm…inexperienced in these matters." She confessed with shame, and she involuntarily licked her lower lip with her tongue, feeling the throbbing between her thighs at her words, her nipples hardening under the material of her gown.

Gods.

"I see." She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad as she moved slowly towards her, her surprised gaze lifting to her as she knelt right next to her tub, cupping her wrist in her hand.

Her skin was as soft as silk.

Her gaze escaped involuntarily to her breasts, now perfectly visible through the wet material of her shirt clinging to her bare flesh; she felt a tickle in her swollen lips at the thought that she longed to lick and caress them.

She was sure that as he teased and sucked her nipples she moaned sweetly beneath him, begging for more, and he always, always gave in to her.

Because how could he refuse her?

"I can show you how you should do it, if that's what you wish, my Lady."

She saw her pupils dilate in disbelief, her lips parted as she swallowed hard, her chest beginning to rise and fall in accelerated breaths.

"…How?"

She couldn't stop the smirk that appeared on her lips, nor what she did next.

She heard her sigh quietly, surprised and thrilled when her lips ran over her pointing finger, enveloping her skin with her hot breath.

"Imagine that this is his manhood. Men don't say it out loud because pride won't let them, but they adore it when a woman shows them with gentle, tender caresses." She whispered, running her swollen lips up and down her finger leaving a sticky, warm trail of her saliva on it, surprised at how wet it made her between her thighs, how wonderfully arousing it was, how obscene it was.

She heard her draw in a deep breath without moving away, but as she guided the tip of her finger between her lips, teasing and licking it lightly with her tongue, out of the corner of her eye she noticed that her thighs clenched in some helpless, subconscious reflex.

What other reactions could she draw from her?

"− and then − when he begins breathing faster − when you feel he's completely ready −" She sighed quietly as she suddenly slipped her whole finger deep into her mouth, feeling her swollen folds pulsate hard again and again as she began to suck it in slow, steady movements with the quiet click of her saliva.

She heard her gasp on the verge of a moan as her tongue began to trail over her skin with her low murmur of satisfaction, her free hand involuntarily sliding down to the material of her gown, wanting to slip under it and bring herself to fulfilment with her own touch.

She slipped her finger out of her mouth with a loud plop and looked up at her − her face all flushed, her gaze dreamy, hesitant and warm, as if she herself didn't know what she felt or why.

Something in her gaze made a pleasurable heat spill over her lower abdomen as she dug her own fingers into her fleshy folds, all sticky with her moisture, pulsing aggressively with her every stroke in pleasure.

"− you pretty little thing − it’s usually him taking care of you, isn’t it? − he can’t deny himself − I can’t blame him −" She whispered, trying not to move her hips so that she wouldn't notice anything; she lost the battle with herself as she felt herself getting closer and closer to fulfilment, pushing against her own slit with the tips of her fingers.

Unfortunately, it turned out that her husband was more vigilant than she thought.

When he burst into his wife's chamber she barely had time to remove her hand from under her own skirt and let go of her, standing quickly and bowing before him.

"My Prince."

"− get out −" He growled, and she walked out obediently, grateful in spirit to the gods that he hadn't stopped her to question her, that he hadn't noticed the glistening wetness on her fingers.

Or he saw it and it infuriated him, she thought with amusement, feeling her heart pounding like a mad in her chest.

She finished what she had started in her chamber, bringing herself to fulfilment with sure, swift strokes of her fingers, driving their tips into her sensitive, fleshy womanhood, able now to afford to moan and rock her hips, imagining her body peeking through from under her wet nightgown.

She imagined that she knelt before him to lunge and soothe him, that she barely fit his fat cock in her small mouth, all swollen from the desire she had always aroused in him, that this proud, dark, cold man whimpered before her like a small, innocent boy when he finally gave in, thrusting again and again deep into her warm throat.

She came with a low moan of relief, panting heavily, hugging her face into the pillow, rocking her hips for a while longer, slowly coming down from her peak.

She was sure that as she lay half asleep, feeling a blissful, pleasant peace, she heard their moans in the distance and grinned involuntarily.

Of course he forgave her.

He always did.

She often had dreams whose meaning she did not understand; she saw people she had never met before, observing events that might as well have happened in the future or in the past. That night, however, her dream particularly troubled and worried her, as she had no idea what it actually meant.

Two streams of blood finally merging into one, flowing like a river, which then, however, became a lake that reminded her of a dragon's head in a crown, only to spill over after a while, and she saw nothing but red.

Was this what was about to happen?

Would Princess Rheanyra and Prince Daemon be murdered and another dragon's reign begin upon their blood?

She swallowed hard, thinking of that young, cheerful girl, of how obvious it was that she was not aware of anything, that whatever her uncle-husband knew, he had not shared it with her.

She thought that if he betrayed her, she would wilt like a flower, fade like the sun in a setting sky.

She stood up and headed for his chamber.

His gaze expressed nothing less than disgust and rage at the sight of her. He reached for his tunic, dressing it hurriedly, tense and pale, knowing full well what was to happen if the negotiations did not bring the results he hoped for.

She wondered if he realised that even if he didn't give the order, they would be murdered anyway.

"You will betray her." She said indifferently, and he threw her a quick, horrified look, his nostrils quivering in disbelief.

He knew perfectly well what she was referring to.

She thought that sometimes all it took was a gentle push, putting a mirror in front of someone's face to make them think carefully again about whether they were ready for the consequences of their choices.

"You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most. You will break her. You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again. You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing. You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death."

She said and grinned, seeing that he shuddered all over, that his mask had cracked, his lips parted as if he wanted to groan in despair.

She knew he saw it in his mind, felt it in his heart, and she left his chamber without a word.

She let out a loud breath as she walked down the empty corridor, thinking with some kind of hope that her words, the vision she had invented to break him would terrify him enough to make him fall to his knees before his wife and confess everything he knew.

And if he doesn't, if in fact he betrays her, it will prove that he was never worthy of her.

She had come to her summons when she wished to clothe herself; she saw, crossing the threshold of her quarters, that she too was frightened and anxious, only for completely different reasons.

She wished for them to come to an understanding.

She believed it was possible.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought, at the realisation that she was alone in a world where everyone but her craved war, craved power, craved the throne.

She did not look at her face, at the clear command of her husband not allowing herself any closer proximity to her, which she accepted with understanding.

After she had fastened the buckles of her leather coat, however, she allowed herself to take her soft hand in her own, stroking it with her thumb.

She hesitated and furrowed her brow, but before she could move away, she began to speak, forcing herself to whisper, fearing that her brother's servants might have heard her.

"Do not return here. Fly from the Eyrie straight to King's Landing. I saw in my dream a river of blood taking the shape of a dragon's head wearing a crown. I saw red flooding everything around me." She said quickly, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She thought in disbelief that she pitied this girl.

"This warning, these words, are my gift to you. Look after yourself. Trust no one."

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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In His Hands

Pairing: Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky's new project is his favorite one yet for a very special reason. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Fluff, implied sexual content, pregnancy, slight feels (it's me), minor flashback, canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My first Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 2) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in Into the Woods AU and time jump from Valentine's Day Tradition, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The buzz of the table saw echoed in the barn as Bucky carefully cut through the maple board, inspecting it to make sure it was even. He put a lot of thought and care into each project and design he created. Everything from cost to maintenance to longevity. His current project was especially close to his heart.

My favorite one yet.

After the fight, coming to grips with his trauma, everything, the city felt different. Bucky longed to have a simpler life. He unexpectedly found a bit of peace in the form of woodwork. Using his hands to build things, and not damage them, kept him busy and happy. But the thing that brought everything full circle was you.

His wife.

"Doll, I still can't believe you said yes."

"Who would say no to you, Jamie?"

He glanced at a photo of the two of you on the wall, still in disbelief that he got to wake up beside you every morning. He found it more and more difficult to get out of bed when he wanted to stay tangled up with you, but the bills wouldn't pay themselves and he had to work to get a paycheck. Lucky for him, his "office" was in the nearby barn. The yard was a decent size, too.

"Great place for a family one day, isn't it?"

"Just about perfect, doll."

Like Steve, he hadn't expected to love living a quiet life outside of the city, but he did. You made a beautiful home together and it wasn't that far of a drive if he wanted to visit. He wondered some days if he was living in a dream because things seemed too good to be true.

If so, he never wanted to wake up.

"Need you to be perfect," he said to himself as he cut another board.

He checked the design again, his eyes narrowed as he thought about how long it would take to finish. You gave him your seal of approval when he showed his idea and reminded him not to put too much pressure on himself. He had plenty of time to make it and other projects came first.

But he hadn't had a task as important as this one.

He removed his safety glasses when the sun shone through the window, giving the place a soothing glow and him a moment to pause and reflect. He made love to you that morning. There was no pain in his left shoulder. Steve planned to stop by this evening. It was just about a perfect day.

How is this my life?

"You know, I think that is going to be your best work yet."

Bucky turned his attention to where you stood in the doorway. He couldn't keep the smile off his face when he noticed you had one of his shirts on. You looked good in his clothes, always had. And seeing you enter a room still took his breath away. He didn't think he could love you more, but he did each day.

If I ever stop breathing from the sight of you, at least your face will be the last thing I see.

His gaze went to your stomach before he closed the distance between the two of you and placed his large hand on it. He hadn't built a crib, but he did his research to be sure he'd make the best and safest one possible. It would be something to hopefully pass on to future generations. Another tradition.

But first and foremost, it would belong to the baby.

Our baby.

"I'm just getting started, but I think you're right," Bucky said, sinking to his knees and kissing your belly. "Only the best for our little jellybean."

Most days he couldn't keep his hands off of you, but it got worse once he found out you were pregnant with his child. You were glowing, more than usual, and he was a moth drawn to the flame. Thankfully you didn't mind and let him indulge.

Your need matched his own.

He'd never forget the joy he felt when you told him you were pregnant. You often brought him snacks or lunch while he worked, but that day you brought him a small gift box, too. It wasn't his birthday or a special occasion, so he had no idea what it could possibly be. Inside were two positive pregnancy tests. He almost dropped them, too stunned to speak. His heart almost burst through his chest when he saw the happy tears in your eyes.

"We're having a baby, Bucky. You're going to be a dad!"

It took a minute to sink in. You were having his baby. He was going to be a dad. You were giving him a family. A life he had only dreamt of.

'I still have to see a doctor, but-"

His mouth came down on yours before you could finish what you had to say, his massive hands framing your face so he could deepen the kiss. He poured his love, passion, soul, everything into it. He took you right there on one of his empty work tables, his left hand on your stomach the entire time.

"I love you, doll. Love you both so much."

He brought you back to the house and made love to you all over again, taking his time to worship you. He didn't get any work done the rest of the day. It was worth it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern filling his eyes when you yawned.

He always checked on you during his breaks to make sure you felt okay, even when you insisted that he didn't need to. Days like this when you visited the barn first, he still had to ask. Any discomfort or pains, he wanted to know and help however he could.

"Just fine," you assured him, tucking a few strands of hair that came loose from his ponytail behind his ear. Just like he couldn't stop touching you, you always found an excuse to run your fingers through his long, brown locks since he grew it back out. "A bit tired, but fine."

"You're not wearing your mama out, are you?" he asked your belly. He pressed his ear against it and felt a slight kick, as if he got an answer. "Good because she needs rest. She has enough to deal with taking care of me."

"We take care of each other," you said.

Bucky wanted to believe that. You had a good set-up in the city before the two of you decided to move and he worried you'd regret going with him. You reminded him that you were still going to work from home and it was a choice you made together.

Partners. Equals. Soulmates.

"Yes, we do," he said fondly, focusing on your stomach again. "But can you believe she had the nerve to ask if we should buy you a crib? Like she forgot I could make you one. Don't hold it against her, jellybean. Hormones and baby brain."

"Bucky!" you scolded before you laughed.

He chuckled as he kissed your stomach a second time. "I'm kidding. Kind of. I did have to drive all over town the other day to find the potato chips she wanted."

Bucky would drive to the ends of the earth to satisfy any craving you had.

"Hey. Our baby is the one asking for them and it was the only flavor that would provide any satisfaction," you defended yourself. "And I balanced it out with fruit, so everyone wins."

"Yes we do and I'm glad. I need you both nice and healthy," he said as he stood up.

"We're both fine. You know that," you smiled.

He hadn't missed a single appointment, wanting to be there every step of the way. Listening to his baby's heartbeat was like hearing his favorite song again for the first time. He actually waved at the screen when you had your sonogram. And he swore the baby waved back.

Bucky also bought a few books on babies and parenthood. While he knew some life lessons couldn't be learned from a book, he wanted to be prepared. You supported him in that and baby proofing the house in advance.

Your only request was that you didn't want to know what you were having, which he agreed to.

It would be a beautiful surprise for both of you.

"Need you both safe, too," he added.

"We are safe," you said, glancing around. "Our home is safe. You don't need to worry."

Bucky tried not to. Your home was secure and he kept a clean and safe shop in the barn, but he didn't want to take a risk by having you too close to any of the tools or get irritated by the dust. The only table he let you touch was the empty one where he made love to you. Maybe that was why it was still empty.

"I guess you're right," he said, brushing his lips against your forehead. "You know if we have a girl, I'm never letting her out of my sight."

"Oh, I know," you giggled, putting your hand on his wide chest. Feeling the wedding band through his shirt was one of his favorite things. "And if we have a boy, you'll teach him to be a gentleman. Though I imagine he'll probably be just like you."

"Hey, I am a gentleman, ma'am," he smiled.

"Mmm. You keep telling yourself that," you teased.

Bucky hoped they took after you. Kind, but fierce. Loving and fair. Whether he had a daddy's girl or a mini version of himself, he just wanted to have a special place in their heart.

"And you really don't mind that I'm making the crib, do you?"

"Of course, I don't," you said, frowning. He immediately kissed your lips to make it disappear. "Why?"

"Just making sure," he said, rubbing your belly. The source of comfort from such a small gesture amazed him. "I think I just feel better knowing our baby is truly in my hands."

It was silly, but Bucky thought if he made the crib that it would be like he was holding your child as he or she slept. That no matter what, they would be safe and cared for. Surrounded by familiarity and warmth.

Your baby deserved that and more.

"I think that's a beautiful thing," you assured him, placing a hand over his. "You work so hard for us and I know our baby will one day appreciate that you built them something with your heart and hands."

His hands, like the rest of him, were massive and strong. A man his size was meant to destroy, which he did in battle and worse. He also proved that he was meant to create. His size never intimidated you. In fact, you once said that one of many things that made him special was how deceptively gentle he could be.

That the only ruin he would bring you with his touch would make you whole again.

In my hands, you'll always be loved.

"I'll always work hard for my family," he promised.

He hadn't told you yet, but he planned to build a rocking chair for the nursery, too. He wanted it to be a surprise. He could already picture the two of you sitting in it with a soft blanket to keep you warm.

The image made his heart swell.

"And if I have my way, we'll have one more. Jellybean could use a companion."

"Now you sound just like Steve. Both of you wanting to keep your best girls knocked up," you smiled, sliding your hands up his muscular arms to his shoulders. "You think you'll convince me?"

"I don't think. I know," he smirked, kissing you before you could argue.

As excited as Bucky was for the next part in your journey together, he was also afraid. He knew he'd be a good father, but not a perfect one. He'd make mistakes and stumble along the way. He wouldn't always have the answer. What he did know was that he was going to give his child unconditional love and care.

Starting with the crib built with his heart and hands.

Bucky is going to be an amazing dad, right? And how about Steve? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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look-at-the-soul · 2 months

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Because of you

Modern Tommy Shelby x reader

🎉 @runnning-outof-time I write this little fluffy piece for your celebration! Hope you like this! Congratulations on 4K followers, and also thank you for your kindness, your constant content -which I’m trying to catch up on-, and your little sweet and cheerful messages K! 💖 I’m particularly grateful for your presence in this fandom (the very first blog I remember following and following me back!)

Last but not least, thank you @justrainandcoffee for the absolutely beautiful moodboard!!!!!!! ♥️✨ It’s everything I imagined and even more ✨

A/N: Keep reading until the end, you’ll find a recipe in case this story makes you go hungry 🤭 because in this blog we share photos and recipes, whatever you want 😉 I couldn’t help it but add the grandma element in this one (Grandma’s series) and a little baby fever 👀 @forbidden-forest-witch

Word count: 2,308

“Alright Polly, I’ll deal with the contracts tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks, Ada should be sending you the papers.”

“Enjoy the rest of your holiday already, bye.” He added but didn’t hang up. He heard her laughing at the other end of the line. “For good, have some fucking rest.”

She was just like him, refused to take days off, now she was finally about to embark into a cruise around the Mediterranean.

“Are you home yet?” She asked.

“Yeah, just want to take a bath and go to sleep.” But that was so unlikely since both his children were home for the weekend.

“Give Y/N and the kids a kiss from me.” Polly requested and finally hung up.

Getting a phone call from an known number, Tommy decided he was done for the day, so pressing the red button, he walked into his apartment and immediately the voices coming from the kitchen caught his attention.

Genuine, loud laughs filled the hall and he recognized the unmistakable song in the background.

“I want the pink M&M’s!” Shouted Ruby.

“Why do you like everything that’s pink?” Charlie questioned as Tommy left his keys and wallet by the table.

“Because…” his daughter’s voice mumbled something he didn’t understand. “Y/N can you spin me around again, pleeeease?”

Tommy was about to interrupt the scene going on the kitchen, but he stopped midway as Y/N turned around and leaned forward, Ruby wrapped her arms and legs from behind while Y/N held her feet and slowly twirled around. Making his daughter giggle uncontrollably, her hair flowing.

“Okay now go back to your chair because you’re making the baby twirl inside too.” Y/N joked.

“I don’t know how you do it, when I was pregnant all I could was throw up. You need to take it easy.” Her mother asked in a worried tone.

“Mom I’m fine, besides the baby really wants a slice.” Then, looking at Charlie, she gasped. “Oh Charlie we don’t lick the spatula,” she told him in a calm tone, but it was too late he was done decorating his slice and now half his face was covered in chocolate, “well, what’s a few germs between friends huh?”

As the kids started giggling, she noticed Tommy standing by the door.

She was wearing a black tight dress that looked like a second skin on her, wrapping every curve perfectly and also showing his favorite new feature; the baby bump fully on display. Her hair free, wild long waves covered her back. A few bracelets hanging from her wrist, the Cartier watch he gave her for their first anniversary and her signature smile that took his breath away.

“I didn’t hear you,” wiping her hands with a cloth, she approached her husband. “Missed you.”

His hands wrapped around her back immediately as their lips connected. She tasted like cheesecake and strawberries.

“I missed you too.” He whispered and crunching down, he planted a kiss on her swollen belly. “How’s my little one, eh?”

“Starving and wriggling around.” Y/N answered as Tommy went for another kiss, this time on her lips.

“Eww, dad.” Charlie complained. Embarrassed by their affection.

Ignoring his son’s complain, he went to kiss Ruby on the cheek and then kissed Charlie as well, ruffling his blonde hair in the process.

“Hello Lisa, how are you doing?”

“Trying to make Y/N sit, but she won’t listen to me.” His mother in law welcomed him with a hug.

“Yeah, I deal with that on a daily basis.” He winked at her playfully.

“Hello? I’m standing right here!” Y/N waved at them.

“Oh!” Tommy made an innocent face. “Right, well I didn’t say anything.”

Ruby laughed. “Look Dad! Y/N had some crampings and we made a cheesecake!”

“I think she means cravings right?” He asked Y/N in a low voice, making his wife smile. “We? Are you sure you baked that?”

“Weeeeell Y/N and grandma baked it, but we decorated it!” She defended.

“And we made all slices with different topings.” Added Charlie.

Tommy’s heart melted as he heard his daughter call Y/N’s mother grandma, she and Polly were the closest his kids had.

He had lost his mother a long time ago, but once Y/N stepped into his life everything changed. Lonely nights were filled with love, long and deep talks. Actually, thanks to her, Tommy started to spend quality time with his children; Charlie and Ruby, driving them or picking them up from school, arranging plans on the weekends, even taking them both on holidays.

And Lisa welcomed not only him into her family lovingly, but both his kids as if they were her biological grandchildren.

“So which one is for me?” He asked after clearing his throat, he tried to hide his emotions, but Y/N could read him like an open book and a moment later he felt her hand on his back and her head on his shoulder. “These all look great.”

He spied on the slices with several options.

“Y/N said chocolate marble is your favorite.” Ruby gave him a serious stare.

“That’s about right.” He nodded profusely in her direction, then looking at his mother in law, he asked her; “I hope they didn’t give you loads of work.”

“None of that, they’re amazing kids.” Lisa beamed.

A groan came from the fridge, Tommy went immediately after Y/N worried.

“What is it?”

“We were going to put the pizza in the oven, but I can’t stand the smell.” She made a face.

Tommy decided to check the food, it had been in the freezer but it might be bad.

“This doesn’t smell, Y/N.”

“I just don’t want pizza anymore.” She pouted.

And in that very same moment, Tommy understood this was one of those mood swings caused by the pregnancy. A careful smile spread on his lips as his hands caressed her bump gently.

“Okay, so what do you want for dinner instead?”

By the corner of his eye, he saw his mother in law trying to suppress a giggle, luckily the children were busy with the cheesecake.

“We want tacos.” Y/N batted her eyelashes as she ran one of her hands over her stomach.

“Alright everybody,” he clapped his hands and looked at Charlie and Ruby, “go wash your hands then you’re going to help me prepare some tacos.”

“Yay!”

“Delish.” Ruby shouted and went into the bathroom.

“You’re staying with us right?” He asked Y/N’s mother.

She nodded and felt grateful when Tommy convinced her daughter to go and relax into the living room while they worked on the food.

“Last week she woke me up in the middle of the night because she wanted fried mozzarella sticks with mayonnaise.”

Y/N’s mother laughed as the kids joined them again.

“This is insane, I don’t know how you keep up with all of that.”

“I was worried about her health and the baby of course, but the doctor mentioned everything is perfect, baby is healthy… perhaps it’s the fact that she’s still doing exercise.”

“When I was pregnant I was sick all the time. She didn’t like anything of food I got.”

Tommy seemed to think about it as he started seasoning the beef.

“Actually Y/N felt like that for a few days after we found out, but then she started to eat pretty much everything, everywhere.” He chuckled. “Thankfully it’s been an easy pregnancy so far.”

He had actually been able to live this pregnancy to the fullest, joining Y/N for the doctor’s appointments, cravings, hormonal days, everything, something he didn’t have the chance to do with Charlie and Ruby.

He was enjoying every little change in Y/N’s body, the first time he felt a little kick, he cried actually, touched by the thought of his baby growing inside the woman he loved. They actually wanted to keep the gender a surprise until the baby arrives, it had been a challenge at times, but it was fun.

“Dad where’s the onion?” Ruby showed him the open fridge.

“Oh no, no… can we not add onions please?” Y/N joined them with a wrinkled nose.

“Two days ago you ate a full portion of fried onions, love.”

“This baby,” she pointed at her belly, “wanted onions, not me.”

“Isn’t it the same?” Charlie asked confused.

But Tommy knew better. “No onions then, I’ll start the grill with something else.” He added wanting to please her in every little detail.

As the kids helped Y/N’s mother to wash the avocados, Tommy got rid of his suit jacket.

Y/N stared at his back, wide with broad, toned shoulders covered by a perfectly fitted shirt. She loved to see him wearing daily a three piece suit in a world full of oversized t-shirts and pants.

But when he started rolling the sleeves of his shirt up, she lost it completely.

The sight of him was mouthwatering.

And as Tommy turned around, he caught her staring at her, the fire in her eyes could turn him on in a second.

“Behave, Y/N.” He whispered, disguising his words with a kiss on her hair. “Perhaps we’ll need a babysitter over the weekend?”

He chuckled at the way she nodded eagerly.

“My, my… what would your brothers say if they saw you wearing an apron and cooking?” Y/N’s mother joked, making everyone laugh by her sincerity.

“This is a secret we’ll have to keep, alright.” Tommy winked before checking the steak, he then asked Ruby to -carefully- and under his supervision to add cheese to the tortillas. “Chef Shelby only cooks for very very special people.” He added throwing a kiss to the air.

As Charlie brought the plates over the counter, he started slicing the meat and the explosion of flavors in the kitchen started to smell incredibly good.

Y/N’s mother was in charge of the different sauces, it was a usual now in their fridge as Y/N craved tortilla chips with sauce most of the time.

“Wow… this is Instagram worth it.” Y/N admitted taking a looking over Charlie’s shoulder. As the kid grinned at her, he made sure to serve a tortilla in each plate, to then hand it to his father so he could add the carne asada.

“What a beautiful family.” Y/N’s mother admitted, touched by the way Ruby was caressing Y/N’s stomach, Charlie helping with her food and Tommy looking after all of them.

Leaving the spoon, Tommy wrapped an arm around his loved ones while extending his free hand towards his mother in law.

“What are you doing there? You’re part of this too.”

After they were all released from the tightest hug, it was time to finally enjoy some tacos.

“Now shoo,” Tommy ushered Y/N out of the kitchen to arrange the food.

Gathering a tray, he placed the bowl with the guacamole and around all the tacos he just prepared. Leaving a small space for the sauces.

“Oh my God! This is so good!” Y/N admitted loudly after her first taco bite.

“Dad why does Y/N can eat before all of us?” Ruby asked innocently, confused because she was always told to wait until everyone were ready.

Tommy chuckled while Y/N apologized for not waiting the rest of the family.

“We don’t want to upset the baby, Rube. Right mama?”

Y/N nodded, her mouth was watering at the sight of the rest of the food. “That taco was for the baby, the next one is for me.”

After the kids took their place, Y/N’s mother offered a hand to each kid, seated each by her side. “Now what are we grateful for?”

“For this moment.” Tommy took the lead, feeling ever so grateful to have his loved ones in that room.

“For the cheesecake we’ll eat after dinner.” Charlie grinned.

“For this baby, and for each one of you.” Y/N’s words were followed by a smile.

“For my grand son or daughter!” Her mother joined the joy.

“For my little sister or brother.” Ruby added lastly.

“Now…” Tommy interrupted their hands mind-air as they were all after the delicious food on the table. “There’s something else I’m thankful for, tomorrow morning, we’ve to get up early because,” he was then interrupting by a chorus of groans and a pout from Y/N, “nevertheless… we’re going to visit a couple of houses to move in as soon as possible.”

“What?” Y/N was in shock.

“Love, this baby is coming very soon, we’ll need a bigger place than this apartment, I was thinking of a room for each,” he looked over at both children, “a nursery for the baby and of course a guest bedroom so you don’t have to share Ruby’s bed anymore.” He added looking at his mother in law.

“Oh Tommy!” Y/N’s eyes swelled with gratitude.

“I’ve narrowed the search to five properties so you’ll get to make the final decision.” He explained then.

“A house! Tommy a house!” Y/N couldn’t believe what she just heard.

“With a garden.” He encouraged.

“Can we have a pool?” Charlie asked.

“I want a doll house!”

“Whatever you want.” Tommy added, winking in Y/N’s direction. “Can we eat now?”

As the kids stormed to get their tacos, Y/N took his hand. A growing smile on her lips.

“You never said anything.” Her eyes sparkled.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“I’m so happy because of you.” Her sincerity wasn’t just in her words, but in her eyes as well.

And deep down, Tommy couldn’t believe that thanks to her, he was able to find stability, loyalty, freedom, love, a family, someone who helped him every day to be a better person.

****

I hope you enjoyed this little story! 🥰 remember, your feedback (in all ways) is always welcome and highly appreciated! ✨ xx

Tacos recipe

Master list

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#That’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #modern tommy shelby imagine #modern tommy shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #modern peaky blinders #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine

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thevillainswhore · 8 months

Text

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Pairing: Stalker!IT/tech!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

(snippets/mentions of Carter Bazien x F!Reader and Ending, Beginnings!Frank x F!Reader)

Summary: Bucky, the IT and technology expert of your office, has been secretly obsessed since the moment he set his sights on sensitive, naive, little you. But, your only fault is your repetitive ability to get your heartbroken by fuck boys. So, naturally, he has to do whatever it takes to make you see he’s perfect for you… right?

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Stalking, mentions of smut (p in v, male masturbation) violence, grievous bodily harm, dark elements, possessive behaviour, hacking, reader is very naive, Bucky is a hell of a warning here (will add more with the upcoming chapters) PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS - THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!

A/N: We are finally here!! 😭 incase anyone doesn’t remember, I teased this fic a longgg time ago and it makes me so happy to announce its now live 🥹 as mentioned before this is a multi part story - I’m aiming for 3 parts but it could be more with me who knows 🤣 I also changed the my moodboard bc my last one did not include inclusivity and that is the goal here 💗

So now onto my appreciations ❤️ first of all I need to thank @mickeyhenrys for helping with the fic title - she’s a genius and I’m so thankful! Next, I need to thank @sgt-seabass for the help with the IT/cyber security aspect of things - she was absolutely amazing with providing all the information I needed and I’m super grateful for it. And last and certainly not least… my beautiful @rookthorne. my god I can’t even begin to thank you for all the help you’ve given me on this. To beta’ing this fic, helping me a lot with my moodboard even when I was a pain the ass 🤣 and just supporting me in general with my crazy ideas - this fic sprouted from our brainstorming and looking back from then to where this has flourished now is amazing 💗 thank you for being the beautiful person you are and inspiring me to grow as a writer. I love you so much 🥹

Now onto the fic, please enjoy the start of this crazy, wild ride and good luck - you’re gonna need it… 👀

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

Bucky glances over at you through the window that seperates the two of you, gushing about your new date already. It took you a week, maybe two, to get over the last guy. And here you were, yet again, in the same conversation with the same co-worker, debating about which dress you were gonna wear tonight.

Did it matter anyway?

The same shit happens every time. You go out with a new prize idiot, get laid, wait for them to text you back (spoiler: they never do), and you sit there, crying and wondering where you went wrong.

It was frustrating.

You only ever go out with the conventional ‘fuck boy’. The same three-piece suits and quiffed hair that looks like it’s been cemented to their skull with product and arrogance, both in equal measure.

When were you going to get it? You choose the wrong type of guy, every single time. And yet, you wonder why they never stick around long enough to make things official, or to settle down.

You were gullible; so naive.

The perfect girl that Bucky has kept his sights set on from that very first day that you begun working in the same office.

That’s when you walked into my life, Angel.

It wasn’t all that new for it to rain in New York. Heels clicked and splashed through the deep puddles of the pavement, and leather briefcases bumped against each other in the chaos of the crowds as Bucky made his way to work.

He found he didn’t so much mind the repetitive routine – his life had never been exciting. It gave him peace of mind to hear all the usual sounds and to witness the usual frenzied rush from his run down apartment all the way to his office.

He liked his job, truly. It’s what he’s always excelled best in and it’s what has kept him in his comfort zone. There was never no real need to talk to people as all communication or pleas for help were addressed in an email. Those who didn’t email always dragged themselves to his office and slammed their technology down on his desk, grunt or curse at him, before primly walking back out again.

That would anger most people – the blatant disregard for his existence and the treatment similar to that of a scolded dog, but Bucky’s been there for ten years now, and over those many, many days, he had gotten used to it.

It was a bonus, however, that nobody questioned him once on how he managed to fix every problem with their device with so little information as a curse and a demand to get it working.

Pushing the door open, Bucky expects to be walking into a normal day at the office. Paying no notice to the hustle and bustle of his colleagues at work.

That is until he’s stopped in his tracks.

The surprise of seeing the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on; a woman that was sunshine and everything he dreamed of personified standing in the lobby. He watched you speak to anyone that paused to say hello.

The errant thought of such an innocent bunny smiling for all that gave her attention made his cock twitch in his pants. He wanted to give you that attention that you craved.

Never had he been so entranced by and enamoured in anyone. He thinks he could stay like this forever, almost blown over by his new found obsession that made his hands shake and the whole volume of blood in his body to rush to his rapidly swelling cock.

That obsession called and rooted for him to take the few steps and cover the distance to reach you, when he was abruptly shunted forward by another body slamming into his back.

He spun around, ready to curse the person for being so oblivious, when he saw Brock. “Hey man, why the fuck were you just stand- Oh, I take it you’ve seen the new hire, hot isn’t she?”

The predatory smile on Brock’s mouth physically made him recoil. Looking Brock up and down, clear disgust in the sneer and glare of his expression, Bucky turned and stalked away towards the stairs in a bid to head to his office.

His closest safety net, the office where he spent his days, came into view and he slammed open the door, only to fall back onto it, his breath coming in sharp pants. Wildly, he glances around him and then out of the blinds that shroud his office from onlookers. Nobody was paying attention to his moment of crisis and doubt, except, he finds you glancing over your cubicle wall.

You send a small wave, one of which Bucky can’t believe is directed at him, and you smile broadly – a kind gesture. He can’t remember the last time someone smiled at him like that.

Bucky hastily looks away and strides over to his desk, adjusting the sudden tent of his slacks before he turns to sit in his desk chair to start his day.

Who the fuck is she?

The day starts slow, each task as mundane as the last, when you finally get a chance to talk to Sasha, your favourite co-worker. “I really think he’s going to be the one this time.” You can’t stop grinning, wiggling in your seat from excitement to be going out with Frank this weekend – the party that you met him at still fresh in your mind.

“Girl, you said that last time! With... What was his name again?” Sasha groans, her chair swivelling so she could face you fully. You stare at her with a furrow in your brow while she stumbles to remember the name. “Chad? No, I don’t think that was it… Chris?”

“His name was Carter.” There's heartbreak evident in the way your voice turns to a solemn whisper when speaking of him, and your eyes start to water as you begin to think about how your previous date left you high and dry after your night together – only to ghost you the next morning. Your lips start to tremble at the memory. “And I thought we said we weren’t going to speak about him anymore.”

Sasha notices your dejected expression. “Shit honey, l’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.” You nod once, wiping your cheek with your palm. “Car-” She hesitates, and then frowns. “He-who-shall-not-be-named was a rich asshole, he doesn’t deserve you and he can choke on a dick.”

The crass statement shocks you. “Sasha!” you admonish, glancing around the office for anyone milling about that may have overheard. Although you were never one to bad mouth, you couldn’t help the small giggles spilling out at her vulgar words.

Sasha’s abrupt and scandalous nature has always been the exact opposite to your docile character, but she was the first true friend you had made in the office – always looking out for you, taking care of you, and with your doe-eyed persona, the men can’t help but desire to have a piece of you.

It is a blessing that she always knew how to pick you back up when you were down, no matter how many times you would come to her in tears over the same problem.

“Anyway, I promise this one is different,” you promise. The sadness that gripped you a second before fades with the humorous nature of your friend. Sasha shoots you a look. “I didn’t even match with him on Tinder! We met at that party–the one I told you about, Daphne’s?”

“I remember,” Sasha murmurs, nodding.

The memory flashes across your mind, and you shake your head slightly. “He looked so silly with the little tiara on his head. He came up to me and we talked a little–said I looked really pretty and that we should meet up sometime,” you explain, almost imploringly – you desperately want her to understand that it was a good thing. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it–for me to get myself out there?”

Pride makes your voice strong, unwavering in it’s conviction. Stepping out of your your social circle is a huge step, and by the softening in Sasha’s gaze, she thinks so, too.

The night you met Frank swirls in your mind, clouding it as you stare dreamily at the wall beside Sasha’s head.

The party was in full swing – loud cheers and clinking bottles and glasses filled the night air, while the pounding bass music rattled your chest. Your friend, Daphne, had left to go smoke in the corner, abandoning you to your own devices by the pool.

Fairy lights had been strung up from pole to pole above you and you were admiring them, when Frank caught you by surprise.

“Hey doll,” he greeted, and you glanced at the six foot Prince Charming in a wool coat and tiny tiara. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the corner?”

Frank had thrown you a dashing smile and you found you couldn’t maintain eye contact with his intense gaze – you swore you fell in love on the spot.

To say you were flustered would be an understatement. “M-Me?”

Frank almost looked amused. “Well, just between me and you dollface… I don’t see anyone else nearly as pretty as you here.”

As the night went on, Frank continued to sweep you off your feet. You genuinely had no clue how desperate you made him over your sweet little dress riding up your thighs when you fiddled with the the hem. Or when you started to feel shy and you crossed your arms to try and hide yourself – only to squeeze your tits together. It gave him the perfect image of how they would look bouncing up and down on his cock.

The way he stared at you so sweetly, acting as the perfect gentleman made the butterflies in your stomach swoop and flutter up a storm. You had planned a date with him at the end of the night and you were beyond excited.

Snapping out of your daydream, you focus back into the present, aware enough of your surroundings to see Sasha clicking her fingers sharply in front of your face making you blink. “Hello? There she is!” She sits back and rolls her eyes. “Jesus girl, I was calling your name for ages. Where did that cute head of yours wander off to this time?”

“Sorry! I just got caught up in Frank again,” you sigh, dreamily.

Sasha scoffs. “C’mon, he can’t be that cute. Show me a photo of him.”

You clap your hands and squeal, rushing to search through your bag for your phone to show her just how lucky you are to have someone as wonderful as Frank interested in you. Scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night, you finally find the one you couldn’t stop admiring; him with that silly tiara sitting atop his soft, fluffy hair that you could imagine running your hands through all day, wrapped in a snug jacket with a cigarette between his fingers and blowing out smoke the side of his perfect lips.

His eyes fixed intently on one thing. You.

The image sends a shiver down your spine, and before you get too carried away, you turn your screen to face Sasha.

After a whole minute of considertory silence, she finally speaks up, her voice aweful. “Holy fucking shit, babe. I wanna lick his face.”

Your jaw drops. “Sasha, oh my god, you can’t just say that!” Laughter threatens to bubble over and your cheeks heat in response.

“Watch me,” Sasha teases, and you both dissolve into laughing fits.

Bucky is seething. He doesn’t think his teeth could be grating together any harder; grinding to dust until his jaw clicks. While your laugh is melodic to his ears, and his heart leaps and bounds at the sound of your voice, even muted from his vantage point of his office, he saw how upset you looked when your co-worker mentioned him.

Carter.

Even thinking his name gets his blood boiling. But, he wills himself to calm down. To just breathe. There was no point in getting worked up over that spoiled prick anymore, he’s dealt with after what he did to you – the very lengths Bucky had to go to get that video Carter took on his phone deleted.

You, the not so innocent whore on your knees for someone who wasn’t him, begging for Carter’s dick down your throat until you were suffocating; saliva drooling from your chin and dripping down onto your heaving tits.

Bucky can feel his cock twitching in his trousers at the thought of you being so submissive. Pity floods him – you didn’t even realise how Carter had not only ignored your texts that morning, but he had also planned to send that precious gift you had so willingly given to him, to all of his friends and ultimately ruin your life. Leaving it in shambles for you to pick up the debris of your professional career and sociality with so little care.

Bucky wasn’t the most pleased with you after seeing that video in the first place. It was such a foolish decision to trust and allow that sleazebag to film you.

He took it upon himself to remove every trace of the video. After all, he was a good person, what a man should be.

Such a good man that he paid a visit to Carter, leaving him with a few of his own gifts. A black eye, fractured skull, and a break in his right femur that may, or may not have, resulted in him taking residence in the local intensive care unit fighting for his life.

“All I want is for you to be happy. And who better to make you happy than me?” Bucky wonders quietly at his desk, the door to his office wide open so he can hear you chatting to your friend. “I would treat you so good–dote on you every hour of every day, never let you out of my sight, either.”

The next train of thought is one he will not voice aloud, but the vision of him fucking you hard and rough, just as you deserve, until you cried for more – for all of what he could give.

“You’re better off with me,” Bucky grumbles. His lips turn down into a grimace and he glares at the cubicle wall that separated you from him. “You just don’t know it yet, bunny.”

Nevertheless, here you are, flaunting your latest boy toy off to your friend.

The pencil he’s been tapping absentmindedly on his desk stops suddenly and small pieces of wood splinters by the second until it snaps in half, almost capturing your attention – head whipping side to side in search of the noise until you give up and go back to your conversation.

Pain laces through his hand when the wood scratches his palm, reddening lines etching themselves in retaliation for his daydreaming.

He’s got to be more careful with his frustrations.

You have hardly ever looked in his direction, let alone spoken a single word to him. Why would you? Not many people did, if he is honest with himself. His shoulder-length dark hair that is always covered by the same black cap in combination with his piercing and brooding stare didn’t give off the best impression, or invite conversation.

Bucky was not a popular man, even thinking back to his early school years. He was always considered the loner, the nerd, the creep. No sisters or brothers to grow up with; distant parents who paid no mind to him or bothered to foster and nuture his affinities.

The lonliness of his childhood paved the way to the depths of his desperation. Intelligence was something he had an abundance of, and weaponising the skills of his cyber skills was an underutilised talent of every one of his past employs.

It never assuades or lessens the burden of need for affection. A craving that naws like a festering wound in his barren heart, for something that could make up for the miserable nights of self reflection and doubt; wondering why he was never enough for his parents, or popular at school where the girls would fawn over him.

Something for his own; to be just his and unable to be taken from him, not by anybody.

I’m right here, Angel. You just don’t ever see me.

Bucky has done nothing short of pine after you from afar; stealing glances and furtive wanders to get close in any way he can.

He knows you wouldn’t go out of your way to talk to him – you don’t run in the same circles and you are definitely not socially compatible. That doesn’t stop him from imagining how soft your skin must be, or how flawlessly your body would melt against his as he railed you into his bed. Your heavenly little cries of his name, breathless chants pleading him to “Keep going!” and “Don’t stop!” never leave his mind. They fuel his needy desires at night until he can get the real thing, whimpering your name until his voice is hoarse as he fucks his fist over and over and over – the thought that it was your hand or your pillowy lips guiding him into ecstacy pushes him to the very brink of insanity.

The dreams will do for now, he thinks privately as he stares at you through the glass pane of his office wall, straight to your cubicle, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall and muffled through the glass. He’s managed for the last six months since he first saw you, it’s fine.

Impatience chips away at his resolve, though, and his fuse is shortening by the day. No matter what it takes, no matter who you think is good for you right now, Bucky will have you, and when he does… He’s not ever letting you go.

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shininglikeyoursmile · 8 months

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Drunk in love✨️✨️✨️

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader

Word count: around 700

Warning: none for now. Alcohol consumption. 18+ only . There will be smut in future. Minors do not interact! Fluff kinda (please let me know if I need to add more warnings.)

Summary: Drunk and giddy you admire yourself or is it just you?....

A/N : This is just some promo😘, maybe someday I will turn it into series☺️😚 cause I've idea of next chapter but not the energy to write 😅😅😅.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist(to be added)

As always reblogs, comments and feedback is VERY VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!!!😍😍😍🤩🤩🤩

No beta read. All mistakes are my own!

(Moodboard made by me, pics only show the vibe not actual features of the reader ❤)

Beautiful as fuck. You giggled at your reflection as you gave yourself another once over. You'd fuck yourself. Yup totally .

You squish both your breasts together and pucker your lips in the form when kissing . You giggle again and wink at your reflection and make a sexy pose, arching your back . Damn you are adorable. You laugh again and with your first and middle finger you give a flying kiss to yourself. Sometimes a girl needs to feel Beautiful, you say out loud to no one and make your way back to the bar from where you stand. The hallway is empty , where you stand currently and you were confused as you were trying to find the bathroom and mayyyybe you were tipsy, a little. Duh ! a lot . You are giggling nonstop and feel like floating on cloud nine. You stumbled upon this mirror which extends from floor to ceiling , and just like anyone in your position would do , you needed to check yourself out. You lean on the mirror and kiss yourself and start walking back to your friends.

Steve looks up from the file he was holding . Sam did a great job but changes need to be made , overall it's pretty good .He exhales loudly and sighs , good. His gaze floats around the room and suddenly lands on your figure, giggling and making all those pretty poses, sexy and then adorable. His lips turn up slightly and then he's full on smiling at your little show . He finds himself checking you out, from your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat , your shiny eyes , your cute nose and your beautiful lips. He licks his own lips , and lets his gaze roam over your figure and stands up . He moves towards the door when you lean in to kiss the mirror. He blinks suddenly and smiles again . So adorable he thinks and then you are moving away

. He stares at the mirror long after you are gone and paints your picture in his mind again. So beautiful. He smiles again and shakes his head at himself over the thought of acting like a boy with a secret crush . He moves back to his chair. Granted, making the door as a two way mirror wasn't a good idea but nobody wandered in this area. It was his office where he ran business. His new club was doing well, it was new but he knew it would be a success like many other businesses of his. He settles back in his chair and his head hits the back of soft leather. His eyes fall shut and the images of you flashes in his head .

"Thought you got kidnapped " Mia sighs out loud when you approach her beside the counter where the bartender places two drinks ."Don't worry ! bub. Nobody can handle me , not even the kidnappers and they will be returning me within an hour if they ever took me " You pout and chuckle a little at your own silly joke. "Oh ! I don't know " she rolls her eyes and hands you another drink . "Cheers!" You both shout in unison and gulp down your drinks.

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choicesficwriterscreations · 25 days

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April Creator of the Month: Aallotarenunelma

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists, and this month’s creator of the month is the lovely @aallotarenunelma! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog My Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr?

Aallotar is fine. I am agender. My pronouns are they/them.

More below...

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I saw the app being highlighted a lot in Google Play in 2017, but it was only at the end of February-beginning of March 2018 that I downloaded it. It was when Perfect Match 1 started releasing and shortly before Bloodbound 1 began releasing. Time is flying!

There were already a lot of books, and it was a bit overwhelming. I chose the series that was being heavily advertised: The Royal Romance.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Choices sub-Reddit in July 2019, then the Tumblr fandom in April 2020.

I first joined the sub because I wanted to discuss the books and the characters, and hopefully befriending other players. It was lonely to read the books, and having no one to share my opinions and theories with. Then, I took a step back from it and after lurking a bit, I joined the Tumblr community.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

When I joined Tumblr, in April 2020, it was initially to be a Writblr. I was writing a story about a heroine named Aallotar. Its title gave my blog’s URL. My blog’s title is its English translation: Aallotar’s dream.

In the end, my blog turned into a bit of everything.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

This is my very first post. This is my original writing, conveniently mentioned right above. :)

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I define myself as an artist because I create. This is how I express myself. It doesn’t matter if the pencil I use is to write or to draw as long as I create. Before I started learning how to draw, I was always saying that I was drawing with words. To me, this is what writing is. I draw and paint with my words to depict stories that my characters want me to tell.

I mostly write, but I also create fan art, such as sketches and various kinds of edits: quotes, sprites, moodboards, etc.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

For the defunct app Lovestruck, from December 2020 to October 2021.

For Choices, since April-May 2020.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

My all-time favourite Choices book is Veil of Secrets. I adore it!

I heavily create for the It Lives Anthology - the three books - and also for Immortal Desires. I love these books so much that I made a crossover, and most of the characters from the Anthology and from ID have met and even befriended each other.

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

My first Choices fiction is a Blades one: Of Stardust and Light.

I still love it and I wouldn’t change anything - except the typos and the clumsy grammar/syntax, due to the fact I am not an English-native speaker.

For a long time, I thought it was my masterpiece, that I wouldn’t write something as good or even as better than this. But I proved myself wrong in the end.

The other reason why I wouldn’t rewrite it now is because I have definitively stopped writing for my Blades pairing, Tyril x Soile. I made it official a few months ago, and this decision is final.

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

It’s really hard to choose only one, but I do have a soft spot for Répondez, S’il Vous Plaît ! #3 because this is where I tell about my OCs’ Ash and Skylar’s meeting. It was a story I wanted to write for a long time and I love it.

Chronicles of a Crimson Summer deserves to be mentioned as well. This is the longest story I have shared here, and it’s a real balance of angst, fluff, and funny moments. Also, because its birth was extremely painful, so for all of these reasons, I am glad I wrote it and shared it.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I never expect anything I share to be well received, whether it’s a fiction or a drawing. I’m only sharing it, hoping that at least someone will find it and enjoy it. Even better if it helps the person in any way.

That said, sharing my art remains a lot more difficult than sharing my writing, so any art reblog is leaving me a bit confused, due to my imposter syndrome.

Most people here who are familiar with my stories have read some of the funny stories I have shared, as well as the fluffiest stories I have ever written - sometimes too fluffy for me.

However, this isn’t only what my writing is about. Darker Than Night has generated so much indifference that it saddens me.

This series really shows what my writing is, minus the layer of humour that you can usually expect. It truly deserves better, just like In Joy and Sorrow, that actually gives a good idea of what my writing really is.

11- (WRITERS) If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I usually share a lot of fluff here, because the world outside is hard, so I want to uplift people with sweet and funny stories. However, my original writing is usually angsty with some funny and fluffy moments to alleviate all the angst a little. So, I’m choosing angst. Definitely. To me, writing angst is comforting.

11a - (ARTISTS) If you could only draw one style or type of art for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?

I could easily do oil pastels for the rest of my life. It’s an easy technique to learn, it’s very forgiving, it’s calming, and I love how it looks.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I am agender and aspec, so in any non-binary and/or aspec MC / OC of mine can be found parts of me, regardless of how they define themselves on those large spectrums. Representation is highly important to me, so this is one of the recurring themes in my writing.

Also, the witty/sarcastic and playful characters are easy to write because I know them too well!

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Finding the right word is difficult, either in English or in my native tongue. I always want to capture the emotion, the feeling, the landscape with the perfect word. I’m still learning in my daily life.

Regarding my art, at the level I am right now, that would be shadows. Sometimes, they look great, but they often don’t. Practice makes perfect, so this is what I do whenever I can.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

I tend to have only one WIP that I see to end. One reason for this is that I usually write my stories in a notebook, before I type them down to share them. The state of the notebook is not always great; I even sometimes struggle to re-read what I corrected!

If it’s about my original work, then, yes, I want to finish that one novel’s second draft.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

It has actually happened with one of my siblings. At that time, I was only writing for Blades and had maybe like five stories posted. I let my sibling read them because we are close. For other people, I think it would be on a case-by-case basis, but most likely not. I'd rather make them read my original writing, if my shyness isn’t getting in the way.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

Émile Zola and Arto Paasilinna are my all-time favourite writers.

I am learning from every fanfiction writer I am reading. First, because I read in a foreign language. Second, because I believe you learn from everyone every day.

In terms of art, I don’t think I have a particular influence. I am still exploring my style.

17- (WRITERS) Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

It would be In Joy and Sorrow. I created this It Lives in the Woods AU series to give a life to my first MC, Riikka. The one she couldn’t have. In this series, I talk about close friendships, coming outs, being bilingual/bicultural, how to navigate a romantic relationship as an aspec*, how to deal with bullying/harassment, etc. I talk about timeline collapse and time-travelling as well.

And because there’s the most delightful OC ever, my all-time favourite: Ash. He truly is one of a kind and his friendship with Dan is really something special.

*aspec: a person on the aromantic and asexual spectrums.

18 - (ARTISTS) Which one of your creations would you like to see a fiction written about?

I don’t have any yet that would justify the honor of having a fiction being written about.

19- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

I started writing when I was 10 years old. It was thanks to an assignment for my native tongue class when we were studying the structure of a fairytale. I really enjoyed writing one, so I kept writing over the summer. Little stories about everything and nothing.

I wrote my first novel when I was 13, but never dared to send it to a publisher. I kept writing novels - and not sending them, I have a nice collection, now! - and branching out in other forms of writing, in hope to develop as a writer: rpg forums, poetry, (fan)fictions, creative writing course, etc. I took a ten year break from writing (fan)fictions before returning to them.

I am working on the second draft of a novel about grief, and I have three other different novels already outlined.

Regarding art, I mostly create non-fandom art.

20- What other hobbies do you have?

Except writing and drawing; I paint murals and do oil pastel; I do theatre; I design and crochet my own clothes.

I enjoy watching old films, Hollywood era and silent ones included, but modern films as well, if they are excellent.

I love learning foreign languages, listening to music and going to gigs.

I am also a true race car enthusiast, preferably Formula races - F1 to F4, Formula Regional included.

I also enjoy going for walks in nature and travelling.

21: Tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

I want to thank CFWC for highlighting me, and giving me the chance to talk more about my characters, my stories, my writing and my art. This means a lot, especially as this month is also when I’m celebrating my 4 year Tumblr Anniversary.

Thank you for your support throughout these years!

I want to thank so many people, but I’m also scared to miss any of them!

Thank you to my friends, old and new. 💛

Thank you to everyone who has read and reblogged my stories and left kudos and comments on them. It has been helping me so much in believing in myself and my writing.

Thank you to everyone who has reblogged my art and my edits and left comments on them.

Thank you to every talented person who has gifted me a piece of their beautiful art, written or not, anonymously or not.

Thank you to everyone who has asked about my characters and my stories.

Thank you to everyone who has sent me positive and uplifting messages.

Lastly, thank you to every single person who has supported me these past months, in many different ways. Your kindness and your presence have made a difference, and I am grateful for those and for you all.

And a special shoutout to my fellow rainbow creators! 🌈

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc creator of the month #choices stories you play #playchoices #aallotarenunelma #choices #choices fanart #choices fanfic #april creator of the month #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fanart

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emillyverse · 27 days

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This is not an update to the Comic, but it still has something to do with it !!!

(call it a little gift for the Wish Rewrite and KoW fandom)

Hello my little stars! How are you?

I mentioned in the last post in the series that I would be traveling for a week or two and that's why I wouldn't be working. Well I'm still traveling Lmao.

It's been a lot of fun, I'm visiting my Prince Charming and family, both of whom I haven't been to in a long time. Still, I couldn't stop thinking about KoW and Wish's Concept Arts. Disney sealed the fate of its fan artists by discarding so much good material, now they are embedded in our minds and we will not be able to rest until we see them realized. This is crazy but it's beautiful to see how much these discarded concepts generated creative potential in the fandom.

Because of all this I couldn't help but make some small sketches! And well, I came to show them here. They are not sketches of Comic panels, but they have something to do with it and I will show the photos and explain how.

This first one, very faded, are Magnificent and Amable's clothes (designed by @uva124, for the characters in @annymation's rewrite of Wish "The Kingdom of Wishes"). The drawings that Aled did are very complex, I don't judge her for that, in fact I thank her, she gave beautiful clothes to the centuries-old Disney villains and they are perfect. I really wish I could draw them with all the details, but I will do everything by hand, alone and seeking a minimally professional quality (I want to be a comic artist/book illustrator one day. This comic is my first step Lmao, and I want to do something that conveys the best I can give at the moment), so I need to make some things easier for myself. The costumes are one of those things.

" Better something simple and well done than complex and poorly done." — This is my motto for this Comic and for my life.

The next sketches are related to aesthetics. I've been watching a lot of "Analyzing the Art" videos of some Disney films and I was inspired to adopt some "Disney Style" features in my arts for this comic (not everything obviously, because I don't want to be sued by Disney lmao).

What you'll see next is me trying to mix this influence with my own style in some KoW character sketches.

(this last art specifically references a meme in which @rascalentertainments tagged me, Thanks for that, by the way! <3 )

(credits to the artist, I don't know who it is because I was just tagged in this meme and I was busy So I didn't look for more information, but I'll leave the post link and you can check the official credits)

Speaking of aesthetics. Anny received Chiara's aesthetic from someone — the north star, "daughter of Aster", created by his magic at the very end of Anny's fanfic. This Aesthetic inspired me to create an aesthetic for Asha and Aster too and these were the results:

What's your favorite?

Lmao, It took a lot of work to make Aster's. There are almost no things for "starboys" on Pinterest.

I'm leaving this up to you to share as you wish, consider it a gift to the fandom!

Lastly, I want to say that the artistic analysis videos They also inspired me to put together a moodboard for KoW and I'll be leaving it here. Not even Anny and Aled know about this and I can't wait to see their reactions! I wish I could print this painting and leave it on the wall, but unfortunately I don't have a printer T-T.

This moodboard is helping me with the artistic direction of colors, style and is a visual motivation to stay active at work.

I hope you like it too!

That's it for today, it's already midnight in Brazil and I should be sleeping instead of posting crazy things on the internet. I'm going to tag my friends and go to sleep, Lmao.

Kisses full of light and stars!

~ Emy

@wings-of-sapphire @flicklikesstuff @frogcoven88 @chillwildwave @gracebethartacc @gracebethartacc @kstarsarts @oh-shtars Come and get your therapies after the anguish caused by certain publications by Anny!

#kingdom of wishes #wish reimagined #wish rewrite #wish 2023 #disney wish #artists on tumblr #asha wish #starboy #starsha #the kingdom of wishes desings #the kingdom of wishes au comic #the kingdom of wishes au #behind the papers?#behind the scenes #aesthetic #scketchbook #scketchs #please write tags for me when reblogging #I am feeling lazy

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lookingforluna · 2 years

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Rotate || C. San

❥ Pairing: Choi San x Reader

❥ Word Count: 9.4k

❥ Rating: M

❥ Genre: strangers to lovers au, smut, non-idol au, fluff, humor

❥ Warnings: lots of smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, San's mouth is filthy, jealous San, creampie, intercourse

❥ Summary: During a late-night ice cream run to the supermarket, you bump into a handsome guy with a green streak in his hair that claims to have met you at the club the weekend before. When you confess to not remembering him, he becomes determined to make sure you never forget him again.

❥ Moodboard: Edit 1

❥ Song Inspiration: Rotate (Clockwise) by Rak-Su

❥ A/N: This is my first ever ATEEZ fanfic, so much longer than originally planned. I recently joined the fandom 2-3 weeks ago, and I'm so excited to start writing. As you can tell, San is my bias, and this man makes me WEAK in the knees. I have so many fics planned, so please support me! I hope you guys like this one! Can't wait to make new ATINY friends <3

Hmm, should you try one of the new flavors? Usually, you stick to buying the mango-flavored mochi ice cream, but today there was a new arrangement of flavors on display. Green Tea, Red Bean, Strawberry, Vanilla, and Mint Chocolate Chip.

“I recommend the mint chocolate chip. It’s one of my favorites.” A soft voice interrupts your thought process, causing you to turn around only to see an incredibly attractive guy standing behind you.

You couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, not used to handsome guys just walking up and talking to you. If anything, they didn’t really look your way, and if they did, they never approached you.

“Oh well, thank you for the suggestion,” you shyly smile, giving a slight head nod before turning around. Your fingers trail over the mint chocolate chip package, seriously considering it. Mint chocolate chip wasn’t exactly your favorite, but you weren’t against it.

“Don’t you remember me?”

The question catches you off guard as you stare at him, trying to organize your thoughts. You were certain you would remember this man from just the bright green streak in his hair, but you couldn’t place him.

The more you gaze at his face, the more his features remind you of a fox. His face shape is very defined, and his jawline is so intense. God certainly took his time with this creation. For some reason, you couldn’t move away from his eyes and how they remained fixed on your own.

“I’m sorry, I don’t. Should I?”

You honestly wanted to curse yourself at this moment as his eyes flitted over your frame. The thought of dressing up as you did a quick run to the supermarket didn’t cross your mind. It was late at night, and you just wanted something cool to help with the boiling summer heat. That meant running out of the house in a slightly cropped white t-shirt and short black biker shorts.

This night would always be stuck in the back of your head forever. The words your father always told you about looking presentable in public suddenly entered your mind, and of course, you should’ve listened to his advice.

“I’m San. We danced together in the club last weekend,” he says, as the tip of his tongue does a quick swipe across his pink lips.

That simple motion was enough to make your knees buckle, but you must keep it together. Thinking back to that night, your close friend Jackson had you taking long shots straight from a Hennessey bottle. The only reason you couldn't remember him is probably cause you were drunk off your ass.

He doesn’t need to know that.

Truth is, San caused something to stir in your stomach. It had been such a long time since a guy actually gave you attention like this, and he was breathtakingly beautiful. He was far from the guys you typically went after, and maybe that’s a good thing.

The last thing you want is to seem desperate, though the only way to avoid that is to seem uninterested. Or at least seem hard to get.

“I’m sorry, your name doesn’t ring a bell. I danced with many people that night,” you explain, sounding calm and confident. The original reason you entered the supermarket returns to your mind, and you focus on the shelves again, your body turning away from him.

From the corner of your eye, San straightens his posture, not expecting that answer from you at all. He knew you wouldn’t have been alone at the club. Of course, you would have caught the eyes of many guys, but he was certain you would’ve remembered him at least.

“I guess you weren’t that memorable,” you finish, settling on the mint chocolate chip mochi box.

As you turn around, ready to leave, your breath hitches at San’s tall frame looming over you. His eyes are different from before. Instead of the bright wide doe-eyed guy from earlier, his eyes are darker, more intense, and slightly narrowed. You hadn’t realized how tall he was before, but here you were, craning your neck to look up at him.

His plush lips part when suddenly a familiar voice breaks the heated staredown.

“Woah, Y/N! I see you’ve met San!”

An energetic Wooyoung makes his way to San, followed by Hongjoong, hands full of different chips and snacks. San’s eyes flicker between you and the guys when suddenly something registers in his mind. Wooyoung drapes an arm over San’s shoulder, pulling him close and creating some distance between the two of you.

“You guys know each other?” San beats you to ask the question. It certainly was a small world, after all.

Wooyoung laughs while patting San on the chest before looking at you, “This is our childhood best friend we kept telling you about. He just moved to the city.”

What were the chances you would run into the guy you had heard countless stories about almost every day?

“So this is the best friend you guys talk about every time we hang out?” You do a quick once over of him, matching his image to the third friend in the stories you always wondered about.

“Well, it looks like I am memorable after all,” San slightly smirks as his eyes focus on yours, widening, and cheeks lightly flushing.

“Are we missing something?” Hongjoong asks as he stands next to you, him and Wooyoung exchanging glances.

“It’s nothing important,” you quickly reply, earning a slight scoff from San as he runs his fingers through his black hair, muscles flexing from the motion.

Hongjoong organizes the snacks in his hands as he turns to look at you.

“Are you busy tonight? You should come out with us.”

Wooyoung’s loud laughter causes a couple a few feet away to pause and stare before returning to their shopping.

“Y/N busy? Do you see what she’s wearing? You’re having one of your depressing movie nights, aren’t you?”

Wooyoung motions to the box of ice cream in your hand before shaking his head in laughter. Of course, you were so predictable. He and Hongjoong knew you like the back of their hands. Your routine on Saturday nights was usually the same if you weren’t with them or other friends.

“They aren’t depressing! You just don’t have taste,” you exclaim, crossing your arms and glaring at him, a small pout appearing on your face.

“No, I have to agree. Watching The Notebook and Dear John on a Saturday night is depressing,” Hongjoong agrees while squishing you against his side in a comforting hug.

San stands there watching the little conversation between the three of you in silence. He could see why Hongjoong and Wooyoung would be close friends with you. In a way, you reminded him of himself.

Back home, he would usually stay in on the weekends and hang out in front of the TV, preferring to be alone. Since moving to the new city, though, he wanted to break those old habits, so he agreed to go out with the guys tonight.

“Fine, I’ll go out with you guys tonight, but on one condition,” you say, breaking San away from his thoughts as he glances down at your small self.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asks, his eyes lighting up at the thought of you finally going to the club with them.

“Wooyoung’s buying my ice cream,” you say, tossing the box into his hand with a grin before walking ahead of them, a small giggle leaving your lips.

“Ya! I’m always buying your ice cream, I swear!” Wooyoung shouts jokingly as he follows behind you, happy you agreed to their plans.

Hongjoong catches up to them, San trailing behind as he watches how your hips sway with each step. A smile breaks across his lips as he thinks of you, realizing that he enjoys your feistiness more than he expected.

“Wooyoung, I don’t know how I feel about this dress,” you nervously express while pivoting back and forth in front of the mirror.

It was far from anything you had ever worn out to the club. The dress was bought sometime last summer while on a trip with a few close friends of yours. They had convinced you to buy it, exclaiming that it was about time you stepped out of your comfort zone.

The last thing you expected was for Wooyoung to pull it out from the depths of your closet and toss it on the bed, a pair of matching sparkly black heels beside it. You tend to stray away from sparkly short dresses, but this one caught your attention because of the beautiful strappy back.

The self-conscious feeling begins to rise at the idea of forgoing a bra. You always wore bras in every dress you bought, but the intricate back of this one made it impossible.

“Oh, come on! I’ve never seen you in something like this! You look banging too!” He shouts while motioning to your figure as if presenting you to an audience.

Well… maybe you could wear it out. The dress was bound to come out of the closet at some point, and Wooyoung was the only one who could convince you to wear it. You had let your hair down in loose curls and decided to keep your makeup simple. You did your regular face routine with the addition of some eyelashes, winged eyeliner, and of course, a bold red lip.

While you were busy studying yourself in the mirror, you hadn’t noticed that Wooyoung had left the room, heading out to call for a ride to the club.

Instead, standing in his place against your bedroom door stood San, his brown eyes scanning over your body multiple times before settling on your face. He was certain you were trying to put him into a trance. He couldn’t figure out where to look, completely captivated by you.

“Wooyoung, I’m not sure about this. I’ve never worn anything like this. Some guys can get touchy in the club, and I don’t want to start any problems,” you huff out a little disappointed before turning around.

You almost stumble a little, completely unaware of the moment San entered your room. He was leaning against the door, arms crossed and noticeable beneath the fitted black dress shirt he wore, the first two buttons opened and exposing his chest. The black skinny jeans he wore pressed against his legs a little too perfect as he straightened himself.

“You look stunning in that,” he says, his voice suddenly sounding deeper than before.

It’s hard to swallow as you look at him, trying to avoid eye contact but hopelessly failing. He has siren eyes; you're sure of it. The man might even be a siren himself or some damn mythical creature. That might not even be the right word to describe him, but all you know is that it becomes hard to breathe every time he’s near.

“T-thank you,” you manage to stutter out, nerves on complete display for him. His light chuckle warms your heart as he steps towards you, eyes locked on your own.

Your fingers fumble with the short fabric at the end of your dress, lightly biting down on your bottom lip before releasing it.

“I'm not sure. I know how guys are at the club. I don’t want to get into any problems,” you nervously explain to San, his head tilting to hear your concern.

His brows furrow in confusion, and you’re sure he hadn’t thought about that. Maybe he would agree that you should change out of the short dress and put on something else.

“That’s not an issue. Wear the dress. I can fight,” he softly breathes, the look on his face absolutely serious and firm. This was when you were sure your knees would buckle from that sentence and look alone.

Luckily before you can reply, Hoongjoong enters the room, announcing that the ride is 5 minutes away. You stumble back a little, caught off guard by Hongjoong and aware of the proximity between you and San.

Before you can fall back, San’s strong hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you forth and right into his chest. A soft floral and sweet scent enters your senses, and all you want to do is bury yourself there.

“Ya! Y/N, you’re so clumsy. Let’s go,” Wooyoung shouts, dragging you away from San before looking back and shooting his friend a wink.

San stands there in shock, not expecting Wooyoung to pick up on his interest in you. He thought he was doing well keeping it a secret, but clearly not well enough if Wooyoung noticed.

I just wanna see you rotate, both ways

I just wanna see you rotate, slowly

The music booms loudly in your ears as the bass thunders in your chest, and your favorite song begins. The club was becoming more and more crowded as the minutes went by. The four of you had been here about a little over an hour, and the vibes were only getting better.

“This is my song! Let me show you!”

Your voice is barely heard over the sound of the music as you shout to Hongjoong, your hands in the air and hips swaying to the rhythm. Wooyoung had disappeared some time ago, most likely looking for some girl to take home.

The last time you saw San, he was sitting at the bar, a few girls immediately flocking towards him. Of course, it made you feel some type of way, the way he smiled at them, but the two of you aren’t together.

He’s single.

And so are you.

“Oooo, wait, take this shot first and let me see!” Hongjoong yells as he pushes what’s probably your fifth tequila shot of the night into your hands, quickly downing his own. Taking a deep breath, your head tilts as the cool liquid slides down your throat, the burn immediately settling in your stomach as a new wave of confidence takes over.

Your hands glide up and down your arms as the rhythm and lyrics take over your body. The flashing blue and green laser lights of the nightclub gave you an adrenaline rush, your skin heating up from the shot and other bodies brushing up against you.

Hongjoong disappears from your sight for a few seconds before he reappears, tugging your wrist towards the bar.

Mingi, the tall and buff bartender you became quick acquaintances with due to your many appearances at his club, sent a wink your way before he tapped the counter twice. Confusion settles onto your face as your head tilts to the side, Hongjoong pulling you next to him.

“Only for you! Just this once!”

Mingi shouts before his hands rest on your waist, and you’re hoisted up until your heels touch the flat surface of the counter. Your heart stammers at the realization that they want you to dance on the bar. Cheers and shouts erupt around you as people start to notice.

One time, let me put it 'pon ya

Two times, let me put it 'pon ya

The nerves slowly vanish as you feel the music, your hips ticking side to side as more people corner around the bar. The attention you’re feeling only empowers you even more as you lean forward, arching your back and moving your waist in a slow wine.

Three times I try, you caught my eye

You know what's on my mind

You glance around at the crowd, drowning in the attention and feeling of so many eyes amazed by you. When you make contact with those familiar, dark, and slightly narrowed eyes, your breath falters a little. San sits at the end of the bar, body leaning back against the chair as he tracks your every turn, dip, and bend.

“Wooo, you look hot, Y/N,” Wooyoung shouts as he appears behind San, hand resting on his shoulder. Wooyoung raises his shot in the air to you before sending it back down his awaiting mouth.

Why you acting so shy?

Come and take the spotlight

Gracefully and in time with the beat, you dance towards the end of the bar, very aware of the girls sitting on each side of San, watching you with bitter stares. Just as your favorite part of the song plays, you drop low in front of him, aware of how high your dress rises, barely covering your ass.

Baby, make your body go clockwise, anti-clockwise

The alcohol floods your veins as Hongjoong, Wooyoung, Mingi, and the screams of other people sound in your ear. Your fingers fasten in the top of your hair as your hips twist in circles, fingers moving to caress down your arms, putting on a sexy show for one man in particular.

San licks his lips, one eyebrow lifting as his eyes take in every inch of your body, your ass on display for him, and god was he blessed. Never had he ever received a dance from a girl in all of his years of dancing, and from the way, you were gazing at him, he knew this was his first.

As the song comes to a slow finish and the next one starts, Mingi helps you down the bar, and you make your way towards the three guys you entered the club with.

Wooyoung and Hongjoong pull you in between them, squishing you against their warm bodies as they hug you close.

“I have never seen you dance like that,” Hongjoong shouts as he looks at you in complete awe.

“Wow, I’m surprised you’re not a dancer with smooth movements like those,” San says before taking a sip from the glass in his hand.

“See, that’s a huge compliment coming from a dancer like San!”

Hongjoong smiles as he looks between the two of you. You knew from the countless stories Wooyoung told that he was a pretty well-known backup dancer, but you hadn’t realized he was that good, and your cheeks began to heat up.

“This was all my doing,” Wooyoung says as he looks at you, “I knew the dress would bring out a different side of you that you’ve been hiding!”

A soft smile settles across your face as you realize he’s right. There’s no way you would’ve been bold enough to dance like that on the bar in a different dress. With all their eyes on you and no idea what to say, you thought of the one thing that would make you feel more relaxed.

“How about another round of shots?!” You begin to walk away and head towards Mingi on the other side of the bar without waiting for a reply when Hongjoong’s hands suddenly shoot onto your shoulders.

“Woah, we just had a shot less than 10 minutes ago.”

Hongjoong was right about that, but taking a shot might ease your nerves around San. He wouldn’t stop looking at you with that intense stare as he sips his drink. You had no idea what he was drinking, but if you had to guess, maybe it was vodka.

“Yea, wait here. I’m gonna get you water instead,” Wooyoung shouts over the loud music before ruffling your hair a little and heading towards the busy bartender.

“Water? Are you guys serious? I’m not even drunk,” You pout, looking at Hongjoong with wide eyes while wrapping your arms around his neck.

He tries so hard to hold his laugh in but fails and just shakes his head at you. His soft hands reach up to unclasp yours from his neck, looking over at San as he speaks.

“Please watch her. She’s had her fun for the night. I’m gonna call for a ride to take her home,” Hongjoong explains.

San sends a smile his way, assuring him not to worry about you. Now that Hongjoong leaves, reality sinks in. You’re stuck here with San watching you. All you want to do is disappear into the crowd of people, and that’s exactly what the voice in your head tells you to do.

Just as you get about five feet away and into the crowd, a really tight grip encircles your hips, pulling your hips flush against a firm body. The hardness against your back is the first thing you notice, and you’re in shock.

Before you even turn around, the presence behind you fades as if it was in your imagination. The hardness was there one second and gone within half a second.

“Touch her again, and I’ll break your fucking hands.”

The low and threatening voice is the first thing you notice as your eyes land on a fuming San. His jaw clenches as he fists the shirt of some guy clearly drunk off his ass, now looking like a deer in headlights. The guy raises both hands in surrender as he mumbles out a jumble of words before San lets him go, and he takes off.

Standing there, you’re unsure what to do. Maybe you should thank him, but you didn’t ask him to do that. You didn’t need him to protect you, but he still did it. He’s still pissed. You can tell from the way he stands there, still looking in the direction of the guy, shoulders tense and jaw clenched.

A deep breath exits his mouth as he turns around to look at you, his face immediately relaxing as his brown eyes meet yours. You swallow, mouth feeling dry as he slowly walks over to you, head tilting as he studies your face. One of his ring-clad fingers ghosts over your cheek before tucking a stray curl behind your ear.

“Are you okay?” San asks as his eyes soften.

Out of all the expressions you had seen from him, this was a first. You didn’t think it was possible for him to show concern since he was always looking at you with those narrowed eyes. All you can do is nod, not able to trust your voice because of the way he’s looking at you.

“It’s because of this dress. Some bastards can’t keep their hands to themselves,” he says while glancing around you before pulling you closer. His hand was comfortably resting on your lower back, the heat from his palm warming up your skin and making it hard to breathe.

“What? You told me to wear the dress in the first place,” you complain, suddenly feeling disappointment fill your head at the thought of him not liking the dress.

As if reading your thoughts, he pushes his tongue into his cheek before sucking his teeth. He noticed how quickly your face had fallen and couldn’t stand seeing you like that.

“I did tell you to wear it. I love the way you look too,” he says, voice more serious as he glances down at you.

“I just don’t like anyone else enjoying the same view as me,” he whispers, tongue wetting his lips as he sucks it into his mouth.

The change in your breathing doesn’t go unnoticed by him as he slowly leans in closer, your senses overtaken by that same soft floral, sweet scent you associated him with. San’s grip on your waist tightens, and you can feel his minty breath wash over your face as he gets closer.

“There you two are!” Wooyoung’s shout makes the two of you jump apart quickly, your friend grinning like a Chesire cat because of the position he had caught you two in.

“Here’s your water, Y/N. Hongjoong was looking for you guys. The ride is gonna be here soon,” he explains as you down the water, the ice coldness soothing your throat and taking away some of the heat you had been feeling.

Wooyoung stands there, eyes flickering between you and San as he shakes his head and slaps him on the back, a chuckle leaving his throat.

“We should go meet Hongjoong,” San shouts over the loud music, unsure how to make things less awkward for you now that Wooyoung had almost seen the two of you kiss.

You nod in agreement, still chugging the water down as the two of them follow closely behind you. Little did you know that the two of them were playfully pushing each other around, Wooyoung excited about the thought of you and San together.

“Damn, where the hell did Wooyoung go?” Hongjoong groans as he looks around the front of the building used to this happening. He was always taking on the parent role in the group even if he didn’t want to.

“I thought you saw him sneak back into the club with that blonde girl,” San comments while shrugging his shoulders, clearly not concerned with his friend’s whereabouts.

You stifle a laugh as Hongjoong throws his head back, sweat trickling down the side of his forehead from his constant running around before he once again enters the nightclub.

“Wait here for the ride,” he orders, giving you both one last look before entering the swarm of bodies.

Right as he enters the building, two girls walk out, giggles erupting from their lips but suddenly becoming serious as they traipse over to San leaning against the brick exterior. You recognize them as the two girls that were sitting around him earlier in the club.

“What are you waiting here for? You can come home with us,” One of the girls giggles while trailing the tips of her fingers across the top of his exposed chest. The way she looked up at him with giant doll eyes made you want to throw up all the shots you had downed.

“Yea, we can show you a very good time,” the slightly shorter friend smiles as she squeezes his bicep and earns a soft chuckle from him.

You were pissed at Wooyoung and Hongjoong for leaving you with him. The last thing you wanted was to watch these two girls drool all over him. The worst part about it is that he was actually entertaining them, chuckling and tilting his lips as his eyes flicker back and forth between the two.

“Fuck this,” you mutter to yourself, head fuming at what you were witnessing.

It’s been almost 10 minutes since you’ve been waiting for the damn ride and you were done waiting. The cool breeze helps calm your emotions as you begin the walk back to your apartment. This area's streets are pretty noisy, with other people entering and leaving the different strings of clubs up and down the block.

You don’t even glance back to see if San notices you walking away. Truthfully, you didn’t think he would care, and why would he? He was occupied with not one but two girls! Pain shoots through your feet as the aftermath of wearing heels for so long finally begins to settle. Your apartment is only a 10-minute walk away; if you power through the pain, you can make it.

“Y/N, is that you?” The voice causes you to halt in your tracks, turning to notice a very happy and smiling Seonghwa entering your line of sight.

“Oh my gosh, Hwa! It’s so nice to see you!” Excitement runs through your veins, replacing the bitter emotions from before. It was nice to see a familiar face and one that was like family at that.

“Damn, you went to the club like that? Let me see you do a spin,” he grins, holding out his hand for you to grab onto.

Giggles erupt from your lips as you twirl for him, the club's neon blue and green lights swirling in your vision. He lets out a low whistle that has your mood soaring through the roof and a wide smile spreading across your face.

“Were you at the club with your friends?” You ask him as he stops spinning you, his hands resting on your hips.

He looks back towards the entryway of the other club, replying, “Yea, I was out with Yeosang, Yunho, and Jongho. I’m leaving now, though. I’ve had my fun. Do you need a ride home?”

Someone must have been watching over you because you swear Seonghwa was an angel sent in a time of need when you needed help the most. He grins widely, noting the relief that washes over your face from his offer.

“Yes, please! My feet are killing me, Hongjoong is still looking for Wooyoung in the club, and San is busy with some girls,” you ramble on, voice coming out slower and softer towards the end.

“San,” Seonghwa states instead of questioning, and you’re confused for a second until you feel a firm pressure on your hips, Seonghwa’s hands falling and being replaced with tighter ones.

“Yes, that’s my name.” A shiver runs down your spine as his cool breath hits your neck, your body tensing from his closeness.

Turning around in his arms and away from his body, his warmth immediately leaves you. A frown fixes on his lips from your reaction, but it passes as he looks at Seonghwa, eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, feeling irritated with the way he glares at Seonghwa. His brown eyes shift to your face, brows pulling together as he speaks.

“I was in the middle of a conversation, and when I looked up, you were gone. I saw you turn the corner and followed you. I was worried,” he explains, voice low as he runs through everything in his mind.

The concern in his voice has you softening for a minute, and warmth fills your heart as you realize he came looking for you. Then within a second, it disappears again as he looks at Hwa with that same glare as before.

“We should get going. Our ride is waiting,” he says, dark eyes unwavering from Hwa.

“I’m good. You can go ahead. Seonghwa is going to take me home,” you state. You don’t back down even when San’s dark eyes stare into your soul. Anyone walking by could easily tell he was pissed off from the look on his face alone.

“You’re leaving with me,” he says even more firmly than before. His body inching forward to grab you when suddenly Hwa steps in front of you, clearly finding amusement in San’s reactions.

“She doesn’t want to leave with you. I’ll take her home.”

The last thing you wanted was to see the two of them having a damn dominance contest. You didn’t come to the club to deal with this. It was supposed to be a night of just fun with friends, and now these two were having a pissing contest.

“She came with me. She’s leaving with me,” San grits out, jaw clenching and face getting closer to Seonghwa with each word.

“Listen,” you shout, stepping in front of Seonghwa and placing your hands on San’s chest to push him back a little.

“I’m leaving with Seonghwa. You were so busy earlier that you didn’t even notice me leaving. You can go have fun with your girls. No need for you to take me home.”

You turn away from him, grabbing onto Seonghwa’s wrist as you lead him to the parking lot. Sure, you felt a little bad, but you didn’t like how he wanted your attention one minute and then was busy with another girl elsewhere the next. You have every right to make your own choices, it wasn’t like the two of you were together.

San’s eyes widen in shock as he processes the words that leave your mouth. He didn’t think you would fight him on this. In fact, he thought you would just give in to avoid any more conflict. He feels like shit as he watches you walk away with Seonghwa.

It was true that he was busy talking to those girls, but they wouldn’t leave him alone. He didn’t want to be rude and tell them to stop talking or just walk away from them. He let them continue their words, letting out some awkward chuckles here and there, but the truth is he didn’t even pay attention to the conversation.

He thought you would turn back, return to him and wait for the ride. It wasn’t until you turned the corner that he realized he fucked up. He sprinted from those girls, not caring to apologize or explain as he ran in search of you.

He thought going after you would make things better, but it just seemed to make things worse, and watching you leave with another guy made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Jealous.

It’s about midnight when you finally slump against the couch after saying bye to Seonghwa. Once you reached home, the dress was immediately off your body and replaced with a soft silk black robe.

The heels are neatly placed in your closet, and the only thing remaining is your makeup. The major downside of going out so late at night is removing all of your makeup, especially the eyelashes.

Scrolling through your phone, you send a quick text to Hongjoong and Wooyoung, letting both of them know you got home safely and that Seonghwa gave you a ride. You don’t expect a text from them, certain they’re still at the club or just leaving.

As you look out the window, you’re happy you left the club when you did. It started drizzling when Seonghwa dropped you off, and now it was pouring. Throwing your phone onto the couch, you decide to go take off your makeup when a knock on your door halts your steps.

Glancing at the clock, you wonder who could be knocking at your door at this hour. Assuming it’s most likely Wooyoung or Hongjoon deciding to crash at your place, you swing the door open without a second thought.

The last thing you expect to find is San soaking wet from the rain, clothes dripping wet, hair stuck to his face, and breathing heavily.

He glances at you, noticing the black robe wrapped tightly around your frame, before pushing himself into your apartment. You shut the door, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“Where is he?” His chest is moving up and down at a fast and steady pace as he tries to walk by you, his eyes franticly searching all around your apartment.

“Woah, did you run here, San?” You ask, blocking his path as you tug on the side of his black shirt. It was the only thought that came to mind when you noticed how out of breath he was. It had only just started pouring a few minutes ago too.

“Where the hell is he, Y/N? Is he in your room?”

San asks as he begins walking towards your bedroom, a water trail following him. Your hands push against his chest, stopping him before he can even enter the hallway, keeping him in the kitchen and living room area.

“Stop it! You’re dripping water everywhere, San!”

You shout, becoming upset with the mess that he’s creating in your apartment. Cleanliness is one of the most important things you value. Having things in order is always important to you, and with the mess San is causing on all of your floors, you’re about to pull out his and your hair.

San looks down at your hands pressing flat against his chest, his own cold hands wrapping around both of your wrists as he looks you straight in the eyes.

“Answer my damn question, Y/N! Is he here? Was he her-” His eyes are completely dark and fuming as he stares at you, trying to stop himself from imagining you and that punk together.

“Why the hell does it matter?”

You yell, cutting him off and preventing him from finishing his sentence because his actions are so uncalled for.

It was none of his business if Seonghwa was at your place. Taking a step back, you try to tug your wrists from his grasp, only for him to pull you closer, your chin now touching his chest.

“If you interrupt me one more time, Y/N– so help me, god.”

“As if I’m gonna listen to you. Please, what are you gonn- ”

Before you can even finish the sentence, your back is against the front door, San’s drenched body pushing against yours and wetting your robe.

“I’ll show you what I can do about it, but first,” he pauses, his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he takes a deep breath before opening them again and focusing on your eyes.

“I need to know. Were you with him?” The way San asks the question makes your frustration fade away. His voice is soft and almost shaky, as if he’s afraid to hear the answer, but he needs to know.

“I wasn’t with him. Nothing has ever happened between us, and it never will. I don’t think his boyfriend would be too happy, honestly,” you carefully explain and watch as San’s eyes widen in realization. You can visibly see his shoulders relax as he lets out a breath he had been holding.

“But why were you bothered by him so much?”

The question tumbles out of your mouth so quickly before you can even process it. It had been on your mind the entire ride back home with Seonghwa, but you weren’t planning to bring it up at all.

It was hard to read San. At first, you thought he might actually be interested in you, but then the next minute, when other girls were around, it was as if you didn’t exist.

“Because you were with him and not me.”

He leans back a little, his arms by the side of your face still trapping you between his body, but now you could see him entirely. A fake chuckle is all you can do to express how you feel, and from the look of surprise on his face, he wasn’t expecting that.

“It didn’t seem like you needed me. You had enough girls to occupy you,” you mockingly reply, catching him slightly flinch from your harsh but true words.

A loud sigh passes through his pink lips as he fists a hand through his wet hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

“Fuck… I was trying to stay away from you because you’re friends with Wooyoung and Hongjoong. I was trying to distract myself because I don’t want to fuck things up,” he explains slowly, thinking about his words carefully.

His eyes remain on yours the entire time he speaks, and you know it’s the truth as you get lost in his dark eyes and his soft, honey voice.

“Then why did you come here?” The question comes out barely above a whisper, almost unheard because of the pouring rain.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you since the first night we met. I know you don’t remember, but I do, and I keep remembering it. I’ve been thinking about you all day, and then I ran into you at the store,” San says as he reaches up to gently caress your cheek with his thumb, not imagining that this moment was actually happening.

A small smile touches his lips as he notices how your eyes close and you lean into him.

“I thought it was just a coincidence at first. I’m not someone who believes in fate, but everything changed for me when I found out Wooyoung and Hongjoong knew you too. No one has ever affected me this much. I just can’t get enough of you,” San breathes out his confession, relieved that it’s all out there but unsure of what happens now.

You’re unsure about your feelings for him as you stare at him. You know you have some, but he’s right. Both of you are friends with Wooyoung and Hongjoong, and there’s a risk to the friendship there. If things end badly between you, that could damage many friendships and complicate things.

San starts to feel a little uneasy at your silence. He didn’t expect you to accept his feelings and say you love him, but he expected you to say something at least, even if you rejected him.

Regarding relationships, you were never one to jump into things. You never did one-night stands and considered yourself as someone who prefers long-term relationships.

But as you look at San standing before you and confessing that he hasn’t stopped thinking about you for a second, all of that logic goes out the window and into the storm. You were always thinking with your head; for once, you wanted to let your heart win.

“How badly do you want me?” You quietly ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

A groan escapes San’s lips as his tongue wets the surface, “So fucking bad. If it meant giving up dancing to be with you, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Without any regrets.”

You stare up at the man before you, his hand reaching up, gripping your jaw tightly, his silver rings feeling cold against the warm skin of your cheek. His thumb slowly brushes over your bottom lip, admiring the lust swimming in your eyes and the red flush settling onto your cheeks.

Without thinking, you part your lips and slowly wrap them around his thumb, feeling satisfied as the digit starts to sink further into your mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N,” San groans, his eyes hooded in desire, as he pulls his thumb from your mouth, biting his lips as he notices the clear trail of saliva connected to it.

“Kiss me, San.”

That’s all it takes for San to let go and smash his lips onto yours. He kisses softly yet passionately as if he’s trying to get lost in you. He wants to memorize every single curve of your lips and each inch of your mouth as his fingers grip your hips tightly.

It feels as if every inch of your body is on fire, your hands gripping his shirt as you pull him tightly against you. You want more of him. It feels like you’re drowning in his smell, touch, and taste. His fingers draw small circles against your hips over your robe, and the realization of how little clothing you have on hits you.

San lightly teases his tongue against your lips, a smile splitting onto his face as you easily grant him access. His tongue explores your mouth, lightly flicking against your own tongue a few times, giving him complete control.

“Fuck. This is a one-time thing, right?” You manage to say against his lips feeling breathless.

It’s supposed to be a firm statement, but it comes out more like a question. San makes it incredibly hard to think straight when his lips are pressing against yours so rough and hungry. He breaks away from the kiss to talk for a second before continuing his actions.

“You know that’s a lie,” he murmurs while peppering kisses along your jawline and down to your neck, teeth biting the skin there but not deep enough to break this skin.

“This might be the first time, but it definitely won’t be the last,” he says against your neck, leaving small hickeys as he continues down to the top of your robe. His flick up to yours, heat swirling in them, gaze darkening and eyes hooded.

“Don’t give me that look,” you whine out, aware of the wetness gathering between your thighs from just his stare alone.

San chuckles against your chest, his warm breath hitting the slightly exposed skin there.

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Do you get nervous when I look at you like this?” The smirk on his face is disgustingly sexy, and you can’t argue with him. He knows exactly how to use his expressions to his advantage, leaving you in a mess before him.

With a soft thud, your head leans against the wall as you avoid eye contact with him. His stare wasn’t equivalent to a siren. You were wrong to think that before. He had the eyes of a demon, dark and waiting to devour you.

“Don’t be shy now. Where’s the feisty girl from earlier?”

He mumbles against your chest, purposely avoiding the deep neckline of your robe that reveals some cleavage. His lips leave delicate kisses across your chest, his hands wrapping around your thighs and hosting you up against him.

Pride fills him as you let out a loud and needy whine, pulling his head tightly against your chest as he swiftly kicks his shoes off before entering your bedroom.

San tosses you onto the bed, mesmerized by the way your hair spread out around you in a perfect halo, as the robe comes undone, both sides falling open and exposing your smooth skin.

His teeth immediately sinks into his bottom lip, trying to digest that this was happening. You were here, spread out and so needy for him. Willing to let him touch you in ways you could only dream about.

“Please touch me, San,” you beg, moving to sit up only to halt your actions, San shaking his head and telling you not to move.

“God, I love when you say my name,” he groans, fingers making quick work of his black buttoned-down shirt and jeans, the clothing left in a pile at the front of your door.

He can’t keep calm as he takes in every uncovered inch of your skin, from the perfect curve of your breasts and hardened nipples to the red panties he had been picturing all night.

The image was stuck in his head from the moment you flashed him in the club during your dance. He didn’t know if it was intentional or not as you dropped in front of him, legs spread at an angle so only he could see between, but thank god you did.

He carefully drops onto his knees, head dipping low as he presses gentle kisses up your feet, ankles, legs, and thighs until he reaches your center.

“San, please just fuck me. I can’t wait any longer,” you moan, fingers weaving into his hair as you pull him up, his eyes rolling back from your neediness.

“Guess I’ll have to wait until next time to taste you,” he chuckles against your lips, the comment a small reminder that this wouldn’t be the last time.

You want to tell him not to get his hopes up, but the whiny “just fuck me” is all the confirmation he needs. If he made you feel like this, you would never let him leave your apartment.

There’s a scraping of teeth, and a battle of tongues as both of your fingers work to remove the remaining fabric on your bodies. San draws back to look at you, a low “fuck” passing his lips as his mouth latches onto your breast, pulling the flesh into his mouth and moaning loudly. His fingers play with your other breast, pulling and twisting at the nipple before giving it the same attention with his mouth.

You can feel his dick, heavy and hard, slip between your thighs and slowly drag against your wet folds. He pauses his sucking and breathlessly says, “Condom?”

As much as you know you shouldn’t, you shake your head. You’re on the pill but don’t know if San has been with anyone else. You also didn’t have any condoms around, not having an actual sex life, but you were certain San carried one with him.

“I want to feel you. I want you inside of me now,” you moan out, pulling San back to your lips as his hands position your legs around his hips.

San is certain he just died and went to heaven. Not only did you want to have sex with him, but you wanted him to fuck you raw. Truth is, he didn’t prepare for this to happen. He didn’t carry condoms with him like most guys because he wasn’t out looking for sex.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” San breathes out as he stares into your eyes, the tip of his dick leaking precum as he pushes through your folds, breaching your entrance.

You feel intoxicated by his touch, the pink head of his dick stretching your walls as the smell of his heavenly cologne overflows around you.

You push your hips down, grinding yourself against his length, taking him in another inch as pleasure washes over the both of you. San licks his lips, eyes glued to where your bodies join, enjoying how he fits so snugly.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you manage to breathe out, continuously clenching as San finally bottoms out completely inside of you. His breathing is just as heavy as yours, experiencing this for the first time. He had never had sex with anyone like this before, and every feeling was magnified.

“You feel so good, baby,” San grunts as he carefully moves his hips back and forth, swearing each time you clench around him.

His hips pick up pace as your moans encourage him, sweat dripping down the side of his forehead as he holds himself up by the forearms, taking in your fucked out expression.

He admires you, your body relaxed and covered in his marks and sweat. In his mind, you looked like a work of art, and he was the proud painter perfecting each brush stroke until you were no longer the clean blank canvas as before. He was determined to leave you a mess, so you would be reminded of his presence in this room even when he wasn’t there.

The sound of his dick moving in and out of you sets your skin ablaze as the squelching sound of your juices gets louder with his hard thrusts. The moans that leave your lips become more obscene as San gives a rough thrust upwards, pushing himself deeper inside of you, hitting that special spot and making your back arch.

“I- I love it when you t-talk dirty,” you struggle to say as the pleasure builds up with each of San’s powerful thrusts.

The smirk that stretches across his face as he looks at you with hooded eyes screams trouble. You’re unsure if telling him that was a mistake, but you’re about to find out.

You’re unsure if telling him that was a mistake, but you’re about to find out. He flips you over, dick never slipping out as he thrusts into you from below, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders as he ruts into you. You’re letting out whines, shaking your head from side to side as the pleasure becomes too intense.

“I know you can take it, baby. I know you love it. Look how good you soak my cock,” San says, his praises encouraging as you look down to watch him disappear into you. His dick is so hard and covered in your wetness, his lower stomach shiny from your arousal.

“Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl. And it’s all for me, right?” He asks as his thumb finds your clit, pressing tight circles on it that draw out a long “yes” from you.

“Only for you. Only for you,” you pant against his lips as you lean forward, San’s hands gripping your ass as he pounds into you.

He’s on the brink of cumming, and when he delivers one powerful thrust, he feels you shake, your pussy holding him incredibly tight as you orgasm, wave after wave hitting you, each stronger than the previous.

He manages to fuck you through it, dick pulsing as your walls constrict around him, praising you as more wetness seeps onto him.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he grunts, teeth grinding as your tightening and wetness propels him to chase after his own orgasm as his eyes have trouble finding a place to focus.

He’s reeling in pleasure as the images in front of him take over his mind. His eyes flicker between his thick cock disappearing between your swollen lips, sliding in and out of your wetness and your glassy eyes staring down at him.

“Please give it to me. I want you to cum inside of me. Please, San,” you beg, your words coming out high-pitched and desperate. It was all San needed to hear from you. You didn’t have to beg him, he would give you everything he had, over and over until he was empty.

“Fuck I’m cumming,” he moans loudly, the loudest you’ve heard him tonight, as his thrusts turn sloppy and warmth floods your insides.

Each hot spurt has you clenching around him, further heightening his pleasure as he empties himself, enjoying the view of his cum squeezing out of you.

His hair sticks to his forehead, sweat dripping down his face, neck, and chest. Almost every inch of his skin is covered in sweat, and so is yours. Both of you are a mess, and as you carefully pull off him, a mixture of your wetness and San’s cum spills out onto his stomach, earning a loud moan from him.

“You’re so sexy, baby,” he chuckles, pulling you down by the neck and planting a short and gentle kiss against your lips.

He reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a tissue to wipe his stomach as you lay beside him, legs sticky with both of your releases. As San catches his breath next to you, dick already softening, you can’t help but mumble, “That was amazing.”

San pulls you closer to his side, one hand hooking around your shoulder as the other settles onto your hip. Head resting on his shoulder, he looks down at you, eyes full of warmth and a mouthful of white teeth on display.

“It was incredible,” he replies, placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head. A peaceful silence fills the room, and he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I hope you know you’re more than just a one-night stand to me. I want you every morning. Every day. Every night. In every way possible,” he whispers, looking down at you, brown eyes sparkling in the soft moonlight.

“I feel the same way too,” you confess, heart swelling and comforted by the fact that this was more than just a night of sex for him.

San leans in, his lips moving to cover yours when a loud bang in the living room suddenly interrupts it.

“What the fuck?” You jump, startled by the noise.

San’s face becomes serious as he stands up, covering you in the blanket at the foot of your bed before pulling on his briefs.

“Stay here. I’ll check it out,” he whispers, about to walk away when you tug onto his wrist.

“Wait! Take this,” you quietly say, leaning over the edge of the bed to pull a metal baseball bat from underneath.

“For protection,” you explain, handing it to him only to receive a soft chuckle. You watch as he steps out into the hallway, anxiously waiting. It’s silent for a few minutes before you hear a loud and annoying voice.

“What the fuck! Are you trying to kill me?! See, I told you, Hongjoong! I knew the two of them would fuck! You owe me 50 bucks!”

Footsteps sound down the hallway, and you pull the sheets closer to your chest, covering any visible skin. An embarrassed San trails in, followed by a drunk Wooyoung and a tipsy Hongjoong.

“I tried to make them leave,” San explains, cheeks flushing as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Y/N!” Hongjoong whines as he takes another step into the room.

“Now I owe him money,” he drunkenly pouts, looking cute and defeated. All you can do is laugh as San returns to his spot next to you, leaning against the headboard.

“I knew she wouldn't be able to resist him! That’s my boy,” Wooyoung shouts a little too loud, causing Hongjoong to flinch as Wooyoung smiles in triumph.

“Yea, you’re right. She couldn’t resist my charms,” San grins, eyebrows raising as he gives you that sexy look he was talking about.

You lightly slap his chest, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as he pulls you towards him, placing a kiss on your nose before ordering the two trouble makers to leave.

You weren’t entirely sure what would come out of this, but you felt good about it. If this happened when you listened to your heart, you would do it more often.

❥ Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog! I love to hear your thoughts 💙✨

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#thekpoparchives #san smut #ateez smut #choi san #choi san x reader #rotate choi san #ateez fanfic #choi san smut

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halfmoth-halfman · 2 months

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i got an ask about advice for writing when you're discouraged, so i thought i'd make a post addressing some of the points because i think this is something that everyone has gone through and can relate to. most of this is just what's helped me/what i'd tell myself in the past, but if anyone has advice to add on please feel free! i hope this helps at least a little bit, anon!

"I’m not good at (dialogue/atmosphere/prose/etc)."

write it anyways! one of the best ways to build a skill is to keep doing it. even if you don't ever post it, or only share it with a few friends, or just read it to your pets, or whatever you choose to do, it's better to write something "badly" than to not write at all. or even asking for help on how to improve from other writers. i struggle a lot with atmosphere and scenery, and something that helped me a lot was talking to other writers whose fics i really enjoy and inspire me. i know it may seem intimidating, but there are plenty of writers on tumblr that would love to talk about how they compose their scenes, their dialogue, anything and everything if someone asks.

"I can’t make moodboards/headers/aesthetic posts."

the good news is, you don't have to! fics don't have to have anything other than the fic itself. i can't speak for everyone, but while aesthetics may get my attention, it's the person behind the blog that i stay for. if you want your blog or your fics to have a pretty aesthetic, it shouldn't be because you feel forced to but because you want to do it. if you don't find making moodboards or headers or aesthetic posts fun, then you don't have to do them. and if you want to, but don't know how, there are a ton of resources, links, and blogs dedicated to helping on tumblr.

"I’m not at (insert someone else)’s writing level."

and you might never be, and that's okay! every writer is different - they have different styles, write at different paces, perceive their skill differently. basing your progress on someone else's isn't going to help because you're not them. you have your own time, energy, ability, and ideas, you'll grow and improve at your own pace, just like they did. don't force yourself to try and follow the same timeline of someone else, and don't put yourself down because you're getting better - and you are getting better - at your own pace.

"I can’t find the motivation to write."

honestly same. i think it's a pretty universal experience to lose motivation for something you were excited about at one point. sometimes the vibes aren't it and the story doesn't want to story, but that's alright. it can be hard to stay motivated, and what gets someone inspired again is different everyone. i can't give advice for anything outside of what's helped me, but a few ways i've re-motivated myself to write something are: making a fic playlist, stepping away from the fic for a day or two, giving it to a friend to read, re-watching/reading the source material, doodling fic ideas, and skipping to a different part of the story.

"I can’t write fast enough."

unless it's for something like work where you have a fixed deadline, there is no "fast enough" in writing. don't let anyone tell you otherwise. when i first started writing, in the very early days of ao3 and tumblr, fic updates could takes months or even more than a year and that was fine! one of my favorite fics took a six year hiatus, and that didn't diminish any of the enjoyment i had when it came back. you are not a machine, you're a human being with needs outside of writing. it's always okay if you need to take a break, if there's a long wait between chapters, or if you want to stop a project altogether and come back to it six years later. if someone gives you grief because you can't write within their time-frame then they're not worth having as a reader - do not overwork yourself for the sake of finishing a fic.

"It’s hard to stick to one idea at a time."

then don't! write all the ideas. write every single one. working on a project and you have a drabble that you just keep thinking about? write it. you get a sudden idea for a one-shot in a different fandom? write it. woke up in the mood to start a new five-chapter fic? write it. you can start or stop writing about anything at any time. there is no rule that you have to stick to one idea and finish it before you can write anything else, don't make yourself stick to something if it's not what you want to write, and don't punish yourself if you need to take a break from your current project.

"Maybe I’m not made for writing on tumblr."

tumblr is a shitposting website that barely works at the best of times. half of my drafts get deleted every other week for no reason - there is no way to be "made for writing on tumblr"! but tumblr is huge, there's a bajillion communities on here that would be so excited to have another writer, and a ton that are solely dedicated to helping writers and providing different resources. i guarantee there is someone on this website that will love and adore your writing.

"The things I read are better than anything I can write/comparing myself to other writers."

i don't have the cake picture saved, but we all know the gist of it: the audience (generally) isn't going to care about how decorated your cake is compared to another, they're just happy to get two cakes. and that's really all it is. your fic might not be the same preferred flavor as the audience of other writers, but there is someone out there who's going to enjoy it. i won't tell you to just not compare yourself to others, i know that's not how it works, but what has helped me is changing the way i view other fics. instead of thinking "i wish i could write like this person", i look at like "this inspires me to improve my writing". and don't get me wrong, i still have moments of doubt about my writing compared to some of the people i read, i don't think that will ever really stop, but the best thing you can do is not let yourself give in to that feeling. try and stop that train of thought before it leaves the station. no one else can write the way you can. no one else can tell your stories the way you can. no one else has the same voice as you do. if everyone wrote the same way, everything would be boring. the heart of a fic is seeing the author's personality shine through it. if you see someone write a good fic, that doesn't mean yours won't be. you have to give yourself a chance even when you feel like your writing won't be as good as someone else's. you have to bake your cake anyway.

"How do I find joy in something I know I’ll never be good at?"

you won't. full stop. if you keep telling yourself you'll never be good at something, you'll never improve, there's no point in trying, then you'll never enjoy it. i know it's easier said than done, but you have to have some level of confidence in yourself and in your writing. not only will you not enjoy it, other people will see the lack of enjoyment, the "i wrote this and it sucks" comments, the self-degradation, and they won't enjoy it either - no one feels good about a fic the author clearly didn't want to write. and, if you try everything you possibly can and still can't find any joy in writing, then maybe writing isn't the hobby for you. and that's perfectly okay! i tried quilting and glassblowing several times before i realized i just didn't like it the same way i liked writing. you owe it to yourself to find something that's fun, that makes you smile, that you're excited to do. there's a million hobbies out there, i promise you'll find something that brings you joy.

#moth talks #writing advice #long post

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flowerandblood · 4 months

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The Gate of Salvation [1/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, anxiety, manipulation, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Aemond as a Pope Edit

Series Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What happened after the conclave took everyone by surprise and caused complete chaos in the Catholic Church; she was one of the people who watched the live coverage from St Peter's Square.

She prayed in spirit that her uncle and her mother's brother, Cardinal Reene, would not become Pope.

Admittedly, it was thanks to him that she was living in Rome, and without his financial support she would not have been able to study, however, her uncle was a person who did nothing selflessly.

He recalculated to himself that if his niece wanted to study marketing at University then he would help her, reminding her at times that he would count on her help in the future, to create a good, sympathetic image of him.

She had the feeling that listening to him she was even losing her faith, which, despite her many internal disputes and doubts, was strong in her. She returned to the bosom of the church of her own free will when she was in high school after years of not attending Mass; she discovered that she felt attached to this tradition, as well as to God himself, whose presence she subconsciously felt all around her.

She knew that her uncle would certainly try to bribe other cardinals and she guessed what his pontificate would be like, so she begged God in her prayers not to allow such a man to become head of the church in his name, and heavens, as always, heard her prayers.

When she saw the white smoke on the screen she let out a loud breath, closing the textbook she had just been reading – she heard shouts and applause of joy coming from the television; the bells rang out, the solemn moment when the new pope comes out onto the balcony to greet his faithful was about to begin.

This went on for an astonishingly long time and she wondered if something had happened or if the votes had been miscounted, however, she heard the cheers of the crowd again as the doors opened. What stepped out was not a procession, but an ordinary priest in a black cassock; she recognised in him the secretary of the late Pope, who was certainly not a cardinal.

He seemed tense and frightened; he approached the microphone and said only two sentences.

"We have a Pope. The Holy Father, who has taken the name Pius XIII, asks you all to pray for him." He said in a trembling, uncertain voice, all pale, and then disappeared back behind the door – voices of disbelief and disappointment spread throughout the square, the gathered people, like her, were shocked.

However, all the internet portals published the name of the cardinal who had been elected; it turned out that the new pope was Cardinal Targaryen, a very little-known, withdrawn and shockingly young priest.

He was only two years older than her.

Journalists despaired that there were no official or unofficial photos of him, no statements from him, as if he had lived for years locked away in some monastery and never stepped into the light of day.

The world was confused and anxious – the young pope had not stepped out onto the balcony of St Peter's Basilica even once despite the crowds gathered in the square below chanting his name day and night.

She wondered if, in this way, he wanted to focus the world's attention even more on himself by standing in the absolute centre of it, and thought that if so, it was not a good beginning to his pontificate.

Two days later, her uncle paid her an unannounced visit at the flat he was renting to her, dressed so that no one would recognise him, just like the other cardinals still hounded by journalists and paparazzi.

"I need your help. The matter is very delicate." He said quickly, handing her his coat, which she hung on one of the hangers, looking at him over her shoulder in surprise.

"Me?" She asked with her eyes wide open, wondering what was going on there that required the help of someone from outside the Vatican.

"Pius XIII is a cripple. He lost his left eye as a child. He insists that if he is to show himself to a crowd, it should only be with his artificial eye, but not an ordinary one, one that resembles the real one, but a completely white one. He thinks this suits his attire and position better, but we think it will create additional confusion about him. Additionally, he wants to keep the Pope's public appearances to a complete minimum. He has fired all the Vatican marketing people with years of experience. This is some madness. Can I have a coffee?" He finally asked after his verbosity, sitting down in a chair at the living room table, placing his black wide-brimmed hat on the tabletop, sighing heavily.

She nodded, snapped out of her reverie and the shock of his words, pulling a mug and black coffee from her cupboard. Her uncle drank coffee made from three heaped teaspoons without milk, and although she didn't know how he could swallow something so disgusting and not have a heart attack in the process, she made it the way he liked it.

She swallowed loudly, pouring water into the kettle, putting it on the burner and turning the fire on under it, analysing everything he had told her.

"It sounds like he has a very low and a very high opinion of himself at the same time. How could I help here, uncle? I'm just a student." She said in dismay, shrugging her shoulders; her uncle nodded his head as if convinced that this would be her answer.

"You are young, you have a fresh outlook. He doesn't want to listen to us old people, he thinks we're out of step with the world and what it needs, whatever that means." He said with a sneer, looking out of the window, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with a creak of wood.

"I'd like you to try to talk to him, to understand what he means, what his vision is. Guide him to the idea that young people too want peace and predictability, not perpetual rebellion. I told him I could introduce you, that you are very talented and he agreed." He said finally and scratched the back of his neck – she heard the kettle whistle and turned off the fire under it, feeling that she had simply run out of words.

"− what? − I − oh God, uncle, I don't know − what if I make things worse and you lose in his eyes because of me? −" She muttered, feeling adrenaline start to bubble throughout her body; she poured hot water over the coffee in her mug, grabbed it and set it in front of him, then started walking back and forth across the room, panicking in some kind of way.

"This would just be a consultation − two young people want to change the image of the church to, let's say, a more welcoming one − this could be your big chance." He said, lifting the mug to his lips, taking a sip from it and murmuring contentedly, apparently finding that his coffee was exactly the way he liked it.

He persuaded her for so long that she finally agreed, but she regretted it as soon as he walked out.

She was inexperienced in discussions with this world, with such people, and was afraid she would make a mistake, do something against protocol and embarrass herself.

Her uncle sent her a message on the day of the meeting saying that she must dress modestly, preferably in white or black her dress must end at least past her knees, her toes must not stick out of her shoes, her shoulders must be covered. Sharp, defiant make-up was not acceptable.

She was to address the Pope as Holy Father or Your Holiness, keep the proper distance, not sit with her legs crossed, not put her elbows on the armrests, not lean or crouch in front of him, approach him only if he wanted her to kiss his ring.

The amount of information she received overwhelmed her; she took a quick look in her wardrobe and found that her simple black dress with white embroidered collar and cuffs was the perfect length – it had no cleavage, it looked elegant, innocent and girly at the same time.

She decided to wear flesh-coloured tights with it and sleek black shoes, which she had previously polished. She styled her long dark hair in a braid around her head, keeping it in place with pins, short, unruly strands on the sides of her face.

She used only mattifying powder and mascara as her make-up, deciding that this was enough, around her neck a necklace with a small gold cross that she had been given once by her grandfather.

At the appointed hour, a black car pulled up in front of her townhouse; she got into the back seat and greeted the driver, who, however, did not answer her, driving off without a word.

After several minutes they were already in the Vatican itself; she looked through the car window at the crowds of people spilling out of St Peter's Square, saw a group of men and women holding cardboard sheets in their hands with the handwritten words:

Our Pope does not love us.

She lowered her gaze, silently contemplating all that was happening, and shuddered as they stopped in front of the gate – a Swiss Guard officer dressed in colourful historical attire with red, yellow and navy blue stripes stopped their car.

Her driver showed him his ID and the man nodded – the gate opened and they drove inside into a small courtyard that she saw for the first time in her life.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the figure of her uncle waiting for her in his full, opulent cardinal's robe, a cross on his chest of pure gold, adorned with rubies and diamonds.

He greeted her with a broad smile and joy, with a gesture of his hand inviting her inside – they ascended the baroque staircase to the corridor, the view of the interior of the entire complex took her breath away.

She was surrounded on all sides by paintings and sculptures by the great Italian masters of the Renaissance, Baroque and Classicism; she felt a solemn mood, though she did not know why, as if she had in fact entered the truest home of God himself on earth.

The guards as well as other men passing her looked at her intently – she thought with horror and shame that women, with the exception of nuns, were a rare visitor to this sanctuary and aroused curiosity mixed with distrust.

Here, what Eve did in paradise according to the Bible, because of whom sin possessed man, was never forgotten.

They climbed the stairs to the upper floor and then stood in front of a large white door, high up to the ceiling, with two men in the same colourful garments standing in front of them. Her uncle sighed heavily, as if stressed himself, and looked at her comfortingly.

"I'll do the talking, you keep quiet for now." He said lightly, surprising her completely – she had no time to reply as he nodded and one of the guards opened the door for him.

Her uncle moved ahead, so she moved behind him, entering a spacious, bright room with six windows overlooking St Peter's Square – to their right stood bookcases filled to the brim with books, and to their left a huge wooden desk.

Only after a moment did she notice someone standing by one of the windows; his back turned to them, looking out at the crowds knowing they couldn't see him, a white cassock on his body, his short hair looking elegant and carefully styled, pulled back, almost white, glistening in the sunlight.

"Holy Father. As promised, I bring before you my niece, who I hope will allow us to come to an agreement." He said in a light, cheerful tone, as if addressing a friend, but they were answered by an uncomfortable silence.

She swallowed loudly when he finally turned to face them, her heart stopped for a moment when she saw how sharply shaped his face was – his cheeks and jaw were clearly outlined as if someone had carved them with a chisel, his mouth full, a pale scar running across the left side of his forehead to his cheek, his artificial eye completely white.

She felt that she was looking at him with her lips slightly parted and some sort of concern, so she lowered her gaze, reminding herself that she shouldn't do that.

"Hm." She heard him hum under his breath, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Leave us alone, Cardinal." He said finally, turning his face towards the window again – she and her uncle looked at each other horrified, for this was not their plan.

She was only going to be an accessory, he was going to be the one doing all the talking.

"Your Holiness, I…"

"Get out."

Her uncle pressed his lips together and grunted, bowed his head and left, not even bestowing a glance on her despite the despair written on her face, leaving her to her fate.

She swallowed loudly as the door closed behind him and intertwined her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do, where to look, a cold sweat on her back.

"Do not be afraid, child. I know your uncle's nature. If I didn't let him bring you here he wouldn't let me alone." He began reluctantly, as if the very fact that he had to talk to her made him very tired; he moved with his hands entwined behind him ahead, walking along the windows, his profile illuminated by the sun.

She lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of shame surge through her, understanding that he knew perfectly well what her uncle wanted.

That it wasn't just about his image, but that he, as a cardinal, wanted his favour and the high position, money and comfort he could give him.

"What do you think of my decision not to show myself in public?" He asked finally; she raised her eyes at him, surprised, horrified that she had to answer. She swallowed loudly and licked her lips, dry of stress, thinking intensely about what she should say.

"Go on. You're supposed to know it, after all, it's an image issue." He growled and looked at her with an anger that sent a shiver through her; she stared at him in disbelief and fear trying to decide what kind of man he was.

She wasn't sure this was how a pope should behave.

"Driving here I saw people holding cardboard sheets saying: Our Pope does not love us. I felt sadness at the thought that many people feel rejected by your decision, Holy Father." She said at last, feeling that involuntarily her voice trembled and broke; she saw him tighten his lips, his nostrils moved nervously in accelerated breathing.

"Is love a perpetual vying for attention, standing in the centre? Is love only the deeds that can be shown, that anyone can see and name?" He asked frustrated, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, her lower lip quivered. She shook her head.

"People are afraid of what they do not know. You don't let them meet you, Holy Father." She whispered, and he snorted, turning back, going the other way, as if thinking over her words.

"So you think I should speak? Go out on the balcony and give them what they want?" He asked dryly. She let the air quietly out of her lungs, feeling her body tense all over – she had the feeling that she had adopted a defensive posture, as if ready for him to hit her.

"No. But I think it is necessary to find a way in which they can see you, Holy Father. To feel that you are in their lives physically as well. They need a guide, not another invisible God." She said finally and fell silent, lowering her gaze, feeling that her last sentence might have been too far-fetched.

She noticed with horror that he stopped hearing what she had said.

"You think I'm doing this out of vanity?" He asked in disbelief. She lifted her gaze to him, for some reason feeling that she was on the verge of crying.

"I don't know, Holy Father. I do not know you, nor do any of your faithful. We are sheeps who do not know where to go and where is their shepherd. Do you think we are too sinful? That we don't deserve to see you?" She asked finally in a trembling voice, his healthy eye fixed on her.

Our Pope does not love us.

She shuddered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart as he moved towards her with a slow, lazy step, not taking his eyes off her, towering over her. She didn't know what she saw in his gaze, proud and cool; she felt heat in her lower abdomen as the pleasant scent of his masculine perfume filled her nostrils.

She thought he had approached her far too closely.

She froze and swallowed loudly as he lifted his hand; she thought for a moment in horror and disbelief that he would touch her breasts, however, he grasped her golden cross in his hand and turned it between his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully.

Something about him she found disturbing, even though she was surrounded by whiteness and daylight it seemed to her that the room had gone dark.

"I am not a hypocrite. There is no greater sinner in this world than me. I am vain. I am proud. I am cold. I am eternally, eternally thirsty." He murmured softly and looked into her eyes, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.

She felt panic begin to overtake her body as her insides throbbed wonderfully hard at his ambiguous, unsettling words.

"Do you believe in God?" He asked, still playing with her necklace, however, he did so in such a way that once in a while his fingers rubbed against the material of her dress lying between her breasts, each time a wonderful shiver ran through her spine.

She was only able to breathe and look at him, nothing more.

There was something evil, menacing, lewd in the way he asked the question, in the way he acted and the way he looked at her and she knew it, she was horrified by how strongly her body reacted to it.

"Yes." She whispered, as if she was admitting something she was ashamed of, something that was her secret.

He hummed again under his breath, as if accepting her words – his hand let go of her necklace and returned to the other, placed behind his back.

"I'm hiring you. You will be my image specialist. I expect you here tomorrow at 8am. That's all. You may go." He said indifferently, turning away as if nothing had happened; she sighed quietly, terrified, and nodded with a rapidly pounding heart.

"Holy Father." She mumbled, then turned and walked out.

Her uncle ran after her asking her what they were talking about and what had happened – he made the sign of the cross with some kind of relief on his face when she told him in horror that he had hired her.

"What did you say to him about me? I'm only in my second year of university, I don't have the right experience yet." She muttered in a trembling voice; her uncle sighed, correcting his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger.

"He doesn't care about your experience." He said amused, and she looked at him in disbelief.

It suddenly dawned on her what her uncle had been planning all along, and what she had gotten herself into because of her foolishness and naivety.

There is no greater sinner in this world than me.

I am eternally, eternally thirsty.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, tears filling her eyes again as she moved forward, covering her mouth with her hand, distraught, humiliated.

Her uncle didn't want her to be his worker.

Her uncle wanted her to be his lover.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

Send Me an Angel

Pairing: Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you're an angel. Word Count: Over 1.8k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, Dubcon/NonCon elements (you are responsible for your own media consumption) dirty talk, kidnapping, beginning stages of stockholm syndrome, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: My entry for @the-slumberparty 's I Spy Challenge. I've included all three prompts in some way. Happy to get back into the soft dark pool! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, Bucky edit by the incredible Nix, banner by the wonderful @sgt-seabass , and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

It was early morning when you woke up alone in Bucky's bed. You only knew that based on the time from the clock on the nightstand since he had blackout curtains. You groggily wiped at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit more as you turned on the lamp. Caffeine would help if you had any.

Maybe you could convince him to bring you a drink if you asked nicely.

"Bucky?" you called out, your voice cracking as you began to sit up.

It took you a moment to remember that he wouldn't exactly hear you even if you yelled.

The familiar ache between your thighs stopped you from sitting up completely, the memory of the previous night imprinted in your mind. And every night since you went on your first date with the handsome bartender. While you had a feeling he'd be amazing in bed the moment you laid eyes on him, you underestimated his stamina.

Like the morning after.

You always felt a bit vulnerable when you showered, your guard down more than normal. It shouldn't have surprised you when Bucky joined you, but you still shrieked when he pressed you against the wall. You were sure you would've fallen if his firm grip hadn't kept you propped up.

"Round two and three weren't enough?" you teased as he traced the water droplets on your skin with his tongue.

"It'll never be enough," he answered, leaving a small bite on your collarbone. "I can't help myself."

"Bucky, I need to finish up and go," you moaned as he moved his hands to your ass, your traitorous body not putting up much of a fight.

"So perfect for me," he groaned against your neck, like he hadn't heard you. "You can take me again. I know you can. Just give me one more."

You did. You took all of him, just like he said you would. Like a good girl.

The sick thing was that part of you craved it.

Your heartbeat quickened at the sound of footsteps outside of the door. You learned that Bucky could be silent if he wished, so the deliberate sounds meant he wanted you to know he was there. It was considerate.

Or was it just a way to show that he was in control?

"Morning," Bucky said as he opened the door with a sheepish smile. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. I wanted to surprise you."

You told yourself to smile back when he held up a small bouquet. Red camellias. The same flowers he gave you when he took you out to dinner. He even wore the same leather jacket he was wearing now.

How long ago had it been since he took you out?

You were losing track of the days.

"Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."

His smile widened, pleased by your reaction. "I know it isn't a diamond necklace, but I thought you'd like them. They reminded me of our first date."

"I remember," you nodded.

You watched as he walked over to the nightstand and set the flowers down. He shrugged his jacket off a moment later and tossed it on the recliner in the corner. He liked to sit in it some days to read.

Or watch you.

Whatever particular mood he was in.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked as he sat on the bed beside you.

"Just fine," you smiled, bringing a finger up to trace the tattoo on his neck.

Bucky Barnes had to be one of the most handsome men to ever grace this earth. Well over six feet tall with a buff frame and a glare that could kill, he seemed more suited to be a bouncer than a bartender. The tattoos and nose piercing added to his appeal. But it was his icy blue eyes that nearly made you spill your drink when he handed it to you.

Thankfully you recovered enough to grab a seat on an empty stool and flirt with him.

You didn't know it would change everything.

"Keep touching me like that and I'll have to ruin you."

"We can't have that," you joked.

"Why not?" he asked, taking your hand before you could pull it away. He looked into your eyes as he brought it to his mouth. Instead of kissing the top of it, he turned and brushed his lips on the inside of your wrist. "Your heart is racing."

"That's what you do to me," you said truthfully.

Out of lust. Fear. Both.

"That's what you do to me, too," he said.

To prove his point, he placed your hand on his chest.

You knew it beat for you.

"Did I tell you that meeting you changed my life?" he asked.

"It did?" you replied, even though you already knew.

You searched his expression anyway when he smiled. When you spotted him that first night at the bar, his grin appeared forced when he helped other customers. It never quite reached his eyes. He told you over dinner that it was a show for others, a mask to hide how he really felt.

With you, he showed a genuine smile and softer side.

One you believed you could trust.

"I wasn't in a good place. It's hard to explain, but I felt like I was drifting through my life," he began, moving his hand to tuck the sheet around your body more. You weren't sure when you began to tremble, but of course he noticed. He didn't miss a thing. "I was actually close to quitting the bar and leaving town when you walked up and ordered a drink. I wanted to ask you out right away, but I didn't want to seem like a creep."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. You found excuses to go back to the bar more often and it still took him weeks to ask you out. You thought he was being a gentleman.

"I'm sorry you weren't in a good place," you said.

"Don't apologize. This path in life led me to you and I'll tell you more about it one day," he smiled, sliding his hand over the sheet until he stopped at your hip. "You know, girls have hit on me, even a few guys, but no one got my attention the way you did."

His insatiable nature told you as much.

"And your kindness. How you listened to me. Wanted to know me," he continued, a dreamy look taking over his features. "You showed me that angels exist."

Listening to Bucky was easy. He didn't brag about anything to try and impress you. When he spoke, you knew it came from the heart. Who wouldn't want to know him more?

Especially when he seemed so eager to know you?

"I'm not an angel," you stated.

You sucked in a breath when he gripped your chin. You didn't see him move. He was so quick. Always faster than you.

Stronger.

"You must be an angel because you saved me."

If I saved you, why am I damned?

"Isn't that what angels do? They save people, right?" he asked rhetorically. "Bring them joy? Hope? Love?"

"Love?" you whispered.

Is this love?

"Love," he smiled, releasing your chin. "An angel leading me straight to heaven. That's what it feels like when I'm inside you. Fucking paradise. My warm, wet paradise."

It stunned you enough to stay silent when he bent down to kiss your forehead, your walls clenching around nothing.

Why were you reacting to him?

"But I'm selfish," he admitted against your skin as a tear slid from the corner of your eye. "Because you're my angel and I can't share you with anyone else."

"So you still won't let me go?" you asked evenly.

With a sigh, he pushed himself and moved to the end of the bed. He carefully moved the sheet to expose your ankle and check the cuff. You weren't sure if he was inspecting to make sure you weren't injured or to make sure you hadn't tried to tamper with it.

Bucky convinced you to go back to bed after he had you in the shower that fateful morning. He even sweet talked you into letting him cuff you before he split you open on his cock. When you reminded him that you had to work, once you could talk again, he said he already took care of it.

You hadn't left his place since.

Maybe if you had been thinking with your head instead of your pussy, you wouldn't be his prisoner.

"You know I can't do that," he said above a whisper, tilting his head a fraction and covering your ankle again.

You didn't shrink back when his gaze settled on you, as much as you wanted to. You shouldn't have asked that. All things considered, he took care of you. The chain was long enough that you could reach the bathroom. He kept the place warm. There was plenty of food for you.

No weapons were within reach though. The lamp and clock were bolted to the table so you couldn't hit him with them. If he had neighbors, they didn't hear your cries for help. He promised he would always know if you were in danger since he had cameras set up.

That was why it took him weeks to ask you out.

He was preparing for you.

Was anyone even looking for you?

"But Bucky-"

"Don't. You're not leaving me," he snapped, pulling away the sheet he had carefully tucked around you moments ago. "This is your home now and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy."

Except give you your freedom.

What happened to you, Bucky? What demons plagued you so much that you think you have to keep me here?

"I'm sorry," you said immediately as his eyes raked over your naked body.

"You don't even like the flowers, do you?" he asked in a small voice.

"I love the flowers. Really," you promised. A bright spot in a dark place. "Maybe we can even recreate our date right here at home. What do you think?"

He considered your words as you gave him a hopeful smile. He hadn't hurt you and you wanted to keep it that way. If he was happy, you could be happy.

Wait. Why did you just think that?

"We can," he agreed in a husky tone as he stood up and unbuckled his belt. "But for now, let's recreate the end of our date. I need to make my angel feel good."

You blinked away tears as you opened your legs without being told. If you really were an angel, why couldn't you fly away? Why did you let him clip your wings?

And why weren't you fighting harder to get out of the cage he put you in?

Poor thing. Bucky will take care of you, right? Maybe we'll see down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky barnes x reader #soft!dark bucky barnes x reader #soft dark bartender!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #navy and roo's sleepover #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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look-at-the-soul · 11 months

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The one

Modern Tommy Shelby x reader

A/N congratulations @toms-cherry-trees on 1.5K followers! 👏🏻✨🎉🥳🙌🏻 you deserve that and many many more!! So I wrote this little piece for you, I hope you enjoy it, the idea came to my mind as the perfect match for your autumn theme when I saw this moodboard @acewritesfics created (I know you did it for Cillian + cottage Ace, but since I have that idea very similar in my The Photoshoot series, I took it as inspiration for a modern Tommy ☺️)

Patting around the bed to find the solid body she loved the most, but all Y/N could find was emptiness.

She couldn’t love this place more, the birds were chirping outside, the fresh air was too good to be true, no cellphone signal… if only she could find Tommy.

“Good morning beautiful.” He praised from the bedroom door, stepping in with a tray full of coffee, fruit and toast.

“I woke up and you weren’t here.” She pouted covering her upper body with the sheets.

“But I am now.” He replied placing the tray over her legs, taking one long look at her disheveled hair, tangled from all the times he ran his fingers through it the previous night. Her naked form covered only by the ivory sheets.

This was the closest to a vacation she could afford right now, not because money was a problem, but because Tommy had been extremely busy with his business and she knew asking for a five day or a week holiday would drive him mad, so a weekend at a small cottage was a luxury she couldn’t miss.

Everything had been perfect since they arrived; the lovely weather, the scent of nature, the calmness vs the caos in the city. She loved specially the dead leaves crunching beneath her feet as they took a long walk the previous day.

“It was a good idea to bring that small coffee machine.” Tommy chuckled realizing how little things they had there, no tv, no wifi, there was a small old fashioned fireplace that luckily still worked and he lit it as it started to get chilly last night.

“Told you it was a good investment.”

“I thought we’d have one… guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah same reason why you brought your iPad too.”

Tommy stole a strawberry from the bowl. “Uhu, I really can’t believe there’s no access to technology around.”

“Don’t complain, we’ve hot water and power light.”

Tommy’s eyes sparkled suddenly. “And the best part is… I‘ve you all to myself.”

Y/N’s body tingled just by his voice and the way he was looking at her.

Closing her legs instinctively, she observed her boyfriend place the tray on the dresser.

“You think that’s going to stop me?” He arched an eyebrow cockily at the same time he took one of her legs to drop a kiss on her ankle, starting a trail of feather-like kisses all over her skin, making Y/N discover the soft spot behind her knee that she didn’t know it existed and how much it was turning her on.

She sighed content letting Tommy throw the covers aside.

****

It was a lovely Autumn day, her favorite season, the colors, the trees losing their leaves, the smell, she could swear the atmosphere was different.

Perhaps what really made a difference was watching Tommy so calm with a high energy and an endless smile on his face. Turning around, she found the last rays of sunshine kissing his skin, every freckle and the reflection in the lake in front of them making his blue eyes sparkle even more.

He wasn’t wearing his signature immaculate three piece suit, but a white t-shirt covered by a denim jacket and black jeans, he looked like a totally different person, looking at him made her heart skip a beat, just like the first time.

“Whot?” He frowned.

“You look different.” Y/N pointed out. “Happier.”

“Well I’ve everything I want right now, that surely is a motive.” Tommy admitted kissing her hair.

His surprise grew even more when he saw Y/N pulling out a blanket from the basket she demanded to bring to their stroll.

“Don’t stand there watching, help me!” She shot him a look, placing her side on the grass.

“So bossy.” Tommy chuckled, relaxing his body finally over the blanket, pulling her towards him moments later.

He tried to suppress a chuckle when he saw her placing a bottle of wine and two glasses between them, she was always extra when packing.

“Oh, do I hear someone complaining?” She laughed.

In silence, his mind wandered to think how grateful he really was for Ada insisting over and over for him to try out one of those ridiculous dating apps, after being extremely picky about the prospects showing up in his cellphone, he stopped when he found Y/N’s profile.

Matching her right away, the conversation was flowing naturally, they simply clicked and agreed to meet the following week.

She wasn’t just eye catching physically, her interests caught his attention, she was a lawyer and worked at her own firm, had a good taste in music and books, she loved to fight for human rights. And when they first met in person, he knew she wasn’t just good looking, she had a brain, an interesting conversation and she could keep up with his wicked sense of humor surprisingly well. He was surprised how the conversation never seemed to die with Y/N.

The romance took off immediately, date after date, they discovered new things about the other one, Tommy particularly loved the moment she arrived at her apartment, kicking her high heels while he poured some wine as she stretched her legs on the couch. By now he had lost count of how many skirts and dresses she owned, but he knew she wore a different outfit to every trial.

Now they were both wearing casual outfits, comfortable shoes and she added a light scarf around her neck, both completely out of their elements.

Tommy leaned on his back enjoying not having everyone bothering every three minutes, the silence, peace, not feeling anxious about his next meeting or the papers piling up to sign on his desk, the atmosphere calm, he even took several minutes admiring the sighting… not every day he got to have all of that.

“Did you fall asleep?” Y/N whispered nudging her nose against his cheek.

“No, I’m just relaxing as you said I should.” He confessed opening one eye to look at her.

The autumn breeze made a chill run up and down her back, instinctively Tommy’s hand started caressing over the jumper as if he had been able to feel it. He was lying down on his back. This was the prettiest sunset she had ever seen, the lake catching the reflection of the sky, copying the oranges tones, as well as the incredible trees before her eyes, it looked like it was taken out of professional photograph.

Closing the novel she had been reading, Y/N turned around and rested an arm and head on his torso, adapting to the calm rhythm of his breathing. Taking in the scar on his chin, she wondered how he got it.

“I can feel you staring.” He stated with his eyes closed, hidden under his Ray Bans.

“Just admiring the view,” she admitted, “and the calmness.”

A smile started forming on his lips, but he didn’t move from his position, loving the way her body felt against his.

“I can’t remember the last time I took a day off.”

Y/N chuckled switching her position to lay down next to him. “That’s exactly why I suggested it. You needed to relax.”

“I was relaxed.” He defended quickly.

“Ugh you can be so stubborn sometimes, you were under so much stress, it wasn’t fun to be around.”

In mere seconds, Tommy pinned Y/N under his body.

She squealed and tried to kick her legs while he was holding his weight on his arms to not crush her down.

“Oh let me show ya how much fun I can be.” He adviced with a smirk, grinding against her sweet body, changing completely the atmosphere.

“This is dangerous… and wild.”

Apart from the cottage and the very few villages at the other side of the lake, they were practically on their own.

“No one is around.” He answered playfully looking from left to right, attacking Y/N’s neck afterwards.

A wave of electricity ran through every nerve in her body. Deep down she knew this was a side of him that not all the people got to see, and it wasn’t really so frequent.

“But… you’ll have to be on top darling, I’m not getting any younger.” Tommy joked resuming his previous position.

“I don’t ever want to go back to the city.” Y/N murmured as they snuggled, loving their surroundings close to the cottage. “Look at you. Who would’ve thought you would end up enjoying this?”

“I’m a man full of surprises, love.”

His hand sneaked around her waist, bringing her body above his.

Y/N giggled, but let him pull her closer, Tommy loved that look on her as the sun about to go down shone through her.

“Oh Mr. Surprises I think we should rent this Airbnb more often.” She absolutely fell in love with the cottage and everything around it. It was small, cozy and had everything they needed.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Speaking of Airbnb…” he took in her beauty for an instant, “when we go back to the city, I’m planing to make an offer for the place.”

Y/N looked at him with shock written all over her face.

“What? Why?”

“Because I love how happy you look.”

Her smile grew and the space in her face wasn’t enough to hold it. “Tommy!”

He felt her smile against his lips as they kissed, but soon she moved away from his body to wrap a cardigan around her shoulders.

“And I also think it’s time you meet my son, Charlie… and the rest of my family.”

Before Y/N could answer something, Tommy continued. “I know we said we’d take it slow, but we’ve been dating for a while and you already know I’m deadly serious about this, why waste time?” He shuddered. “My sister specially has been very adamant to meet you.”

“Woah, you really want to make this official?”

Tommy nodded.

“I couldn’t feel more sure about us, since the moment I saw you walking into the restaurant that first time I thought shit, this is it, this is the one for me.”

“I’m so glad you sent that first message, I had decided earlier I’d give up looking and close the app.” Y/N ran her hands up and down his chest.

His knuckles caressing her cheek.

“Tell me about Charlie.” She asked. Eyelids half closed from his delicate touch.

And now it was his turn to smile because he absolutely knew she was the one.

***

A/N one of my friends just met her bf through a dating app and I’ve never seen her happier, so I got the inspiration from there! Kat I hope you never see this 😂🤣

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @gypsy-girl-08 @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @ange-thoughts @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @thenattitude @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @allie131313 @imichelle-l-rigby @winchestergirl22 @already-broken144 @strayrockette @forbidden-forest-witch @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @zablife @heidimoreton @peakyscillian @shaddixlife @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @sloanexx @cilliansangel @rangerelik @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @dandelionprints @thomashelbyswife

#That’s what Cill said #tommy Shelby #modern tommy shelby imagine #modern Tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfiction #modern peaky blinders #cillian murphy x tommy shelby

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 1 year

Text

On The Hunt: Moving Forward

Summary- 5.2k Alpha Steve x Little One. You find out that T'Challa invites Steve and Bucky to join the panthers hunting for Ulysses, meaning you have to work with your ex-mate. In an attempt to take your mind off what is happening, you are forced to admit some very hard truths.

Warnings- Loss of life mentioned, lots of angst and pining. This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Thank you so much to the people following, commenting, sending asks, and reblogging. Honestly, all of you are the reason we are this far in the series. I never thought I would get them here, but all your encouragement and love really made me want to make sure their story got told- the good and the bad. So many thanks to my beta, I hope you see this babes! Divider made by @firefly-graphics. The Chris edit in the moodboard was made by @justconfettiandsomeddew- Thank you for letting me use your work! It is such an incredible edit, when I first saw it I loved it. As always- comments and reblogs are much appreciated. 🐺💙

Chapter Three / Masterlist

You burst out of the tent to breathe, your Little Wolf was distraught, you were trying to hold it together and your senses were swarming with the Alpha.

Your Alpha.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The Little Wolf brushed against you, arching into your mind like a soft comfort that helped that knot loosens in your gut.

What is he even doing here?

You folded your arms around your chest in an attempt to calm yourself. It didn’t last long as you sensed him coming up behind you.

“Little One?” You stiffened at your name, almost bristling. Steve seemed to notice cause he corrected himself. “Y/N…” You waited but words seemed to fail him. Either not knowing what to say after all this time or gearing towards really spinning your world on its axis again, you turned to face him and really look at him for the first time in nearly a year.

Gone was the soft tufted locks of his that only edged blonde and a trimmed beard. Now his hair swept back, long and sun kissed blonde, his beard was rugged and looked several days untrimmed. His body filled out even more then before, his kevlar suit he was wearing was worn in places. Various changes had happened to it since the last time you had seen him in it. Deep lines etched around his eyes and forehead, making him look tired and demanding at the same time. His mouth was pressed thin, clearly holding himself in check around you. His eyes lingered around the column of your neck.

“You look good, strong.” Steve finally said and you snapped.

Every fiber in your body was vibrating inside of you now.

“I look good… That’s all you can think to say to me Steve after all this time?” You stalked closer, feeling yourself bristling while bringing yourself face to face with your former Alpha.

Steve looked so uncomfortable and you took satisfaction in that while he stiffened.

“What are you doing here Y/N? This isn’t home.”

“Home? Why would you care if I was ‘home’.” You made finger quotes and the satisfaction you felt at the angered flash in his eyes and how his jaw twitched, it was the best thing you had seen in a while. The Little Wolf snickered in your mind somewhere at the Alpha’s reaction. “Home where your cabin is, your pack? Why would I stay there Steve?”

“You know that's all yours too Y/N, all of it I left to you, I never asked you to leave where you finally found home.” He barked out, the tendons in his neck standing out as his voice raised and you pushed forward.

“Home was you Steve and you left me.” You snarled out, daring him to snap at you again, let him try to drag you back where you would be safe from the world and him. Around you both others gathered, the fighting having stopped and spectators were watching to see what would happen. You sensed Bucky coming up, your eyes darting to him. “Get control of your Alpha Buck. He is in my way.”

“Uh-” Bucky stuttered to a stop, unsure of what was happening when you stepped away from Steve, brushing past everyone and going back to where the victims were to help them.

T’Challa broke through the crowd gathered around, his gaze falling on the two wolves in the midst. Steve stood their watching you walk away, shaking slightly to restrain going after you.

“Well a surprise I must say Steve.” He rumbled slightly as his gaze falling to Bucky. “You and the White Wolf both.” Bucky stiffened as he assessed the king, T’Challa didn’t let the critical gaze affect him as he matched the man. “What happened to you James is known as far as Wakanda. You have a sanctuary with us, if you want it.”

Steve seemed to snap his attention away from you and pay attention to what was going on before him. As if sensing Bucky was uneasy, he reached out to clasp Bucky’s shoulder, a barely there squeeze bringing the mistrusting man back, an all is safe move. Bucky gave a slight dip of his head and a soft. “Thank you.”

“I must say though, I don’t expect you wolves to be out this far.” T’Challa pointed out before he glanced at those surrounding him, giving a soft snarl that sent them scattering back to their duties. “But how about you both join us back in Wakanda to discuss.”

“We would be grateful,” Steve said, trying to appear focused on the king when his Wolf started howling once more for his Little One. You were so close and so far away. It pained him that he couldn’t feel you with him, even though he could see you helping the injured just steps away, ignoring him.

It was wrecking havoc with you. You could sense him all around you, his Alpha scent was as strong as ever, maybe because you had missed it so much. But that smokey wood scent and cool metal wrapped in your mind and made your Little Wolf ache for her Alpha. It was also so close to your heat and worry swirled in your belly at the thought.

The last few heats had not been so bad, hot sweaty nights and you had to let your imagination go to get off and find relief, the pain associated with being in heat was just an ache that you were able to abate. But now that Steve was here, back in your space, would your body rebel? Only find satisfaction in his touch.

Fuck you hoped not.

The Little Wolf whined loudly, curling in a ball in your mind as she tried to not push you to him, although you sensed she missed her Alpha as much as you did. Which infuriated you all that much more that you missed him. You focused on your task at hand as much as possible, kneeling next to Nakia while cutting bandages as she assessed the child in front of her.

“Are we going home?” The girl asked, big giant eyes looking between you and Nakia, seeking some form of assurance and truth. Nakia’s eyes softened as she cleaned up the girl's arm. Everything about her was calm, warmth, what any mother would give. This Panther gave it so freely to anyone. It was one of the things you admired about her when you first met.

“King T’Challa will bring you home with us Cub and then we will try to find your family.” She dabbed a wet cloth gently, twisting the girl’s arm carefully to make sure any abrasion the ties she was cut out of were cleaned off.

“I don’t know if they are even alive.” The little girl whispered sadly. You could feel the tears starting up, but you pushed them down for now. “I just want to go home.”

“Tell me about home?” You nudged at her while handing Nakia the bandages and the little girl started talking about her parents who loved her so much, her grandma who lived with her and told her stories of Bast the patron god of the Wakandan’s. When Nakia finished the bandage, her hands sliding up to cup the girl’s face and wipe her thumbs over her cheeks to wipe the smudged dirt and tear tracks dry. “Did your Grandmother ever tell you where Bast takes us?”

The little girl shook her head and Nakia gave a smile, delving into the story of the Panthress to the sorrowed child.

Listening silently nearby, your heart felt the heaviness of this story, the look on Nakia’s face was serene as she talked about a paradise that rivaled Wakanda. It also meant that she already knew from the cubs description, her family on the river didn’t survive.

Returning to Wakanda with the survivors meant that your duties were done, T’Challa calling you away while they were settled in safe quarters for the night, the Queen taking over now that they were safely back in Wakanda. All you craved was a shower and to crawl into bed to be plagued by Steve being here.

Instead you went to where T’Challa held debriefings. Slipping into a seat, you glanced around the room. Okoye was in her designated seat, along with Nakia who fidgeted, ready to return back to the survivors, other panthers of power within Wakanda, and then there, at the end of the table sat Steve and Bucky.

Bucky looked on edge, you imagined the White Wolf in him would be bristling with energy. So many shifters in one space and Bucky was more of a lone wolf, typically keeping to himself even before he was captured.

Steve was calm by appearance, but you could see his slight fidget where he was bouncing a leg underneath the table, clear blue eyes sliding face to face, categorizing friend or foe to those he considered in his protection. Meaning Bucky. You were no longer considered his.

<You know Steve would step in if we were threatened.> Your Little Wolf chiming into your inner thoughts made you want to push her away and give you absolute privacy. But you couldn’t do that, not when you knew you both shared each other.

I know he would, you are not telling me anything I don’t already know.

Because it’s easier to think I don’t matter to him, okay! You watched as his eyes bounced to you occasionally, softening before his expression dropped to the table. Like he wasn’t allowing himself to look at you. But you didn’t miss the longing there.

Good, let him suffer. You turned towards where T’Challa was calling everyones attention. “The camp was dismantled.” He announced and an approved mummer reverberated through the crowd. “Ulysses though managed to evade us.” You glanced at Okoye, her stoic features never breaking but you imagined she was upset that the mission didn’t pan out as planned. “But… Shuri…” T’Challa’s hand waved towards his sister, who chose this moment to bounce into the room with a cheery grin on her face, a tablet clutched to her chest. “Has a drone following his movements.”

“Perfect.” You hear one of the panthers growl out, casting a mistrusting eye to Steve and Bucky at the end of the table. “Why do we have more wolves at the table then?”

You knew you weren’t welcomed by everyone but to have Steve and Bucky elicit such a welcome made your Little Wolf growl sharply and it bubbled from you, a warning for anyone to try attacking them. Bucky stiffened slightly but Steve met the challenging panther’s gaze face on, unintimidated by the man.

T’Challa cleared his throat to break the tension in the room.

“I welcomed them, they too are hunting the same man that we are. Because I trust them…” You felt your heart sink, you felt it coming. “I am having them join us, Steve and Bucky are both well known for their skills in the field. Along with Y/N, where Shuri can’t track Ulysses, they can. None of you can deny that the wolves have a skill we panthers do not posses. Ulysses has been evading us for years, kidnapping our people, and stealing our resources. Even I’m not too proud to admit we need their help. With Y/N’s help, we’ve come closer than ever before” He leveled a look for any protesting panther at the table, but all of them kept their mouths shut.

You would be working with Steve, closely.

Steve really hadn’t expected T’Challa to just announce to the council that he and Bucky were joining them in hunting for Ulysses, Steve had wanted to tell you first, privately. Although he wasn’t sure you would give him the chance if he had tried. He watched you bolt from the table and Steve raced after you while you darted speedily as ever around the building. He lost track, but your sweet scent led him onwards till he found you stepping onto an elevator. Steve managed to dart in on the last second, receiving a look from you and the panther who was already in the elevator.

“Pan.” You said in greeting before tucking yourself off to the side, ignoring Steve.

“Y/N, are you joining me today?.” Pan purred at you, making Steve stiffen slightly. Pan glanced at him for a moment before silence fell in the elevator while it lurched to a move.

Steve took a moment to collect himself, feeling your anger in the small space. He just wanted to apologize for springing it on you, that he would have told you himself before if he knew T’Challa was announcing it to everyone.

What are the chances you would have stayed in Wakanda to work with him if you had known about it? This was exactly what he was trying to avoid when he walked away, you had already been through so much with Pierce and him. But now here you were, together again. Part of Steve felt he should leave to give you your peace, remain hunting with the panthers and he move on. But his Wolf fought that instinct, aggressively.

Seeing you again, that ache for you had not lessened any. He missed you, terribly. Even now how he yearned to reach out and wrap you up, soothe away the pain you couldn’t hide behind your anger. Your brows were pinched and your gaze purposely away from him. Your mouth tightened, much like it did when you were withdrawing into your mind, focusing on the Little Wolf.

I’m waiting for the panther to get off. He doesn't need to be involved in this.

Right at that moment you stepped closer to the panther.

“You know what Pan, I think I will.”

Pan rolled his shoulder as if it was tensed and needed loosening. “Yes, that haul you dragged us through took more out of me than I expected.” Making you grin for the first time since Steve has seen you. It lightened up your face, the way you laughed in response.

Some twinge of jealousy might have filtered through Steve that it wasn’t him doing that for you.

“I promised you months ago that I wasn’t ever going to go easy on you.” You announced as the elevator dinged and with a sweep of the doors you stepped off, this time Steve didn’t chase after you.

It was clear you didn’t want to listen to him.

“So…” Pan started as he stepped outside into what was used as a training course, the wild jungle a maze of obstacles more difficult than anything T’Challa could have built. The tall man arched a brow your way while you followed him, refusing to look back at where you left Steve behind. “That was your Alpha?”

“Yes.” You simply said, tilting your face towards the sun to let it soak in.

“Do you want to talk about it.” Pan asked calmly, reaching over his shoulder to pull off his tank and let it fall onto a nearby bench before kicking off his shoes. You mimicked him, starting to strip and embrace the change.

“What is there to talk about? He is here, I have to track with him and Bucky. Nothing to it.” The man gave a hiss of disbelief as you wriggled out of your pants, glancing at him momentarily. “It’s the truth.”

“You are not a very good liar Wolf.” His lean muscular body started getting revealed, your gaze falling to the ground to respect his privacy while you sighed out.

“All I want to do is get through this Pan… Help a girl out, will you.” You felt the Little Wolf rising in you, the shift always fairly quick.

“Don’t I always? Come on… Kick my ass again.” Pan winked, his form falling away till a sleek panther made silent bounds away from you. You embraced the change, the overall freedom and wildness your Little Wolf resided in, and when you felt that energy brimming through you, you chased after the streaking black shadow into the depths of the jungle.

Pan was one of the panthers that welcomed you, had life been different, you could have seen yourself attracted to the man. He was looming tall which made you feel dwarfed, easy going demeanor with sharp features but soft eyes that seemed to see into you. You and Pan had quickly become friends while working together and even the wild cat in him seemed laid back. Now as you tracked him, you caught him lazing above you, his paw draping down to cuff at you before he gave a yawn that flashed all his deadly sharp canines, his tongue lolling out before he snapped up higher in the trees, his roar a challenge for you to continue following him.

The Little Wolf danced under the trees with her nose in the air and ears pricked, watching above for the dark dappled coat of his, beautiful even among the panthers, his coat almost sheened purple as dark as it was with darker spots making him appear dappled in the light. Bright green eyes were heavy among the intense blackness and his whiskers were fine as they graced around his face, helping him move among the narrowest of passages with ease.

It was always fun to track Pan because he would give you a challenge, gliding along the canopy with ease and catching you unaware when he would drop suddenly, leading you onto the chase till your Little Wolf did what you do best.

Even in this climate not at all suited for wolves, your speed couldnt be matched by the panthers. You always caught your target.

Pan led you far away from the problems you were dwelling on, the big cat panting heavily as you followed him through the densest foliage, unsure of where the two of you were. You had never been in this section before, curious where he was taking you. He leaped atop a large fallen log, slippery with moss. His claws digging into the soft wood to keep his balance while his roar scared into the dense forest. You scrambled under it, and coming out the other side you skidded to a stop at a deep pool, wafting cooling air among the humidity that you let yourself wander closer to the crystal clear water. A small waterfall sounded nearby, making a cool mist rise around the pool to give it a shimmer.

“I thought you could use a little Oasis time.” Pan smiled, back to his human form as he stepped into the water. Letting himself slip under the water. You could still clearly see the man shoot across the depths of the pool.

It strangely reminded you of home with the massive lake where you spent countless hours with your family and friends. It made the Little Wolf whine, ears laying back as she padded forward. Pan heard you clearly after he surfaced, twisting nimbly in the water. “I am sorry Y/N? Do you not like swimming?”

The Little Wolf pushed forward, sliding into the water and strongly paddling until much deeper then where you could touch and slipped under, letting the water surround you. It felt good, like home. You let the shift take over, your human body easily twisting in the water to spring back to the surface, taking a deep breath to refill your aching lungs. Drifting in place, you gave a shake of your head to Pan. “No, its… I love the water. Thank you for bringing me.” You let your fingers scoop some up and splash over your head, like it was a cooling rain cleaning your head. “It was just what I needed.” You were sure to keep your back to him, hiding the multitude of scars covering your back and shoulders.

Your friend’s smile was brilliant at the praise as he slipped under once more.You let the water overtake you, the coolness sweeping into its embrace.

The two of you splashed and lounged in the oasis for most of the day, drifting together and sharing stories about your lives, you kept yours light, remembering the few good times of your childhood before Pierce claimed you. Then the sky started to turn purple and stars dart above the pool. You both pulled yourselves out, stretching on the sun-warmed rocks to dry off.

Finally, you were feeling at peace, even going back and facing Steve wasn’t making you want to go in a panic, as much as you were still dreading the way the conversation was going to go.

You recalled Steve’s expression when you left the elevator, the regret and sadness etched in his features, but his head fell to break contact, letting you go while he watched you walk away this time.

You almost yearned for him to come for you, demanding you to stop and talk to him although you probably wouldn’t have. Some pains didn’t always just go away with time and as hurt, as you were, you were still so angry with him for leaving you behind.

It didn’t change how you felt about him though, you loved the Alpha. He made you feel safe and loved, even strong although you were much better equipped now. Your relationship with Steve had been so fast and intense from the first time you two met that it didn’t get many of these moments where life just was good.

You often wondered what it could have been like if it got to be normal. Steve wasn’t dealing with being an Alpha to his pack and having to face the dangers you enlightened him to, what if Bucky had never been collared. What if you two just met and dated, and the Wolves got to court one another?

“What are you thinking about Y/N?” Pan asked while he shifted closer to where you stretched out, pushing himself to sit up and you followed suit, hugging around your bent knees.

“How different things could have been at home if life hadn’t been so demanding.” Voicing your thoughts out loud. You missed the gleam of Pan’s gaze on you, your eyes wandering around the calm pool, soaking it in before returning to your mission with T’Challa.

“If it had been different Y/N, we might have never met.” The deep voice purred, a hand suddenly coming to cup your cheek and tilt you to face him. You blinked in surprise at him, both you and your Little Wolf going still in the predator’s warm gaze. His soft eyes weren't there anymore, now they were sharp, studying you in seconds to decide if he was gonna kiss you. It wasn’t long when his resolve made him lean forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You felt the air drain from you suddenly, a warmth blossom at the touch as you leaned into it, craving the feeling of being touched again by passionate hands. Your hands rose to drift up his muscled chest, pulling in closer till his hands spanned your waist to ease you into his lap. If felt so good, the way his long fingers flexed in their hold to grasp you just a little tighter with need, your core starting to throb at the slightest bit of intimacy you were given.

You arched into him, feeling him hard against your belly while your kisses trailed to his neck, tasting the oasis water drying on his skin. He growled, his head tilting back while you explored the length of his neck, your teeth dragging along straining tendons.

But it wasn’t Pan you were picturing, not his laughing brown eyes or quick to smile features. Steve continued to haunt you, his gaze boring into your heart and his Wolf’s mating song echoing through you.

Guilt tingled your spine, a dread filling your excitement. Your Little Wolf howled distantly, her song for her mate, and your senses were filled with Pan, the way he felt so different against you, his body wasn't as welcoming as Steve’s had been, and his touch wasn’t that rough and calloused embrace that made you lose your mind. His smell didn’t make you feel like you were coming home, his taste on your tongue was wildly different. Pan wasn’t bad, physically he was everything anyone would want to be with, but you couldn’t. He nipped at your bond mark, making you growl sharply in a warning. But he missed your vocal warning and focused on your body instead.

<This doesn’t feel right Y/N.> The Little Wolf drifted back, the excitement of being with someone fading. Now you felt smothered as he gripped your back with a hand to brush you against him, his purring rumbles pressed against your clavicle as he explored one of your breasts with another, cupping you and squeezing lightly. <You don’t want him, not like this.>

You steeled yourself for anger as you eased his face off your breast where he had been pressing kisses. “Pan, stop. Please, I can’t do this.”

Immediately his touch faltered on you, easing away from you intimately and just letting his hands fall away to rest on the rock beneath him, giving the two of you space. You drew in air, trying to clear your aroused but disdained mind. You felt his very solid body underneath you, warm and ready, but it still felt wrong to be here.

You pulled away, drawing yourself together with your arms covering over your breasts while you sniffled at yourself. “Y/N, You do not want this?” He tilted his head, shifting himself around so his hard cock wasn’t so prominent. His gaze sought yours till your eyes locked.

You gave a shake of your head, sniffling. “Do the panthers have bonds like the wolves?”

“No, even though in Wakanda we live so closely and have strong bonds, it is nothing like what I have heard the wolves have.”

You smiled softly, shifting your hair just a bit to show the scar that Steve gave you. “They are very intense, but when you are bonded, you are so connected with your partner. I could feel Steve’s emotions, my wolf could be with his whenever she wished to be with her mate, and our wolves were together all the time. The Alpha and Little Wolf loved each other and took care of each other. Wolves are not built to be alone for long.” You let your hair fall back, covering your neck once more. “When Steve had to break our bond, it was so physically painful for me. For him too, I’m sure, but at that time Brock already had control of him.”

“That must have been awful.” Pan said with empathy.

You wrung your hands together, the fear of the memory making you fidget. “It was Pan, I felt like part of me was ripped from my soul. To see my other half disappear into a man I didn’t know and no longer feel his strength, passion, and love with me, I felt like a piece of me was cut out.”

“And that is why you two are no longer?” Pan curiously asked, easing closer to comfort you as your friend, nothing more. His hand reached for yours and you let yourself take it. Your hand squeezed his, your eyes tearing up.

“No, Steve made that choice for us. Something in him broke the day of the attack and he walked away from me, deeming himself too dangerous to be involved or bonded to me any longer. He chose to become a Nomad.” Pan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Steve did what he did because he loved me and as angry as I am with him, as much as I want to rage at him for thinking I’m too weak to be with him, I still love him and that’s why I can’t do this with you.”

“Ọkàn rẹ jẹ ti Nomad” Pan let his hand rest on his chest where his heart was. Your heart belongs to the Nomad

“Yes, it’s always belonged to Steve, even now my Little Wolf is howling his song to call him home, he is my mate, even when he isn’t.” The tears started to track down your face and Pan pulled in close to let his arm drape around you while you shook in your grief.

Steve couldn’t help wandering near the entrance, waiting for you. His Wolf paced too, his ears constantly pricking to exam every sound, which here with the bustle of panthers coming and going along the late night jungle edging them, it was alot and made both of them anxious. Bucky had long since retired to his rooms, leaving Steve to keep his vigil alone, which gave him time to try and sort through the mess in his head.

He let you go and what you did wasn’t his business. You seemed so happy and comfortable with the panther you left with. Have you moved on? As much as it hurt, making his very powerful Wolf whine at the thought of it, it was something Steve needed to consider. It was in every right for you to do and that made something sorrowful build in him. Steve wanted you safe and happy, you seemed to have just that, here.

The Wolf growled, trying to draw him out of these thoughts. These were exactly what made him feel like he had to leave.

But he just couldn’t pretend that their was nothing between you two, that was an even worst lie his Alpha wouldn’t accept and neither could he.

So he waited, patiently, just to see you one last time today.

Steve didn’t have to wait long. Your Little Wolf burst through the door into the main entrance, your coat gleaming from the jungles condensation catching in your fur, making you shake vigorously while a muscular panther prowled in after you, his large paws silent on the marble of the floor.

Steve remained out of sight, caught up in watching you nuzzle under the panthers chin. His large pink tongue swept over your ears in affection and he bounded away up the stairs to the upper levels, leaving the Little Wolf behind.

Steve almost called your name as you lost that bounce in your step from playing, padding towards the steps. Your Little Wolf looked stronger than ever Steve thought as he admired you. The Alpha Wolf yipped for you.

Steve almost let him, but he saw your affection with the panther, the way you two were teasing and rubbing against each other.

Let her go Alpha.

She is happy here, we are not about to take that away from our Little One again.

Even then, she deserves better than I gave her. Steve's hands fisted at his sides, feeling a shiver of anger at himself.

Steve watched you start for the stairs, pausing to lift your muzzle to sniff the air and whip your head around searching. But when neither of them made themselves known, you continued up to your rooms, alone.

#on the hunt #the pack #alpha steve and little one #alpha steve rogers #alpha steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfic #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes #please reblog and comment #thank you!

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beautifulchris · 10 months

Text

mischief managed

pairing: han jisung x gn!reader

wc: 3,2k

featuring: lee minho, kim seungmin, sf9’s chani, nct’s jaemin

summary: jisung tries to break every single rule with you

genres: hogwarts!au, partners-in-crime!au, ravenclaw!jisung, slytherin!reader, fluff, comedy

warnings: swearing

notes: I wanna apologize to jaemin for doing him so dirty, my baby doesn’t deserve this sdjkfqlk feedback is always appreciated! moodboard made by me, pictures found on the internet. reposting works from my old blog

order of writing: chan - jisung - minho - hyunjin - jeongin - seungmin - changbin - felix

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @straykidsland

tag list: @badwithten @raethethey send ask/dm/comment to be added!

On the King’s Cross train station on your very first day, you almost missed the train because your dad absolutely wanted to take the best pic of his precious kid going to the mythic Hogwarts school. So you ended up in an almost empty compartment. The other compartments around were full and there was just this boy alone.

“Hey, can I sit here?” You probably startled him because he looked up at you with wild eyes but instantly smiled at your sight.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What are you doing all alone?” you asked as you sat in front of him.

He shrugged. “Looking at my chocolate frog cards collection.”

“Wow, nice. Can I see?”

He handed them to you, “Yes, of course. I’m Jisung by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.”

Since that day, you were inseparable and soon became partners-in-crime. Being put in different houses didn’t stop you.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿ฺ

After learning Alohomora in charms class, you wandered in the castle to find a forbidden office to open and what better one than the caretaker’s where a whole lot of interesting things were stored?

There, you found a few dungbombs that Jisung instantly took, confiscated brooms and chains. A lot of perfectly polished chains hung on the walls.

“I understand why he doesn’t stay here often,” you snorted and returned to your inspection. In a dusty cabinet named ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous’, you found an old piece of blank parchment. It was mysteriously well conserved taking into account where it was so you put it in your pocket. Further inspection will be done to know how a simple parchment could be ‘highly dangerous’.

“I’m kinda disappointed. Sure we’ll use the dungbombs wisely but I thought there were more interesting treasures.”

“Don’t be so down yet Ji, I found a mystery to resolve. Let’s go before we get caught.”

Fortunately, you didn’t get caught. You both went to your common room, being a quiet place with almost no students at this hour. You showed Jisung the parchment and counted on his intelligence and logic to figure out how it worked. After a few minutes, he looked up at you and smirked.

“I feel like it’s in good hands now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, he put his wand out of his pocket and pointed it to the parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he simply said. You were going to question him when the parchment caught your eye. Ink was spreading on the paper and soon you could read:

“Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present…”

“The Marauder’s Map,” Jisung whispered with stars in his eyes.

“What is this? Open it!”

Jisung did as told and both of you were dumbfounded by what you discovered. A map of the whole school, including the secret passages that are hidden within its walls and the location of every person in the grounds, portrayed by a dot. This map, a true masterpiece, within your hands was a disaster for everyone else.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿ฺ

Three years later, you knew everything you could possibly have learned about the school. Neither Ravenclaw or Slytherin could win the house cup as long as you both were in Hogwarts. No matter the amount of effort Seungmin, Changbin and Minho would make to earn points, they could never make up for your wickedness. You did earn points sometimes in classes when you answered correctly to a teacher’s question and you weren’t the only one to lose points either so you didn’t feel so bad. You did lose more points than you earned but shhh. Let's not talk about that.

One day, on your way to the lake after lunch, Gryffindor Jaemin called your name so you stopped in your tracks and waited for him to join you.

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if you would like to study with me after class? For transfiguration.”

Uh. Jaemin has never been your friend and the most he ever said to you before now was “Get out of my way, filthy Slytherin.” the second day of your first year. Therefore you were startled, to say the least. Plus you wanted to study with Jisung, not some acquaintance you never talked to and weren’t interested in.

“Not really, I already have plans for tonight. Thank you for the offer though.”

You tried to sound as nice as you could but without much convection and left before he could reply. A few meters away, Jisung saw the whole scene and wondered what you had told him because he looked displeased. He joined you and you smiled at him before intertwining fingers.

The next day, Jisung and you were sunbathing with a nice autumn breeze on a bench in the courtyard when someone came in front of you, preventing the sun from warming your face. You opened your eyes and were met with Jaemin and a few of his friends.

“Can you move please?” you politely demanded, since you didn’t want to start anything.

“Are you dating him?” he asked, pointing at your best friend.

“No?”

“Then why did you reject my date proposal?”

Oh my god. Really? You were going to put him in place but Jisung’s mocking laugh stopped you.

“Really dude? You want to do this here?”

“I don’t think you’re in the conversation.” Jaemin’s glare didn’t please you.

“Should’ve asked to talk to Y/N in person then instead of creating unnecessary drama.”

Jaemin looked like he was going to throw hands so you spoke before it went too far.

“Guys, let’s stay civil here. I rejected you cause I’m not interested in you, there's no other motive. Now can you let us be?” His friends laughed at him and you could swear you heard one of them say something about a bet.

“Wait, asking Y/N out on a date was a bet?”

“And what about it?” Jaemin said cockily. Jisung was fuming and you were disgusted by the boy.

“Can’t you respect people? No one deserves to be a bet’s victim. You guys suck.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure you’re the type of guy who hides when it comes to fight.”

“Try me.” You knew by his glare that he wasn’t playing anymore. Jaemin was smirking but not for long.

“Let’s duel.”

Jisung was so fast to put his wand out, it surprised Jaemin. You tried to stop them but it was useless because their pride was at stake.

Before you could blink, Jaemin ended up mouthless and you heard a woman screaming but you didn’t listen, being amazed by the spell’s effect. Jisung took your hand and ran through the corridors, hearing the professor yelling she would remove twenty points from his house.

You managed to catch your breath while Jisung was answering an easy riddle —for him— to enter the Ravenclaw common room.

“I can’t believe you really did it.”

“He challenged me! You know I can’t say no to that,” Jisung sighed.

“I know. That was brilliant, by the way.” You sat on one of the comfortable chairs like you lived there —it wasn’t totally false— and you were followed by your partner-in-crime.

“Thanks! I practiced this one a lot, I couldn’t wait to use it for real.”

“I hope you didn’t do anything foolish,” said a voice behind you.

“Oh, Seungmin! I didn’t see you there.” Jisung turned around and smiled. Seungmin was reading a book in a blue armchair. He closed it and gave his attention to his friends. “I hope you’re not hoping too hard.”

“How much?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung’s innocent act didn’t work since the second time he used it but he was still trying three years later.

“Twenty,” you answered. Seungmin gave Jisung a look and he shrugged.

“It was fun and I don’t regret it.” He folded his arms and pouted like a grounded kid.

“Of course you don’t,” Seungmin loudly exhaled.

“You’ll make it up for it, won’t you?”

Seungmin sighed deeply. He felt like he had to work twice as hard to win back the points Jisung made their house lose but it was never enough. “I always do, but don’t you think you should calm down a bit?”

“Absolutely not. There’s still a lot of rules Y/N and I haven't broken yet, so many adventures and exciting moments to live.” Jisung smiled widely at you while Seungmin implored you with his eyes to stop him. Your gaze went from one to another without really knowing what to say and before you could, someone sat next to Jisung and typed on the table.

“What mischief are you going to commit today pals?” It was Chani, one of the chasers of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and a fellow 4th year.

“Hey Chani! Already done, Jaemin asked for a duel and I used Oscausi on him.”

“Oh I don’t know th-” Chani started.

“OSCAUSI? Jisung, are you crazy?” Seungmin got up so fast he startled everyone, including others around him.

“Don’t worry, he got his mouth back,” Jisung waved his hand with indifference, Jaemin deserved it after all. “Eventually.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, really.” Jisung and Chani just laughed at that and Jaemin unofficially became your target for a lot of future mischief.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

“I haven’t lost any points in days, maybe I should start to pay attention in arithmancy class.”

It was this time of the year where the air was so cold you just stayed in your or Jisung’s common room and studied to prevent boredom.

Jisung pulled his robe hood over his head and gently slapped you in the back of the head. “Transfigure this quill into a rat and put it onto Jaemin’s head.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s a funnier idea.”

You lost ten points for it but you found it so fun you were back on track until the next cold day.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

You always loved the Ravenclaw common room. You didn’t dislike the Slytherin one, but it was cold and unfriendly when you weren’t a Slytherin yourself. Plus you loved warm places. What you liked the most about the Ravenclaw common room was the domed ceiling painted with stars. You could literally watch it for hours until having to go to your own dorm to sleep. If you weren’t friends with Jisung, you probably would never have been able to lose yourself in the stars because you weren’t that close with Seungmin or Chani and you didn’t really know any other Ravenclaws.

You were currently lying down on one of the couches, your head on Jisung’s lap, helping each other revise (yes, it happens!) for the history of magic test about the goblin rebellions you would have the next day, more concentrated on the stars than the subject. It was calming and it helped you stress less about the tests.

“Where’s Muffin?” you asked out of nowhere.

It made Jisung flinch but when didn't he? Just like she knew her name, she appeared next to you, purring loudly. You put her on your belly and patted her head lovingly.

“Don’t forget she’s my cat,” whined Jisung as he closed his book and put it on the coffee table next to the couch.

You smirked. “Don’t be jealous cause she loves me more.”

The elegant Siberian cat got up and rubbed herself against your best friend’s chest, waving her tail on your face.

“You were saying?”

You rolled your eyes and opened your transfiguration book which was on the floor. It was going to be a long night and you’ll probably have to go back to your dorm after curfew. Bless the marauder’s map in those moments.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

The Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin was coming up and Jisung had to practice more than usual as the seeker. He was going to play against Changbin after all. They both were really good so you wondered who would win the match. Gryffindor had won the first match against Slytherin and Ravenclaw won the one against Hufflepuff thanks to Jisung’s agility and speed.

You always followed Jisung at his training, it was the only moments he wasn’t trying to break the rules. He was pretty serious about Quidditch actually, even if after each training since your 3rd year, you went to drink a mug of butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks with Chani. It was like tradition.

The day of the match, you cheered on your team and your friends, so basically both teams. The competitive mindset of the two seekers could be felt from afar, everybody knew the match was going to be intense. At the end, the score was 350-200 for Slytherin, because Yugyeom, one of the Slytherin beaters, sent a bludger on Jisung’s broom, causing him to spin around and allowing Changbin to catch the golden snitch. It was a good game and Jisung didn’t fall so it was a double win.

Of course you would say that cause you're a Slytherin.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Ravenclaws shared the defence against the dark arts class with Slytherins so, naturally, Jisung and you were seated together.

“Hello everyone! Today’s lesson is about acromentulas.” As the professor proceeded with his lecture, you felt your strong partner-in-crime shiver in his seat. You looked at him and were surprised by how much he looked terrified of acromentulas, not that you could blame him, these giant spiders were scary as hell.

“You okay there, bro?” He didn’t answer and was so pale you thought he was going to faint. You tried to comfort him but he was frozen.

The professor, not giving a care about what was happening in front of his face, decided to show some photos of acromentulas and as if it didn’t trigger Jisung enough, he eventually showed a real one in a big cage. From what you’ve seen in your books, it was nearly a teen so it wasn’t that big compared to his adult size but it was still big enough to scare the hell out of Jisung. He literally fell off his chair and the sound made the professor pay attention.

“Jisung? What happened?”

“He’s really scared of acromentulas, sir. Can you please put it away?”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

While the professor finally put it away, you helped Jisung sit back.

“You okay?”

“Not really. That shit’s so grim.”

“I know, take deep breaths. It’s gone, everything’s alright.”

His breathing was unsteady for a few moments but he quickly got his composure back.

“I’m sorry Jisung, didn’t mean to frighten you. Class’ dismissed. Except you, Jisung.”

Everyone left except Seungmin, who checked on his friend, Jisung and you.

The professor went to his office and came back with chocolate.

“Here, eat this, you’ll feel better. I didn’t know it was this horrifying for you.”

He accepted the chocolate and ate it slowly. “It’s okay, you couldn’t know. Arachnophobia isn’t cool.”

“I won’t show any spider in this class from now on, I promise.”

“Thank you sir.”

“You can go now, drink water and rest.”

As you left class, Jisung whispered in your ear. “I don’t need water, I need a good butterbeer.”

You both chuckled and, after saying bye to Seungmin who certainly left to go to the library to do his homework, went to the Three Broomsticks using the secret passage beneath the one-eyed statue by the stairs of your last class to drink one or two mugs of butterbeer.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Two months before the end of the year, Jisung had the baddest yet boldest idea so far. It was remarkable how he never failed to impress you.

“I’m going to use this potion on Jaemin, he’ll definitely leave you alone after that.”

“He left me alone after I put a rat onto his head but suit yourself, bro.”

You were hiding behind stairs on the third floor, waiting for Jaemin to walk down. Jisung was holding his flask tight in his hand. When you heard people talking, you discreetly looked up and saw Jaemin. Jisung didn’t hesitate and before you could react, his flask was emptied on Jaemin’s head. His hair slowly stood on end but it wasn’t all, it also turned into candy apple red. He somehow added Colovaria to the hair-rising potion and you were about to congratulate him when you got a glimpse of Minho upstairs.

Jaemin left, horrified, to the nearest bathroom to see the damage while Minho was casually walking down the stairs. Jisung lost his smile when he saw him and swallowed hard. Once arrived at your height, he opened his mouth.

“Rules are put in place to prevent hundreds of magically gifted hormonal hazards from accidentally turning themselves into sharks or losing an eye, or provoking the wrath of a giant spider, or blowing themselves up, or whatever. But here you are, trying to break every single one of them.” You almost felt relieved he didn’t scream at you.

“Look, I’m stupid, okay? And stupid people do stupid things. That’s a fact.”

You could have laughed at his excuse if Minho wasn’t staring at both of you like he was about to end you. He wasn’t generally scary but he was a prefect so when you did something wrong… well, let’s say you better not be seen by him.

“Do you use this lame excuse every time you do shit?”

“My other excuse is that it was Y/N’s idea but no one buys it.”

You looked at him in disbelief. Of course no one bought it, you were more like his sidekick than the mastermind.

“Not surprising. Anyway, fifteen points from Ravenclaw. I would have taken twenty but adding a transfiguration spell to a potion was really clever.”

He asked Jisung for a favor, talking privately in the nearest classroom for a few minutes. Then Minho left and Jisung came back to you with a big smile and you high-fived him. The Marauders Map usually prevented incidents like this and he wasn’t near this place when you last checked the Map. Minho literally came out of nowhere.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

On a fine and warm day, as Jisung and you successfully pranked Jaemin for the umpteenth time that year, he turned to you still laughing.

“You know what’s the strength of a duet? It’s to be two.”

“Thank you for your encouraging words. I now know you need me,” you winked.

The laughter slowly died down and the atmosphere became somehow serious. He sat on a bench and you joined him.

“Are you kidding? I’ll always need you.”

“Always? Sounds like a really long time,” you chuckled, more to tease him and put aside the fact that you need him just as much.

“Just wishing we’ll stay together forever,” he blurted out, his eyes concentrating on his shoes.

“You’re sweet. I would love that too.”

He lifted his head and looked you in the eye.

“Really? No need for the Imperius Curse then?” You blinked a few times, about to smack him when he smiled wildly. “Just kidding, I would never.”

“Anyway, go train for the match against Gryffindor, wouldn’t want Mark to catch the snitch before you, would you?”

“Won’t happen.”

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please let me know <3 and here's the masterlist!

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