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#every five seconds they run into another person who knows it. what the fuck
hairmetal666 · 3 months
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Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce.
His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.
After the first day, where he manages to stay comfortably in the middle of the pack, he calls Robin to complain about what a mess he becomes around this gorgeous dude.
Her response is to cackle and say, "Steve! How do you not know who Eddie Munson is? Oh my god, you're a disaster."
Turns out, Eddie Munson is the lead singer of Dustin's favorite band, Corroded Coffin, and also pretty well-known for his dnd YouTube channel. He's been a host on the show for years, only Steve doesn't really pay attention when the others watch it and didn't know.
Eddie, for his part, is losing his mind. He'd known about the beautiful contestant for this season, former college basketball superstar turned coach, having a hell of a shitty year after dislocating his kneecap in a charity game. Eddie--foolishly, it turns out--thought he wouldn't be as attractive in person. He also expected Steve to be terrible and egotistical, a jock through and through.
So, when Steve Harrington walks into the tent in a short-sleeved polo and obviously ironed jeans and is still drop-dead gorgeous, he's fucking flabbergasted. And then Steve has the audacity to be nice? Kind and thoughtful and running to help other bakers when he still has work to do himself? He also blushes so pretty, high across his nose and cheeks, and god does hewant to be the reason Steve blushes like that.
Eddie is beside himself.
Leading up to the second week, Steve schools himself into being calm around Eddie. He can't afford to lose his cool like that every time the host is around. Except, this week Eddie flirts with him shamelessly. Winks at him, leans into space, calls him "m'lord" with this deeply resonant voice that makes Steve want to drop to his knees. Steve doesn't mean to, not really, but he flirts right back, feeding Eddie tidbits of his bakes and looking for any excuse to touch him.
Steve does well for the first half of episodes. He never wins the technical or star baker, but he's regularly within the top contestants. On episode five, though, something is off. He's distracted, forgetful, doesn't leave enough time for his custard to set in the signature. Eddie asks if he's okay, but Steve shrugs and smiles, says "off my game today."
But then, in the technical, he curdles his buttercream more than once, and his genoise sponge burns. Eddie watches as Steve folds his arms above his head and disappears from view. He doesn't hesitate, he sprints from his interview, falling to his knees in front of the contestant.
"Stevie, sweetheart, what's going on?"
"I get migraines," Steve whispers. Trails of wet streak down his cheeks. "I've felt one coming all morning, been trying to stave it off but--"
"Okay, okay," Eddie shakes out his hands. "You can sit out this challenge, yeah? Or take this weekend off. It happens. You'll come back next week--"
"I don't want to stop." More tears fall from his eyes.
"What do you need?"
Steve shakes his head, wry little smile pulling at his lips. "Time to breathe."
Eddie glances up, eyes catching on the camera crew hovering in front of them. He throws both middle fingers up and says, in the most reasonable and even tone, "fuck!" Everyone in the tent looks at him, but he doesn't stop. "Shit!" "Bitch!" Motherfucker!" He goes on and on, saying the filthiest series of things he can think of. The camera crew steps away, another contestant brings Steve a glass of water, and Eddie sits with him.
The other host announces that there are thirty minutes remaining in the challenge.
"Well. That's that, then," Steve says. He stands, patting the naked skin of Eddie's knee where it shows through the rip in his jeans as he goes.
"Wait, what do you mean?"
"Out of time, no cake, no buttercream."
Eddie hops to his feet. "You're going to let that stop you?"
"Well." Steve laughs. "Can't serve this." He gestures to his discarded bowls of frosting, his burnt cake.
"You have time to make another buttercream."
Steve raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but not the cake."
"Cut the burnt off. Cover it in the buttercream. Easy peasy."
"Okay..." Steve stares at his station. "Okay, that could work. It won't be pretty, but--"
Eddie, knowing he's no longer needed, steps away, and Steve gets to work.
Steve tells Robin all about it and, as soon as he gets home from the taping and she's immediately like, "Eddie Munson, huh?"
He shoots her a look. "It's nothing."
"Yeah, him leaping over a table to check on you is surely nothing."
"Robin," he warns.
"What?"
"Eddie would never want a guy like me."
She laughs but quickly grows sober. "Steve. Of course he would. He likes you."
"It's nothing, really." He walks towards the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"
Eddie experiences the same harassment from his band members and their manager.
"You're gonna ask Harrington out, right?" Gareth asks.
"That would be a little bit of a professional conflict of interest," he deadpans. He doesn't look up from his guitar.
A puffed Cheeto smacks him square in the forehead. "Hey!" He shrieks.
"He means once the season is done, Edward," Chrissy says.
He wipes the cheese dust from his forehead. "Not a good enough reason to call me Edward. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's straight."
Jeff guffaws. "C'mon, dude. No way. He's so into you he might as well have a neon sign."
"He divorced a woman."
"That doesn't mean anything, and you know it," Chrissy says.
Eddie rolls his eyes. "I may be considering asking him out. Maybe."
Everyone cheers. More Cheetos hit him in the face.
---
To Steve's great surprise, he makes it to the finals. Not just makes it, he gets a star baker, gets first in the semi-final technical. He's baking in the final and might have a fucking chance.
It's with great surprise, once it's all said and done, that he hears his name announced as the winner. He doesn't have much time to process it, because Eddie is striding towards him. He's not carrying the cake stand trophy or flowers, it's just Eddie.
Eddie who stops in front of him, eyes shining. Eddie who leans in and whispers, "I knew you could do it, baby, I'm so proud of you." Eddie who twines his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss.
The internet explodes as the season airs. Everyone is obsessed with Steve and Eddie. They have fics on ao3, a dedicated tumblr community, edits, playlists, gif sets, a ship name all dedicated to them. The fandom grows after episode 5 airs. Not all the footage makes it, thanks to Eddie, but they still witness him tenderly taking care of Steve and directing the cameras away. Fans start scouring their social medias, looking for any hint of their relationship status; even beg them in comments and DMs to reveal if it was just a showmance.
Eddie and Steve, however, are happy in the quiet little world the carved out for themselves after filming. They aren't ready to reveal anything, even hints, whether or not the show would let them.
Then, the final airs and the kiss is revealed to the world. The ending title cards show a picture of Steve with the rest of the season's bakers and the caption, "Steve threw a party for the other bakers..."
The picture then changes to one of he and Eddie, arms wrapped around each other. This caption says: "...at the home he shares with his boyfriend Eddie."
That night, in bed, Steve says, "I'm really glad Robin and the kids made me go on the show. But do you think it's bad that the thing I'm happiest about, way more than winning, is that I met you?"
Eddie places a slow circle of kisses in the dip of Steve's lower back. "Sweetheart, I'd be disappointed if you said anything else. Now, hush, I have a baking champion to congratulate."
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blueicequeen19 · 4 months
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A Million Reasons
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Warnings: theft, coercion, non-con/dub-con, overstimulation, forced orgasms, face fucking, anal play, oral, creampie, the works..
I couldn’t contain my smile as I plopped down in my new comfy chair in my new shiny apartment that I drove to in my new fancy car. It didn’t matter how I’d come into the money. What mattered is I wouldn’t be waiting tables at the fucking country club anymore, serving arrogant Kooks over priced alcohol and barely making shit from tips. This was all mine now. Paid off and no one could take it from me.
I had a five year plan now and nothing was going to stop me. I was going to go full Kook and make every one of those dumb motherfuckers look me in the eye when they realized I had more money than they did. They would respect me one way or another.
I grinned as I logged onto my new computer to pull up my accounts when suddenly there was a knock on my door that startled me so bad I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was almost midnight. Who would be here? I slowly got up and made my way to the door, my gun already laying on the table. I checked the peep hole but the person - a guy - had his head down.
What the fuck? I unlocked the door and it was suddenly shoved open, knocking me back on my ass before I could snatch my gun off the end table. I moved to jump back up to my feet when I realized who was in my apartment and smiling at me.
“Hi doll, how’s the new place?” He smirked, dropping a duffle bag onto the floor and not taking his eyes off me as he locked the door back. I was too stunned to speak, let alone move. My eyes moved to the gun but he snatched it up, tucking it in the back of his fucking khakis.
“This is a nice place. You did good? What did this put you back?” His blue eyes take in everything as he side steps me and ventures deeper into my apartment. I eye the door but I can’t run. He’s here because he knows what I did. I slowly rise to my feet, hating that I’m in a pair of booty shorts and oversized shirt as I turn to face him.
“I like the car too. That had to be at least fifty grand. And I’m sure this place is well over two grand a month unless you bought the place out right. I guess I could rent it out and flip the profits if I don’t decide to stay here.” He rambles on, tilting his head back to look at the vaulted ceiling.
“What do you want?” I finally find the strength to speak, my heart in my throat as his bright eyes level on me again.
“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What do you have that could be even remotely worth me keeping silent and not turning your ass in?” His voice hardens, that playful look long gone.
I bite my lip, my nails biting into my palms as I fight to remain calm. There was no use lying.
“How did you know it was me?”
“That stole my card information and hacked over a million dollars like it was chump change?!” I back up, his voice growing louder as he moves towards me, that look in his eyes becoming more sinister by the second, the ruse finally fading.
“It was easy. I just followed the scent of someone with new money. Someone not being cautious of their spending and paying with big items in cash.” He lunges with a growl, cutting off my scream as his hand wraps around my throat. I fight and he knocks us both onto the couch, pinning me beneath his weight. I lash out with my nails, clawing his cheek and he snarls, shifting his weight more onto my chest so I struggle to breathe. I fight harder when I feel the bulge in his pants. The sick fuck was hard.
“You feel that? Who knew I could get so hard from someone not fawning over me?” He taunts, leaning down to press his lips to my cheek.
“Girls are always tripping over one another just for a chance to suck my dick but not you.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I wheeze, tilting my face away when he leans in too close. It’s like a bucket of cold water being dumped on me when he throws his head back and laughs.
“Oh, wow, you’re funny. I’m going to have so much fun with you in MY new apartment.” He shimmies down my body, pinning me with weight and keeping his mouth dangerously close to my own.
“You can have it back. You can have it all back. I don’t care.” I bite out, slipping my hand out from under his weight in an attempt to slap him but he catches it and pins both my wrists above my head.
“We’re way fucking past that. Now I’m looking for payment.” His eyes rake over my body as his free hand comes up to tease my nipple through my shirt, making it harden.
“Stop—.”
“I don’t even know where I’d start. You’re fucking exquisite.” He chuckles, burying his face in the crook of my neck and inhaling deeply. I whimper, his free hand still playing with my nipple. I needed to get the upper hand. I needed him to think I was defeated.
“Ugh, fine fuck me. Fuck me and get out. Punish me, do whatever you need to do then leave.” I snap, hating the way my body heats as he sucks on the skin of my neck.
“Whatever I need to do, hmm?” A hum leaves his lips before he bites me and I cry out, my thighs squeezing together as my core tightens.
Suddenly, he’s off me and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He’s no longer crushing me under his weight yet I still can’t catch my breath.
“Strip. Show me what I paid for.” He throws an arm over the back of the couch, spreading his legs wide and looking every bit the entitled Kook he is.
“You didn’t pay for—.”
“Strip. Now.” His harsh words have me jumping to my feet on shaky limbs and quickly yanking my shirt over my head, the cold air hardening my nipples into painful points. My skin flushes under his intense blue gaze as he eyes me like a prize. Like he’s never seen a topless woman before.
“Not too bad. A solid handful. I can live with that.” He says, like he’s buying me from a grocery store. I grit my teeth, moving to cover myself but he gives a single shake of his head.
“Don’t you dare cover up. Remove the rest.” I try to look anywhere but the prominent erection in his pants or his hungry gaze as I slide my sleep shorts and panties down in one go. I kick them away but not before he sees the wet spot my traitorous pussy left in my panties.
“Fuck you.” I growl as his smirk grows and he palms his dick through his pants.
“No, baby girl, fuck you. Spin for me. Show me that ass.” I turn away quickly at the sound of his belt being unbuckled, my skin covered in goosebumps. I was so cold but hot at the same time. My clit was throbbing painfully and I hated it.
When I face him again, he’s still wearing that smug smirk but with his pants hanging open and his dick still safely tucked away.
“I could tie you up and just play with you for fucking hours.” He practically moans, his eyes washing over me like a warm caress. God, I hated this. I was painfully turned on and humiliated at the same time.
“Would you just—.”
“Lay down on the couch and spread your legs. If you kick me, I’ll tie your legs to your chest with my fucking belt.” Part of me wants to kick him just so he can make good on his threat but I refuse to give him the satisfaction as I lower myself onto the opposite end of the couch.
I barely get my legs spread and he’s moving between them on his stomach, his hands hot on my skin as he spreads my pussy lips wide.
“Mmm, nothing like the smell of desperation.” His eyes light up with mischief and I debate actually kicking him until his tongue suddenly swipes up my slit and my brain turns to mush.
“Fuckkkkk.” He growls against flesh, his hands tightening on my inner thighs as he tastes me again.
“Oh—fuck—.” I’m trembling uncontrollably, my body on fire and no longer under my control. He keeps cursing and mumbling praises but I can barely hear him as he feasts on me like he’ll die if he doesn’t. When he sucks my clit into his mouth and curls a single finger inside me, my back bows and I see stars. My orgasm is on the tips of my toes but he stops, pulling back with a laugh.
“Not so fast. You don’t get to cum anytime soon. I don’t care how good you taste.” He stands and quickly strips until he’s as naked as I am, his cock hard and leaking with need. I try not to stare but he’s so goddamn long.. and thick. I’m almost worried. I can’t even check to see where he’s placed the gun..
“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit wherever it goes.” My worry dissolves into anger again and I narrow my eyes, attempting to get up only for him to shove me back down and straddle me. I’m confused until he moves onto my chest, his knees holding most of his weight as he positions his cock in front of my mouth.
“Do I need to warn you what will happen if you bite me?” He says, using the swollen tip to smear precum all over my lips.
“I don’t think I can—.”
“Breathe through your nose.” He pushes his cock firmly against my lips.
“You’re too—.”
“You can take it.” My jaw pops as I’m forced to open and let him down my throat. I gag immediately around the smooth length of him, tears filling my eyes as he reaches the back of my throat and holds it there.
I can’t even push against him because my arms are pinned beneath him. It takes everything in me to keep from retching.
“Fuck, that’s not even all of it. Look at you struggling. Do you regret stealing from me yet?” His eyes are hooded and his breathing heavy as he slides partly out and thrusts back inside my mouth, making me continue to gag.
“You will by the time I’m done with you.” His words have my chest tightening, afraid of what I’ve gotten myself into as he starts to fuck my mouth like he would a toy.
“Fuck, yes. You’ll be a pro in no time. That feels so fucking good.” His breathy moan has me trying to squeeze my legs shut but he reaches back, slapping my thighs apart and starts to play with my clit. I buck beneath him, humming around his cock as I try to speak. I can’t do this. I can’t handle it. Tears fill my eyes every time he pulls back enough for me to catch a breath only to force his way deeper down my throat all while rubbing my clit.
“If you cum, you’ll regret it.” He growls, scaring me while also giving me a thrill of what if? I stick out my tongue to try and make room in my mouth but he only moans louder, thrusting harder before slapping my pussy. I cry out around his length, gagging and trying to breathe.
“Get ready to swallow.” My eyes widen and suddenly he’s deep down my throat, holding his cock in place as he cums. I gag but he only groans louder, shooting his hot cum right down my throat so I have no choice but to swallow. My vision is spotty when he finally pulls out, my face streaked with tears and my throat on fire. I’d never been face fucked before and I’m given no opportunity to recover as he quickly flips me onto my stomach and comes down on my back. My cheeks are spread and he’s licking me from front to back, my body trembling with the need for release.
“P-please—.” I croak, arching into him as his tongue penetrates my pussy. I moan into the couch, my core burning with need. When his tongue moves higher, my eyes snap open but I’m unable to stop him from forcing his tongue inside my unused hole. A broken cry leaves my lips and I try to lift up only for him to shove me back down.
“Keep begging. Let me hear it, you little thief.” His voice is thick with need as he moves up my back, his cock resting against my ass.
“Please.. Rafe..” I whine, feeling him reach between us to guide his cock to my pussy.
“So you do know my name.” He chuckles, stealing my breath as he slips just the tip inside me. My body tightens and he curses, pushing down on the center of my back.
“Remember my fucking name when you cum. I want to hear you scream it.” His threat barely registers before he buries himself deep inside me with one go. I cry out, my pussy forced to stretch to accommodate his size.
“Goddamn.” Rafe bites out, rising up on one knee and keeping his hand on the center of my back as he starts to fuck me slowly.
“You’re swallowing me so fucking good. Sucking me in nice and deep. So wet and tight.” My nails bite into the cushion, my hips lifting on their own as his pace increases. The burning quickly subsides and pleasure washes over me as I moan loud and helplessly.
I hear him spit then his thumb is pressing inside my ass, triggering my orgasm as I scream into the cushion.
“Dirty fuckin slut.” Rafe chuckles, not slowing his rhythm until one orgasm turns to two and my release drips onto the couch. It becomes too much and I quickly try to pull away, pleading as best I can but he refuses to let me go.
“We’re not done so fucking take it. I want to see you break.” Another finger enters my ass as he pounds my sore pussy, an explosive orgasm wrecking me until tears stream down my face.
“Rafe— please—.” I sob, his mocking laugh reaching my ear but I’m too far gone to be pissed off anymore. He gives me a moment to rest when he pulls out and drags me onto his lap, impaling me on his cock so I’m facing him and forced to ride him.
“I can’t..” I cry, my entire body trembling as he begins to move me himself, his cock practically in my stomach.
“Should’ve thought about that.” He smacks my ass, digging his fingers in and squeezing the flesh as he thrusts up into me. My hands tighten on the back of the couch as we move in sync, his cock stroking something deep inside me to the point I’m practically mush in his hands, his throaty moans music to my ears.
It’s not until I feel my hand brush something metal that my eyes snap open and I see the gun laying on the end table against the back of the couch.
I don’t think before snatching it up and wedging it under Rafe’s chin, making him look up at me. My lips tip up in a snarl while his form a smirk, his blue eyes lost in a blissed out haze.
“Stop.” I bite out, blinking past the pleasure deep in my core. He was so deep like this. I could almost cum again.
“Stop what? You’re riding me. I’m not moving.” Rafe says with a breathless smile. My body freezes when I realize he’s right and he groans as I tense around his length.
“Keep doing that and I’ll cum deep inside you.” Rafe moans, adding to that fire deep in my belly. There was something so hot about a man being vocal during sex.
“You like that? The thought of me filling you with cum make your pussy throb? Or is it the thrill of the gun? You could kill me right now and my cock would still be hard. One or two more pumps and I’d still finish inside you.”
“Shut. Up.” His words make me break out in a sweat, his cock throbbing deep inside me. I don’t doubt that he’s telling the truth.
“Seems like a waste to not finish, don’t you think?” Rafe’s blue eyes sparkle up at me as his hands find my hips and he delivers a hard thrust to my core. I cry out, my eyes threatening to flutter as fire ignites deep within me.
“You want me to finish.” Rafe taunts, sliding one hand up to grip my throat as he begins rolling his hips until my eyes nearly cross. He was too deep and stroking my g-spot while I held a gun to his chin. My body began to tremble as another orgasm raced forward, the gun shaking in my hand.
“Cum all over my cock. I know you want to.” Black spots dot my vision as he tightens his hand around my throat, stealing my ability to breathe and giving me the most intense orgasm of my life. The gun is snatched from my fingers then he’s pounding into me with vigor, grunting and moaning as he empties himself inside me.
My eyes barely manage to stay open as he lifts me so he can stand then my back meets the couch, his cock never leaving my pussy. His lips find the shell of my ear as I try to wrap my brain around what just happened..
“I’m going to have so much fun with you, roomie.” My body stiffens and he groans, rolling his hips and making me whimper.
“This.. isn’t..”
“You didn’t think once was worth a million dollars, did you? Because I plan on thoroughly using this pussy. Call it interest on my new investment.”
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katsukiizmoon · 5 months
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bodyguard or bestfriend! katsuki who practically lives in your personal space, he's only "looking out for you" and "making sure you're okay" he definitely isn't dependent on feeling your warmth against him, he definitely doesn't get antsy when you're not near him, not at all
Second time writing this, tumblr ate it the first time 🥴 but no because I bet he leaves his shit there and then forgets.i have so many thoughts on this
Katsuki has practically raided every square inch of his apartment. He’s checked every basket, drawer, nook and cranny of the place— and he’s found four pair of boxers. Total.
There’s no way.
A frustrated groan leaves his lips when he notices missing sweatpants. His face twists into a scowl while he shoves the last of his dirty laundry into the washing machine. He snatches the detergent and tosses it in, pressing the button and turning on his heel.
He storms out of his apartment and shoves his keys into the door, locking it. And you know something’s off the moment he arrives. He huffs and puffs like he’s going to blow your house down. All the while, you sit perched on the couch with a basket of laundry and a no-brain-needed show on.
“I’m goin’ fucking insane.” Katsuki grits, carmine eyes peering into your ceiling.
You hum and toss a pair of panties into a nearby basket. A sigh leaves him as his chest sinks beneath the black tank top.
“You always are— but why now?” You raise a brow at his glare, resisting a snicker.
Your fingers lay purchase on a pair of his sweats. Effortlessly, you begin to fold and separate the rest of the laundry. Another pair of his sweats are in your hands as you pause to look at him.
“Searched the damn place top to bottom,” a sigh “- can’t find my shit. Got four pair of boxers. I’m losing it.” He grunts with an exasperated groan.
Katsuki peels his gaze from the ceiling to meet your own. You begin to chortle and snort.
The pair of sweatpants in your hands meet his face with a dull thud. Without thinking, katsuki yanks the offending fabric away and growls.
“Oí, asswipe-“ The second pair meets his face before he can finish and it takes all of three seconds for it to register.
“.. why d’you got my shit?” He takes a deep breath, just like his therapist told him to, trying not to jump to conclusions.
“You always leave your shit here— I’ve got an entire drawer. You’ve even got a toothbrush and face razor in my bathroom.” You challenge, holding up a pair of boxers you’ve just found in the basket.
Katsuki blinks. He has been over a lot. But it’s only because you can’t take care of yourself— you’d die! The blonde runs through memories of cup ramen and expired snacks in your fridge and pantry. His eyes roll.
“Well, I need my shit, brat.” He chooses to say instead.
You glance at the TV to see two of the girls arguing over what food to have at a party. Typical, there’s always that one bitch who wants fruit at a candy land themed party.
“Go for it, it’ll end up back here anyways-“ you chortle and toss a pair of clean boxers his way “-you’re over five days a week.”
Ruby orbs narrow, brows furrowing as he takes playful offense to your statement. A grin plasters across his face and he leans in.
“Wouldn’t have to if a certain shithead could take care of herself, now would i?” Katsuki taunts and assumes victory. He looks proud of himself.
Your brows shoot to your hairline and you laugh wildly. The task at hand half forgotten, fingers reaching into the basket to grab a random article of clothing and throw it at his head.
“Oh please, you come here for back rubs and head scratches.” The teasing tone of your voice has his eyes rolling. Hard.
Katsuki looks down at the fallen fabric and snorts. Big hands put the pink, scallop trim panties in the basket to your right while he formulates a good answer.
You’re not completely wrong.. but you can’t know that.
“Nah I c’mere cause’ you’ll get a scurvy if I don’t.” He lies, grabbing a towel to fold.
Banter continues on and off through the night. He talks shit on the show you’re watching but gets invested anyways. Like always. A plate of steaming curry is served for dinner and afterwards you show him to the stash of his items stored away in your bedroom.
He grumbles and flushes a peachy tone, throwing most of the items in his bag. He leaves two or three pairs, though.
You get lectured again on groceries even though he’s the one that cooks. And, now? There’s a grocery list on your fridge that says “k: bringing order on Monday” in not too-pretty handwriting.
Katsuki finds himself basking in the warmth of your hands later. Pretty fingers rub his taut muscles and tug at the roots of his hair. Nails drag up and down, up and down his shoulder and back casually. He’s out like a light in minutes.
He wakes up and chooses to ignore that he’s already left another set of clothing in your laundry basket.
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closedownregulus · 1 month
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Prompt: Feb 14th - Lips | 1183 words | @jegulus-microfic part two , three and four :)
Barty Crouch is an idiot. The first time James came to this conclusion he was only 11 years old and Barty was refusing to give him back his football cause “football is not for losers, weirdo”, since then, the thought crosses his mind from time to time – Barty Crouch is an idiot. Not only an idiot, but also stupid, not only fucking stupid, but also deadass ugly, not only ugly, he is also an arrogant piece of shit, not only that, he’s also a- argh, James could go on and on about all of Barty Crouch’s flaws, he could go for hours, days, damn, even weeks if someone gave him the time of day to do so. Honestly, he can’t think of one good thing to say about the guy, nonetheless, Regulus’ been kissing him senseless for the past 7 minutes – not that James is counting or anything – seeming fucking dead set on finding Barty’s hidden qualities, if he has any, in the inside of the boy's mouth. Not that James cares that his best friend’s baby brother has been snogging the most annoying man to ever walk earth for 7 minutes and 36 fucking seconds, like they´re stuck in a game of 7 minutes in heaven or something, or, more accurately to James, 7 minutes and 49 seconds in the deepest pit of hell – not that he’s counting (whatever).
Part of him, the hopeful part, is kind of holding on to the idea that this is some weird kind of practical joke Regulus is playing on Barty, he knows James' football story, maybe that’s the way he’s found to revenge him, making Barty fall in love with him and then leaving the guy tormented by the memory of a kiss with a boy he’ll never be able to have playing in loop in his head. Part of him, the protective part, hates that fucking Barty Crouch has even the memory of a kiss to play in loop in his head, part of him wants to yank it off. Part of him, ugh, part of him is scared that Regulus is not some boy Barty can’t have. Part of him – the possessive, petty and kinda insane part – hates that it’s Barty instead of James, who has known Regulus for years, he’d know what to do to make him feel good, he’s sure he’d figure out the right buttons to push in a matter of seconds. Instead, it’s another person in what should be his place, touching Regulus in places James never will, running his tongue over his lips and tasting Regulus in ways that James will never be able to – he hates to think about the sounds that he’s dragging out of Regulus, sounds that he’s getting to hear, swallow, save for later. Fuck. James might kill the fucking guy.
It’s not like James wants to be in Barty’s place - or whatever, it’s more of a protective big brother's best friend thing, he’d rather kill himself than actually kiss Sirius’ baby brother, it’s literally the most disgusting thought that could ever cross his mind ever, literally. Which, if he’s being totally honest, it does from time, but it only causes him to experience the deepest feeling of disgust, he can literally feel his stomach doing weird loops and stuff, which can only be translated to pure and utter repulse, literally. It’s not like it’s a recurring thing or anything, it’s just that he’s a fucking 17-year-old, of course the idea of kissing people he’s always hanging out with is gonna come to him out of fucking nowhere. And like, Regulus does have this freakish pink lips that look really soft and it's kinda hard to not stare at them when he's been going on and on for hours about some book he's recently read, specially when he keeps biting his lower lip every five minutes before saying the next sentence. Not that the thought crosses his mind in a weird, out of ordinary, creepy constancy or anything, really. It's just, you know, your ordinary 17 year old boy next door normal amount of thinking about kissing your best friend’s brother – which he doesn’t by the away, just, rarely, sometimes, in a daily basis, rarely.
The point is, James is Sirius’ best friend, and Regulus is Sirius’ baby brother, James remember him as a toddler, with his big grey eyes and messy dark hair all over the place, so of course he’s gonna be concerned about Regulus’ well being and not want him to snog some dumbass just cause he found the free time to do so. He wants Regulus to be with someone that is worthy of him, not that James can think of anyone that managed to meet the criteria so far, or that ever will. Well, if he stops to think about it, in an ideal world Regulus would grow old alone and a virgin, but is that really so bad? James will visit him everyday and they’ll play videogames and do star wars marathons. Fuck it. He’ll even listen to Regulus talk about his pretentious books and let him put his depressing emo music, he already does that all the time anyway, he might even sing some of the lyrics that he’s already learned from having to listen to it every time they hang out. Well, and if from time to time Regulus happens to feel kinda alone and horny, James would even be ok to helping him out with that, you know, in the sole interest of keeping him away from losers. If that’s what it takes to save Sirius from having to endure life as the brother in law of some dumb, ugly idiot, James doesn’t mind sacrificing himself for his best friend, call him a fucking altruist if you will.
James bets Barty Crouch has never touched a single episode of Star Wars, or a book in that matter, maybe he can’t even read anything with more than fifty pages or pay attention to any movie that's longer than one hour. Also, he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’ll be able to appreciate Regulus’ music and try to actually understand and connect with the lyrics, which is the most important part to Regulus, he’ll probably try and change subjects every time Regulus tries to explain his interpretation. Basically, James is pretty sure they don’t even have anything in common to talk about, they won’t even be able to have a proper conversation! What are they gonna do? Just kiss the whole time they’re together? Every single minute without stopping so they can avoid awkward silence breaks? Ha.
The thought makes James want to instantly puke.
He hates this party, but he doesn’t want to, actually, he can’t, leave Regulus here with this idiot to do to him whatever the hell he pleases out of James sight. Fuck. He doesn’t even want to think about that. He hates absolutely everything that’s happening right now, but, most of all, he hates Barty Crouch. The reason? Barty Crouch is an idiot.
And he stole James’ football.
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moonlight-prose · 9 months
Note
For your Sinful Soiree, could I possibly request "you're hot when you talk back" from the 1st prompt list, with Joel Miller (because I'm a basic bitch) but maybe with the reader saying it to Joel? ♥️
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MORE AND MORE
a/n: i really went off with this one babes. it was supposed to be filthy and short, but i somehow turned it into a fic about being loved entirely and loving each part of a person. i still made it filthy because you can't have smut without angst. right? i hope you enjoy it!
summary: "he wanted to know every part of you, everything you kept hidden for fear of it being rejected. and you let him."
word count: 1.1k+
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), mentions of violence, angst, cumplay/cumeating, spit play sort of, joel being cocky, the kinkiness of loving someone's dark parts.
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He snapped in the middle of the bar. His hands curling into fists, eyes blazing with a fire that usually came as he held his rifle, the barrel pointed at imminent danger. It burned in his chest, spreading to the very tips of his fingers. Until his vision flared red and he could taste copper in the back of his throat.
It was a fire that only came when he had to protect what he loved—what he couldn’t lose. You’d grown to know it well. Falling in love with the hidden craving he tried to hide beneath the surface—the darkness that lurked beneath.
Except this time the danger came in the form of a man. Drunk and stupid, but still brave enough to challenge the man who could easily take him down. The man who was five seconds away from letting his fist fly through the air until blood stained his skin. But that was the thing about the two of you. When it came to situations like this, you would have let him.
One glance at Tommy standing on the sidelines let Joel know there was no place for violence in the bar. And the snowfall outside was too much of a hindrance to take the fight somewhere else. So Joel snapped. Told the man to shove his comments up his drunken ass or Joel would help him sober up. The gleam in his eyes and the lilt of his tone was all that the other man needed to back off and sulk in the corner.
Giving you a chance to drag Joel home. 
Per the request of Tommy.
Although if you were being honest with yourself, (which you hardly were at a time like this) you dragged Joel home for a different reason altogether. The same reason that you were now willingly scraping your knees on the shitty rug beside your bed. Joel’s voice a breathy rumble of praises and half mumbled comments about how gorgeous you were.
His fingers dug into the back of your neck, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of red, and eyes fixed on the sight of your lips spread around his cock.
“What…ah, fuck sugar your mouth is heaven.” You felt the urge to grin overcome you, but chose instead to press your tongue against the vein that ran on the underside of his cock. “What brought this on?”
Spit trailed down your chin as you raised your head—knowing for certain that you looked like an utter mess. But that didn’t stop him from running his thumb across your bottom lip. Spreading the mixture of your spit and his precum along your cheek—watching in rapture as it shone against your skin.
You shrugged, a grin playing at the corner of your lips. You knew he had an idea about it five seconds into his pants being pulled down. He just needed confirmation that it was true. Your refusal to look at him did just that—causing his own lips to pull into a smirk. A sight that had you pressing your thighs together desperate for some friction.
“So that did it for you huh?”
The cockiness in his demeanor nearly undid you. Heat spread through your cheeks and down to your chest as he continued to watch you. Peeling back another layer in your psyche and yanking it forward before it had time to sink into the darkness. He wanted to know every part of you, everything you kept hidden for fear of it being rejected.
And you let him. Because deep down you knew he wouldn’t turn it away. He’d cherish them, allow them to thrive in his presence. Just as you did with the darkness he hid away from the rest of the world.
Glancing up, you caught the sincere glimmer in his brown eyes. A look that had you melting into his touch, practically preening as he continued to make a mess against your cheek.
“You’re hot when you talk back,” you said softly, as if you were nervous.
He merely smiled, his tongue peeking out to slide against his bottom lip. “You like when I’m like that?”
He didn’t say it explicitly, but you knew what he meant. When he lost his cool, letting a little bit of the Joel that existed before you seep in. The Joel he continued to hide. You wanted to explain that you loved him regardless; you wanted him every way he would give himself to you. But words wouldn’t do your feelings justice anyway.
“I love all of you,” you breathed, leaning into his touch, your hand stroking him slowly—keeping him hurtling towards a release he tried to stave off.
It’s when your lips wrapped around his cock again, pushing yourself until he reached the back of your throat, where you proceeded to swallow, that his words fell free. He moaned, his hand trying not to keep you right there, but failing the second you cupped his balls. A stream of you’re perfect and I love you and I'd do anything to keep you safe fell from his lips, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.
“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum,” he spit, his other hand gripping the sheets so tightly you were sure they would rip any second. So you slid your hand into his, letting him press your palm into the mattress as he would when he was thrusting into you.
You moaned when he thrusted into your mouth, the spurt of precum spreading on your tongue. And that did him in. He came with a hoarse cry of your name, his head falling forward and body crumpling in on himself. You wanted to burn the image of him like this into your mind. So you could see it every time you closed your eyes. But you settled for keeping him this way until he could no longer take the hot wet feel of your mouth, the divine caress of your tongue.
“Sugar I’m gonna—fuck,” he gasped, pulling you off him and watching whatever you couldn’t catch in your mouth drip down your throat. “You tryna kill me?”
A smile crossed your lips as you got up with a slight wince, crawling into his lap. “I wasn’t done yet.” You pressed your finger to his bottom lip, pulling at it lightly. “I wanted all of you in my mouth.
“Shit,” he breathed, his thumb gathering the pearly cum that still streaked down your throat, dragging it up to your mouth. “Well then open wide baby. And then it’s my turn.”
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kairiscorner · 9 months
Text
when grump meets grump <3
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
miguel x grumpy reader
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now if there was anyone else feared upon in the spider society that wasn't named 'miguel o'hara', it was you. the moment you joined the spider society, everyone had a new face to fear.
every day was a challenge for the rest of the spider society, even jess and peter b couldn't go to your quarters without knocking and stating their name and business for coming there. if they wasted your time with an easy picking mission, or a bad joke, or at worst... a childish prank, they'd be squishes spiders in the next minute–or make that in the next five seconds.
you were serious about your job, no nonsense was allowed on your watch. you reminded everyone of a certain leader who was very particular with how things were run at HQ, and how fun was virtually dead when he was doing things his way.
but surprisingly...
"i hate him." you seethed as you clenched your fists, your eyebrows were furrowed as you scrunched up your nose, gritting your teeth. peter b spit out his coffee all over the table by accident, jess fetching a few napkins to clean it up.
"you... you hate miguel?" peter b asked, exasperated and... bewildered, if anything else. you nodded, slowly, as your eye twitched just the slightest at the mention of that damned man's name.
"he thinks he's the shit. honestly, what's wrong with him? why does he make everything about him? you've seen how he plans out the missions, he always delivers the finishing blow. he never lets anyone else do the work, it's always him, him, him!" you exclaim as you got up and threw the table down out of rage.
peter b yelped as jess grabbed him and brought the both of them to the side. they were... extremely surprised you didn't see eye-to-eye with miguel. they always believed that if they weren't miguel's closest allies, you'd be. but no. your rage and hatred for miguel subverted their expectations.
"so glad i never let them hold mayday..." peter b murmured. "well be glad if they don't hear you right no–" jess was telling him, until you turned your head with a scowl at them. "i could hear everything you two were saying, y'know." you warned them, which was their cue to leave.
you cooled down after a few hours, beating anomalies without anyone else holding you down or telling you what to do always hit the spot. but soon, the dreaded hour came.
a holographic image of miguel appeared on your watch, you tried your hardest not to look angry nor disgusted at the sight of him, even when masked. "report back to my office at HQ, we got a situation here." he said curtly, and before you could even ask what was so important that he had to call you, he hung up immediately.
you sighed and groaned in frustration as you opened up a portal to head back to HQ. the moment you stepped back into HQ, you were in miguel's office. you crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow.
"talk to me." you said in a monotonous voice as miguel turned around to look at you, confused. "why're you here?" he asked. you looked at him in disbelief. "o'hara, don't fuck with me. you called me earlier, dumbass." you reminded him, getting a little pissed off at him playing dumb.
miguel looked at you now in disbelief, turning around fully to face you as his platform slowly descended. you tapped your foot impatiently like a cartoon character. "last time i checked, you weren't from earth-8311. what's got you so impatient over nothing?" he asked in a tired voice.
you groaned. "you. you called me? jeez, i thought you of all people would know it's not hilarious to waste another person's valuable time with such stupid, insipid little pranks!" you exclaimed, angry, and a little embarrassed because miguel really did seem like he didn't know what you were talking about. could you have been wrong, for once in your life?
miguel put a hand up to stop your fuming self from framing him from any more allegations of him summoning you to his office. "i didn't call anyone, i was out fighting more variants of the vulture with jess and a new recruit. i didn't call for anyone else, except... dammit." miguel breathed out as he put a hand to his side and pinched the bridge of his nose with furrowed eyebrows.
"lyla!" miguel called for the ai assistant in an irritated voice. lyla showed up a little disheveled, she soon refreshed herself and came back looking more presentable. "what?" she asked as she looked at miguel, who looked at her a little... desperately.
"did you... did you call them?" miguel was asking lyla in a hushed voice, almost as if he did not want you to hear what they were talking about even if it concerned you.
lyla looked at miguel, then at you, then back at miguel, then back at you, then she smiled. she shrugged. "i did." she said in a cheeky, unenergetic voice.
miguel rubbed both of his temples and shut his eyes when lyla admitted she called you. you pit your hands on your hips and raises an eyebrow, still unsure of what was going on.
"but why?" miguel asked in a slightly nervous tone. "you know never to call their line unless... it's absolutely necessary." he reminded lyla, who laughed a little at that.
"i was just doing what you told me to do, test out your automated answering system for video calls. it was arbitrary, just so happened to call them with an automated response. no biggie." she said with a smile and a shrug as miguel looked like he was about to combust out of frustration towards her.
"so what is it? why'd you call?" you asked in an expectant voice, looking at miguel who tried to appear brave, but instead, appeared remorseful.
"i... i didn't call you here." he admitted, looking at you then back away. "lyla was testing out the beta stages of a project i have, um, it was an arbitrary choice, really, just so happened to call you by accident and didn't get to tell you it was a beta test. i'm sorry, for wasting your time and energy for coming here." he apologized.
your eyes widened as you looked at him. "you... apologized?" you asked with a tone of surprise. "you, miguel o'hara, apologized to me?" you asked incredulously as lyla was taking videos of this moment.
miguel put his hands to his hips, hung his head, and nodded. "yeah." he said with a click of his tongue as he looked back up at you. "i'm sorry." he said, and though it was hard to distinguish it from sarcasm or sincerity, miguel really was being sincere with his apology for wasting your time.
you stared at him, you refused to believe he was being honest. "and why would you apologize? i thought everyone here was expected to bow down to you, mr. o'hara." you asked, putting up your cold front.
"well... if you must know, um..." miguel stuttered, trying to find the right words, when lyla finally spoke up on his behalf. "your badassness scares him shitless. he hates having to piss you off because he wants to keep living." she said, and as miguel lunged forward to shut her up, lyla moved from one side of his to the other. "that, and he thinks you're super hot, so there. toodles." she said as she logged off as miguel was going to lunge at her again. he cussed under his breath as you took in what lyla said.
"is it true?" you asked him, your tone softening. he turned around to face you, and looked at you with a nervous expression. "do i... scare you?" you ask miguel as you approached him. he loomed over you, but you always found ways to subdue your opponents–miguel never wanted you to see him as one. in fact, he wanted you to look at him as the complete opposite, really.
"um... yes." he admitted, looking down at the ground. "but, you also find me attractive?" you ask, which sends a warmth through miguel's cheeks. "i... i kinda do." he mutters as he looks away from you.
you put a hand on his chin as you made him look at you, gently turning his face to look at you. "oh, well don't just look away from someone after you confess to them, that's very rude." you said with a joking air.
miguel looked at you, his eyes wide as he saw, for the first time, a playful look on your face that had no malice, no anger, no... grump in it. "i may be grumpy and serious, but that doesn't mean i'm heartless." you tell him as you squeeze his cheeks together.
"man, who'd've thought a big, commanding man such as you was actually scared of little old me? now that just makes me blush." you said with a small laugh as a rosy blush slowly appeared on your cheeks, miguel's blush deepening.
"so, do you... do you feel the same way?" he asks you, pretty hopeful of your answer. you shrug. "i did just admit to jess and peter b how much i hated the way you made everything in missions about you... but maybe you did that because you hate having someone telling you what to do. i hate that too, actually." you say with a grin.
"i kinda like the cut of your jib, o'hara. maybe... maybe you and i can come around to a compromise on our, well..." you trailed off as you searched for the right words.
"attitude problems." lyla chimed in as she disappeared just as immediately as she came in. miguel groaned as you chuckled. miguel smiled up at you. "yeah, maybe we can... take a break from being such grumps." he said.
"hey, you're the grump–i'm always the right one, you know that." you tell him as you give him a sly look.
"is that right now?" miguel asked sarcastically as he smiled at you.
maybe both of your grumpiness would only be a sometime thing now, hopefully.
tags!! @miguelswifey04
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chrollohearttags · 1 year
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nba player! connie and model! reader eye fucking each other on the court, then really fucking each other after the game 🤭
omg new hyperfixation just dropped!! 🥴🥴 I got you!
cw: black fem reader (thick descriptors)hotel/balcony sex, implied oral, backshots, squirting, cumshot
Connie Springer: it was a name that was practically inescapable nowadays. Whether it was for his impeccable skills and stats on the court or his devilishly handsome looks off of it. The NBA’s hottest new rising star; a generational talent that had captured the attention of many, including (y/n) (l/n), who had become somewhat of a prominent figure in the fashion and modeling world over the past few years.
A woman who was as bodacious as you were beautiful, turned heads with every room you walked in. Like a goddess traipsing amongst men..you were an absolute vision of perfection. The same sentiment was mirrored when you stepped foot into the arena for the playoffs game tonight. Telfar in hand, Giuseppe heels on your feet and a Marine Serre bodysuit that practically clung to your curvaceous figure. Sitting court side as many other infamous celebs had done before, (y/n) observed the activities up and down the court, watching the players run drills and get prepared before the game began..even occasionally stealing glances at the camera. It was while you were doing so that you’d catch the attention of number 21, the fine ass point guard with the butter pecan complexion, two sleeves of tattoos trailing down his arms and diamond earrings reminiscent of early Iverson’s. What you wouldn’t give to have something like that on your own roster..but you weren’t alone in your dirty little train of thought. The way that ass was moving when you walked by? He damn near lost all focus and control. Admittedly, he had seen you on Instagram and Twitter a couple times, wanting to hop in your DM’s but figured they’d probably go unanswered as you probably had a laundry list of men chomping at the bit to get with you..still, it wouldn’t stop him from shooting his shot in person!..no pun intended. So the game would kickoff as any other had in the past. Connie is to no one’s surprise, stealing the spotlight like he owns it. Playing his ass off, doing all of his award winning antics and scoring mad points for his team. Everyone was so impressed and (y/n) was no exception..the entire time though? His attention was on you…stealing glances at one another through sultry glares. You couldn’t help but ogle that sweat sheened body and he couldn’t help but do the same. When it came time for intermission, you tried your hardest to look inconspicuous but when he sat down, towel draped around his neck as he squeezed that water bottle and let the fluid squirt into his open mouth..you had to clutch your thighs together immediately! You had never felt something like this…it didn’t help when his gaze shot towards you seconds after. It was getting more than obvious that the two of you had your own side game going on outside of the one taking place. Fluttering those big fluffy lashes..(y/n) kept a keen eye on him for the second half, even tossing him a wink or two when he made a basket. Just for that, he had to flex a little bit! Springer was playing like someone had lit a fire underneath him, pulling out every stop he thought would impress the one he had his sights set on. Up and down the court, tossing free throws as if it were child’s play..shooting you a very confident smirk each time he did so. Tucking your lip between your teeth, your deep set eyes fixated on him until the end of the game. If he didn’t come over and say something, you’d surely be making your way in his direction to break the ice. Little did you know a simple hello and some constant eye contact would be the start of a very interesting night.
it would only take a few hours and five shots of Hennessy at an after party for you to find the courage you needed to turn that subtle silent flirting into a fury of passion. “I’m Connie. I seen you out there…thought I’d come see what was up wit’ you.” And the second he did so, it was lust at first sight. So it came as no surprise when he invited you up to his room, sat you on his bed and started spitting game, that your clothes would wind up twisted in a pile on the ground, shoes discarded at the door and you two fucking like animals on the fourth floor balcony of the DoubleTree hotel. It wasn’t something you’d normally done. An esteemed model hooking up with a star baller in some illustrious one might stand? Oh, the tabloids would be going crazy off of this. But for now, he’d just keep you bent over; leg hoisted over that railing as his balls slapped vehemently against your clit. His tattooed hand cradling your throat with a vice grip as your tongue dangled from your mouth. “Ooh fuck!…this dick feels so good..” crying out into the night air as this man…this complete and total stranger outside of his namesake brought you to yet another climax. “Ah…damn baby, I ain’t never had a squirter before..this pussy some pressure..shit.” Having started this steamy little affair in between the sheets where he looked you dead in your eyes, chain dangling above your forehead as he fucked you slowly. A hand on the headboard and your thick, trembling legs laid across his shoulders. Creaming and making an absolute mess of his cock…shortly after finding yourself riding him atop the suede carpet so that you could keep your balance and bounce on his dick the way you really wanted to. In a way that would have him flying you out to every city he played in. To now being hit from the back atop a balcony for potential passerby’s to see. However, his only focus was you and vice versa. Turning to look back at him, you’d flick your tongue and grin. “That’s because you’ve never fucked somebody like me…” and after this? he didn’t think he could ever mess with anyone else the same.
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ghostaholics · 10 months
Note
for soulmate au:
would johnn and reader cross paths again and if they would what would it look likee
would they maybe find a way to love eachother despite johnn's proffesion
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𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒖
here’s more on what happens between them
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After their long talk, they decide to regrettably, but amicably part ways – neither of them like the circumstances, but they agree it’s for the best. She sends him off with a hug; they hold onto each other for a little bit longer than they should. It tides them over for maybe a week. Cue a whole montage of them in their respective places unable to adjust back to normal life for a while.
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Then, as previously mentioned, it starts to hurt. At first, it starts off like a little twinge – a bones-deep sadness that comes and goes every so often but she tries to ignore the feeling. It gets worse not long after, a visceral chest pain that’s so awful it sends her straight to A&E; she thinks she might be having a heart attack. Who’s your emergency contact? they question. Don’t have one, she says, and it sends another stab of pain through her. The entire hospitalization is about a day-long affair. They run every test in the book, they give her clot-busters, vasodilators — hell, they’re contemplating cutting her open for invasive procedures even though the labs don’t say she’s had a myocardial infarction, just an EKG that had some anomalies but everything else was fine. Someone, a cardiologist maybe, has the sense to ask, How’s your soulmate? And she replies in a grim tone, ‘We don’t talk.’ Well, there’s the problem.
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Price caves. He caves so fucking bad; calls her up (they’d agreed only to contact each other for emergencies), because to be honest, he wasn’t sure if it was just him or if she’d been feeling it too – emotional pain was never in the books but it seems like now it is. This is new. This is bad. His voice is gruff like usual but the concern is evident behind his words. And the second they hear each other down the line, there’s a weight that’s been lifted – the pain dulls. Relief. Not quite gone altogether, but more manageable. Neither of them feel like they’re on the brink of death anymore. And there are just shaky breaths being exchanged on both ends as they try to come to grips with what’s been happening. So, cutting all contact, going cold-turkey, is clearly not going to work for either of them. They know they can’t be doing this, but the more they talk over the phone, the easier it gets to breathe, to function normally. And so it begins.
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Their relationship runs on a schedule; a loophole – every Sunday, 0600 her time. They count it down, too. Exactly one hour. Just enough for them to keep the pain at bay, to go about their lives until the next call. Sometimes longer when he knows he's about to go off-the-grid for a mission and won't make the usual Sunday time. They talk about anything and everything: she usually talks about her personal life, old stories from her past, what she’s making for breakfast, what her plans are for the week, and him – stuff about the 141 (never anything confidential or gory) like what sort of antics they get up to, spends an entire call telling her about Villa Claras and why they’re the superior cigar (kind of a nerd about those, whiskey, and the Reds, which she finds endearing – actually very knowledgeable regarding many things that he can talk her ear off about for hours). She falls in love with his voice first, the rest comes after slowly.
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The more times they use this loophole, the weaker it gets. It starts off with him asking for five more minutes; yeah, he hears the alarm go off. Maybe a little bit longer will buy him more time throughout the week until the next call. Nothing they haven’t done before. But five turns into ten the week after, then twenty, and so forth. She says his name softly, interrupts him when they reach 0930 during one of their talks. I know what you're doing John. We can't. And here's the thing: it's a case of 'she fell first, but he fell harder.'
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It doesn't last as long anymore; three days now until the longing starts back up again. And he calls her. He fucking calls her in the middle of the week on a Wednesday. John— She feels it too. I had to hear your voice again, he says with urgency. Because he just couldn't fucking help himself.
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So they schedule something for Wednesdays. It'll help. It should. And it does, for all of two weeks until the same bloody thing happens again. This isn't sustainable. He knows that he’s not going to retire anytime soon, and even more that that – he knows that she shouldn't be doomed to live this kind of life. Not for for him, but most especially not fair for her. It's like she said, isn't it? She waited an entire lifetime for him. Why keep putting her through that? So he mentions this, kills him to do it: you deserve better; I know there's someone out there who can give you the things that I can't (Sunday mornings face-to-face over tea, to be near one another in a way where they can see the other's okay, where the hurt is non-existent; intimacy and affection and proper romance; marriage, growing old together, something quiet and normal.) She's already taken on his pain. He figures that it's his turn to bear it for the both of them now.
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She tells him, without reservation, that it's the stupidest thing he's ever said. And before time's up for this call she uses the last few minutes to admit what's been on her mind lately. I don't want any of that stuff if it's not with you. What would be the point? It took me a while but I've finally figured out what soulmates are for; not for all the things you've said, as nice as they are – or would be; it’s simple, really. I was put on this earth to love you and I think that I've fulfilled my purpose. Nothing else matters.
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She waits for his call on Sunday, 0600 on the dot – he's always punctual, she knows; this time is no different. But she doesn't even get a 'hello' out before he speaks into the phone: I'm outside.
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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months
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📖Make it Stick: Pt. 4
The Dragon, The Princess & The Knight
Rating: Explicit
Chapter Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve
Word Count: 4331
Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers
Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.
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Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.
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Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!
The Dragon’s Den is located on the bottom two floors of a five-story building. Bucky owns the entire thing. There are offices and meeting rooms on the third floor, a large gathering space on the fourth, and his personal apartment on the fifth. It’s a penthouse: luxurious, all windows but not much of a view, given the location. But that’s okay. It serves its purpose.
Lena gets quiet when they take her up in the elevator, but she’s keyed up and loose from the drugs, Bucky can tell. Her eyes roam all around the familiar apartment when they get up there, from the luxe couches and the fireplace, to the kitchen and bar, to the bed. It isn’t a canopy bed so much as it is a mattress, richly-dressed and surrounded by semi-sheer drapes that hang from the ceiling in every direction, pooling sumptuously on the floor and turning the area around the bed into its own room.
It’s a fuck pad—exactly what Bucky designed it for.
Bucky follows her there, watching her looking at the bedspread with dazed eyes. She’s high, the drugs coursing through her system. That’s good. The aphrodisiacs were part of the plan from the beginning, to help her loosen up for what comes next. Bucky doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt over it. If Lena refuses to admit her feelings on her own, then he’s glad to give her a little help until she can. He comes up to stand behind her as she trails her fingers over the bedspread. His hands settle on her hips. “Haven’t changed a thing, malyshka,” he murmurs, bending to kiss lightly at her neck, just under her ear. “Kept it for you.”
“For your whores,” she mutters.
Far from upsetting him, the accusation actually makes Bucky smile, because it means she cares. “No,” he tells her with a low chuckle. “I haven’t been with another woman other than you, sweet pea. Not in nine whole years.” He’d slipped in the beginning, just in that first year, before he’d given up on morality and decided that she was going to be it for him. Before he’d been sure of her feelings for him in return. “Not, one,” he repeats against her neck, smug.
She whirls around in his arms, eyes wide and lips parted. Her surprise turns to a scowl. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” he says calmly, holding her gaze, and he can see the doubt creep into her expression, the wavering disbelief.
“He’s not,” Steve adds, from where he’s fixing drinks over at the bar—straight on the rocks for them, cranberry spritzer for her. He’s using the Russo-Baltique without having asked, and Bucky concurs: the occasion calls for it. Steve stirs the drinks with a clink of ice. “He loves you Polina. Don’t know why you refuse to accept it.”
Bucky sees her cheeks color prettily, and he cups the side of her face. “You really scared me this time,” he tells her, dropping all pretense and just letting her see him. “Ten months? That’s too long, Lena.” He shakes his head, sees her swallow. He edges closer and pulls on her waist so that she’s pressed up against him, her eyes skipping over his face uncertainly. “Too long,” he whispers, before he dips down and captures her mouth in a kiss that feels like coming home.
It’s not like it’d been downstairs. She’s off her guard now, all emotions and no defenses, and even though her body stiffens for the barest second, after that she goes soft against him, sobbing once against his mouth in a way that says she’s missed him, too. Missed this.
Bucky kisses her harder, hand sliding to pull her in at her lower back and cradle the back of her head. He holds her and lets her hide in their kiss for a few more seconds. It almost aches to pull away and end it, but Bucky knows himself, knows he won’t be able to keep from pushing her back the handful of steps to the bed if he doesn’t pause now. He doesn’t want this night to go wrong. He needs her to consent at the beginning, otherwise he’ll have no leverage over her, and she’ll be right back to her old ways in no time. “Come on,” he coaxes, pulling back and taking her hand in his. She’s so small, he remembers, as her fingers slip into his. “Let’s sit down for a little while, huh? C’mere.”
He walks her over to the couch, sitting her down between him and Steve. Steve’s turned the fireplace on, and he hands her the vodka cranberry, which she takes with a meek little ‘thank you’, head tucked down over her drink. Steve and Bucky’s eyes meet from over her shoulder, communicating silently, as they’ve become so adept at doing. Bucky told Steve that he might send him away tonight, if it looked like Lena couldn’t handle it. But so far, his presence seems to be helping her to stay calm, and that’s good. Bucky wants her relaxed. He wants her between them.
He sips from his own drink and curls his arm over her shoulder, and Steve leans close on her other side. Bucky reaches to touch her bandaged forearm. He trails a single finger over the ridiculous neon cheetah spots, connecting them on the way down to her wrist. “Does it hurt?” he asks, fully anticipating the shake of the head she gives him. He’d used numbing salve, and he knows from experience that ink as minor as hers doesn’t tend to hurt once bandaged. His own back is tight and uncomfortable. He’s still shirtless, and he knows he should’ve slathered himself with some of the ointment too, downstairs, but his attention is all on her. As it should be. If his own ink heals poorly, he’ll just have Natasha touch it up later. Bucky hums when she shyly admits that no, it doesn’t hurt. He sips his drink and watches her keenly. “Good,” he says, I don’t want you to hurt, only to feel good.”
Her little mouth pouts, brow wrinkled as she keeps her eyes lowered. Bucky reaches out to guide her chin up with a single finger underneath her jaw. “Hey,” he says softly. “You do understand why I had to do it, don’t you?” He tilts his head, waiting her out, and she looks embarrassed as she avoids his eyes and licks her lips. Bucky hums and pulls his hand back. She does understand, she just doesn’t want to say so. “You’re mine, Lena,” he tells her gently. “You always have been. Ever since that first time you let me in between your legs.”
Her eyes flick up to him, widened, and then narrowed. Her flush deepens and her lips part like maybe she’ll try and rebuff him. Steve, as well-timed as he is with these things, jumps in at just the right moment. “Hey, you like that?” he asks her, indicating the glass she’s holding. “Did I make it right?”
Lena nods, peeking over at him. “Yeah. It’s … it’s my favorite. … Thanks, Steve.”
He offers a soft smile and turns into her. “I always remember what you like best, honey.” The way he says it makes her fluster, her smile faltering from nerves. Bucky makes a gesture with his hand from where he’s got his arm around her waist, and Steve takes the cue and sidles closer, wrapping his arm over the back of the couch, right behind her shoulders. It puts the three of them even closer together than before, intent unmistakable.
Lena looks up at Steve, who is sipping his drink but keeping his eyes on her, and then she looks to Bucky, brows drawn together in worry. “Bucky …”
“It’s okay,” he soothes her, downing a gulp of his drink before setting it aside, expensive liquor be damned. He holds her closer, turned in, using his arm around her waist to keep her held against him. He reaches up and turns her uncertain face back towards him. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay. Steve just wants to be close with you. Like I do.” He lets their lips brush together and nudges her nose with his, affectionate. “He cares about you, y’know?”
Behind her, Steve’s hand has started sliding up over her thigh, petting her from over the silk of her dress. “Always have,” he murmurs.
She inhales and makes to turn her head, but Bucky holds her still. “Shh sh sh, hey, look at me, Lena.” She does, and he looks her in her drugged-up little eyes. “If you want him to go, just say so. He will.” He’s whispering at this point, and he leans in and kisses her softly on the mouth, taking his time, letting her feel the press of his lips until she moans very quietly. He pulls back, “But if you’re worried about what he’ll think of you and me, you shouldn’t.”
“Wha?”
Bucky smiles, glad that they used the aphrodisiac. If she was sober right now, he’s sure Lena would bolt. “Steve doesn’t care,” he tells her gently, petting the side of her face, stroking her hair. “He knows you’re my half-sister, and he doesn’t care.”
Lena whines and squirms, trying to hide her face in his palm. Behind her, Steve leans in and kneads her shoulder. “I’d like to stay, honey. Be with you and Bucky, if you’ll let me.”
Bucky gives her a tender, coaxing look. “What do you want, Princess? You just tell me. You want Steve to stay? He cares about you, you know. That’s why I told him about us. Told him a long time ago. And you know what he said? Know what he thought?” He tucks her hair behind her ear and whispers, “He said he could always tell, and he thought it was fucking hot.”
Lena whimpers, but he hushes the sound away. “No, sweetheart. Mm mn. He doesn’t care. Look at him. Look in his eyes. Go on.” He moves her gently, forcing her to turn her head to where Steve is waiting right there on the other side. Steve’s arm tightens behind her, his face in hers, eyes darkened. “Ask him,” Bucky prods, wanting to make her do it herself. He can only see the back of her head when she’s turned into Steve, but he stays close, tucked up behind her, pulling her hair back in one hand and stroking her skin. He kisses the back of her shoulder. “Ask him what he wants.”
“Steve?” her voice is quiet, shy, and Bucky’s lips curl against her skin when he can tell that Steve’s gently pulled her into a kiss.
They kiss for a long moment, slow, mouths making soft little sounds that make Bucky’s pulse quicken. Then Steve’s murmuring, “Want you to feel good, honey. You’re so beautiful, you know that? Just want to make you feel good and so safe.” He kisses her again, and Lena moans quietly.
Bucky watches them kiss, his dick straining against the seam of his pants as it hardens. This is the exact scenario he’s been fantasizing about for years, now. And now Lena’s right here, between them, softening against Steve’s coaxing advances just like Bucky’s always hoped she would. He presses up more fully against her back, joining them, one hand curling round her waist again. “Steve and I share a lot, sweet pea,” he tells her quietly, kissing across her neck and shoulder while Steve keeps softly making out with her. Bucky lets his hand slip down to her hip and inwards to her belly. He splays his fingers out wide and presses, getting another tiny moan out of her. “We’re close,” he whispers, kissing along her shoulder. “Closer than most friends are. You understand?” He waits a moment, then reaches around for Steve, cupping the side of his face while he’s still kissing Lena. Steve pulls back and meets his eyes, pupils blown, and Bucky feels his dick twitch at how dark his irises have gotten. “Show her,” he murmurs.
Steve sits there for a second more, breathing open mouthed and staring with lust-blown eyes, then he groans quietly and leans over Lena’s shoulder to kiss Bucky.
They make out for a moment, though it feels like longer, the hot and heavy press of their mouths harsher with each other than they’d been with Lena. Bucky drags his teeth against Steve’s lower lip as he pulls away, his hand still on Steve’s cheek. He guides him back to Lena, looking between them—Steve’s lax face and Lena’s shocked, aroused look. Bucky purrs, “Go on.”
When Lena looks to him again, unsure, he shushes her and promises, “It’s okay to want it, puppy. Steve and I want it. S’nothing wrong. Just the three of us. Steve and I want to make you feel good.” He kisses her neck again, while Steve takes hold of her face.
“You still gonna let us do that, sweetheart?” he asks her. “Mm?”
“I … ohn …”
Bucky peeks over her shoulder and sees Steve’s hand cupping her breast through the silk of her dress. Lena’s body presses into it instinctually, and Bucky groans at the sight. Fuck, he wants them all naked and on the bed together, now.
He growls quietly and pulls Lena back to him. Her lips look swollen from the kissing. Bucky maintains a good amount of scruff, verging on a short beard; and Steve, while usually clean shaven, is sporting a bit of stubble now that it’s so late at night. Lena’s chin is rubbed pink from both of them kissing her. The sight makes Bucky smile. He can’t wait to mess her up so badly. Steve ducks down to kiss her throat while he keeps feeling up her breasts, and Bucky goes up to whisper in her ear. “See? It’s nice, isn’t it? Does it feel good, puppy? Having two men’s hands on you at once?”
“Ohn … I, mmm.”
“Yeah? You like how it feels when he touches you there?” Bucky asks. In his arms, Lena nods and gives a breathy little ‘ah ha’. Bucky holds her back to him, both arms wrapping around her waist while Steve lavishes her with attention in front. He palms her breasts, sucks a hickey against her collarbone while he plucks at her nipples from over the silk. His hands wander all over her body, insatiable, over her thighs and waist, touching Bucky’s arms that are wrapped around her as he goes. Steve nuzzles at the side of her jaw and locks eyes with Bucky, lips parted. “She’s gorgeous,” he whispers, and Lena shivers between them. “Thank you.”
Bucky’s eyes gleam back at him, and he lets one of his hands slide down her belly again, down to the vee of her legs. He starts rubbing light circles there, slip-sliding over the fabric of her dress, and Lena’s breath catches. “Yeah,” Bucky murmurs to her, still staring at Steve. “You’re welcome, Stevie.”
Steve groans when he sees what Bucky’s doing. “Oh, honey,” he coos, talking to Lena while Bucky’s hand presses and rubs in delicate patterns over the front of her sex. Steve leans into her, presses their foreheads together. “Does that feel good? It does, doesn’t it?” he purrs, egging her and Bucky on at the same time. His hand lands on top of Bucky’s and rides the motion of his fingers, and Bucky groans quietly. “Look down, honey,” Steve whispers. “Look down at us touching you, please.”
She does, obeying Steve and looking at their hands molded to her mound. She makes a devastated little noise in her throat, hips jumping forward. Bucky chuckles lowly and circles the flats of his fingers right where he knows she needs it. “Is Steve right?” he asks, voice like gravel. “S’this feel so good, puppy? You like it when I rub like this, hm?”
She whines and refuses to answer, but the response of her body is more than enough. She can’t stop grinding forward against their hands. Bucky hums darkly and keeps rubbing, his chin hooked over her shoulder to watch his and Steve’s hands working together. Steve’s other hand is on her breast, thumb swiping back and forth over her tightly pebbled nipple from over the silk.
It makes Bucky ache so bad it almost hurts, to finally get to see his best friend, closest confidant and sometimes-lover touch their girl intimately for the first time. Their girl, Christ. Could he be that lucky? “Yeah,” Bucky breathes against her ear. “Yeah, you like it just like this. I remember. Tight little circles, right here, pushing down, workin’ the seam of your panties right over you clit. That’s what feels nice, huh princess?” He kisses her temple and works his hand a little firmer. “Are you soaking through ‘em yet?”
Lena moans louder than before and tosses her head, twisting in his arms, but Bucky hauls her in even harder against him, his one arm around her waist holding her still like an iron bar. “Stevie,” he says, “Feel her. Tell me.”
Lena cries out prettily when Steve’s hand sneaks between her legs and presses against her panties. He hums and chuckles, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “She’s soaked.”
Bucky purrs smugly against the side of Lena’s face, nuzzling her burning cheek. “See? Can’t hide from us, malyshka. I know. I know what you like, and you’d better believe I’m gonna teach Steve every little bit of it.” She squirms against him weakly, embarrassed, and that only gets him harder, makes him want it more. “Steve,” he says while he pets Lena’s hair to calm her. “Let’s move this to the bed.”
Steve’s eyes light up and he nods. He turns his attentions to Lena and Bucky lets her go so Steve can pull her up with him as he stands, holding her to his body and then scooping her up entirely when she stumbles on her feet. “Aw, come here, honey,” he murmurs into her hair, carrying her over to set her gently down on the bed.
Bucky picks up his tumbler and faces the fireplace as he finishes the expensive liquor inside before it can go too watery from the ice. He’s just drinking the last of it when he hears Steve murmuring gently from back by the bed,
“There you go. Let’s take this off. You’re okay, easy sweetheart.”
Bucky stands and goes over to them. Steve’s got Lena lying back on the mattress and is sitting there beside her, gently edging the straps of her dress over her shoulders. He’s taking his time, leaning down to pet her waist or kiss her sweetly whenever her nerves pick up and she looks like she’ll start making a fuss. “Shh, honey. It’s okay. You’re beautiful. Just want to see you.”
Bucky walks to the other side of the bed and makes quick work of his clothes. He keeps his briefs on purely as a matter of caution. Better to go slow, rather than rush things too fast and scare her. He climbs onto the mattress and meets Steve’s eyes, giving him a look that says he should do the same. Steve nods and pulls back to stand and undress.
Bucky takes the moment to pull Lena with him, back to sit against the headboard. He shushes her when she fusses, guiding her to relax back against him. Her dress, little more than a silk slip to begin with, slides down her body as they move, bearing her breasts. She squeaks and moves to pull it back up, but Bucky grabs her hands and tells her it's okay. “You heard Steve,” he murmurs against her skin. “We both think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, sweet pea. No need to fuss about showing us your beautiful body.” He lets her hands go so that he can cup her breasts. Their soft weight in his hands makes him ache with another wave of yearning. God, he’s missed her so much.
“Bucky,” she breathes, turning her face into him. Her eyes are closed in shyness, making Bucky smile.
“It’s okay,” he coos. “We want you. We want you between us. Are you gonna be my sweet girl, hm? Gonna let us love you, sora mica?”
It’s a risky thing to say at this point in the game, calling her little sister right in front of Steve. She squirms back against him, upset but turned on and unable to hide it. Bucky smiles and wraps his arms around her fully, hugging her back against him. “Look at him,” he whispers into her ear, grin audible in his voice. “Isn’t he pretty?”
Lena stares at Steve, open mouthed and dazed. She makes a tiny little sound in the back of her throat—nerves and arousal both. Bucky nods with his face hooked over her shoulder. “Yeah, I know. Why do you think I fuck him?”
Lena tenses, then she turns her head to peek at him. Bucky grins, because he can see how she finds it hot. “You like that?” he laughs, kissing her cheek. “Mm hm. Thought you might.” Deviously, he holds her breast and tweaks her nipple, murmuring, “I remember your Pornhub playlists, puppy. I know you like to watch two men fucking.”
She squirms and whines and tosses her head, but it’s only in embarrassment and not to get away from him, and besides, Bucky loves a bit of a struggle from his girl. He just laughs and hauls her in against his body. “Oh, calm down,” he scolds her. “You’re supposed to be a grown woman. You can admit when something turns you on.”
She huffs and fights him another second, but stills when Steve climbs up onto the bed to join them. He’s in nothing but his boxer briefs, and Bucky hums at the sight of him. Steve’s got a gorgeous body. Bucky’s never considered himself bisexual, but Steve has been his one exception. Bucky’s always wanted him. “Help our girl out,” he tells him. “She’s overdressed.”
Steve smiles and crawls over, taking a moment to cradle Lena’s face and kiss her before pulling back. He gently edges her dress down over her hips and legs, tossing it aside. He pushes her legs apart and lies down between them, face right at her panties. Bucky feels his cock harden even further at the sight of Steve running his hands over her thighs, thumbs running along the edge of her panties. Bucky groans and Steve’s eyes twinkle up at them.
“Relax, hon,” he tells Lena. “Lie back against your brother. Let him hold you.”
Lena’s breath catches at how openly he just says it, and Bucky smirks down at Steve in approval. Steve knows the game they’re playing, the delicate balance of keeping her calm and riling her up. “See?” Bucky says against the shell of her ear. “I told you: he’s into it. You don’t have to be shy.”
“Steve,” she breathes, “I …”
“You want this?” he asks, staring up at her with dark eyes as he pulls her panties down slowly. “Gonna let me taste you, honey?”
She lifts her hips for him without thought, and Steve grins and pulls her panties all the way off, tossing them aside. “Good girl,” he praises, settling down between her legs again. His focus shifts down, and he groans at the sight of her. “Oh, sweetheart …”
Bucky chuckles lowly and watches Steve getting his very first look. “I know, right?” Lena whines between them and Bucky slides his hand up to cover her mouth, muffling her cries. “Shh, Lena. The grownups are talking.”
Below, Steve snickers, his hands pushing Lena’s thighs further apart as he stares. “Fuck, Buck.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier pussy,” Steve breathes, his mouth only inches from her core. He frames her with his hands, using his thumbs to gently explore her folds. “God, Lena.” He talks to her without looking away from where he’s touching. “You’re perfect.”
Under Bucky’s palm, she makes little noises of embarrassment, “Mmn, hmmhh …”
Bucky chuckles and pulls her hard against him. “Stop fighting it, puppy,” he teases, licking a hot swipe up her neck. He feels her resultant shiver. “You’re going to love it. We’re gonna make you feel so good. You just have to give into it.” He kisses her skin. “I’m gonna take my hand away now, and you’re going to admit that this feels good, you hear me?” He puts a little sternness into his voice, because he knows from experience that she responds well to it. He brings his hand from her mouth, down to her neck, giving a little squeeze. “Tell us,” he says. “C’mon. I don’t want to hear you lying to me now, girl.”
“Bucky,” she pants, voice wrecked. The aphrodisiacs are doing their job. “I … I want …”
“What?” Steve asks, looking up at her. He kisses her inner thigh, right next to her sex, and she moans. “What do you want, honey? Want me to touch you?” He lets his thumb trail over her, softly moving over the hood of her clit. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Lena. These pretty pink folds? Fuck, I’ve never seen such a juicy pussy.”
Lena moans, and Bucky knows they’ve got her now, she’s not going to fight them anymore. He drags his teeth over her neck and murmurs, “Tell him how you like it, puppy. Go on.” When she doesn’t say anything, just lies there panting and squirming, whining for his touch, Bucky chuckles and kisses her. “That’s alright, sweet pea. I can tell him.” He locks eyes with Steve and feels his belly clench at what they finally have between them, now. They’ve talked about it for so long, and now it’s finally happening. Bucky tightens his hand on Lena’s neck, giving her just enough pressure to restrict her breathing the tiniest bit. “I know all your kinks, don’t I?” he purrs, and she whines and nods, panting,
“Bucky, fuck, please …”
“There’s my girl,” he praises. He looks down at Steve. “Rub her like you were doing, just barely touching her clit, just lightly now. Our girl’s sensitive, ain’t that right, puppy?”
Lena nods, chin bumping his hand.
Steve follows Bucky’s every direction, gently circling his thumb over her clit, trailing just the tip of his finger through her folds, smearing her wetness all over. “So wet,” he breathes. Carefully, looking up to watch Lena’s face as he does it, he presses his finger into her while still rubbing her clit. Lena moans the prettiest little sound. “Yeah?” Steve asks, looking up at her. “That feel nice, honey?” He fucks her gently on just that one finger, curling it to get at the soft spot inside. He lowers his face and laps at her clit while his thumb keeps working it from above.
“There you go,” Bucky murmurs. “Just like that. That’s how she likes it.” He kisses Lena’s neck and uses his other hand to palm and pluck at her breast. “Work her clit and fuck her on your fingers—give her another, two, yeah. Curl ‘em and just keep working her real gentle just like that. She’ll cum that way.”
Steve listens and does exactly as Bucky says, keeping his hand rocking in her slow and steady, his other hand spread out over her belly, pushing down, thumb flicking softly back and forth on her clit while he laves gently over her lips. Sure enough, Lena’s breath quickens, her body growing taught, then shaking, trembling as she gets close. “Oh … nnn, ughn … ohplease, oh.”
“There you go, little one, just let it out now, let it happen.” Bucky coaxes her through it, holding her tightly as she jerks and cries out in pleasure. Below, Steve groans and nods his face against her as he feels her body ripple around his fingers, and Bucky growls. “Theere you go, oh, good girl.”
“Fuck,” Steve exhales, looking up at Bucky with wet lips. “She’s creamin’ all over my hand, fuck.”
“Show me.” Bucky grinds his hips forward against Lena’s backside for a little bit of relief, and when Steve gets up to him and presents his hand, Bucky groans at the smell of her on his fingers. He opens his mouth for a taste, staring at Steve, and sucks her juices straight off his fingers.
Steve’s eyes blacken and he curses. He pulls his hand back and checks on Lena. “You okay honey?” he asks, holding her face and giving her a kiss. “Feel good?”
“Mm. Mm hm.” She’s still got her eyes closed from the orgasm, and slowly, she opens them. Steve smiles down at her. She sighs and smiles, too. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, hon. You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”
“You should show Steve some attention,” Bucky murmurs in her ear. “Here, lie down. C’mon. Steve, get on your back.” He moves them so that Lena is lying on her side alongside Steve. She’s at the level of his hip, and Bucky lies behind her and guides her hand to the front of Steve’s underwear. “Touch him,” he coaxes, curling her fingers with his own over the line of his erection. “There you go. Come on now, princess, I know you know how to do this part. Make Steve feel good while I fuck you, okay?”
Lena’s gone on the drugs and on her own arousal, inhibitions nowhere to be seen as she turns into Steve to kiss his abs and rub her cheek against his lower belly, nosing at the trail of hair that leads down into his underwear. She curls her hand from over the fabric and squeezes. Tentatively, she edges down the waistband. “Oh,” she whispers, sounding surprised when she gets him uncovered and he kicks his underwear off for her. Bucky watches and hurriedly strips his off as well, crowding back in behind her.
“You like that, honey?” Steve rumbles from above, grabbing at his balls and giving them a tug. “Go on. You can touch me.”
She does, taking Steve’s heavy cock in her hand and closing her fingers around him. He’s just as hard as Bucky is, if not more. Bucky didn’t miss how he’d been grinding on the mattress when he had his face buried between Lena’s legs.
While she slowly gains confidence stroking him, Bucky curls up behind her and plays along her folds from behind, gathering her slick on his fingers and trailing them back to her tight little furl. She inhales sharply in surprise when he starts rubbing her there, applying gentle circles of pressure, gradually, until his finger slips in.
“Ah,”
“Shh.” He kisses her shoulder blade, hushing her. “S’okay, little one. You’ve taken me back here before. It’s just one right now, you feel? S’just my finger.” She relaxes incrementally as he fucks her on his hand, one finger and then two in her ass, just giving her shallow little thrusts that get her used to the feeling and help her loosen up. He rubs his thumb along her taint and lets it dip teasingly into her cunt with the motion of his hand. “Touch yourself,” he whispers. “Go on, malyshka. Be a good girl now and rub on your pussy while you make Steve feel good.”
She whimpers, but after a second he can feel her obeying, squirming to get her free hand down between her legs to touch herself. Bucky hums, pleased, and returns to prepping her asshole. “You know, sweet pea,” he whispers, speaking against the bend of her neck. “You should put him in your mouth.” He kisses her neck and gives a tiny little nip. “He made you feel good with his mouth, didn’t he? You should do the same. Come on. Just the tip, baby girl. Just let him feel your sweet, wet mouth sucking on the head. Give ‘im a taste.” He turns his fingers in her ass, scissoring them apart to stretch her rim.
“Hnngh.”
“Your mouth,” Bucky reminds softly. “Give him your mouth, puppy.”
Lena’s adorable and beautiful when she gets like this, all trembles and nonverbal squeaks and whines, like a dumb little doll once you really get her worked up, and Bucky’s always gone nuts for the way she looks like an absolute fuck doll when she’s got her mouth full of cock.
Steve must think the same, because he groans from above and stares down at her, his hands coming down to rest on her head as she slurps him in. “Shit, baby, yeah. Fuck.”
Bucky hums lowly. “Careful now, Stevie. She can’t take too much. Jus’ let her play.”
Steve grunts and nods, looking pained. But he holds still and lets Lena explore at her own pace. Bucky smirks and goes back to work behind her. He reaches behind himself to the edge of the mattress, finding the lube. He brings it back and coats his fingers good before returning them to her ass. He takes his time, enjoying the wet sounds of Lena’s mouth sucking Steve, while he wets his fingers up and massages her tight little hole, coaxing her open and stuffing lube inside, coming back again and again for more. He plays with her until she’s good and loose, her body finally giving way to the intrusion of two fingers and losing that instinctive reaction as the muscle gives in. “Theere it is,” he murmurs, giving her a third finger for a few moments just to be sure. Lena whines with her mouth full of cock and Bucky scrapes his teeth over her neck. “You still touchin’ yourself, puppy?”
“Mmm, mmph hmm.”
“Good girl. I’m gonna push inside now.”
She whines around Steve’s cock, and while Bucky lines himself up, Steve hushes her, whispering, “Shhh, Lena. You can take it. I know you can. He told me, you know that? Told me how tight you are back there, how good you take him.” Lena squeals and moans at his words, but Steve keeps his hands clamped on the back of her neck and her shoulder, not letting up. “Go on, Buck,” he pants. “Take her.”
It’s such a fucking tight squeeze, but Bucky takes his time and waits her out, pushing, and when his cockhead finally slips inside, it gets easier from there. He waits, knowing his girl’s body well. She needs to settle, adjust to the intrusion before it can start feeling good for her. So he holds still and pets her hip while she chokes and cries out at the intrusion. Steve’s cock slips from her mouth and she gasps, “Ahhn! ohnn…” Poor thing, she’s so overwhelmed.
Bucky slips his hand around where she’s forgotten about touching herself. He knocks her hand out of the way and takes over, rubbing tight circles down over her clit and whispering filth into her hear. “Fuck, baby, you lettin’ daddy in? Yeah you are, so good, sweetie pie. Doing so good for me. You’re my good little girl.” In front of him, Lena sobs, and he can tell from the sound of it that it’s in humiliated pleasure. He groans and slides his way in, pushing until he’s buried to the hilt, hips against her ass. “Fuuck,” he hisses, holding still to calm himself down. He doesn’t want this to be over yet. He’s not done with her. He rubs her clit and purrs in her ear, “How’s that feel, huh? S’it a lot? Shh sh sh I know, I know. But you’re so good to let daddy have this, little girl. Feels so fucking good inside your tight little ass, you’ve got no idea.”
She shivers and cries, hips jumping, panting open mouthed against Steve’s stomach when Bucky pinches her clit and rubs it just so. “Ohgn! Bucky…”
“Steve,” he grunts. “Get down here.”
Steve’s there in a second, sliding down in the bed and pressing up against Lena’s front, sandwiching her between their bodies. “Hey darlin’,” he whispers, holding her face and keeping her attention. “You’re so pretty,” he tells her, kissing her to keep her distracted.
“Touch her,” Bucky breathes. “Get her ready.”
Steve does, rubbing her clit and teasing along her folds before slipping inside of her with two fingers. She groans long and low at the added stretch. “Shh,” Steve hushes gently, curling his fingers. “You’re okay.”
“Fuck, I can feel your fucking fingers,” Bucky gasps. “Unnh.”
In front, Steve gets Lena to open up for him, dipping into her mouth with his tongue and kissing her to keep her calm. “Hey, honey. I want to fuck you, too. You think you can try for me? Let me slip inside with your brother?” He says it on purpose, Bucky suspects, just to let her know again that he’s not judging her, that he likes how wrong it is, just like they do. She squeals and jerks in their arms when he says it, but they easily still her struggles. “Shhh, Lena. It’s okay. I want you,” Steve promises, holding her still. “I want both of you.” He rocks his hips forward, letting his dick slide against her folds, the head bumping Bucky’s balls.
“Nooo,” Lena moans, “I can’t, please, I can’t.”
“You can take it, puppy,” Bucky coos, knowing that they’ll have to force it, if they want to find out if she can take them both. She’s too nervous. “Steve,” he says tightly. “Just do it. Go slow.”
Lena cries out and tries to fight them, but she’s so small and weak, easy to maneuver and hold still. Steve goes to his back and pulls her on top of him, and with Bucky pressing her down from behind, she doesn’t stand a chance. Steve wraps his arm around her back like a steel band and uses his other hand to guide himself into her pussy. “Holy shhh—” he hisses, going silent as he slips inside.
“Oh my fucking god,” Bucky breathes, eyes slamming shut at the pressure, at the feeling of Steve’s cock through her walls. “Oh, Steve, oh fuck.”
Between them, Lena sobs, overwhelmed, and Bucky readjusts himself, trying to take some of his weight off her. “Hold still Steve,” he orders. “Don’t move. Give her a minute.” He gets to his knees behind her and helps Steve hold her down against his chest. Steve’s one hand has gone up and clamped behind her neck, and he’s whispering little platitudes against her forehead. “Shh sh sh, it’s okay, just relax honey, relax.”
Bucky groans. It’s so much. He can feel Steve’s dick right there, like there’s nothing separating them. It’s enough to get his balls tightening. “Fuck Stevie,” he huffs, both hands planted on Lena’s back to keep her down. “Fuck, we’re … we’re actually …”
“Yeah,” he gasps, sounding just as amazed as Bucky feels. “I can feel you.”
“Fuck, me too. Me too.” They’ve talked about it so many times, and now they’re actually doing it, both inside her at the same time. It’s so hot, it makes Bucky feel dizzy. He has to hold still, too, or else he’s going to bust his nut right then and there. “Shit,” he whispers, body trembling as he tries to control his breathing, “Shhiiit.”
Between them, Lena’s cries have calmed down to groans, and she wiggles her hips in a way that has the both of them gripping her harder. “Ohnn,” she whines. “Ss-steve, oh, it’s…”
“I know honey, I know. You okay?” Steve checks, petting her side and guiding her face up to get a look at her. Bucky catches the little smile he gives her, and he feels the shiver that rolls through Lena’s body in response. She’s calming down, thank God. “Yeah?” Steve asks, sounding encouraged. “Y’feel full, honey? Takin’ both our cocks at the same time?” Lena whines, aroused, and Steve’s eyes go molten hot.
Bucky watches as the two of them make out. He strokes Lena’s back and slips a hand down under her belly. Steve’s pubic hair tickles his fingers as he finds her clit and strokes it. “Oh,” Bucky sighs, smiling in relief at when he finds. “You’re soaked, babygirl.” Carefully, still stimulating her with his hand, he lets his hips pull back the barest bit, then eases back in. It hardly even counts as a real thrust, but it makes Lena sob against Steve’s mouth and grind forward against Bucky’s fingers. “There you go, sweetheart.” He gives her another, and another. “There you go.”
“Holy shit,” Steve whispers.
“Mm hm. She’s taking us just right. Fuckin’ knew it. She’s made for us,” Bucky praises, grunting as her body takes the short, slow thrusts he gives her. “She’s fuckin milking my dick, Steve.”
“Me too.”
Bucky eases up his grip on her, kneeling back and stroking his hands down her back. He pumps his hips shallowly and murmurs, “Grind a little, sweet pea. Grind your clit down on Steve.”
Lena whines, sounding mortified, but after a second she does, rubbing herself off against Steve’s pubic bone. Steve groans at the way it works his cock inside her, the way her walls flutter around him as she starts to feel good. His hands grip her at the waist, fingers digging into her soft curves. “Oh, baby, baby,” he pants, one hand sliding up her back and into her hair, holding her close. “Yeah, does that feel nice? Feel nice bein’ all full and grinding on my cock?”
Lena sobs and nods, working her hips a little harder as she squeezes them both. “Oh god, oh fuck,” she moans. Her hands are grabbing at Steve’s shoulders and she turns her head to the side on his chest. “Nnn, Bucky,” she cries, watery eyes opening and searching him out.
Bucky’s belly flips and he bends over her, kissing at her slack mouth. “Hey Beautiful. M’right here, little one, right here.”
“Daddy,” she sobs.
Bucky’s gits twist with arousal and something deeper, something darker. “Shh,” he soothes. “It’s okay. S’it feel good?” She moans miserably and nods, hips still moving between them, working their cocks inside the way she needs, her insides fluttering as she gets close. “Aw, are you gonna cum?” Bucky coos, a tinge of mocking in his voice, just the way he knows helps her get there. “You like getting your holes stuffed, baby? Daddy fucking your ass and Stevie in your cunt? Need to be fucked that much, greedy girl?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she cries, and Bucky’s not sure if she’s saying it about running away, or if she’s just so overwhelmed and humiliated at her own perverse desires. Probably the latter. She can get that way, sometimes, sobbing and apologizing while she comes on Bucky’s cock, calling him daddy while she falls apart.
Bucky kisses her mouth, sloppy, and rocks his hips against her ass as she starts to come. It’s unmistakable, not only in the clench of her body, but in the filthy sounds her cunt makes as she squirts and all three of them get soaked by it. Steve and Bucky both groan loudly as it happens, their bodies squelching and clapping wetly as their skin hits hers.
“Fuck,” Steve curses, hips fucking up into her without control.
Bucky laughs breathlessly, then groans at the friction of their cocks working inside at the same time. “Oh yeah,” he pants, right in Lena’s face and against Steve’s chest. “Didn’t I tell you she’s a squirter? Ughnn …” He fucks into her one last time as his balls draw up and the tight coil of arousal that’s been building and building in his core bursts. He groans and rocks against her ass as he rides it out. “Fuuuck…” He turns his head, beard scraping over Steve’s pec and up to his shoulder. He’s still thrumming in the aftershocks, his balls fucking ache, and he closes his mouth over Steve’s neck, tasting the salt in his sweat. “C’mon, Steve,” he pants, “cum inside her, fill her pussy up all sloppy. She loves that.”
Lena cries out in protest, but Bucky just gives her a hard thrust with his softening dick. “Shut up, puppy. I know what you like.” He’s slipping out of her a second later, not completely soft but too sensitive to stay inside when Steve’s still buried in her cunt. He kneels back and watches Steve’s cock driving in and out of her body. He groans at the sight. “Shit, Steve. You close?”
“Nnngh.”
Bucky laughs, breathless. He reaches down and cups Steve’s balls, curling his fingers sharply up behind them, grinding in against his taint. Steve shouts and his hips jerk up as he starts to come—it’s unmistakable. Bucky growls possessively and slips his hand back to Lena’s ass, slipping her his thumb and making her squeal. “Take it, Princess,” he growls. “You just had a hell of a lot more shoved up this filthy hole. Now take it.”
She cries out, and Bucky can tell from the way she’s moving her hips that she’s trying for another orgasm. Between his legs, his dick gives a tired little pulse, like it wishes it could shove right back up in there. Bucky fucks her and tugs on her rim with his thumb until Steve is spent, then he’s bending over Lena and gathering her in his arms, pulling her back up to kneeling with him, Steve’s cock slipped from her body and lying in a puddle of his cum and her squirt all over his belly.
Bucky growls, grips her throat hard in one hand to hold her against him, and shoves his other hand between her legs. “Look at that filthy fuckin’ mess you made, moya shlyuka,” he rasps right in her ear. “You like it that fucking much, huh?” He’s being mean now, and his fingers are too, as he hooks them in her cunt and tugs, over and over, rocking, getting her right where she needs, the heel of his palm bumping her clit with every motion. “Come on,” he pants, arm straining, working against her hard. “Give Stevie a show now. Show him what a messy fucking cunt you have.”
Lena wails and tenses, right on the edge. “Nnn!!”
“Squirt,” Bucky growls, rocking her whole body with the force of his hand, squeezing her throat. “Fuckin’ give it to me.” He feels her tip over the edge, her insides clamping down against his fingers a split second before she starts squirting. He immediately pulls his hand out and rubs furiously over her folds, making her spray everywhere. “Fu-huck,” he laughs, panting. “Yees. Look at that. There you go baby. There you go.”
Below them, Steve looks like he’d like to come again right then and there, his lips parted and eyes glued to the release she’s gotten all over his groin and belly. “Holy shit,” he breathes, chest heaving from his orgasm. “Oh, fuck.”
Lena squeals when it becomes too much, and Bucky eases off, keeping his hand at her neck and wrapping his arm around her waist in a fierce hug. “Such a good girl,” he praises, all the meanness gone from his voice, replaced with tenderness. “Good, good girl.”
She sobs and slumps against him, and he holds her to his body, sitting back on his heels. “Shhh, you’re okay. Did that feel so good, sweetheart? Aw, I know, I know. It’s a lot. You came so hard, huh?” He eases her down with him, spooning up behind her and petting over her heaving, shuddering sides. “It’s over. We’re all done. So good babygirl.”
Steve turns into her from the front, wrapping her up in his arms as well. One of his hands splays out over Bucky’s back, right over his fresh ink, and Bucky opens his eyes and meets Steve’s gaze from over Lena’s head. They share a shaky smile at what they’ve just shared.
“Told you,” Bucky says, licking his lips. He squeezes Lena’s waist and presses them all closer together. “She’s ours. Yours and mine. Made for us.”
“Yeah.” Steve dips down to cup Lena’s face and kiss her. He whispers praise against her lips, telling her how good she is, how pretty, how sexy. Bucky smiles and stretches, groaning at the twinge of pain when his raw skin pulls. He relaxes and buries his face in Lena’s hair while Steve kisses her overwhelmed tears away, telling her he loves her. Bucky hums, hoping that it’s true. If it’s not, it will be soon. He can just tell. Steve and he share such a close bond, and Lena’s always been irresistible, drawing Steve’s gaze even back before Bucky ever told him about their dirty secret.
Yes, he thinks happily. The three of them are going to have something very deep between them. Even now, having shared their forbidden relationship with Steve, they’ve connected on a deeper level. Bucky feels more sated than he has in a long time, his heart at ease now that he’s got his little one back where she belongs, and Steve right there with him, sharing in it. It’s perfect.
“Such a good girl,” he whispers, hugging Lena close, his spent dick snugged up against her ass and his back vaguely stinging. Steve’s low voice murmurs only inches away, sweet and tender reassurances for their girl.
Their girl.
Bucky closes his eyes and kisses the back of her sweaty neck, murmuring Sora Mica at her, over and over, putting it out in the open. They don’t have to hide it anymore. Now they can openly revel in what they share, and they can share it with Steve. Bucky smiles, exhausted, sated, elated. They’ve been at odds for so long, the Princess and the Dragon, fucking and fighting. Now they’ve finally found their missing piece, the balm for all their hurts, their white knight.
This is the beginning of them.
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elleloquently · 1 year
Note
can you write hcs of ellie being obnoxiously protective over reader on patrol? lol
| a/n : i love protective!ellie so much... i need her your honor. thank you for requesting darling and i hope you have a lovely day! | c/w : slight mention of violence (against infected), swearing
ellie being (obnoxiously) protective on patrol :
-ellie quite literally values herself based on how capable she is to protect and look after the ones she loves. who is she, if not a protector? it makes sense, given her history and of course she's protective over you, she loves you and if anything ever happened to you? that would be the day.
-so maybe she's a little bit of a control freak when you go on patrol... and maybe you've had your fair amount of squabbles because you feel completely helpless when she gets like that... but honestly? you've fought to survive for a long time and ellie's your prize.
-if there's ever a close call on patrol, ellie is definitely the type to cop an attitude (BUT IT'S OUT OF LOVE!!! I SWEAR!!!!!!!)
"jesus, what the fuck were you thinking?! we can't afford to make stupid mistakes, we- fuck, are you hurt?"
-she's short tempered but it's definitely not aimed at you, she just gets frustrated with herself because any close call is a reminder that she could lose you and that cannot happen. she really just blames herself and if something happens, she really internally takes that in ):
-she will definitely (lovingly) lecture you and press a kiss to your forehead or cheek every few words. despite the situation sometimes you can't help but just stare at her because that's your girl and she's just looking at you with this wild, exhausted look on her face because are you even listening to a word she's saying? but she adores you and thinks you're the prettiest person in the world so fuck it whatever.
-she's definitely doting on you for the rest of the day (which is no different from any other day because she's completely and utterly in love with you).
-if you're riding on seperate horses, she'll typically like to take the lead but is literally looking over her shoulder every five seconds to make sure you're doing okay. if you're quiet for more than like two minutes she probably whips her head around so fast like she's expecting you to be gone and you're just (: 'the weather is so nice today ellie'
-if you're on the same horse, she definitely prefers sitting in the front and she absolutely thrives off of the feeling of your hands resting at her waist, just another reminder that you trust her and feel safe around her.
-always offers a hand to help you down from your horse, it's so sweet and charming that it's almost silly but it's just first instinct to her, literally anything to be involved and look out for you.
-sometimes she's attached to your hip and it's just a little stressful, especially if you're on patrol with others because you really want to seem strong and efficient... ellie always reassures you that you are (but she's just!!! scared!!! okay!!!!!???)
-she really doesn't mean to step on your toes but you could be two seconds away from killing an infected and then ellie swoops in like phew close one huh?
-dina and jesse definitely clown the both of you for it and ellie gets huffy but honestly everyone just thinks it's cute.
-ellie can get pretty touchy sometimes but it's small stuff? nothing that would distract from patrol just like squeezing your hand, running her hand across your back or shoulder, tugging you at the waist just to remind herself that you're there and everything is fine.
-signing up or getting assigned to a patrol shift and oh boy, ellie's your partner, who would've guessed????? very unpredictable!!!
-honestly anyone else would be scared to go with you without ellie being there too because everyone just KNOWS.
-she's always looking out for you and checking on you, you do the same for her of course (when given the opportunity) and honestly it's just comforting, she always has your back and it feels good to feel safe, and to ellie it feels good to be trusted.
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cheshirebitch · 25 days
Note
Hi :3 can you make a vox x reader but they have a love hate relationship?? Pls I will give you my soul
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There you go :D
( Sooooo I went for a more angsty love hate relationship... hope this is what you wanted haha but very much was inspired by the song Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood! I appreciate the request and I seriously hope I did it justice <3)
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Vox x Reader
𝔾𝕠 𝔸𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕣𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝
Val was screaming upstairs as Velvette and I were gathering plans together. She was working on something with her online status she has to maintain 24/7 while I was trying to work on the next big technology idea with Vox. The problem was, Vox was too busy upstairs babying Val. I have tried talking to him, more like yelling at him, to just get rid of Valentino. 
“Jesus, Vox! You sound more like his boyfriend than you do mine! Every fucking second you spend with him. What do I have to do to just get five fucking minutes with you?” I slammed the drawer shut. Vox groaned before yelling back. 
“Maybe if you were more understanding, I would be able to spend time with you being actually in love and, I don’t know, not yelling at you!” He was glaring at me from the doorway that he just had to duck through. I used my magic to slam the door behind him, locking it.
“Why’d you have to lock me in here?” He looked annoyed as he tried to pull the door open, only to be shocked with electricity. I was glaring at him from next to the bed, arms crossed.
“So we can actually have one fucking conversation before you go running to Val! You need to listen to me and just get rid of him!” I threw my bottoms at him as I slipped on my pj’s. I missed how he looked at me when I would change in front of him, but instead we fight every night before we go to sleep and wake up in love. But it always only lasted for maybe two hours before Valentino ruined it. 
He was a horrible person and reminded me a lot of my life. I have tried to have a sit down conversation with Vox about it so many times just to end up talking to Velvette about it. She must have sensed me getting more and more annoyed because she put her phone down and looked at me. It was rare to see her even glance over her phone at you.
“Hey, maybe it’s time to call it quits if he doesn’t even prioritize you yah know?” She shrugged with tight lips. The papers in my hand crumpled. Anger was all I could feel, anger and embarrassment. 
“Velvette.” My voice shook, selling out how bad I wanted to just talk to someone, anyone. Velvette glanced up, quickly disregarding her phone. She strode the distance between us and quickly grabbed my shoulders before whispering, “Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on?” I started bawling the second she asked. All this pent up hatred overwhelmed my heart that was still deeply in love with the man I was hating. 
“I tried talking to him about it all, Vel. I don’t know how much more I can take. It reminds me too much of-” 
“Shhhh, it’s okay. Try and calm down and then we can talk about it? Stay in my room tonight. Fuck Vox.”
“I have tried talking to him, yelling at him even! Velvette, I don’t know how much more I can take of this. One second he is the best man ever in my whole life, putting all my previous boyfriends to shame. But then he keeps babying the man who reminds me of all those abusive men I have dated. How can he even associate with someone like that?” I gestured wildly to the ceiling since they were both above us. I could hear another thing get smashed upstairs, followed by Valentino throwing some sort of hissy fit. I sunk back into my seat with my eyes brimming with tears. Velvette stood up, shuffling to the seat next to me. She draped an arm over my shoulders, hugging me, with her phone face down on the coffee table in front of us.
“Did you try telling him how you feel without any distractions? I know we can all be pretty distracting.” She trailed it out as her fingers swirled shapes on my shoulder. I leaned my head on her shoulder as I whispered back, “I have tried everything, Vel. Everything. All he does is focus on fucking Alastor or Valentino.”
“Here, I will take a turn with the sissy baby upstairs if you promise to try and talk to Vox, then let me know how it goes. We can go from there, girl. If he turns out to not be the shit, we can toss him out like the shit he is.” Gently, she slid off the couch and moved to go upstairs. I waited downstairs for what felt like almost an hour. Pressure was pushing harder and harder on my shoulders and back when I couldn’t hold it down anymore. I stood up and pushed all the papers off the table, flipping the table after shoving the papers didn’t satisfy anything. I was in the middle of picking up the couch when Vox opened the door and shut it behind him.
“Sorry about that doll, I was- What are you doing?” He stood at the door, his towering frame frozen there, pointing at me as I held the couch above me. I dropped it as I stared at him still, clearing my throat. I tried to shove those pent up emotions back down but they still remained on the edge of my tongue, ready to fire off. I could tell I was going to start the attitude this time.
“Nothing, just- nothing.” I looked at the couch and back at Vox. God did he always look so godly when he stared at me like that but fuck was I mad at him. Ditching all his work on me just to baby a grown ass disgusting-
“Yeah, sure. That looks like a lot of nothing.” Oh hell no.
“Really? If anything, you are doing nothing with this new project, again.” I snarled at him. He immediately narrowed his eyes at me before laughing dryly, holding his screen face with his hand before wildly talking with his hands.
“Seriously? You got Velvette to drag me away from calming down Val from embarrassing us for this? Get a grip, (Y/n)! There are more important things going on than you having to do a little extra work around here.” He waved his hands and rolled his eyes at me, about to leave the room. I hated him, I hated how he always brushes me off. I can’t even remember the last time we didn’t fight but instead actually talked to each other. I grabbed the lamp next to me and threw it at his head. It smashed over his head, of course with a bad aim. I was seething and he was too with how he whipped around, growling at me. He was taking long strides to be leaning down into my face. He grabbed my throat, dragging his blue claws across my neck as he hissed at me.
“You fucking bitch! You could’ve smashed my screen! Damaged my cords! Do you want me to not trust you anymore? To lock you away? I can just get rid of all the trust I have placed in you if that’s what this little episode is about.”  I was scrunching my face towards his before I reached behind his screen, unplugging one of his wires. I knew they were sensitive too as I unplugged his audio cord. His screen was still moving like he was talking but no words came out. A wide sadistic smile spread as I laughed at him.
“Finally! No more shots back and now you have to fucking listen to be you ignorant dick!” I grabbed his arms and shoved him down onto the couch, pinning his arms down as I sat on his lap. He was trapped underneath me as I glared into his furious face. I knew he was cussing me out but I really didn’t care. 
“You need to stop being at Valentino’s every call. He needs to be kicked out or I’m out.” Vox stopped lashing from underneath me, completely stilling and looking at me with shock and an underlining of fear. It pulled at my heart seeing him genuinely scared to lose me. I let go of his arms, knowing he was going to finally listen to me. Those blue claws drifted up my arm and traced shapes on my back before shifting to holding my face carefully. This was the tender and loving Vox I missed so much. I held his one hand over my cheek as the other held my hip, tightly. He was scared I was leaving anyway and I could see it in his eyes. 
“I have been trying to tell you this whole time we have been together, Vox. Val reminds me too much of the relationships I had alive. All the abuse, the violence, the-” My voice broke as I thought of everything all those men have stolen from me. The only satisfaction I have over those moments was how I killed them back before I died. Vox swiped a tear that started to slide down my face. His eyes bounced between mine. He didn’t bother to try and talk, just kept tracing those shapes on my hip now. 
“I just can’t do it anymore, baby. Please, choose me for once. Please.” My voice croaked at the last please. I plugged his audio in, desperate for that comforting and willing to kill anyone for me man that caught my attention my first week in hell. He immediately pulled me into a hug, cradling my body in his arms as he hushed my quiet cries. He was repeatedly apologizing.
“I’m so sorry, doll face. I promise he will be gone from this building by tomorrow. We can just sit in our room till he’s gone. I promise, I will have the crew remove him and everything that reminds you of him. Oh baby doll, I’m so sorry.” He was rocking me in his arms, nuzzling his staticy face onto mine. The room felt more sadly comforting as I remembered everything that happened when I was alive, finally crying it all out to Vox. He sat mostly silent, except for his occasional comforting words. I told him everything that happened when I was with each man, listing names with their actions as Vox was taking notes on their names. Then I got to my dad, which bothered Vox even more as he listened. His hands tightened on me, pulling me tighter into his cradling hold. His whole body was wrapped around mine at this point as he mumbled, “Go ahead and cry little girl. And if you were my little girl, I’d do whatever I could do.” He smiled gently at me as he held me. The room darkened slightly, only hearing the static sound of his heart beating where I laid my head on his chest. 
“Promise me one thing, baby?” I hummed back, sniffling also as I wiped my eyes.
“Promise me you won’t try to leave me again? I know it was just an ultimatum, but I could never deal with you leaving. It would ruin me faster than a magnet to my screen.” He chuckled at his hopeful attempt to make me smile, which succeeded. 
“I promise.”
(As always, characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. Been in a slight writers block and trying to get outta it lol. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day<3)
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melswifeasf · 1 year
Text
Find my way back to you pt 3
previous chapter || next chapter || series page
Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!OC
Summary: Sam comes back after five years.
Warnings: none.
notes: are you guys enjoying this series? should i keep writing?
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the beeping sound of Tara’s heart monitor could be heard throughout the room. it had been a day since the incident and Tara was out of surgery. she had already made her statement an hour ago and ended up falling asleep again with all the drugs they were pumping her with. Estelle hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to her, she had been making her own statement and Judy had forced her to go home so she could take a shower and take off her uniform seeing as she hadn’t left the hospital since Tara was admitted.
honestly, Estelle didn’t have the energy to go home and do quite literally anything but Judy left her with no choice.
she didn’t take long, just took a quick shower and took an hour nap. it’s not like she could sleep, every time she closed her eyes she could only see that stupid mask.
Estelle had a redbull in hand as she walked into the room. she had her hair down, slight waves tumbling down her shoulders. she was out of uniform for the first time in hours, wearing a simple black shirt that was tucked into her blue jeans and a black bomber jacket on top. funny how Estelle would never wear such a thing in her teen years and yet now it’s most of what her wardrobe consisted of. it’s not like she had much time to have a life outside of work, not because she was forced to work extreme hours but because she had no idea how to live anymore.
pathetic how one single person can change an entire persons whole universe. even more pathetic considering they were only high school loves, the ones people always say don’t last. they were right.
at the sound of the door opening Tara looked toward it. her eyes landed on Estelle who had her drink in one hand and a bag of chips in another, a slight almost sad smile on her lips.
“i got your favorite” Estelle said as she held up the bag of sour cream and onion chips. Tara smiles softly in appreciation.
“thanks” she said lowly. Estelle approached her and handed her the chips which the teen girl gladly accepted.
there’s a beat of silence as Estelle takes a seat on the empty chair beside Tara’s bed. the younger girl placed the bag of chips on the table beside her whilst Estelle watched her intently. that night she hadnt realized all the injuries the girl was left with. she only remembers having seen the gash on her stomach and her leg being broken. now she knew about the hand and the many stabs that were spread around her body.
the idea alone made Estelle’s mouth run dry and tears begin to prick at her eyes but she quickly blinked them away.
“how’re you feeling? like, physically?” Estelle asked already knowing how the girl must be feeling emotionally, asking would be a waste of words.
Tara shrugged with a ghost of a smile on her lips, “i’m on all kind of drugs so i can’t really feel anything” she said honestly making Estelle chuckle.
“figures” she mutters as Tara breathes out a laugh. they fall silent once more as Estelle looks down at her fidgeting hands.
“i-..” she clears her throat softly, “i’m so sorry Tara” she said lowly her eyes not leaving her hands as tears burn in her eyes. she didn’t want to be the one crying, she had no right to, not after what Tara went through and yet here she was, not able to contain the burning tears beginning to fall.
Tara’s own eyes began to shine as she shook her head, “no” she whispered, “it’s not your fault”
“i should’ve been there sooner” Estelle said finally meeting her eyes, “i should’ve been closer. i should’ve installed a better security system. fuck, i should’ve shot them right through their fucking head” she shook her head and sniffled softly.
Tara held her healthy hand out making Estelle look at it, it took her a second before she placed her left hand on top of it. “it’s not your fault” Tara said firmly even with the tears in her eyes, “you never could’ve known this was going to happen. you did everything you could and i’m so thankful you were there” the young girl cried.
Estelle stood up from the chair and sat on the bed, wrapping her arms around Tara carefully so she wouldn’t accidentally hurt her.
Sam left five years ago, taking Estelle’s heart in the process but she left behind the girl who needed her most. the girl who had to learn how to make her own food, to get over her fear of the dark and learn how to make it seem like she wasn’t home alone practically everyday.
Estelle vowed to protect Tara like she wasn’t able to protect Elias.
Estelle had texted Amber per Tara’s requests to let her and the rest of her friends know that she was awake. Amber was the first to arrive followed by Wes then the twins. they all began to rant about how they couldn’t believe it was really happening and how glad they were Tara was okay as soon as they stepped into the room which cause Estelle to look at them in slight amusement.
she never really understood how they were all friends, they were all extremely different. she knew Amber and Tara were practically best friends - although Estelle always had her suspicions when it came to the two. Amber was always very possessive toward Tara and Tara never really seemed to mind that. but when it came to Wes and the twins, she didn’t really understand that part. she liked them all, maybe Wes a little less because he was just.. weird.
an hour later, after the group of friends got comfortable in their seats and did their best in trying to reassure the tara she was going to be fine, the door to their room opened, and Tara's sister appeared on the other side.
Estelles eyes snapped toward her as she leaned against the wall. her posture stiffened immediately and she pushed herself off of it slowly, her smile leaving her lips in a millisecond and instead is morphed into an emotionless expression.
her heart skipped, stopped and almost as if she had been revived it started hammering in her chest rapidly. she could feel her ears pulse and her hands begin to sweat as an extreme heat overtook her body. she could feel eyes on her but she didn’t look at anyone except the girl that just walked in.
she was hesitant to come in, only taking small steps as she looked around at the teens she used to take care of. her eyes stopped on Estelle longer than they had the rest but she tried to cover it up as her eyes locked with her sisters, the shyness went away and she crouched down beside her, softly setting her hand on Tara's shoulder and asking, "how are you feeling?"
if the sight of her pale sister who looked like she was in a state between life and death didn't hurt her enough, the words she threw at her were heart wrenching because of the doubtfulness in her voice, "you came."
Sam's escape from Woodsboro had lasted so long that it left her sister doubting she would even show up after she had been hurt, and the realization of that hurt Sam a lot because she never meant for the strand between her sister and herself to get to a point of no return.
"of course I came." Sam spoke softly, trying to lessen any doubts Tara might be feeling of how much she loved her. "this is my boyfriend, Richie." she said and as she turned to face her boyfriend her eyes met Estelle’s no longer than a second before she faced her boyfriend and stood up.
the man wasted no second in jumping into the conversation, “It's so nice to meet you. I'm so sorry if I'm intruding."
Tara too looked at Estelle before she ran her eyes across the man she had no intention of ever meeting, but knowing he was supposedly Sam's boyfriend, she decided to give him a polite smile and said, "nice to meet you, too."
everyone else in the room was looking between the exes and the tension was beginning to suffocate Estelle. every single muscle in her body felt like a rock and there was a huge knot in her throat that made it hard to swallow and the weight on her chest wasn’t helping her breathing either.
she wouldn’t left already if she knew it wouldn’t get everyone’s attention but she knew it would and Sam was near the door.
for the first time since the two had met, Estelle felt like an outsider in Sams life. hell, she felt like an outside in the room. she knew she didn’t belong and yet there she was.
Sam looked different, her hair had blonde highlights and she looked more mature. her face had defined itself and her body looked more mature now.
this wasn’t Sam Carpenter, the girl Estelle fell in love with. this was someone else and it felt like a fucking bullet to Estelle’s heart.
Sam had met every single one of the teens in the room a long time ago when she needed a few extra bucks and decided to babysit a few of them, so she went around the room and gave them a hug as she greeted them. she stayed near Wes longer than the others, softly thanking him for calling her and telling her about Tara's condition.
it was funny how Sam was trying her damn hardest to not meet Estelle’s eye or to not let her eyes even glance in her direction.
Estelle almost scoffed but keep it in, for Tara. she didn’t deserve her making a scene. neither did Sam. both for different reasons completely.
she moved back to where her boyfriend was standing and introduced them to him, "these are Chad and Mindy, the twins, and Wes. I used to babysit them all."
Wes was slightly embarrassed at that comment, or more so confused as to why she needed to add that last sentence in. "which is always how I like to be introduced." Wes pitched in sarcastically.
Amber chuckled which got Sam’s attention. she turned toward her, finally noticing her for the rust time and an uncomfortable smile formed on her lips. “and Amber, hey”
Amber nodded toward her, a matching smile on her lips “hi, nice to see you."
Richie turned to Amber and introduced himself,
"hi, I'm Richie."
"hi."
Estelle coughed awkwardly leaving Sam no choice but to meet her eye. Estelle felt her breathing labor as their eyes met. she expected to see a reflection of who Sam was once but she didn’t that, she couldn’t see the adoration, the love, the affection. it was as if Sam was looking at a stranger, a wannabe that had nothing to do in her life.
“Estelle. hey” she said making Richies head turn in her direction so fast it was as if he had been pinched.
“Sam” Estelle said simply. “well, i have to go. ill be outside Tara” the girl said looking at her. Tara sent her a smile along with a nod.
without another word toward either of the sisters Estelle began to walk toward the door where she looked at him with a slight scowl.
he didn’t say anything but Estelle didn’t need him to, she already knew what he was thinking. she laughed quietly with a shake of her head as she walked out of the room.
fuck them both.
there was an awkward beat of silence once Estelle left and the heavy weigh of her absence was lingering amongst them which Sam feel uncomfortable as she began to speak quickly hoping she’d fill the silence, "where's mom?
"she's stuck at a conference in London. she called me earlier." Tara filled her sister in, and it just seemed like she was trying to justify her mother for not being there.
"yeah, for all of ten minutes" Amber mumbled dryly but they all heard.
Tara's mother wasn't always occupied with her work, but after her divorce, she latched onto her job as a sense of security. at first it was minor, sometimes just a weekend or a couple of days but then it had gotten to the point where she left Tara home alone every few days for a long duration.
Tara didnt say anything and she looked sorrowful and Amber quickly said, "look, guys, Tara's really tired. maybe we should just give her some space."
it only took one glance at Tara for them to agree with Amber's statement. they each said their goodbye's and exited the room silently. Sam trailed behind them, thinking her sister might want the room to herself while she sleeps, but it turns out she was wrong.
"not you, Sam." Tara called after her. "I want you to stay."
a smile made its way on Sam's lips, and she nodded as she walked back towards her sister.
"if it's okay with you, I could sleep here tonight."
Tara didn't have to think at all about the request, "I'd really like that."
"Okay."
Amber reached down to touch Tara’s arm “do you have your extra inhaler?”
“yeah i’ll be fine”
“okay.” Amber nodded and grabbed her things before leaving the room.
Richie took that as his time to leave, and he gave Sam a look to let her know he'd be outside.
once they were alone Tara began to break down, finally being alone with the person she loved most, her walls crumbled completely.
Sam hugged her sister tightly until her tears died down and the only thing that could be heard was the chatter outside of the room.
“why was Estelle here?” Sam spoke for the first time in almost an hour. she knew how close Tara and Estelle were before she left, Estelle was practically at their house everyday when they were together and she figured they would maybe keep in touch, it was a small town after all but she didn’t not expect her to be in her sisters hospital room when she walked in.
“she’s my friend?” Tara said although it sounded more like a question than it did a statement.
“oh.”
“yeah” Tara shrugged. “plus she was the one who got there when..” she trailed off not able to finish her sentence but Sam quickly shook her head.
“i get it” she assured her quickly, not wanting her sister to finish her sentence.
eight years ago..
the parking lot was filled with students that friday afternoon, some of them were killing time before practice whilst others were trying to figure out who would be throwing the best party that night.
Estelle leaned against the hood of her brothers car with his friends. thankfully their girlfriends had already left to get ready for whatever party they would be going to. Estelle didn’t think she could deal with them and their stupid comments.
she was included in some of the conversation as Elias and the two guys talked about the newest rumor being spread around school. she wasn’t that interested though, she had gotten a ride from her girlfriend earlier but they got into an argument meaning she had to catch a ride back home with her brother.
she sighed in boredom as she scrolled through her phone carelessly. until footsteps getting near her made the dark haired girl look up from the small screen.
she squinted, the sun bright on that particular October afternoon. as soon as her eyes adjusted she was met with Sam Carpenter who sported a shy smile.
“hey” she said first making the conversation between the boys die down completely and turn to look at her.
“hey” Estelle responded.
Sam glanced at the guys for a quick second, “i just wanted to thank you for taking me home the other day. i was really fucked up” she admitted a bit sheepishly.
Estelle chuckled, “you were extremely fucked up but it’s all good. you’d do the same for me” she shrugged.
Sam nodded. there was a split second in which her eyes glanced down at Estelle’s slightly exposed chest, her shirt not covering as much as it should.
Estelle bit back a smile at the action and as soon as Sams eyes met her own, the taller girl had a matching expression. Sams checks turned a bit rosy as she realized she had been caught.
she cleared her throat, “i’ll see you around”
Estelle nodded, “yeah”
without another word Sam turned and began to take her leave when Estelle’s voice stopped her. “just make sure to stick with weed this time” she called out. Sam didn’t respond verbally but Estelle still heard the laugh escape the tall girls lips.
Estelle watched the girl walk away, in awe at how her hips moved with every step that she took. she never really noticed other people, the only attractive person in the whole school was the girl Estelle was already dating but now seeing Sam up close, god she was so wrong.
“the fuck was that” Elias laughed snapping Estelle’s eyes away from Sams body quickly and turn to look at him.
the boy had an amused yet questioning look in his eye, “nothing” she quickly responded. “she just got high off her ass with the pills you sold to her and i had to take her home” she shrugged.
she didn’t get a response causing her to meet his eye once more. Elias only chuckled with a slight shake of his head.
“uh huh”
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oneatlatime · 4 months
Text
The Desert
Alternate title: Gimme Appa back.
"But I believe, Aang can save the world." no pressure kid.
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I had completely forgotten about these two chuckleheads. For once the 'Previously On' segment is useful rather than spoilery.
Ok Aang is going to get the world's biggest pass this episode, because he's in the suckiest of all situations. But even so, how exactly was Toph supposed to come and get them, when she was both actually blind for once and the only reason the library hadn't drowned them yet?
Aang has something of a history of running away. Does going after Appa count as running away from his friends?
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Zuko's theatre kid tendencies are genetic.
The way Iroh said "What Now?" you know he was actually saying "fuck's sake."
Zuko's hair seems to grow very quickly. I thought that I could use his hair growth to measure time passing but this is not tracking. He barely had a buzz cut in The Chase and now he's fluffy.
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Two things: a) this guy has eyes greyer than Aang this episode. b) He's cocking his hands like that ridiculous Henry Cavill scene from Mission Impossible where he cocks his biceps.
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This guy's spear has piercings. And is coming out of a Dragon's mouth.
I don't know that I'd call these guys legendary. They're zero for two against an Avatar in Drag and two starving refugees with three functioning arms.
Doesn't Katara ever change out her water? Or even use it up and have to refill it?
I said it last episode, and I'll say it again: why did five people, a lemur, and a ten tonne sky bison travel into a desert famous for its desertiness with only a single water pouch between them? Admittedly, if they'd brought extra water and left it on Appa, they'd be having the same problem, but still...
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Is a kids' show actually going to go there?
They actually went there!
Honestly if you're dying of dehydration in the desert, eating strange plants is absolutely the way to go. I'd rather trip my way into the afterlife than just shrivel up and die.
I love the way Aang's glider shadow moves over the dunes. Another one of those tiny details that the animators could have left out, but they didn't!
Sand benders must get crazy high speeds if Aang can't spot even a trace of Appa from up high. He wasn't Appa-napped very long ago.
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Everyone go watch the scene where Aang blows up the mushroom cloud. Go right now I'll wait. And pay attention to Sokka's mouth. It does the wave.
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His mouth does the wave and his arms do the worm. Someone really had fun this episode.
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Zuko breaking the world record for highest number of Fire Nation wanted posters. Despite being the only person on that board who's unquestionably loyal to the Fire Nation. What a nice reward he got for his loyalty.
How is that one wrestler dude's hair so shiny?
Why, other than plot convenience, would Zuko and Iroh be at the Ice Spring?
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I see now that the left hand shadow is Sokka with a Momo on his head. But for just a second I thought it was Ramona from Scott Pilgrim.
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There are some really beautiful colour gradients in this desert.
"We won't survive without Appa." Well yes, but you have to try.
If this is a normal desert they're going to freeze their butts off overnight.
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No comment. Just vibes.
Hey this is a Katara episode! Toph is blind, Sokka's zoinked, Aang's given up, so it's Katara time baby!
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This episode has no business being this pretty.
"Sokka. I was there." I'd be very surprised if Katara's voice actress doesn't have an idiot older brother. That line was delivered a little too perfectly.
I'm not going to comment on every Sokka is high joke, but rest assured I'm finding them all hilarious.
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Those drinks cost a gold piece each. Where did they get five gold pieces from?
Colour me shocked. The chuckleheads actually had a good idea for once.
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Colour me shocked again! I vaguely predicted this!
Zuko. Honey. How are you this dim? He's so very good at missing exactly what's in front of him.
"Gold?"
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Big muscles. No brains.
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Very pretty. The sand texture is good too.
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Well that was mean.
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Passive aggressive glider deployment. Also how low is that cloud if Aang can reach it to bend it?
Aang is not shining this episode (understandably) but Katara is going from strength to strength. I NEVER would have thought that she was someone who could keep her cool under pressure like this. Happy to be wrong!
I have no idea if Sokka is going to remember or be aware of this epic trip he's on, but this is probably the best time he's had in months. Certainly since Yue died. He deserves this. Bad timing, but he needed a break.
"You must forgive my nephew. He is not an initiate, and is dumb as shit and incapable of reading the room."
Why is there a flower shop in the middle of the desert? What clients do they have? Obviously it's a front for this pai sho secret society thing, but why did they pick such a nonsensical front?
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Toph has so much personality that it's easy to forget how tiny she is. Like a little gargoyle.
Sokka talking like a Greaser was the thing I didn't know I needed.
Poor Katara. Now you know how your brother feels every time he has to save your bacon from your weekly prison break.
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I am losing my mind over these colours. Especially after The Library.
"I have a natural curiosity." I'm going to start using that.
Oops they found the circle bird nest.
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Hey showrunners, you're going to take Momo from me too? You sure you want to do that? After last episode? Don't give me a pretty sunset with a latte swirl. Give me back Appa, put down Momo, or I'll sic Toph on you.
I do like Toph as a piece of artillery.
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Turns out a combined Appa and Momo -napping is what it takes to get Aang to break his no killing rule. I now know how to defeat the Fire Lord.
The Audacity. Going to Ba-Sing- however the hell that's spelled. The sheer audacity. But then what? What's the plan after they get there? Just live the rest of their lives?
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Rejected Mortal Combat guy.
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You ever have one of those days where you do only your top lip?
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Whoever made that door, and that lock - good job!
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Nothing to see here, just making a delivery of two giant planters in the middle of the desert. The Owl decided to spruce up his entryway.
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Y'all are fucked. Y'all deserve it. Aang has completely lost control. He's spent the whole episode losing it more and more and now he's gone completely off the rails. Has he ever zipped into the Avatar state that fast before?
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Never underestimate the power of a woman who's fed up with everyone's nonsense. Just so fed up.
Well that was sad.
Badass name of the day: Malachi Throne, voice of a character whose name I don't recognise.
Final Thoughts
This was Katara's episode. I'm not going to forgive not getting Appa back, but Katara actually keeping a level head for once was an unexpected delight.
This episode was pretty unrelentingly heavy in the A-plot, which is why I don't understand why Sokka and Momo tripping worked so well. It did work, and I very much enjoyed it, but it should have stuck out like a sore thumb and it didn't. The beat up Sokka quota fulfillled from within by chemicals was a nice creative touch.
I am very happy to see Iroh take the wheel, although I'm not convinced there's a long term plan here beyond get food and shelter. Which, fair enough, goals tend to be short term and immediate when you're in dire straits.
This episode really stomped all over Aang. And then stomped some more. I was surprised how negative and shouty he was at the beginning, but by the end I was surprised how long it took him to lose it. Apart from his staff and his clothes, Appa really is all he has left from before he got frozen. That sandbender punk was rotten to the core.
So I guess we're going to the earth kingdom capital regardless of the eclipse information. Is the rest of the season going to be getting there? I also can't help but notice that it's where Iroh and Zuko are headed as well. Zuko could actively run in the direction opposite to the Avatar and he'd still end up tripping over him. The earth Kingdom is ginormous. And yet, like every two episodes Zuko runs into the Avatar. Is it fate? Is it plot convenience?
I should dislike this episode. It's 24 minutes of our faves getting beat down and not finding Appa, with a b-plot of Zuko being more oblivious than usual. I should dislike it, but I don't. This is definitely going on the rewatch list. It was a very pretty episode, which helped. Beyond that I can't put into words why I liked it, but I did!
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f1goat · 1 year
Text
fwb x lando norris - part eleven
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In which you decide to become friends with benefits with Lando Norris, that can't be a bad idea right?
playlist x masterlist
part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part ten
“I’m sorry,” Lando says for the third time in a row. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Fourth time. “I’m really sorry Y/N.” Fifth time. Maybe it’s because you still haven’t replied to him? You should say something. But what? Lando just confessed his love for you in the most unromantic way. He came undone and told you he loved you. How does something like that even happen? 
“Do you want me to bring you back to your hotel room?” Lando asks you. 
You shake your head, telling him no with your movements. He’s glad you don’t want to leave immediately, but he’s afraid for what there’s next to come. There is probably one logical reason for you to be this quiet. You are going to tell him that you don’t love him back. But being the sweet person you are, you’re trying to find the words to do it nicely. 
“Couldn’t you find another time to confess something like that?” You eventually ask, “I thought you were a bit more romantic then to blurt something like that out while having sex.” 
Lando lets out a short nervous laugh. Maybe it’s a good sign that you’re making conversation with him like this. Every second that you’re here, he has an extra second to convince you. 
“I didn’t exactly plan it like this,” Lando tells you. 
“Then why did you say it?”
“It has been laying on the tip of my tongue for weeks, it just slipped out,” Lando confesses. After this earlier confession of loving you, there’s no need to lie about things anymore. 
“You really love me?” You ask again. 
Lando takes a good look. You don’t look mad or sad. You just seem really surprised. Is that a good or a bad sign? Does it even say anything at all? Before Lando can tell you again that he does actually love you, you already continuing talking. 
“Isn’t it the alcohol talking? Or the rush from winning the race? Or is it still because of George?” You continue to ask questions, “Fuck, we still need to talk about that as well. What’s going on between you and George? You’re not telling me you love me to get back at him, right?”
“Y/N,” Lando says, trying to stop you from telling more lies to yourself. He thanks the universe when you finally look back at him. He notices a small tear running down your cheek. 
“You are the actual worst for telling me something like this if it’s just to get back at George. I swear Lando, that’s too far.”
“Fuck, you really don’t get it Y/N,” Lando mutters after hearing you for a bit more, “Is it that hard to see? It’s always been about you, because I’ve been in love with you for the longest time.” 
That got you quiet. Lando doubts. He knows he needs to explain, but he wants to know about your feelings as well. Why is it this hard? 
“I fell for you before you got with George. He knew. That’s why everything has always been about you,” Lando explains, “I want to tell you everything, but I need to know what you think right now. Please tell me?”
“Why did you start this friends with benefits thing with me when you already had feelings for me?” You question Lando. You know that he just asked you a question, but you need to know the answer on your own questions. “I mean we had rules and everything,” you explain yourself.
“I would have been an idiot to say no. If this was the closest I could get to you, I’d take it every time again,” Lando tells you honestly, “After that first time I was already addicted to you. But please babe, answer my question.”
You stay quiet for a bit, thinking about a possible answer. Are you going to tell Lando that you return his feelings? It’s the logical thing to do, right? He deserves to know. 
“You’re not the only one who broke that rule,” you say after a bit of thinking. 
Lando’s face lights up immediately. He smiles at you. Of course he knows what you’re saying with those vague words you chose. He is smart enough to get it. Of course.
“Please come closer to me,” Lando asks you. 
You don’t really think about his request. You move yourself closer towards Lando, sitting next to him on the bed. 
“Closer?” He asks. 
You let out a soft laugh. What an insane situation you two have gotten yourself into. If you think about it, both of you know that you’re having feelings for each other. But even while knowing that, Lando is still begging you to get close to him. You decide to tease him a bit, placing yourself on his lap. 
“I love you Y/N,” Lando tells you while you’re facing him. “Please believe me, I’m hopelessly in love with you.” 
“I’m in love with you too,” you tell Lando. 
He smiles at you. His arms find their way around your waist, Lando pulls you even closer to himself. Your noses are almost touching each other. That’s how close you two are right now. You show Lando a small smile back. 
“We’re idiots,” you tell Lando with the same small smile. He nods, agreeing with your words. “But now we can finally do it properly, right?” You continue. 
“If that means I can finally call you mine?” Lando asks you, “Of course,” you quickly respond. 
**
“I do keep wondering, what has happened between you and George?”
You and Lando are laying on the bed together. He is playing with your hair. It’s nice and relaxing. But you can’t help yourself to question Lando some things. You still don’t get everything. You have a lot of questions left for the boy. 
“We both wanted you,” Lando tells you honestly, “but he got you.”
“That’s the short version,” you remark. 
“Yeah, I guess. George knew I had a crush on you and then he decided to make his own move. I only stayed friends with him because of you,” Lando explains, “That’s why we had a bit of a fight after you two broke up. I was done with him. I mean, I did gave him a chance with you but he blow it. So I was pretty mad.”
You wait for Lando to continue. 
“I told you he came to me after he cheated on you. I didn’t tell you the full version of that story,” Lando continues after a bit, “He came to me to rub it in. How he could have you and still fuck other girls at the same time. He said you’d never leave him. I told him that if he didn’t tell you, I would because you deserved to make your own choice. He then told me he’d dump you and would win you back in no time.”
“He’s such an idiot,” you sigh, “I don’t even know why I dated him.”
“You could have had me,” Lando tells you while laughing. 
“If I only knew,” you sigh. 
“What would have been different then?” Lando asks you. 
“Maybe you were not the only one with a crush,” you confess.
“We’re fucking idiots,” Lando laughs. You press a kiss against his cheek. 
“But why did you kiss me in front of George?” You ask. 
“Still didn’t figure it out?” Lando asks you, “I wanted to show him that you didn’t belong to him.”
“So I belong to you?”
“If you want.”
“Of course,” you tell Lando with a big smile.
“Max is going to be so proud of me for not fucking it up,” Lando says proudly.
**
Days are going by quickly. Weeks are passing even faster. Things between you and Lando are going great. The two of you even went public on all the social media platforms. Only a day after making things official between the two of you, Lando already hard launched your relationship on Instagram. Sharing multiple photos of the last couple months. You didn’t even knew about the existence of a couple photographs he shared. You can safely say that you feel loved by Lando. 
You haven’t had any form of contact with George since you and Lando are official. You know that he knows about you and Lando. He tries to find you on race weekends, but he never succeeded. Maybe because Lando is pretty protective. Today you’re starting with your new job. Max did held his word and contacted you with Christian Horner. Meaning you’re an official Red Bull employee now. Today you’re just meeting the team. 
Lando is holding your hand while you’re walking around the paddock together. He insisted on dropping you of at the Red Bull motorhome. 
“Finally.”
Ah there’s your unwanted meeting with George. The boy is suddenly standing right in front of you and Lando. It was nice how long it lasted, but while being on the same track every other weekend it was given that you’d meet George eventually. You’re just glad Lando is with you right now. 
“You can stop pretending now,” George tells you, “I know you’re doing this to get back at me for cheating on you.”
You doubt a bit. Is this time worthy? Do you actually want another discussion with George? You think about being the better person, but you decide to have one more discussion with him. The final one. 
“This has never been about you,” you tell George confidently. 
“Stop lying,” George spits, “I know this is about me, it’s just pathetic that you use Lando for this.”
“I love Lando,” you tell George. 
That makes him quiet. It even makes him walk off. 
“Why did that work?” Lando asks you.
You never told Lando about that one awkward moment in which George confessed his love for you and you didn’t say it back. Maybe you still wanted to spare George from the embarrassment, or maybe you just wanted it to come in handy for a moment like this. 
“I never told him that I loved him,” you explain to Lando, “not even after he told me he loved me.”
Lando lets out a soft laugh, “You’re the worst.”
“You love it,” you tell Lando.
Lando smiles. He can finally use his reaction. The one he almost texted you and told you before. 
“I love you.”
That was it :( Hope everyone liked the story! I'm going to start working on something new, but idk what yet :)
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cowgurrrl · 11 months
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Smile You’re on Camera
Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader
Summary: You meet Joel for the first time [1.7k]
Author’s note: this is mostly exposition but I’m actively writing their first date so that’ll probably go up tomorrow or even as early as tonight 🥸
Warnings: quick FAKE violence, Joel being an asshole, language, questionable Hollywood motives
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"You always fucking do this!" You yell, slamming down the book in your hands. The man across from you throws his arms up in defeat and scoffs. 
"Are you serious right now?" He asks, and your jaw clenches at his tone. "Jesus Christ, you're being insane."
"Don't call me that!" 
"Then stop acting like it!" He yells, getting in your face. Your breathing is shaky as you stare into his eyes. He's close enough that you can smell the detergent on his shirt. You're unflinching when he gets even closer, forcing you back. "Your mom was right. You're more trouble than you're worth." Before the words can even completely leave his mouth, you spit in his face. He grabs your arms and pushes you down on the couch. You kick and scream the whole way down, proving how much trouble you can really be. 
"Cut!" The director shouts from his chair, and Ryan helps you off the couch. You laugh as he throws a fake punch in your direction and walks over to the director's chair to rewatch the scene. It looks great, and Ryan gives you a solid high-five in celebration. You're both so excited about how the movie is coming out, and you can't wait to film the rest. You do a few more takes before breaking for lunch. 
The second you sit down, your inbox lights up with an email from your PR manager, Melanie. URGENT MEETING TOMORROW AFTERNOON, the subject line reads. You sigh and open it, already moving your schedule around in your mind as you skim through her words. Something about it not being a skippable meeting. "This could change the trajectory of your career," she writes. You respond back, telling her you'll be there, but she has to be the one to tell your director the schedule needs to change. 
You log onto Twitter and see something about a singer, Joel Miller, attacking paparazzi for something. You're not sure. You've bumped into him several times on red carpets, and you like a handful of his songs. He has a big, gritty voice with an endearing country accent. He's handsome and, from what you've heard, a really great guy. You haven't gotten the chance to speak more than two words to him because every time you see him, there's some beautiful woman draped on his arm, and he doesn't even look at you. Which is fine. You're still new to the industry, and you're used to people giving you the cold shoulder as a form of hazing. It sucks, but it's not like things will change overnight. 
You scroll through a few pictures of Joel's fist connecting with the cameraman's nose, his big hands delivering a devastating blow. You've had your fair share of run-ins with paparazzi, but you're not someone who can punch a guy with a camera just because you feel like it. You would almost immediately be labeled another insane actress who has gone off the rails. Irrational. A spiteful bitch. All of it. But men like him get twenty seconds of shit online before they're forgiven and even praised for holding their own.
You roll your eyes, put your phone on the charger, and leave your trailer to return to set. The rest of the day goes off without a hitch, and the AD only gave you a little shit for messing with the schedule. You would take it more personally if you hadn't been doing this for long enough to know better. Scenes will still get filmed, people will still get paid, and the movie will still get made. Besides, a backhanded comment from a shitty AD isn't worth your energy. 
When you get home, the only thing you hear about and see on every single platform is Joel Miller punching the fuck out of that paparazzi guy. Now, there are pictures of him talking to cops but not looking especially guilty about what he'd done. His bruised knuckles are the only evidence that anything went down on his end. The reaction is polarizing. Some people are saying that violence is never the answer. Others are saying he was justified. Some are even saying how hot it is. Still, there's no real reason why he went after that guy. You probably scrolled through social media for an hour trying to figure out what happened. It's midnight by the time you realize you still haven't showered and have done virtually nothing to get ready for bed. 
You drag yourself off the couch and up to your shower, finding new bruises from the scene you filmed today, and make a mental note to talk to the fight choreographer. You need to do a million things, and they all fill your brain the second you try to lie down. You hope this career-changing meeting isn't riding on whether or not you can come in looking well-rested, but Hollywood has done shittier things.
The next day, you drive to the meeting place Melanie set up for you and notice several paps being held back by security across the street. It's not unusual for your schedule to get leaked to paparazzi, so you don't think anything about it, but there's a good handful of them. They yell at you as you enter the building and you offer a wave, bou can't understand why there are so many just to photograph you attending a stupid meeting. As you walk toward the meeting room, you hear loud voices arguing. You don't recognize either of them and fight your anxiety to open the door. 
Joel Miller and another man are there yelling at each other. It's a tangle of voices, and you can't distinguish one thing from another. You wonder if maybe you walked into the wrong conference room and make to leave when Joel catches a glimpse of you. He rolls his eyes and gestures at you like you are a nuisance. "Now, who's this?"
"She is going to single-handedly get you out of this mess!" The other man shouts. You've heard enough of these conversations to gather that the other man is Joel's manager. 
"And how do you expect her to do that?"
"You guys are going to date," his manager says, and you immediately look to Melanie for confirmation. She just nods. "For the cameras, of course. Just until the heat comes off of Joel, and then you guys can do whatever the hell you want."
"Was anybody going to ask my opinion in all this?" You ask. 
"I wouldn't put you in this situation unless I knew it would benefit you. Actresses do this all the time! It's good publicity, and it could catch the director's eyes." Melanie says, trying to comfort you, but frustration is already buried in your chest.
"This is ridiculous." You scoff, rubbing your forehead, already feeling the headache traveling over your skull.
"Yeah, it is pretty fuckin' ridiculous." Joel agrees, and his manager grabs his shirt collar and gets in his face. 
"Do you want the press to leave your family alone or not?" His manager snaps, and something in Joel softens. He takes his manager's hands off of him and takes deep breaths as he thinks. You're trying to figure out what you're supposed to do or if you're even supposed to do anything.  
"What d'we have to do?"
"Go on a couple dates, post a few pictures, and act madly in love for the cameras. Tabloids will eat that shit up." Melanie explains. You blink at her and glance between her and the men.
"For how long?" You ask.
"Couple months."
"I don't know if I can do this."
"I thought you were an actor," Joel says, vitriol lacing his words, and you furrow your brows at him.
"I am, but I prefer not to bring my work into my personal life."
"I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but this is how the industry works. If you don't like it, I'm sure we can find someone else who would happily take your place."
"What the fuck is your problem?"
"My problem is-"
"Stop it! Both of you!" Joel's manager yells. "You need to get it together and do this. If you can't find a reason to do it to save your fucking career, do it for your kids. Huh? What about that, Joel?" 
"Fine!" Joel shouts back. He huffs and grabs a pen from his manager's pocket. "Give me the goddamn paperwork," Melanie doesn't hesitate to slide the contract to him, and he doesn't so much as glance at the words before signing his name on the line and throwing the pen down. "I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night. How's that sound, sweetheart?" He grumbles without even looking at you as he leaves the room. The door slams behind him, and a few minutes later, you hear the paparazzi outside get louder as he exits the building. You, however, can't move. You feel like the wind got knocked out of you, and you look between the two managers.
"You want me to pretend to be in love with him?" You ask. Melanie opens her mouth to say something but stops, obviously unable to find something to salvage the situation. "This is fucking insane."
"I promise, he's not normally like that. He's just under a lot of stress." His manager says, and you scoff.
"That doesn't give him the right to speak to me like that."
"You're right, okay? You're absolutely justified in hating him, but think about what this could do for you. We're talking blockbuster movies, first pick at whatever script you want, invitations to the Met Gala, the Oscars, all of it," Melanie says, putting her hands on your arms to show you how serious she is. You sigh. Those things would be huge for your career, and you're not sure when you'll get another opportunity like this. "It's only a couple months. Think of it as an acting exercise."
"I don't have to sleep with him or anything, right?"
"Only if you want to, honey." 
"Oh, I doubt I'll ever want him to do more than kiss me after that," you say. You take a deep breath and shake your head as you think. There are a million reasons why you should do this, but there are about two million reasons why you shouldn't. He's arrogant, annoying, and dismissive, and that's just what you gathered from your first conversation. Still, maybe you won't have to interact with him that much. Maybe you can get through this and then never have to talk to him again. Maybe this is what changes everything. Going against your better judgment, you look at Melanie and nod. "Okay, I'll do it."
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Fireleaf (Part Nineteen)
Hello! Hope you're all well and having a good week. @greeneyedivy and I have been super excited about this chapter since...well, since the beginning of Fireleaf really. We're so excited to finally be posting it!
We hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for all the lovely support!
Warnings: Smut. 😏🌶️
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For the following three weeks, keeping busy was Lucien’s sanity.
While Tamlin had his people covertly keeping an eye on the Autumn Court, on Beron’s movements, Lucien was researching until his eyes felt like they were bleeding. Reading the old laws of Prythian.
Three weeks. Three weeks had passed without him seeing Y/N. Almost three. He’d ticked every day off with an ache in his heart. It hurt more ferociously than anything he’d ever felt before, but he would face it, endure it; make sure it was worth it in the end.
That didn’t stop him thinking constantly about her, though. Which he was doing, right now, whilst he was supposed to be studying the book in front of him.
He rubbed at the ache that was building between his eyes and loosely tied his hair back. It had been early morning when he’d carried the pile of books into Tamlin’s office and began reading. Hours had passed since — it must have been noon, by now, at the very least. He would grab a quick lunch and get right back to his reading.
It was as he stood and opened the door that voices floated up to him. He frowned to himself — beyond the Spring Court staff and sentries he saw coming and going, it was relatively quiet here. Any High Lord business tended to take Tamlin into the villages rather than him receiving an audience here.
But it was a lilting male voice that was lingering with Tamlin’s, and — Lucien realised, as he descended the staircase — a familiar one at that. He stopped in the doorway of the dining room, taking in the sight of Tamlin engaging in conversation with Eris.
Eris looked up upon Lucien’s arrival, his hand naturally rested on the hilt of his sword. He looked…different, somehow. Older. Stronger.
“Brother.” He dipped his head at Lucien. “You look positively awful.”
Lucien pursed his lips, anxiety roiling in his gut. What would bring his brother here, besides bad news? He studied him, looking for some indication that something had happened.
“What are you doing here, Eris?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“I was waiting for your return so I could tell you what I discovered.” The oldest Vanserra said. “But it would seem you’ve taken to wallowing.”
Lucien supposed he couldn’t blame him for thinking that. He looked a mess, with his crumpled, unbuttoned white shirt and loose trousers. But that was because his self-care had taken a backseat whilst he’d thrown himself, morning and night, into whatever research and work he could find to…to fix this. Of course he didn’t look his best.
“So I’ve come, instead, to give you a brotherly pep talk.” Eris finished.
“Eris—”
“Hear me loud and clear, Lucien.” Eris stepped forward — and rather comically tightened his grip on his sword. “I know everything. Dion told me. And running away is not the answer. Quit your damn wallowing and get back home.”
“You don’t understand—”
“No, I don’t think you understand. You are the only person who can fight for the female that you love. What good is it going to do, holing yourself up in another court? She needs you. And you need her—”
“Eris, will you shut up for five fucking seconds?”
Eris faltered, cocking an eyebrow. From across the table, Tamlin watched. “So he does still have some fight in him.”
Lucien rolled his eyes. “That’s why I came here, you ass. Not to wallow. To figure out how to fix all of this. Tamlin and I have been working together.”
Eris went still, studying his brother. Within seconds, his stance relaxed. “…Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well…good.”
Across the table, Tamlin seemed to be stifling a laugh. Eris shot him a look, lowering himself into a chair.
Lucien, though, remained standing, his hands nervously clenching at his sides. “You said you discovered something?”
Eris nodded. “I did. Well — two somethings, actually.”
Tamlin rose from his chair, hastily grabbing for a decanter of whiskey and three glasses. He placed them on the table, watching as Eris dug into the inside of his jacket and produced a small pile of envelopes.
“First of all,” he said, chucking them onto the table, “Y/N’s friend Linden? He’s been writing to her since she first came to the estate. Father has been intercepting those letters and hiding them from her. Allowing her to think he hasn’t bothered to be in contact. These are the copies I made.”
Lucien frowned, reaching out and grabbing the envelopes. “For what reason? Besides being a cruel bastard.”
“Because — as you’ll discover from reading them — Linden had information that he wanted to tell Y/N that could have compromised father.”
Tamlin kept an eye on Lucien as he repeated, “information?”
Eris nodded. “The entire thing…the engagement between Dion and Y/N…was all cleverly calculated. Even though Dion did nominate Y/N’s name himself, he would have found himself engaged to her anyway — because it was all part of a deal between Y/N’s father and ours.”
Lucien was hardly listening, his nose buried in the letters. His stomach churned with every word he drank in, every bit of information that took root in his brain. Letter after letter, he read and chucked onto the table, his expression hardening, hands shaking.
“What would Beron be getting out of a deal with Y/N’s father?” Tamlin asked.
And it was Lucien who answered. Lucien, whose voice was so cuttingly cold as he bit out, “Faebane.”
Eris nodded in confirmation. “Y/N’s family’s business had been going under for a while because her father gambled away pretty much everything they had. His reputation — their family’s reputation — was at risk of being destroyed as thoroughly as their fortune. And so to bring some money back in, Y/N’s father began dealing in prohibited chemicals and substances such as Faebane. Our father got wind of it, and instead of putting a stop to it, he saw a way to use it to his advantage. Together, they cooked up an agreement — Y/N’s father would provide ours with any of these substances that he desired, free of charge, so long as their reputation was kept intact. Part of that deal was getting Y/N away from their family estate, because her father knew she would intervene if she heard of what he was doing. Which was how they agreed on her being sent to our estate to marry Dion.”
“And Linden somehow found out.” Lucien murmured, staring into space. “Which was probably why he got sent away. Going by these letters, he wanted to meet with Y/N and warn her.”
“But father put a stop to that.”
Lucien swallowed. “Does Y/N…have you told her? About her father?”
Eris shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to track Linden down first. Speak to him and find out everything he knows. This…this is going to be hard for her.”
Yes, it was. Lucien’s eyes shuttered, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow. He swiped out, pouring a measure of whiskey and knocking it back. Both Tamlin and Eris watched him.
“How is she?” He rasped, as desperate for the answer as he was scared of it.
A look of concern passed Eris’s face. He gave a half-hearted shrug. “About as well as can be expected. She’s drowning in wedding preparations and is all the more miserable for it.”
Of course, it was the answer Lucien expected — and yet it didn’t make it any easier to hear. He slumped into a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He despised the thought of her being there…thinking he’d given up—
“It won’t be long, Lucien,” Tamlin said quietly. “You’ll be back with her soon. This—this information is good. This can be used against Beron.”
“I know. I know.” Lucien stared down. “I just…I miss her.”
“And she misses you.” Eris supplied. “As does mother. She keeps asking after you — asking what the hell is going on and when the hell you’ll be back.”
Fuck. Lucien hadn’t even considered what his dear, sweet mother must be thinking or feeling. What she must have made of Lucien disappearing without a single goodbye. He loved her dearly, hated keep things from her—
“Tell her.” He blurted, not sure he really meant to. “Tell her everything.”
His brother studied him. “You’re sure?”
“The more people we have on our side, the better.” He shrugged. “She may not be able to do much, but…we have a greater chance of protecting her from whatever’s coming if she knows everything that’s going on.”
Eris seemed to consider it for a moment, before he nodded resolutely. They loved their mother dearly — would spare her from being caught in the crossfire as well as they reasonably could.
“Then I shall.” Eris stood from his chair, tucking it in. He reached out, knocking back his measure of whiskey before brushing himself down. “I’ll return home and speak to mother. And then I’m going to find Linden. You…you shouldn’t wait to see Y/N, Lucien. She needs you.”
He’d barely taken a step forward before Lucien was gripping onto his arm. “Eris.” He stared up at him. “When you find Linden…bring him to the old orchard. Father won’t look for us there. And send for me immediately. I’ll find a way to see Y/N. And…thank you. For everything.”
A moment passed of the two brothers just staring at each other — a moment of solidarity and understanding.
And then Eris was dipping his chin and squeezing his brother’s hand.
And in a flash, he was gone.
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Quiet, uneventful days had become a rare commodity.
The subject of your wedding was a dull, monotonous entity that seemed to follow you around everywhere. Day in and day out was filled with some sort of preparation, some situation that you had to meet with a false smile. You were sick of being poked and prodded and pulled and pushed like a damn doll — and all when you just wanted to curl up and cry, too. When heartache was a splintering thing inside your chest that never lessened.
But today, at least, there was nothing in the calendar. Perhaps you’d be able to have a cry in peace.
You’d woken to a heavy silence, and it hadn’t taken you long to learn — through asking servants — that most people were gone from the estate for the time being. Beron and Barric away on business, Eris having left on his own. Dion had a particular set of errands to run, apparently, as an upcoming groom. Where Jareth and Rian were, you didn’t know nor care.
You were just relieved to drop the false smile for a bit. You curled yourself up in an armchair with a book that you knew you wouldn’t able to concentrate on.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there like that, watching shafts of sunlight cast across the lawn, when the door opened behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, taking in the brilliant, vibrant hair and skin like finest porcelain. Lady Autumn’s concerned eyes roved over you.
And just like that, you were slamming that smile back onto your lips, forcing the corners to lift up no matter how much they protested.
“I didn’t realise you hadn’t left with the High Lord.” You said.
She inclined her head. “He allowed me to stay — with the wedding being so near and details needing to be fine tuned. I thought you and I might spend the day together.”
You fought to keep your reluctance from showing from your face. It wasn’t that you didn’t like her, or even enjoy her company – on the contrary, you’d found her to be a pleasant companion over the past two weeks, someone who came alive when she wasn’t being watched and analysed. She was kind-hearted and soft…and a constant reminder of the future you were unable to escape.
She read the hesitation on your face, stepping further into the room. “I know life has been pretty constant recently, but…humour me. There’s…there’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”
Not, exactly, what you’d been expecting. Lady Autumn rarely said or did what was beyond expected of her. It was so out of the blue that it had a slither of intrigue snaking its way through the blur of negative emotions that so heavily weighed you down.
Perhaps…perhaps it was better for you to go with her. To do something, anything, to occupy yourself. Surely it had to be better than sitting and ruminating on what you couldn’t have.
You set your untouched book aside, rising from the chair. “Of course I’ll spend the day with you.”
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With a hamper packed with food, the two of you each took to a horse and rode away from the estate. It was like…like breathing for the first time in a long time.
You rode in companionable silence for a while, following in her direction. Only when the peaceful autumn landscapes began to shift and change did your curiosity pique. You knew Beron wasn’t due back to the estate for at least a couple of days, but…to travel so far away without his knowledge–
“Where are you taking me?” You asked, more worried about the consequences Lady Autumn would face than yourself. “Lady–”
“Please—call me Catrin. And you’ll see.”
Catrin. Was that the first time you’d ever heard her name? You couldn’t recall anyone ever having spoken it. The High Lord had pretty much given her a title and stripped her of any other identity.
You couldn’t bear the thought of a similar fate. No matter how worlds apart Dion was from his father in personality, in values…just knowing that others would simply see you as his wife, his lady…a lump rose in your throat. You tried to shake the thought away and focus on the journey ahead.
You’d lost track of how long you’d been riding by the time you came to the opening of a sprawling forest. The trees seemed to naturally part as though they’d been expecting you.
Catrin glanced over her shoulder at you. “We’ll dismount and continue on foot from here.”
With a nod, you followed her lead. You couldn’t help subtly studying her as you climbed down from your horse and rubbed at his neck soothingly. Away from Beron, even her hair seemed more vibrant. A slight pink dusted her cheeks, and her brown eyes seemed to beckon the sunlight towards them. She was beautiful, anyway, but…truly breathtaking, when she wasn’t being stifled.
 Retrieving the food hamper from her horse, she met your gaze and gestured to the forest opening. “This way.”
You hesitated. Beautiful as it was, the whole thing felt…bizarre. You didn’t know what or where this place was. Why she’d taken you here in particular. And lovely as she was, you knew how firmly she lived under Beron’s control; you couldn’t stop paranoid thoughts pelting you of this being some sort of trap. Of Beron having got his sweet, docile wife to lure you here to finally punish you somewhere where nobody could hear you scream–
“You needn’t fear me, Y/N.” Catrin said softly. “There’s something I want to show you. Something very few people know about. Especially my husband.”
The bite in her voice was enough to convince you of her honestly, at least. You took a step forward, towards those strange, shimmering trees that seemed to be listening to you. “Where are we?”
“The Otherlands.” Catrin told you; your sparse knowledge of Prythian had certainly never touched on that name. “It sits just outside the Autumn Court, but it’s governed by no one. Whatever takes place here…the High Lord has no jurisdiction over it. Nor does he have any interest in it.”
It was certainly beautiful – and empty. Quiet. A place where nature was allowed to thrive without the intrusions of manmade structures and smoke polluting the air. No wonder the trees looked different. The air smelled different.
“It’s stunning.” You answered earnestly. “But…why have you brought me here?”
“As I said — to show you something.”
Without sparing any more information, she turned on her feet and began to walk. You followed – and then stopped to blink. Your eyes hadn’t been deceiving you; those shimmering trees were truly parting to let you through. With every step forward, a path seemed to reveal itself before your very eyes. Rare, rare magic, like nothing you’d ever seen.
You’d lagged behind enough that you had to jog to catch up. You fell into step with Catrin, your wide eyes focused on every inch of smooth pathway that appeared out of nowhere. Catrin watched you with a smile.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” She said softly. “I never get tired of it, even after all this time.”
“I…what magic is this? Whose magic is this?”
A faraway look entered her eyes, though she didn’t falter a single step. As if she’d walked the hidden path a thousand times before and knew it by heart.
“The magic of somebody I love very much.” She answered quietly.
You watched her, waiting for more. A strange shadow had crossed her face that was so at odds with the landscape, it was almost frightening. Darkening.
There was no doubt in your mind that she absolutely was not talking about Beron.
“Do you…” You spoke. Swallowed down your words. You weren’t sure what to say. “Is he not alive?”
Catrin’s eyes danced over to you. “He is alive. Which makes it worse, somehow, don’t you think? For them to be there, and for you to still be unable to have them.”
Such true, painful words. They fit your situation so perfectly that you winced.
Catrin stopped, and the path forked before you. You followed her lead as she took a left, the trees parting and forming a perfect clearing. You stood at the edge as you watched her step in. She seemed to be taken somewhere else for a moment. Another time. A happier time.
But then she shook it off. Turned to you. “I brought you here to talk about Lucien.”
You felt stillness prickling over your body, your mind emptying of all thoughts. Nothing but bleating panic existed about you as you stared back at her.
You could see — in her face, you could see that she knew. How or why, you weren’t sure. But her eyes held the truth; your truth. She’d found you out.
You swallowed, still attempting to slam up your perfected facade. “Lady—Catrin…I’m afraid I don’t know why Lucien left—”
“You do.” She cut you off gently. “We both do.”
There was no anger evident on her face or in her voice; although, you couldn’t picture her parading such an emotion. She almost permanently wore that blank, vacant expression that you’d begun to master yourself these last few weeks.
Now, though, there was fire in her eyes.
“Lucien left because he loves you. And you love him.” She said.
Your eyes shuttered. “Listen—”
“Eris told me. Yesterday. Although…I suspected before then. I know what love looks like. I’ve seen how Lucien has come alive since you arrived.”
The words — those damn words — were torture. What good could they do you now? Love couldn’t prevail. It couldn’t solve everything. You could love Lucien for the rest of your existence, but that didn’t mean you could have him. And he could see as much himself; had left because of it.
“I’m marrying Dion.” You whispered, begging your voice not to crack. “I have no choice—”
“Listen to me, Y/N.”
Catrin stepped forward, her soft, gentle arms gently landing on your shoulders. Nothing but sincerity sat in her eyes as she stared at you.
“I brought you here,” she said. “Because I cannot see history repeat itself. I won’t. Not for my children.”
“What—”
“A very long time ago, I fell in love with a wonderful male. A kind male, who is good and noble and gentle. I would happily have spent my life with him, but only a year later, my family married me off to Beron. For their sakes — their social standing. They knew he wasn’t kind, and they knew I wasn’t happy, but that was not important to them. It was all about appearances. Reputation.”
Again, your eyes shuttered. Appearances. Reputation. Just like it was with your family. This alliance between your family and the Vanserras was simply about rebuilding what you’d lost. Your happiness didn’t come into it.
“I relented.” Catrin’s eyes stung with tears. “I was weak and not at all brave. I told myself that I had no choice. That it was my duty to be Beron Vanserra’s wife and bear his children, even though I loved another male so ferociously. So completely. Even though I always have. Those feelings do not go away. I spent twenty years without my love before I saw him again. He rescued me from harm, and it took one look at him to realise that I loved him just as much as I had two decades earlier.”
You wanted to slam your hands over your ears, to hide from her words. It wasn’t helpful to know that your feelings would always linger. It didn’t…it didn’t help.
And yet you did want to hear. You wanted to know how it had ended. How it might end for you.
“What happened?” You croaked.
“We began an affair. On and off for decades. This is where we would meet.” She gestured to the surroundings around you. “If Beron were to ride this way, he would see nothing but plain woodland. This was our place — mine and my love’s. His magic allowed us to be here together. Even if years went by of us not seeing each other, this was where we would come. On the other side of this clearing is a cottage — Dayview Cottage, he called it. It still stands today. And that is all I have left of him. When I was pregnant with Lucien, Beron found out about the affair. It stopped after that. We haven’t been together since.”
Such raw, visceral emotion coated her voice that you had to take a step back, to turn away. Because you knew that was what your own voice sounded like. You knew that you held the same look of utter turmoil and heartbreak in your eyes.
“Y/N,” Catrin whispered, “I don’t tell you this to hurt you. But the second Eris filled me in on what had been going on, I knew I had to speak to you. It got too late for me. I had children to think about — a family. I had duties that went beyond what I, myself, craved. Your only duty is to yourself. Do not make the same mistake I did. Do not give yourself regrets. Have the bravery and strength to fight what is expected of you. You cannot doom yourself, or Lucien or Dion or Willow, to a life of misery, because you’ve been told that you must.”
“It isn’t that simple.” You choked. “Beron—”
“Beron,” she cut in her, her voice uncharacteristically cold, “will be dealt with.”
Such confidence in such a weighty statement. You curled in on yourself, wiping at your eyes. Your entire body trembled.
“My children are the only thing I live for now, Y/N.” Her arm came around you. “And you…I consider you to be the daughter I never had. I see so much of my younger self in you. And I’m telling you what I wish I could tell the younger version of me. I will not see any of you resigned to the same fate that I was unable to escape.”
That was it. Your tether snapping, the dam breaking — you buried into your hands, and weeks and weeks of pent-up emotions came storming out in a pained, keening cry.
Catrin’s arms snaked around you, and you felt yourself slump against her, bringing you both to the forest floor. Somehow you ended up in her lap, her arms rocking you like a child while you sobbed and sobbed. For the male you loved more than you ever could have imagined. For the future you so wished you could have with him.
“It’s such a beautiful thing, Y/N, to love.” Catrin whispered, pressing a kiss atop of your head. “Grab it with both hands and don’t let go.”
She said nothing more as she held you. Nothing more as you cried until your throat was scratchy, your eyes raw.
But her words stuck with you, right where they’d slammed into your heart.
Grab it with both hands and don’t let go.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *
The two of you shared the hamper of food, words laying heavy around you as she told you more of her younger self. Who she was before she became a Vanserra. The woods continued to shimmer and dance in your presence, and right before you left to find your horses, she led you to the other side of the clearing and showed you — Dayview Cottage.
It was beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way. The magic that belonged to the unnamed male she loved — the same magic that enchanted the trees and the forest floor — kept it nicely preserved and untouched, no matter how many years it watched pass by. But its emptiness was bleak and lifeless, and it left a similar look in Catrin’s eyes.
Just as the first signs of evening began to show, Catrin ushered you onto your horse with a simple “it’s gotten late. We need to leave.”
Your head ached as the two of you rode back, and your full, swimming mind made it feel like mere minutes before you began to recognise villages and landscapes. You knew your surroundings enough to recognise exactly where you were — a couple of miles from the hamlet that had been destroyed by the fire.
Catrin glanced at you somewhat knowingly, and it was the first time she spoke since you’d set off as she said, “There’s one more place you need to go. But I can’t come with you.”
You frowned back at her, the action in itself self causing a twinge of discomfort to ripple behind your eyes. “What?”
“I’m heading home. But there’s a gamekeeper’s cottage around here, I believe. One you might be familiar with. Somebody is waiting for you there.”
You stared at her, knowing exactly what she was inferring without saying the words. The gamekeeper’s cottage – where you and Lucien had headed after the hamlet fire. Where you’d first ever given over to passion and found release in each other’s bodies. It seemed so long ago now.
And he…he was waiting for you there? It had to be him…the significance of the place. 
Anxiety and anticipation and excitement hit you all at once. So, so desperately you wanted to see him; to see how he was doing after a few weeks in the Spring Court. To see…to see whether he missed you as much as you missed him.
But could it truly be that easy? Catrin’s words, her story, had certainly left a lasting effect on you, got you thinking. But thoughts of Beron, of Willow, of danger…they still plagued you. Still had you slamming that wall up and not allowing yourself to consider that you might have a different outcome than the one you’d been forcing yourself to accept.
“Why?” You rasped quietly. “Why is he there?”
Catrin studied you. “Because he needs you as much as you need him. This is hard for him, also. Don’t think for a second that fleeing to the Spring Court was easy for him, Y/N. He’d have come back far sooner if he had it his way. But he asked me to help you see each other; at least spare him a conversation.”
Of course you would. She didn’t need to convince you. Even if your body was taut as a bowstring and fear was in your eyes…even if you refused and began your journey home…you knew damn well that you would have turned back and ran straight to that gamekeeper’s cottage.
You wouldn’t leave him there alone, wondering if you were ever coming.
Catrin knew it, too.
“Go to him, Y/N.” She said, reaching out to press a gentle hand to your cheek. “Go to him, and let him speak.”
You’d thought you were all cried out, and yet as you nodded, tears welled in your eyes. There was nothing but a field that lay between you and that gamekeeper’s cottage. Nothing but a stretch of grass that lay between you and the male you loved. Missed. Wanted.
Catrin, herself, looked like she was on the verge of shedding a few tears. She plastered on a beautiful smile and straightened in the saddle. “Go,” she said. “And give my boy my love.”
Before you could thank her, she was digging her heels into her horse’s sides and taking off with a soft command. You watched as she rode into the distance, her red hair like a burning flame on the landscape.
And then it was just you and that stretch of field. The cottage that stood on the other side of it. The other half of your heart that waited within it.
You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Tried to calm your thudding heart. With chills spreading across your skin that had nothing to do with the fresh evening air, you guided your horse across the field.
Every travelled inch that brought you closer had your ears ringing, head spinning. And when you saw the cottage, slightly hidden amongst the trees, it was an effort to keep yourself atop of your horse.
You slowed to a stop, taking a moment to just…breathe. Every part of you shook as you dismounted and secured your horse to a tree, leaving it to graze the forest floor. There was no sound inside the cottage. No light that peeked out.
This cottage — this cottage that had been a harbinger of change; a painful one at the time. One that had set the wheels in motion for what was to come. Yours and Lucien’s own version of Dayview Cottage, you supposed.
You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. Knock? Open the door and stride right in? Your hands twisted around each other, your mind ticking away at a pace you couldn’t keep up with—
But the door opened without any intervention from you. And there Lucien stood, the light of the cottage fire seeming to offset a glow around him as his eyes met yours, and he swallowed.
He was…glorious. Breathtaking. You didn’t have any words, try as you might to muster some.
He swallowed again before his lips parted, his eyes scanning your face.
“…Hi…” was all he said. But he could have spoken any damn word in the common tongue. It wouldn’t have mattered.
It was his deep, lilting voice that destroyed your resolve. Before you knew what you were doing, your body was colliding with his, your arms snaking around his waist. A cry tore from your throat.
He wrapped himself around you immediately. And pulled you into the cottage.
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You didn’t know how long the two of you stood in the entryway, silently holding each other. Long enough to shed more tears and soak the front of Lucien’s shirt.
But once your cries had drifted into just the occasional snivel, he pulled back to stare at you. His hands brushed the wet strands of hair that stuck to your cheek.
“You’re okay?” He murmured, and his voice threatened to end you all over again.
You could only nod, your voice not quite strong enough, yet, not to break.
He’d placed a kiss against your forehead before pulling away, murmuring about preparing you both a warm drink. Which left you to drift around the space in silence, rebuilding your composure, your strength. You kept a little bit of a wall in place, not knowing what the hell to expect. Lucien’s pottering around the kitchen was a soothing background noise as you studied the random assortment of things around you.
And then, so naturally at the same time — as if your bodies mirrored one another’s — you were turning to each other. Lucien studied you, two mugs in his hands.
“You look well.” You croaked, your eyes drinking him in. 
His lips twitched, and he placed the mugs down on the small dining table. “You don’t need to lie. I look like a mess.”
A soft laugh left your throat. You glanced down, rubbing your arms, giving your hands something — anything — to do. “As do I.”
Silence filled the space between you. And then slow, thudding footsteps approached. “You could never look like a mess.”
So, so not true. You were aware of your sallow skin, the dark smudges beneath your eyes. That you’d lost a little weight. And yet you also knew that Lucien spoke with such sincerity. He meant it, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.
Your eyes remained on the scuffs of your boots as he continued to approach. He stopped a hair's-breadth away, close enough for his scent to smother you. Your eyes shuttered as you breathed it in greedily.
“Y/N.” He whispered, his voice skittering over your skin. “Look at me.”
You weren’t sure you could. Your hands gripped your arms hard, the nails digging into your skin. It took you a moment to steel yourself enough to reopen your eyes and lift them to Lucien’s face. Nothing — nothing — could have prepared you for the emotion that lay there.
Love. Pure love, and adoration. Heartache. Despair. Somehow, you read it all. Somehow, you knew you looked the same.
The volume of the emotions threatened to bowl you over. You took a step back, clearing your throat. “Why—why did you want to meet?”
Lucien stared at you, pursing his lips. Because to question why he would want to see you was so ludicrous to him. But he followed your lead, straightening himself up a little.
“To talk to you.” He said. “To ask you — beg, if I have to — not to marry Dion.”
You swallowed. “Lucien—”
“Please just hear me out.”
You stared at him, every self-preserving instinct screaming at you to push past him and run the hell out of there. Because Catrin’s story, her words — hard-hitting as they were — didn’t change that it wasn’t as simple as just not marrying Dion. They didn’t change that there was danger involved. Real danger. Lives at risk.
But Lucien’s eyes were pleading. And you relented, relaxing your stance enough to show him that you were open, at least, to hearing what he had to say.
A moment passed of nothing. You wondered if he might not speak at all. But as you met his eyes in question, you found tears there. Found that he was struggling to speak around his emotion.
“Lucien…” you sighed softly. You reached for him, your hand lingering in the air. Would it make it worse to touch him?
His eyes shuttered, tears spilling down his cheeks. And then he was stepping towards you, cupping your face in his broad, warm hands. Tilting it up to look at him.
“Listen to me. Please.” His voice shook. So did his hands. “I am in love with you. So…so in love. I didn’t know it was possible to love anyone or anything this much. I didn’t know I was capable.”
You blinked away your own tears. “You said you were done fighting for me. I don’t blame you for that.”
“I said that to make it easier to turn around and walk out. But I went to the Spring Court to ask for Tamlin’s help. To find a way for this to work — for us to be together.”
Hope threatened to bloom inside you. You shoved it back down; couldn’t let it take root. Not for it just to be yanked out again.
“It isn’t that easy.” You whispered.
“Of course it isn’t.” His rough, calloused thumbs stroked your cheeks. “It’s love. But I will never stop fighting for you. Never.”
“Lucien—”
“Please, Y/N.” He stared down at you. “I need you to trust me.”
You placed your hands over his, brushing your thumbs over his knuckles. “I do trust you. With my entire soul.”
“Then please, my fireling, hear me when I say that there’s a way out of this, I just— I need you to choose me.” His eyes held something so familiar and yet so unknown to you — a glint of gold in a sea of russet. “I’m already yours. So claim me.”
You broke.
There was no staying strong beneath the weight of those words. Those emotions. You couldn’t.
You reached up, taking a strand of his hair in your palm.
His breath stalled.
You parted the strands of hair, keeping your eyes fixed on the pattern, as you began to twine them together. To braid them.
“What’re you doing?” He whispered, as if afraid that you’d stop if he spoke too loudly.
“Giving you a braid.” You answered and fastened the braid.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed — hard.
“There. You’re mine now.” Your eyes met his russet ones. “I’m in love with—”
Your words cut off as you felt it.
A resounding, earth-shattering snap, deep in your heart, in your soul.
It was like the sun breaking through clouds. Like warmth encasing you. It spread over your body, over Lucien’s, like golden rays of sunlight combining you as one. Twining your souls together. And as if those rays could speak, could whisper to you, you heard it. One word. One word that changed everything.
Mate.
You blinked up at him, so many words in your mind, your throat, on your tongue. So many things you wanted to say, and yet none would come to the surface. The world was shifting, altering your body to fit like a perfect puzzle piece with his. Your mate.
“You knew.”
“Y/N—”
A cry tumbled from your lips, and you were once more throwing yourself at Lucien, wrapping your arms around him. But it was different this time.
It was…it was you giving up the fight. It was you refusing to fight your feelings any longer. No matter what it may mean. No matter what it might bring to your doorstep. You couldn’t fight off your love any longer.
Lucien’s arms came around you, pressing you so close against him that it lifted your feet slightly from the floor. He held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head. “Y/N—”
“I love you.” You choked, cutting him off. “I fucking love you, Lucien.”
He went so, so still. You’d only ever said it once, sobbing into his chest. He didn’t even know if you were aware of it. But this — you said the words with such utter conviction he knew his mind couldn’t have conjured up the emotion in your voice.
And then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. There was fire in his own.
“Say it again.” He said roughly. “Please.”
“I love you.”
You surged up on the tips of your toes, capturing Lucien in a hard, bruising kiss.
He seemed to just blink for a moment, as though he couldn’t quite keep up. And then he was folding, breathing a cry against your lips, like they’d brought him home.
Mate. Of course he was your mate. You should have damn well known. You’d never been able to stay away from him, never been able to fight the intrigue. Even when he’d been rude and standoffish and arrogant, you’d wanted more, more, more. You’d wanted Lucien Vanserra entirely.
You wanted — needed — him now.
Your kiss was hard, desperate. It was with the force of your feelings, your bond, that you urged him backwards, back and back until you were at the bed. His legs hit the edge of the mattress, and he toppled down, dragging you with him.
You tore your lips from his. Stared down at him.
“I love you.” You said.
He pushed up and kissed you again.
Both your hands and his began fighting to desperately remove clothes. They were ripped from you, from him, tossed across the room. You kissed every inch of bare skin that was revealed; Lucien’s golden, muscled chest, his stomach, his arms, his hips—
But he wanted those lips of yours on his. He pulled you up. Stared into your eyes for a moment. And then he was kissing you again.
You didn’t know at which point you both ended up completely naked, your skin pressing against his, but the feeling of it alone could have brought you to release. It felt so right. So complete.
There was no fooling around. There would be time for that — a whole future’s worth. But you needed him inside you. He needed to be inside you.
He made to flip you over, but you were pressing his chest down, pushing him into the bed. He stared up at you, watching intently, hungrily, as you lifted your hips.
Your hand reached down, wrapping around his firm, hard cock. A grunt left him as you pumped him once, twice, and then lined him up with your entrance.
“Wait.” He breathed, and you paused. He sat up, bringing his body closer to yours, your faces inches apart as he said, “I love you too.”
The words were pleasure in their own right. You moaned. Captured his mouth with yours. And then you were slowly, gently, sinking down onto his length.
The two of you gasped against each other’s mouths. Lucien’s arms came round to fasten around your waist, and he held you to him, his hand landing on your hip and beginning to rock you gently.
He filled you so perfectly. You weren’t sure there was a more complete feeling than your bodies being as flawlessly aligned as your souls.
Every movement and moment was slow, unhurried. You couldn’t possibly get any closer as he kissed you and gently rocked you on his cock. You wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Gods,” he breathed, his hands moving up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms. “Gods, I missed you. My mate. My fireling.”
That fucking nickname would destroy you. You moaned against his mouth, rolling your hips faster. His brow furrowed in pure, unbridled pleasure as he pulled his face back and glanced down at your joined bodies.
“Look at us.” He groaned, his hand guiding your face down, thumb slipping between your lips. “Look how perfectly we fit together. There’s no one else for either of us.”
You were also groaning, whimpering, moaning, your tongue swirling around his thumb as you watched. Watched you fucking him and him fucking you. Your mate.
You weren’t aware of when, exactly, your bodies began to move faster, harder. The two of you were nothing but dancing souls as Lucien flipped you over, not once pulling out of you as he hovered over you.
But his hips ceased their movements. He stilled inside you. Stared down at you, his eyes like pools of endless, churning emotion. His hand brushed your cheek gently.
“Say it again.” He whispered, his breath fanning your face. You knew exactly what he meant.
“Lucien Vanserra, my mate,” you breathed. Your hand trailed down his body to find his. You laced your fingers together. “I am in love with you.”
It could have been a cry or a groan that left his lips. You weren’t entirely sure. His mouth met yours, and you knew your words had set you both on the home stretch. That this was how you would finish — together.
He moved in you and on you, his hands always gentle, his hips not stuttering once. Your soft “I love yous” mingled with one another’s until you didn’t know which was yours and which was his.
And then he was picking up the pace. You moaned against him, and you could feel him throbbing inside you. You wanted to feel his release.
“Come,” you whispered against his lips. “Come for me. Please.”
“Gods.” He choked. His hand reached down between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing at your clit, sending a white-hot sting of pleasure splintering through your body. “Come with me.”
His deft fingers left you no other choice. You were light as air as you went tumbling off that edge into oblivion, your pleasure overpowering you entirely. Lucien was falling right along with you, his cock spilling every drop inside you. While his mouth spilled nothing but love into yours.
And then he was pulling back just a little. He trembled against you, his head falling to your chest, his breaths heaving as much as yours. Your fingers threaded within his hair, soothingly massaging the area. It took you a moment to notice the wetness that trickled down between your breasts. You frowned, gently lifting his face.
Tear-filled eyes met yours. Lucien squeezed them shut, the droplets rolling down his face. You reached out, brushing his hair back.
“Hey…” you spoke softly. “Look at me.”
He did. He allowed you to see every emotion on his face. You leaned in, kissing his wet, salty lips.
“Promise me, Y/N.” He whispered, his arms pulling you against him. “Promise me we won’t be apart again. I couldn’t bear it.”
You didn’t know much. You didn't know what would happen the next day, or the day after that — or the year after that.
But you knew that you loved Lucien Vanserra more than you could possibly put into words.
And you knew you damn well meant it, with every piece of your heart and soul, as you stared into his eyes and spoke those words.
“I promise.”
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You’d never felt so serene, you realised, as you did while watching him sleep. 
You knew you could happily lay there forever, your body slanted over his as your fingers absentmindedly played with the braid you’d put there mere hours ago. You didn’t once tear your eyes away from the smooth, unworried sight of his face. He was beautiful.
So, so lucky you were, to have this male. To love him. He’d given you so much already. Hope. Bravery. Strength.
Your mind gently thumbed through your memories of him. Your lips twitched at the thought of that first encounter in the woods — how unnecessarily rude he’d been. How he seemed to dislike you for no reason.
And yet — and yet — look at the two of you now. In love.
The backs of your fingers brushed gently against his cheek. It was then that Lucien stirred, sucking in a slow, deep breath. His eyes fluttered open, immediately finding yours. A smile tugged at his lips.
“Were you watching me sleep?” He blinked at you sleepily, a lazy smirk replacing the soft smile.
The morning rasp in his voice turned something molten in your lower belly.
“Maybe.” You conceded, shrugging as best as you could laying on your side. “I might’ve been playing with your braid, too.”
His eyes snagged on your hand — your fingers — as they still traced the intricate design. “It’s addicting, isn’t it.”
A hum was your only response.
Both of you remained quiet and blissful, basking in each other’s company, until Lucien noticed the corners of your mouth lifting up in a soft smile. His heart went a tad wobbly in his chest.
“What is it?”
“This braid is special.”
He studied you closely, that brilliant smile widening. “Oh?”
“It signifies another thing, now. Not just Linden, but…you, too. Us. It signifies our strength. Our love.”
You heard the slight hitch of breath in his throat. Like your words would start him off crying again.
“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that.” He whispered.
You smiled and leaned in to brush your lips against his.
“These strands of hair,” you murmured, gently tugging, “are our souls. Twined together. Always.”
He kissed you, somehow both hard and soft. And then his forehead was pressing against yours. “Always.”
You smiled. But there was no chance to breathe another word as his arms came around you, and he was flipping you over just as he had earlier.
And as he slid into you, he gasped that same word against your ear, his braid tickling your face.
Always.
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The training barracks, as it turned out, were a bitch to find.
Sweat smattered Eris’s forehead and rolled down his neck as he slowed his mount to a stop. His eyes scanned the huge, imposing building before him, and with the unexpected silence that met him, it was hard to believe the place housed a troop of guards in training.
Though, if he listened harder, the sounds of clashing metal and light-hearted banter danced over to him on the soft breeze. Guards were training somewhere on the green that was big enough to rival the Vanserra Estate.
This was where the letters had indicated. And so this was where he would look.
He dismounted, shoes hitting the dirt path. He patted his horse’s neck as he strode towards the barracks. What was the etiquette here? Did he knock? Just stride in like his father would? He wasn’t sure—
He didn’t have to worry about it, though, as a sound caught his attention. He turned, eyeing the smaller — but still considerable — building to his right. A sturdy wooden building whose door was open just a crack. Curiosity piqued.
Before he could take a step forward, the door swung open wider, and a tall figure emerged. A naked, muscled torso of sweat-slick brown skin glinted in the sunlight. The male was huge, all defined, corded muscles and rugged handsomeness. He wiped his brow with a rag as he studied Eris curiously. And then stilled, recognition dawning.
But it wasn’t the sculpted body Eris’s gaze snagged on, no. His eyes scanned the brilliant, intricate braids that were currently tied in a knot atop of the male's head. The uptilted, dark eyes that were slightly feline. Cheekbones that could cut through stone. 
“Eris Vanserra?” The male spoke — and if his appearance hadn’t been a giveaway enough, the smooth, lilting accent most certainly was. “Can I help you with something?”
 Eris inclined his head, taking a step forward. “I sure hope so.”
Intrigue crossed the male’s eyes, and he stood up straighter.
“Finally we meet.” Eris said with a vague smile. “You must be Linden."
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
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