#'he can see what she’s capable of and he wants to draw it out. they’re both outsiders among the natives'

[manderleyfire]

I will do all this, I will get all this blood on my hands, and you are able to plead naivety.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Mayor's Daughter and the Outlaw

Summary: After ten years, you've finally got your shot at your revenge. You've found the Hero. You have him in your sights.

-----

Pull the trigger.

You’ve worked too hard not to pull the trigger. The sweat, blood and tears you’ve shed have been the least you’ve given to be here. The air is crisp and clean nearly a hundred feet up in a pine tree overlooking a remote forest. You’re probably the only person in the world capable of spotting the brown, camouflaged building spanning the length of the small river running through the valley. There’s a hologram of the river it’s covering playing over the building’s walls. Hell, there are even birds flicking occasionally across the illusion, not often enough to draw attention, but just often enough their movement sends your eyes darting to other trees, trying to find where they went.

You breathe in the scent of sun-heated sap so slowly that it takes a solid minute for your lungs to expand. Your pupils flex and adjust whenever the wind rocks your tree. The window you’ve been staring at for the past hour remains in your focus.

The Sun, hair just as fake-gold as it was ten years ago, sleeps on. He’s definitely older now that you can see him in real life instead of on magazine covers or under studio lights. The skin of his neck is loose and folded under the weight of his chin drooping towards his chest. His eyes flicker under his eyelids. The bastard still has the audacity to dream. His arms are crossed over the sun motif emblazoned across his breastplate, his dust-covered boots kicked up on his desk so you can see how worn the soles are. Judging by the way his lips tremble, he’s snoring.

Pull the trigger.

You exhale. This is when you should do it. When your shoulders drop and the wind dies so that, for a moment, the world stands still. There are no whispers across the canopy. Every bough is frozen. The reflection of the sun in the river is overcome by a well-timed cloud and the Sun’s head tilts back to expose the long line of his throat.

The trigger presses back against your finger like an eager puppy. There’s nothing special about the bullets, nothing special about this gun. It’s not the right weapon for what you’re asking it to do, but you’ve had longer and harder shots. You know that you’ll shoot true and the confidence steadies your hand even more. You smoothly pull--

If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back.

Your pupils dilate at the memory. For a moment you don’t see the Sun; you see her with her face burned as red as her prom dress. You try to dispel the image, try to remember that she didn’t die in her prom dress, but it’s too late.

I want you to live, Elian.

You’re suddenly aware of how your lungs ache and your legs burn from the way they’re wrapped around the tree and the bark is digging into your cheek and your fingers are like ice on the trigger. You’re out in the middle of nowhere. This is the Sun’s private residence. The security must be insane even if there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. What’s your exit strategy again? Your thoughts scatter as her voice rings through your head again.

More than anything, I want you to live.

-------Ten years ago----

You’re what the heroes tactfully call a nuisance. A juvenile delinquent with powers, aka a kid that the police aren’t equipped to handle and the local Hero chapter is too overqualified and too understaffed to address often.

 Your moral compass has never had a true north and it only gets worse the more your powers develop. Soon you aren’t just stealing your mom’s car – you’re stealing the neighbor’s and then the neighbor’s neighbor’s and then the neighbor’s neighbor’s neighbor’s until you’re breaking into houses at the top of the hill and joyriding in a car worth more than your entire neighborhood together.

You find out pretty quickly that the heroes care a lot more when money is involved.

You spend your first night in jail after getting chased for three hours in a neon green lambo by the four heroes packed like sardines in a standard issue SUV. It’s laughably easy to out-drive them, choking around corners and careening down alleys that you scouted in the afternoon. Honestly, it would have been easy to get away, but your mom called just as the tank hit empty, asking when you were coming home.  You decided to give the heroes a break before they decided to play too rough with a minor.

Mom isn’t thrilled when you tell her you won’t be home in time for school tomorrow.

You kind of expect to be sent to prison the next day when you find out just whose car you stole. The Mayor’s daughter’s car, bought new for her seventeenth birthday a month ago. There are two open secrets about the mayor. One, he’s probably one of the heroes that protect the city judging from how much he praises them every time there’s a mic nearby. Two, he loves his daughter more than anything else.

So when you’re released the next day with a slap on the wrist? Yeah, you’re surprised.

When you’re released the next day to find the golden-haired, blue-eyed Mayor’s daughter waiting outside? Having just bailed you out?

You feel fear for the first time.

“You could have at least crashed it,” she says when she notices you gaping at her from the end of the parking lot. She’s leaning against the hood of a black SUV that looks a lot like the one the heroes chased you in last night. She waves a hand in the air. “Dad says the dents you put in the side will be out by tomorrow.”

Fear, apparently, makes you snarky. “What, you wanted to spend another week getting chauffeured by a hero?”

Her brows jerk up towards her hairline. She throws a glance over her shoulder. “You seeing ghosts? Nobody’s in there. I drove myself.”

“Good for you,” you say. You think you smell. They didn’t give you access to a shower last night. You’re upwind from her and damnit why are you embarrassed if you smell or not? Your chin jerks forward in a challenge. “You gonna give me a ride back home?”

You’re joking, but she nods like it was the plan all along. “Let’s go.”

Is that an answering challenge in her words? Your teeth grind as you force yourself forward. “Very kind of you,” you chirp, swinging up into the passenger seat. The car smells like leather and justice. “Just drop me off on the other side of the train tracks. I can find my way home from there.”

She snorts. “Is that a Footloose reference? Very dated.”

You stare at her profile. “…No. I literally live on the other side of the tracks.”

She flushes. “Right. Well…I’m not dropping you off yet. I want to talk first.”

The doors are locked. You swallow as she carefully pulls out of the parking lot and then guns it into the road without looking. Luckily, no one’s there. “Talk? About what?”

“About how you’re going to steal my car again,” she says. “And this time you’re going to crash it right.”

“You hate the color that much?” you joke.

Her tone is not joking. “You have no idea.”

You don’t find out her name until dinner when your mom’s managed to entice her into a third slice of homemade pizza. She stares down at the slice while your mom waves for you not to stay up too late before going to bed early. Gamely, you’re already on your fifth helping. Criminal activity takes a lot of energy.

“Does your mom know who I am?” she asks.

“Like, in theory,” you say. You’re full and warm as you lean into the hard wooden back of your chair. Mom added olives to your side of the pizza. “She probably doesn’t know you’re the Mayor’s daughter though. Just that he has one.”

“The Mayor…right,” she says. Her jaw firms. She flicks some olives off her pizza and then eats half the slice in one bite. “I’m Gina.”

“Elian,” you say instead of No, you’re the Mayor’s Daughter. You refill her soda cup before your own, just to show her you can be fancy and have manners too. She’s so out of place in your family’s one bedroom apartment. Her shirt is crisp and white, her gold necklace so shiny, that it’s like there’s a sepia filter over the eggshell walls and oak cabinets. “Sprite. Only the finest for the lady who bailed me out.”

“I’m thinking you can take my car next weekend,” Gina says so abruptly you nearly spit out your soda. There’s a hard light in her eyes. “Dad’s out of town for…business. He won’t notice for a few days. You take it, you get out of the city, you drive it off a cliff once you’ve wrecked it doing donuts or whatever.”

“A cliff?” You know exactly where she’s talking about. There’s an abandoned quarry about an hour outside of town. You shake your head. “That’s where people dump bodies. No way am I going out there.”

“They find bodies there because it’s outside of Hero Force’s patrol,” Gina says. She waves her hands in the air so the yellow light from the inset ceiling lights catches on her golden manicure. “If you think about it, it’s the best place to dump a car. Especially when the heroes are going to be out of town.”

You stare at her. “Did you just admit your dad is part of Hero Force?”

Her eyes skitter away from yours. “No.”

“Your dad is out of town next weekend.”

“Yes.”

“And the heroes?”

“Maybe they’re traveling together.”

“I don’t think anyone is supposed to know when the heroes are going to be out of town. Isn’t that like a national secret, or something?”

“We’re not a big enough chapter for it to be a national secret,” she denies. She bites her lip. “Probably a state secret though.”

You stand and your chair chatters against the linoleum. “No. Absolutely not.” It’s time for Ms. Mayor’s Daughter to leave.

She scrambles up after you, following you into the living room. “Why not?! You already mess with the heroes. Weren’t you the one who kept breaking into the mall on a motorcycle? You hijacked one of their delivery trucks a month ago—”

“A food delivery truck,” you say. “Which was more of a commentary about the city’s investment in Hero Force luxury rather than after school programs—” You bite your tongue. You spin so that the couch stays between you. You glance at your mom’s closed door and consciously lower your voice. “How do you even know that?”

“I’ve been watching you,” she says. She laughs without humor, dragging one hand through her golden hair. “Sometimes living in this town is like being in a simulation. We have four A-class heroes for a population of 30,000 and everybody loves them. Nobody thinks it’s strange to have walking nukes in a small town. They love my dad. Did you know no one’s even run against him for the past two elections? It doesn’t matter what he does. He owns this place and these people. He has – could commit murder and it would be justified. People would think it would be justice.”

“He loves you,” you say weakly. Isn’t four heroes a pretty normal number? Sure, the ones in your town are big names, but that’s not weird.

Is it?

“He loves me so he gets to be a tyrant?” Gina scoffs. “If he’s even capable of love.”

“I’m not going to mess around with heroes’ civilian identities just because you’ve got daddy issues,” you say. When hurt flashes across her face, you wince. “Sorry. But it’s one thing to mess with heroes in masks, okay? Messing with a hero’s family—”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem when you were stealing my car the other night.”

“That was before I knew your dad was Mr. Solve or whatever—”

“The Sun,” Gina says.

“What?”

“My dad’s the Sun.”

“That,” you say, “is so much worse. Didn’t he burn some minor villain’s eyes out last week?”

“Yes,” Gina says. Her mouth twists. “The guy got off easy compared to some others.”

You stare at her, momentarily speechless. “And you wonder why I’m not going to antagonize the guy?”

“But you already do,” Gina says. Her eyes are glinting. She looks so out of place against the dim interior of your home, a radiant girl dressed all in white and gold. She rounds the couch and snatches up one of your hands between two of her own. “Everyone else loves my dad. Except you. My entire life, and you’re the only one who dares to make—make statements about Hero Force consumption by stealing their deliveries or make the heroes chase you around an abandoned mall on foot like regular people. You challenge them, Elian. All I’m asking is that you do it again.”

“That sounds like a lot more than just crashing your car,” you say. Your voice sounds very far away. You never thought of your actions as so noble. There’s a tingling in your stomach that you’ve never felt before and your hand is so warm. She sees you. You shake the fantasy out of your head. “I—look. I’m flattered, but I’m not your guy. The heroes know my face. It’s only a matter of time before I get sent to whatever detention super-powered kids get sent to. I have to graduate high school.”

Rather than discourage her, Gina presses closer. “What if I told you there’s a way to do both?”

Her closeness fogs your brain. “Both?”

“Take the heroes down a notch and maintain your identity,” she says. She releases you and whirls to get her purse off the couch. “I can help you. We can train so that the heroes never recognize the new you. You can use your powers in new ways. And you can wear this.”

She thrusts a piece of chewed leather into your hands. A mask.

“I’m thinking,” she says, “we call you Outlaw.”

------ Now ----

You can’t shoot. Night is falling by the time you admit it to yourself. You press your back against the rough bark of the tree and stare up at the first stars. You cradle your gun in your hands.

The bloodlust is still there. You aren’t a fair lily incapable of staining your petals red (as red as her). So why can’t you pull the trigger? Because of her ghost? Her last message to you?

If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back. More than anything, I want you to live, Elian.

You grind your teeth. Easy for her to say. The dying never have to feel the weight of consequence. They can just say whatever the fuck they want.

You aren’t thinking when you climb down the tree. Your powers give you a lot of things – speed and healing, an instinct for the outdoors, and excellent eyesight. You don’t need to look to find one branch and another, dropping to the forest floor in ten-foot increments. By the time your boots hit the ground, you know what the problem is.

Unlike your other kills, this one is personal. It was never going to be enough just to see him dead. You need him to know why you’ve got him in your sights.

The Sun is an old school hero. The traps you were so afraid of are predictable, turns out. You pick your way around bear traps and landmines, sharp eyes easily picking out silver trip wire when it glints in the moonlight. There are cameras, but there’s likely only one person with access. In the past ten years of following the Sun, you’ve learned two things about him.

One, he’ll kill the things he loves before he loses them.

Two, he doesn’t trust anyone but himself.

You get to the building inside of an hour. The first floor is hidden by steel shutters and there’s no light peeking out from behind them. The second floor window where he’d been sleeping for most of the day shines with the faint blue glow of a television.

The front door looks like a bank’s with how thick it is. There’s a keypad and a biometric scanner you don’t have a prayer of hacking.

That’s okay. You’ve already seen your way in.

You climb up the nearest pine tree. The Sun likes to think of himself as a competent hero, but too many mayoral kickbacks over the years made him soft. He surrounded himself with powerful heroes and never once struggled to win. Because of that, he’s missing some caution and common sense. The building’s first floor is locked up tight, but the windows on the second are regular glass.

And he hasn’t trimmed the tree line back far enough.

You fire your first shot of the night into his empty desk chair, exactly where his chest had been hours earlier. Immediately a siren sounds, and the TV glow coming through the office’s open door is consumed by bright light. You run two steps and then leap, neatly flipping through the empty window frame. Your boots slide for a moment on the broken glass and you catch yourself on the edge of his desk. There are medical papers scattered across it, prescriptions and diagrams of the face and eyes and heart.

You chew your cheek at the sight of a pill bottle. There had been rumors that the Sun is sick with his own radiation poisoning. It’s good you’re here before nature runs its course.

The siren wails for another beat before dying. The silence rings. Your heartbeat picks up as your ears strain to hear if anyone’s coming to meet you. Strange. The Sun had to have been the one who shut off the alarm.

So where is he?

You hold your gun out in front of you and check your mask. The Sun knows who you are by now, but you want him to see the mask she gave you. The handsewn leather, patched more times than you can count, is recycled from one of his old leather jackets. It feels oddly poetic to be dressed in the first iteration of your costume, cowboy hat tipped back and a biker vest embroidered with the name she gave you.

Is the Sun hiding? You creep out of the office, eyes darting from the quaint landscapes hanging on the wall to the tasteful wooden floors. The Sun’s safe house feels more cabin-y than you expected. The property deed has been in his name for the past fifteen years. Did Gina ever visit? Her ghost runs ahead of you, golden nails dragging along the peach wallpaper to the first open door on the left. She looks over her shoulder and smiles.

There are times when you’re glad for the afterimages your brain conjures. This is not one of those times. You don’t think she’d be happy to see what you’re about to do.

You swing around the doorway gun first, a snarl on your lips. “You old bastard, drop what—”

The smell of antiseptic hits your nose first, dashing away the red haze filling your vision in an instant. A TV murmurs against the wall, some rerun of an old western, but it’s not what holds your attention.

There’s a bed in the center of the room. The Sun sits at bedside, his attention wholly invested on the hand he’s holding up. Carefully, he applies gold paint to the nails without once looking up at you.

The woman in the bed is obscured with white gauze and beige compression bandages. Her breathing is soft and even. The one eye you can see is closed and still. No dreaming, no awareness.

“Outlaw,” the Sun says. He gently sets Gina’s left hand down on her stomach and picks up her right. He squints at her pinky nail. “Close the office door, would you? I don’t want the heat to escape.”

“What,” you breathe, “the fuck.”

-----Ten years ago ----

It’s a good year with Gina. You never realized how friend-starved you were until she was there, over at your house every day after school. She always makes it sound like she’s coming over to talk about the Outlaw thing, but there’s other stuff too. Movies and cooking and tutoring.

“Life is about balance,” Gina says sagely during one such tutoring session. “Besides, even heroes don’t go on more than two missions a month. We’re doing just fine.”

There’s always a pressing need to do more though. Whenever you pull off a particularly daring heist, she smiles this secret and pleased smile that makes your stomach flip. Sometimes, when the two of you watch news coverage of your getaways, she murmurs how impressed she is, how smart you are, how cool your powers are.

It makes you want to do anything for Gina.

You’re watching the news one day, waiting for a recap of how you stole the Sun’s favorite shield from the armory, when a rare story comes on. A Hero is dead, some guy named Ibis from Atlanta. There aren’t any leads to the culprit except for eyewitness accounts of a mysterious, winged super-powered individual flying low over the city, hiding in storm clouds.

“I’d kill a Hero,” you blurt out.

Gina jerks so hard that the popcorn bowl goes flying out of her hands. She doesn’t seem to notice. “What?”

“N-not your dad or anything,” you say quickly although yes, if you had to kill anyone, you’d start with the man who makes Gina cry like that. “Just…in general. The news anchor said Ibis was connected to a civilian’s death, right? I could kill a Hero like that.”

“No,” Gina says. She drops off the couch to kneel by you. “No, Elian.”

You flush like you’ve done something wrong. You sink into your hoodie. “I’m not going to, I’m just saying—”

“If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back,” Gina says. She’s too close, so close that you can see the flecks of gold hidden in her eyes. “Your life—it’s not like what we’ve been doing. Dad’s got rules when it comes to stealing. But if you kill a hero?” She shudders. “I want you to live, Elian.”

“I got it—”

“Please,” she blurts out. The plea in her voice makes you really look at her despite the pounding of your heart. Her eyes are wild and her mouth is pressed into a thin line. “No matter what. Promise me.”

“I—” No matter what? You slowly shake your head, trying to get away from the instinctive desire to agree with her. “I-if someone is really bad, I’d—”

“Elian—”

The tension makes you truthful.

“If your dad hurt you, I’d kill him,” you say. When she rears back, this time you follow. You brace your arm against the couch so you can lean into her space. With your other hand, you trace the fading burn on her cheek that could pass for an old sunburn if you didn’t know the truth. “I know you don’t think he will, but he’s been erratic lately. And I know about his temper. If he hurts you, I’d kill him.”

The air thickens between you. It’s rare that you don’t back down, but you’re not backing down now, staring into her eyes. Competing wills. For a moment you let everything you feel come to the surface. Your frustration when she visits with that fucking shadow in her smile, the helplessness when there’s another burn on her arm, the adoration when she’s just there.

Gina shudders and looks away first. She licks her lips. “I—I…appreciate what you’re saying, but I’m fine. You agreed I got to make the rules for Outlaw. I’m telling you one. Don’t kill heroes.”

She’s pulling away. You do too, falling to her side and sitting next to her rather than hovering over her. You try for a careless shrug but fall short. How can she make you feel so powerful one second and so powerless the next? You avert your eyes. “I won’t kill heroes,” you promise.

You hear her suck in a breath. “Good. Because I need you alive.”

“I do like being alive,” you say and don’t finish the sentence with with you.

“We’re done studying,” she decides. She darts up towards the kitchen. “I’m getting another bowl of popcorn before we start the movie. You want some?”

You stare at your reflection in the dark TV. Your jaw works. Finally, you say, “Nah. I’m good. I’ll just eat it off the floor.”

“Don’t be gross, Elian!”

------Now.----

“I will regret that day for the rest of my life,” the Sun says. He hasn’t looked at you once. His eyes are glued to the steady rise and fall of Gina’s chest. He times his breathing to hers and then sighs. “What a fool I was. Drunk on power.”

You’re standing on the opposite side of the bed. Your gaze flicks from Gina to him and back again. “Is she ever conscious?”

“It’s a medically-induced coma,” the Sun says. “The doctors say she should wake up any day now that most of her injuries have healed. Her last surgery was the final one. Now it’s up to her.”

This might be the first time in ten years that you’ve breathed. You suck in air greedily and imagine you can taste her scent under the layers of sickness and medicine. “They told me she died.”

“I told Hero Force you did it,” the Sun says. There’s no remorse in his voice. “They always tell villains they were successful, so they don’t try again.”

A decade of rage slides around your ribs. “You fucking bastard.”

“I did think it was your fault ten years ago.” He carefully picks up Gina’s left hand again to apply a second coat. It takes all your willpower not to slap him away from her. “If you hadn’t stolen Hero Force data, I wouldn’t have had to come after you with my full power. She would never have been in the line of fire.”

You’re fists shake at your sides. “I didn’t steal Hero Force data, I stole your fucking car. Don’t rewrite history.”

“There was Hero Force data in that car.”

“It was your Porsche, your civilian Porsche!”

“My fault to have left sensitive data out,” the Sun says. His confession surprises you into silence. “But I had to get it back no matter what. Then I blamed you by thinking how if you’d only asked me to take my daughter to Prom, I would’ve known she was in the car.”

“She’s not your property and it’s not the 1800s, of course I didn’t ask if I could take your daughter to—”

“I’m telling you what I thought,” the Sun interrupts. He finally looks at you. He looks worse than he did earlier, the years cutting deep lines into his face. There are black bags of exhaustion under his watering eyes. He breathes out shakily. “I had to tell myself it was your fault. It was the only way I could survive, Elian.”

Your real name shocks you. You stumble back. “How do you know that name?”

“She calls for you sometimes,” the Sun says. He drags a hand over his face before grimly returning to his daughter’s nails. “She’s never been really conscious for long. The d-damage took a long time to heal. But when she’s awake, she calls for you and she calls for Outlaw. Wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

Your chest throbs. “I should have been here. You should have—I could have—”

“Blaming you let me keep her by my side,” the Sun says. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or even understand me. But I…I regret more than anything what I’ve done to my daughter.”

“You’re going to regret it even more,” you say. The rage you feel is like a tidal wave. Ten years. Ten years. You could have held her hand through her recovery. You could have been there for her. And this selfish asshole who never even loved her like a father should took that away from you. You remember your gun. “You never deserved to be her father.”

“I didn’t, did I?” the Sun asks. He sets her hand down and swallows hard. He looks down the barrel of your gun without flinching. “She says one other thing, you know. When she asks for you.”

The curiosity stills your trigger finger. “What?”

“She says, Don’t kill heroes.”

Your face contorts. There’s the memory of popcorn in your mouth and the heat of her eyes on you. “Yeah, she said that to me before too. Back when I offered to kill you the first time.”

The Sun hangs his head. If he’s surprised to hear that, he doesn’t show it. “I wasn’t a good father.”

“No. But she didn’t want you dead.”

Understanding dawns. “Don’t kill heroes.”

“Exactly.” You tilt your head. “Do you feel like a hero?”

His lips tremble. His gaze drifts back to his daughter. Her eyes are flickering under eyelids. “I—I—”

The trigger presses back against your finger, eager and ready. “Do you?”

He licks his lips. “N-no,” he whispers. He closes his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”

This time, it’s easy to take aim. Steady your breath. And—

Fuck.

“Leave,” you say. You drop your gun back to your side and scowl when the Sun’s eyes fly open in surprise. “If you do what I say, you’ll live long enough for Gina to decide what to do with you. Leave and don’t tell anyone about this.”

The Sun shakes his head. “No, no I can’t leave her—”

“Then die here,” you snap. You bare your teeth at him. “Leave. We’ll be gone in a week. Maybe she wakes up and calls you. Maybe she—” You take a deep breath. “Well. Maybe she doesn’t. Either way, your part is done here.”

“I need to be there when she wakes up. Please, I’m her dad—”

“You’re her murderer,” you say. More than anything, you want to pick Gina up and run out of here before the Sun can stop you. You eye the monitors and know three people you need to call for advice before you even attempt to move her. A week should be just enough time to disappear. “You think you deserve to stay by her side?”

The Sun opens his mouth twice before he finds words. “I just—let me stay until she wakes up. That way I’ll know.”

“I spent ten years thinking she was dead,” you say. “You can last a month in limbo. If I have to ask you again, we’ll finally see who’s stronger now that I’m all grown up.”

The Sun picks himself up slowly. You think he cries. You’re not sure. He may even plead with you again. You’re deaf to it. Your brain has given up on splitting your attention and every atom of your being is homed in on Gina.

She’s alive. She’s alive.

You kneel at her bedside and wait for her to wake up.

----

Thanks for reading! If you want to read more of work or get access to stories like this a week (or more!) early, please consider checking out my Patreon (X)! This week's short story for my Triple Shot and above tiers is about a world where being loved adds years to your lifespan!

Based off this prompt (X): Love determines how long you live, some people are in their hundreds, but some don’t even live to be 20.

[latenightdaydreams]

https://twitter.com/adultvide/status/1789610054754378177?t=-uye80G6jPXsyPbYaGE5KQ&s=19

Can you please write about divorced!Konig with babysitter!reader. He has a three years old son and he has to go on a deployment so he hired a babysitter, allow her to stay in his house because she's still in university. After months he comes back from his deployment. When he opens the main door and sees the babysitter is playing with his son. That scene is so warm for him 😩

The link has been removed BUT I did get to watch it before.

(It was a guy thigh f-ing his baby sitter before accidently slipping in)

The Nanny (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, thigh fucking, age gap

1.8k word count

🍷

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.

König turns his key in the lock, opening the door. Once inside, he kicks off his boots, dropping his bags. In the distance, he can hear Jakob giggling, followed by the little pitter patter of his feet. He walks forward into the home more to see you hiding behind one of the chairs while Jakob runs around looking for you.

Your beautiful eyes meet König’s, putting your finger over your lips as if asking him to not give you away. A beautiful smile on your full lips as the sound of Jakob calling him draws his attention away.

“Were Momo at?” Jakob put his arms up in confusion.

“Momo?” König seemed confused until he realized that was what he was calling you. “Oh, I don’t know where Momo is.” 

Jakob looks around the room before walking the opposite direction of you. König watches as you crouch, sneaking up behind Jakob, wrapping your arms around him and spinning him around. Loud laughter emanates from the both of you. He can’t help but to chuckle to himself as he watches how the two of you have bonded. 

His eyes drift down to how your ass looks in your gray leggings before thinking about how perfect your stomach would look round with his child. You’ve already proven yourself as being a capable mother. He snaps out of it once he hears your voice.

“I was going to tuck him in if you wanted to say goodnight now.”

“Ja, Danke. Come here.” He wraps his arms around Jakob and kisses his face all over. “Have a goodnight and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Ich liebe dich.” Jakob kisses him back.

“I love you too.” 

You grab Jakob's hand and walk him upstairs to his bedroom. He jumps into his bed as you grab his favorite book. Snuggling on the bed with him, you open to the first page and read. While reading, you can hear König moving around downstairs. As Jakob falls asleep, you close the book and kiss his forehead. 

“Good night, Jakie.”

As Jakob sleeps on the bed, you quietly make your way out of his bedroom door. You make your way downstairs to clean up the mess left behind from the wild day of playing. Yet, once downstairs, you see everything is cleaned up already. 

“Would you like a glass, Hase?” König holds up a glass of wine to you as he takes a sip from his own.

“Oh,” you look from the glass in his hands to his eyes. “No, thank you.” You politely reject. 

“Come on, you’re old enough, no?” 

“I am…” You blush and slowly accept the glass of wine. 

König watches your lips apart and takes a small sip as he smirks. He takes a sip of his own and walks to the couch in the living room, leaning back, and stretches out his long legs on the coffee table. He pats the spot on the couch next to him.

You sit next to him, keeping a small space between the two of you. You’ve never been this close to him before, or really spent any time at all with him other than when he hired you. 

“Thank you, for everything you do. Caring for Jakob, the house, my plants. I’d be lost without your help.” His Austrian accent is as smooth as butter.

“It’s no problem, really. Thank you for giving me a place to stay.” A nervous giggle in your voice.

“Not an issue at all, Hase.” He gently moves his hand to your knee and strokes the soft fabric of your leggings. “How are your classes going?”

“They’re all going well.” You look down at his hand on your knee before you take a bigger drink from your wine glass.

“Gut, I’m glad to hear that.” His thumb rubs back and forth, sliding his hand up to your thigh ever so slightly. 

There is a lull in the conversation, causing you to turn your attention to your wine. König takes a moment to let his eyes drift over your body, taking in the way your body curves as you sit.

“Are you talking to any boys? I know Austrian men would love a woman like you.” His eyes drift from your breasts to your eyes.

“Uh, no boys.” Your nervous laughter only gets worse so you cover it up by drinking more.

“No? A beautiful young woman like yourself with no boyfriend?” His hand gently squeezes your thigh. He notices how you finish your wine quickly. “Are you wanting a refile, Hase?”

“No, I should get to bed. Jakob still likes to wake up before the sun rises.” I smile.

“Here, I’ll take your glass for you.”

“Thanks.” You hand it to him, standing up. “Good night, Herr. König.”

“Just König is fine, good night.” 

He stands to walk to the kitchen, his eyes following you as you go upstairs. The way your hips sway is hypnotic. Continuing on, he lets out a sigh and leans against the counter. It’s been decades since he was single so he has no idea how to flirt with women anymore, let alone one as beautiful and young as you are.

In your room, you take off your leggings and shirt, tossing them into the laundry basket. You reach behind you to unhook your bra, placing it on the back of your desk chair. Since it was a warm night, you slip on a night gown. Just as you are about to get into bed you hear a knock on the door.

König waits for you to answer the door, his arm up and resting against the door frame. Once you open, his eyes instantly drop down to your breasts. Your nipples are hard and he can see them clearly. The dress barely reaches your mid-thigh, you look absolutely divine. He has forgotten everything he was going to say before seeing you. 

The hand resting by his side comes up and cups your face, “You…are so…beautiful.” The words leave his lips slowly as if he is trying to be cautious with them. After all, you’re his son's Nanny and he doesn’t want to chase you away. He pulls you towards him as he leans in and kisses you deeply. His other arm comes down and wraps around your waist and lifts you up into his arms, your legs wrap around his waist causing your dress to come up even more.

As he walks into your room, he kicks the door closed with one of his feet. His mouth opens against yours, nipping at your bottom lips so you open your mouth. You do, and he shoves his tongue into your mouth. He swirls it around, taking in the way you taste as he groans.

König gently lays you on the bed, his heavy body pressing you into the mattress. Your hands caress his muscular arm as his hands pull up your nightgown, he is desperate to see what you look like underneath it all. 

Once your dress is up enough, he breaks the kiss to pull it off of your body. Gently, he touches every inch of you as he drinks you in. His fingers run gently over your nipples. He leans in and begins to flick his tongue over one while rubbing circles over the other. 

“You’re stunning, Hase.” He whispers into your tender flesh before he continues. Slowly, he undresses himself. Lips occasionally coming back up to kiss yours.

You stop him once he reaches for your panties, “I’m not on birth control.”

“Oh… I don’t have condoms.” König whispers, thinking for a moment. “I won’t fuck you tonight.”

König quickly gets back into kissing your down your neck, down your stomach, and to your thighs. He pulls down your underwear to expose your beautiful pussy. A groan escapes his lips once he sees you fully nude. It’s like a dream. Without realizing he began to play with his cock, he’s never seen such a beautiful woman before.

Small moans escape your lips as you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch his lips make their way to your pussy. After every sloppy kiss he gives you a small bite that makes you tremble every time. Once his mouth reaches between your legs, he wastes no time. He quickly wraps his lips around your clit and begins to suck.

You jerk forward as you begin to moan, his bright eyes looking up at you. Letting go he laps his fat tongue over your clip rapidly. He grabs your legs and folds them back, knees by your head, and begins to swirl his tongue around your tight asshole. You’ve never had this done before; a gasp escapes you as you watch him.  

His eyes flicker from your pussy in front of him to your surprised face. He smirks and moves one of his hands to your clit and begins to rub it. Your face begins to turn into one of pleasure, his cock twitches wishing to be inside of you.

König lowers you again, moving his face to kiss your side and stomach as he slips two of his fingers into your pussy. His fingers are so big they feel better than your toy. Your moans get slightly louder so you grab the blanket to bite on to. A wet trail of kisses trails back down to your pussy, his tongue moving in circles around your clit. 

“König! Too much!” You try to push his head away but he shakes it.

“Not until you cum.” He feels your fingers pull his hair as your moans slowly escalate. Your hips begin to rock into his tongue so he holds it still for you as his fingers curl up and rub back and forth on your g spot. 

You close your eyes as a strong wave of ecstasy crashes over you, feeling the wetness of your orgasm on your thighs. The blanket in your mouth doing little to silence your moans as you cry out for König. He moves his face away, withdrawing his fingers and rubbing them on your wet thighs. 

“Lay down on your stomach with your legs closed together.” 

You do as he says without question, looking over your shoulder as he moves his body over yours. He slips his sensitive cock between his thighs, using your cum as his lube. A shaky breath leaves his lips as he thrust himself between your thick thighs. Your legs twitch when the tip of his cock rubs past your clit.

“Fuck you’re so soft.” He moans. He watches your ass jiggle with every movement, driving him wild. There is no way he will last very long. 

“I’m going to cum.” König whimpers. Getting lost in the sensation of you, he begins to fuck your thighs in a quicker pace. His cock accidently slips into your tight little cunt, instantly wrapping around him as he thrust almost all the way in. 

“Oh fuck!” You cry out from feeling your cunt stretched out suddenly. König’s cock throbs deeply inside of you. He doesn’t pull out, what’s done is done. Instead, with his knees he spreads your legs apart, grabbing you by your hips and pulls you to him.

[moonstruckme]

Hiiiii!!!! So, if you wanna write something, can you do poly marauders find out reader sleeps with like an almost concerning amount of plushies??? I literally sleep on a few plushies so I think it would be cute lol

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’ve been pouting all evening, ever since the boys had decided to watch a new comedy film over one of your chickflicks. You’re ganging up on me, you’d complained, and James felt a twinge of guilt but Sirius had only laughed. You’re damn right we are, sweetheart, because we watched that one just last week! You’d gone silent after that, but you’ve seemed vaguely sulky ever since, even when James brought you popcorn and tried to snuggle up with you under the blanket. 

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you say abruptly, standing and gathering your blanket about you. 

“Already?” James asks. “The movie’s only got like, twenty more minutes in it.” 

“That’s okay,” you yawn, stooping to give him a hug and kiss. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, dovey,” Remus says as you kiss him too, then Sirius. “Sleep well.” 

James watches you go, unease growing like a fungus in his chest as you go into your room instead of one of theirs, the door shutting definitively behind you. 

“Prongs, hey.” He turns to find Remus looking at him, his brows scrunching just softly upwards. “Don’t worry about it, love, she’s alright.” 

“I know it’s silly,” he says, casting another glance down the hall, “but she just seemed so put out. And then she went to her own room.” 

“She doesn’t always want to sleep in ours.” Sirius shrugs. “Disappointing, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” 

It’s true; you only sleep in one of your boyfriends’ rooms maybe half of the time, but this has always been a point of confusion for James. He and the other boys shuffle between rooms every night, and when you join them you seem to enjoy it as much as the rest of them do. Plus, it’s no secret that you love cuddles above all else, so why deprive yourself of them on such a regular basis?

James stands. “I’m gonna go check on her.”

“Suit yourself,” Sirius says, and Remus only nods, attention going back to the film. 

James sees blue light coming from underneath your door as he approaches, confirming his suspicion that you weren’t really tired enough to sleep when you’d left. He knocks softly. “Sweetheart? Can I come in?”

You don’t reply, and he hesitates briefly before cracking the door. For a moment, he wonders if you’re in here at all. He certainly can’t find you. The entire room is awash in blue light, your laptop screen on full brightness as the intro to the movie you’d wanted to watch earlier plays silently. Where you should be on your bed is instead half a million stuffed animals. Piles of them, from your headboard to the end of the bed, with little faces lit by the screen like they’re watching the movie, too. 

James draws closer, noticing your headphones plugged into the laptop, and follows the chord until he finds you, nestled so deeply in plushies that only your face is visible. He takes a second to relish the sight before waving a hand in front of the screen to get your attention. You startle, the movement sending a plushie tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. You lunge for it, disrupting even more of the toys, and James has to dam the avalanche with both hands, passing you the fallen stuffed animal—A penguin, he thinks to himself. How cute—while you take off your headphones. 

“Fuck, you scared me,” you say breathlessly, and James guffaws, hysterical laugher bubbling out of his chest. “What?”

“Just,” he marvels, shaking his head, “it’s surprising to hear that kind of language coming from someone absolutely buried in cuteness right now.” 

You sink further into the pile, and if the lighting weren’t so blue at the moment, he suspects your face would appear redder. 

“Jamie,” you say, quietly, hurriedly. “Jamie, don’t tell. Please?”

He’s just starting to wonder whether he’s even capable of keeping a secret as good as this when two pairs of footsteps start down the hallway. 

“What’s going on?” Sirius’ voice calls, a second before Remus flicks on the light and both boys go silent. James giggles, bringing his hand to his mouth in an attempt to smother the sound. Your face is indeed as flushed as he’d imagined, and you burrow further into your squishy fortress as if you could disappear into it entirely. 

“Baby,” Sirius says, sounding positively delighted, “where have you been hiding all of this?”

“I haven’t been hiding them.” Your voice is muffled by stuffing. “They just stay in my closet during the day. So my room doesn’t look cluttered.” 

“But why?” Sirius makes his way over to you, picking up a fox by your head. “This little guy is so charming. You’d deprive us of him?”

Despite Sirius’ honey-coated tone, you know what he’s about, and your eyes narrow defensively. 

“Dove,” Remus says slowly, fighting to keep his expression under control as his eyes glitter with amusement. “This is the most adorable thing I think I’ve ever seen.” 

You don’t look inclined to make a response, so James speaks again. 

“Is this why you don’t always want to sleep with us?” he asks, doing his best to gentle the teasing in his voice. “Because these guys are welcome in my room anytime if it means I get to be with you too.” 

You make your eyes big and sad in that way James swears you have to practice in the mirror. “Really? You don’t think it’s embarrassing?” 

James is finally free to unleash the full capacity of his smile. “Of course not, angel.”

“Well, maybe, like, a dozen of them,” Sirius says. “With more than one person, I think they’d all end up falling off the bed.” 

You look horrified. “I feel so guilty when that happens.” 

Remus makes a sound that’s half laugh, half coo. “Darling, you’re going to kill me with all this.” He gives you a look so syrupy sweet James feels his heart go all soft and mushy. “Please come finish the movie with us so I can give you a proper cuddle?”

“And bring some of your friends,” Sirius adds as you start to extricate yourself from the jumble on your bed. “Fuck, I’m never gonna get over this.”

[bucksangel]

milk and honey

pairing: alpha!Steve x alpha!Bucky, alpha!Steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly)

word count: 7.9k

Summary: “Are you sure about this, Steve?” Bucky just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different. 

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot”

or - alpha’s Bucky and Steve decide to bring an omega into their relationship. 

Warnings: fluff out the assssss, flirting, reader is a little awkward, there are parts where it’s just Steve and Bucky, kissing, omegaverse, bucky is a tease, steve is very fond, handjobs, wet dreams, allusions to sex, 18+

a/n: this fic is dedicated to my heart and soul @buckysbarne

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar

“Hi! How can I help you?” A soft, honeyed voice sounds through the air, flowing up to Steve’s ears and making his skin tingle. He suddenly feels warm all over, and not because of the thick coat covering his broad shoulders to prevent the crisp autumn wind whipping outside from stinging his skin. 

Slowly, he turns around, swallowing thickly at the sight before him.

A beautiful, young Omega with eyes that sparkle in the natural sunlight that shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her hair is pulled away from her face as best as possible and there are splatters of paint on the apron wrapped around her torso, as well as specks on her fingers. And her scent, oh God, the scent wafting up to his nostrils makes him want to rumble and puff out his chest, lavender and vanilla mixed with something undeniably and uniquely sweet that makes it hard for him to not lean forward and bury his face in the Omegas neck.

“Um, sir?” The Omega asks again, brows furrowed.

“S-Sorry, I, uh…” Steve trails off, clearing his throat. “I’m looking to get back into drawing, and I saw your studio as I was walking back to my apartment and thought I’d come in to see what you have.”

The Omega nods, a bright smile stretching across her face. “Well, I can show you around if you want? Do you have any specific mediums or pencils you were thinking of?”

Steve nods, a smile of his own now etched onto his face. “Yeah, that’d – that would be great. And, um, I don’t really know what I’m looking for. I used to draw with charcoal pencils, but I kind of want to branch out, you know?”

She nods again, her smile widening. “Yeah! Here,” she turns and waves her hand, indicating for Steve to follow her, “I have a bunch of different kinds of paper, and pens, we also have canvases, oh! And paints are over here.”

Steve trails behind her dumbly, nodding along to everything the pretty Omega says and listening to every word that spills out from her glossy lips – and for a moment he wonders if it’s flavored, cherry maybe, then thinks of kissing them to find out.

He doesn’t do that. Of course not. He’s only just met her, yet there’s already just something about her that makes him swoon. She makes him feel alive, like only Bucky can.

Suddenly, though, he’s slamming into her, not having realized she’d stopped in front of him until it was too late. But before she could fall back, Steve reaches for her hips to keep her upright.

The Omega squeals and grasps Steve’s biceps to steady herself. But, even after they’re both back in place, neither one of them removes their hold on the other. It’s silent for a moment, growing tense as Steve stares down at the pretty Omega he’s now holding. And the Omega, this beautiful little thing, is staring back up at him, mouth opening and closing as though she’s trying to find her words. 

And after a few more tense moments, she finds them.

“S-Sir?”

“Steve,” he says quickly. “Um, my name is Steve.”

__________

“My name is Steve.”

Steve.

This man, Steve, is still holding on to your hips, and you can’t help but lightly squeeze his biceps, trying your hardest to not let out another squeak. He’s just so… manly. With his big, capable hands, biceps that you can feel through his coat, and his mouthwatering scent - bergamot and patchouli. There’s also an underlying smell of pure Alpha, the aura that surrounds this man would naturally pull any sane Omega in its orbit.

It takes a moment, but you’re able to snap out of your trance long enough to mumble your name. This makes Steve smile, repeating your name softly before squeezing at your hips and realizing, all at once, how little space there is between you two. Some part of your hindbrain wants to whine at the thought of leaving his space, but you pull away, nonetheless.

“Um, I-“ You try to think of something to say, something to make things a little less tense, and when you glance to your right you see a variety of canvases and remember that you’re at work.

“So, uh, were you thinking of any… pencils you might want?”

Steve clears his throat and nods, smiling at you again.

“Whatever you think is best.”

And that’s how Steve bought way more than you suspect he’ll actually use. But just as he finishes paying, you start fiddling with your fingers, swallowing thickly. You want to say something, maybe give him a reason to come back so you can bask in his presence again. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“I’m hosting an art class in a couple of weeks! And, um, if - if you want to come then I can give you a flyer.”

The smile that Steve gives you is bright, and he starts nodding his head before you even finish the sentence.

“Yeah!” Steve coughs, trying - and failing - to cover up any semblance of desperation in his tone. “That sounds fun.”

You smile at him, your heart beating ever faster. Christ, anyone would think you’d never met an Alpha before. Steve opens his mouth, ready to say something until his phone starts ringing.

His soft sigh is barely audible, grumbling about ‘bad timing.” When he pulls his phone out, he looks up at you with a remorseful smile,

“Sorry, guess I have to go now.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s fine. Here’s the flier.”

“Of course,” Steve says softly, then takes the paper and gives you a wave before turning and walking out of the store.

____________

The door nearly slams open, Steve cringing as he remembers not to use so much strength when nudging the door open with his elbow. But, hey, he has his arms full of art supplies so he can’t use his hands.

“Babe? What’s with all the noise – what the fuck?” Bucky asks incredulously, hands placed on his hips as he stops a few feet from the front door.

“Oh, hey. Do you mind helping me out?” Steve asks with a chuckle, walking further into the apartment and shutting the door with a push of his foot. Bucky sighs but walks towards him with an outstretched arm anyway.

“So,” Bucky says, grabbing a few of the bags and bringing them to the living room. “What’s all this?”

“Oh…” Steve trails off, placing the rest of the bags onto the couch and fiddling with the end of his shirt nervously. “Well, I went to the new art studio that’s down the block.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Bucky laughs, peeking into one of the bags and raising an eyebrow. “Did you buy out the whole store?”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, I didn’t, thank you very much. I just want to start drawing again, you know that.”

“I do,” Bucky confirms with a nod. “But I feel like you’re hiding something from me considering you hate oil paints and yet there are several different kinds in here.”

Right then Steve’s heartbeat speeds up, his face warming. And he silently curses himself for being so easy to make flustered. Especially considering Bucky, his mate, can feel through their bond that Steve’s nervous.

“Well, you see-“ Steve coughs, bringing up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I was talking with the owner and she… God, Buck, I think she might be… we’ve been talking about maybe courting an Omega. And I think she could be what we’re looking for. She’s so sweet, so beautiful, just so… perfect. And her scent, oh God. Other than yours, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelt.”

For a minute Bucky doesn’t say anything, his hands return to his hips as he thinks over Steve’s words carefully. After all, they have talked about courting an Omega, they’ve even talked to a few, but none had ever gone far. They just haven’t seemed to find the perfect one for them, so Bucky is naturally a little skeptical. But then he looks into Steve’s eyes, he sees how they sparkle, the way his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, and the sincerity in his voice just seems to win him over.

“Are you sure about this, Stevie?” Bucky asks skeptically, but he just needs to be sure, needs to know his boyfriend is certain before they try this again. And by the way Steve nods eagerly, he knows this time might be different.

“Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”

____________

Three days later it’s another chilly day, the clouds hanging overhead and the light rain have sucked all the warmth out of the air. The heater in the studio is on low, yet high enough to warm the space comfortably without it being too overwhelming.

Due to the rain and cold, there weren’t many people in the studio. In fact, it’s just you. There have been only a handful of customers coming in today, so you sent your coworker, Tori, to the back so she could study.

And since everything had been organized and cleaned over an hour ago you find yourself sitting at your easel, tongue poking out of your mouth and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You’ve been here for the last hour, so focused on your painting that you don’t hear the bell ring above the door.

You also don’t hear the footsteps approaching behind you, so you can’t help but let out a slight scream whenever someone taps on your shoulder. Jumping in shock, it takes everything you have to not knock into your easel.

“Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Comes a voice from behind you, deep and soothing. And you can feel your heartbeat increase further, and not because of the scare. No, this man, clearly an Alpha, has a voice that makes you nearly weak in the knees.

Turning, your eyes widen. The most handsome man stands in front of you, wearing a tight red Henley under a leather jacket. His gloved hands rest on your forearms, helping you off your stool in such a way that you don’t knock over your painting. The man’s hands are huge, able to encompass your entire forearm and then some.

It takes a moment to realize that you’re staring, mouth parted and face flushed as you step back to a respectful distance.

“N-no, it’s fine! I should have been paying attention,” You clear your throat to hide the fact that your voice wavers a bit, but the stranger’s smile lets you know that it didn’t work.

You can’t help it though. His smile, though small, is comforting and kind. His deep blue eyes twinkle with mischief, and you can’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks. His beard isn’t thick per se, but just thick enough to complete his rugged look, something that makes you melt. But you kick those thoughts out of your head to the best of your ability until you’re finally able to speak.

“How can I help you?”

____________

“How can I help you?”

Bucky gets it, understands what Steve was saying about the pretty Omega he thought would be perfect for them. He’s heard only a handful of words come out of your mouth, yet he feels his chest tighten, his heart clenching as he exercises a considerable amount of restraint from encasing you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

His hands itch to touch you, to run them over your soft-looking skin. And he can’t help the less innocent thoughts that cross his mind, really feeling your body, caressing. And, to be quite honest, these… intense emotions kind of startle him, because the only person he’s ever felt this way with was Steve.

Nevertheless, he follows his instincts, something deep in him knows that Steve was right when he said you’d be perfect for them.

“I’m waiting for my…” Bucky trails off, thinking about whether he should tell you he has a mate or not, then decides against it. If you knew he wasn’t single you probably wouldn’t be open to his advances, and would probably think it’s weird for a mated Alpha to be flirting with you. After all, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common, and, to be honest, they can be a little intense together.

“My friend. And I haven’t seen this studio before.” Bucky gives you a cheeky smile, trying not to laugh as he sees you fiddling with your fingers, glancing down as though you’re avoiding his gaze.

“I’m Bucky,” He reaches his hand out, letting you slowly put yours in his before he squeezes lightly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand.

You give him your name with a squeak, flushed and nervous in a good way.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” you’re stumbling over your words slightly, and Bucky really can’t stop himself from smiling.

“And it’s lovely to meet you, darling.” Bucky holds his breath, cautiously waiting for your reaction toward the pet name. But it seems like he doesn’t have to worry, because the tiny squeak of delight that spills from your lips confirms to him that you’re, at the very least, open to his advances.

“S-so, um. Did you want to look around?”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head and finally releasing your hand. “The main reason I stepped in here was that I saw the poster in the window about an art class you’re hosting soon. I thought I’d come in so you can meet your new student.”

“Oh!” You smile brightly, wiping your hands along the front of your apron. “I’d love it if you could come! To be honest, I’ve only had a handful of people confirm that they will. I was kind of thinking of canceling, honestly.”

“Oh, don’t do that. There are plenty of people who’d love to come, your business is new so it’s going to take some time for your clientele to grow. Plus, I’ll be sure to tell all of my friends.” While he already hates the idea of other people - especially his unmated Alpha friends - getting personal time with you, he also hates how dejected you sounded about possibly canceling the class.

“Oh, gosh,” Your voice is soft, your eyes twinkling in the bright, natural light. “Well, that’d be very kind of you.”

Bucky chuckles, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Plus, it’ll be nice to see you again.”

Once again, a small noise from the back of your throat makes its way up and out of your mouth. And he can hear your heartbeat speed up, can see the look of embarrassment clear on your face.

And just as you’re about to reply, Bucky’s phone dings. He sighs, pulling it out and glancing down at it.

“Well, I’m sorry to do this, but I have to go now,” He smirks at you, giving you a wink so slight you’d miss it if you weren't staring directly into his eyes.

You nod, giving him a shy and awkward smile. “No, it’s fine! Besides, I’ll see you at the class, right?”

“Oh,” Bucky chuckles, placing one of his gloved hands on your forearm and squeezing tenderly, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

____________

“Who the fuck was that?” A voice behind you says, and when you turn you see it’s Tori looking exasperated.

“I have no idea,” Your voice is small, still unbelieving of what just happened. Your arm still tingles from where he squeezed. You then turn to look back toward the door, a tiny part of you wishing he’d come back in.

“Why do you get all the flirty Alphas? I want my turn!” Her comment makes you laugh, and you can see a hint of a smile cracking through her faux-angered expression. 

“They’re bringing their friends to the art class, maybe you’ll meet one too. Besides…” You trail off bringing your hand up to rub your arm. “Maybe he wasn’t even flirting? I mean, I haven’t lived here long, but a lot of the Alphas that come in here are really nice. Like Steve!”

You were hoping to convince not only her but yourself as well, desperately trying not to read too far into their actions. They could just be friendly, a little touchy but not overbearingly so. Whatever the case, Tori lightly smacks your arm.

“Babe, Steve was flirting with you too.” She rolls her eyes, placing her hands on your shoulders. “You may be shy, but you’re not stupid. They like you! And you need to accept that and go for it.”

“Okay, let’s say they do like me… there’s two of them and one of me. I don’t know if I’d be able to choose between them, especially since I don’t even know them. I wouldn’t want to lead one of them on.” Sighing, your eyebrows furrow, now fiddling with your fingers in anxiety.

Because, let’s be honest, you’re not one hundred percent certain that they were, in fact, flirting with you. Maybe they really are just being nice, maybe that’s how they are with a lot of people. Because Alphas like them don’t like Omegas like you; shy, awkward, introverted, too easily flustered, and so clumsy that there is absolutely no way you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of them at some point.

But it’s fine, because maybe they won’t show up to the class, maybe they’ll have to cancel and you can stay within your comfort zone. Change is scary, meeting new people and - possibly - dating them is scary, and you’ve never really been one to take risks.

Maybe that’s why part of you is hoping they’re not actually interested. However, you cannot deny the fact you’re interested in them. But, if things happen you want them to happen naturally, yet from beside you, Tori hums thoughtfully. In the seconds of silence that follows you know she’s planning on meddling. But before you can tell her to please not do that, she claps her hands together.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll help.” With that, she turns and goes back to the back office, leaving you to stew in your thoughts.

____________

Bucky coughs, clearing his throat, then chuckles when Steve jumps in surprise. One of Bucky’s hands settles on his mate’s waist while looking at the bag of food in Steve’s hand.

“You get everything?”

Steve scoffs, moving Bucky’s hand off of his waist and lacing their fingers together. And as they start walking Bucky can hear his mate’s heartbeat pick up, and he smiles to himself. “Yeah, I did. Now…” Steve trails off, running his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it. Bucky squeezes his hand in comfort.

“How did it go?”

Bucky hums, cheeks reddening as he remembers your sweet voice and beautiful smile. While he is able to steel his exterior and become this suave Alpha, he’s really just a teddy bear on the inside. He craves love, he craves touch. And while he loves Steve with everything he has, he has to admit that, even though he’s just met you, he knows you’ll be able to give him the same feelings Steve does.

“God, Stevie…” Bucky sighs, looking over at his love. “I get it. I get what you were saying about her. She’s just - just the loveliest Omega I’ve ever met. And, I swear to God, I wanted to just wrap her in my arms. She might be right for us, Stevie.”

Steve chuckles, his eyes sparkling with joy at hearing his mate confirm his instinct that you’d be perfect for them. One block later they get to their apartment, go inside, and set the food down on the table.

“So, how do you want to approach her about it?” Steve asks as he grabs the plates while Bucky gets out the food.

“Well, she said that she’s hosting an art class, we can go to that.”

“I don’t know, babe,” Steve sighs, setting the plates down and sitting in his chair. “Don’t you think that would be a little… intense? Plus, it’s not common for two Alphas to be mated to each other, what if she’s uncomfortable with it?”

Bucky nods, grabbing drinks and setting one down in front of the other man. “Well, we’ll just talk to her one at a time then. We’ll go in on different days and get her to warm up to us before then.” At Steve’s pensive sigh, Bucky crouches, placing one hand on the back of his neck.

He knows Steve really wants this to work out. He’s a true romantic, and anyone who has ever met Steve knows within the first thirty seconds of talking to him that Bucky is the love of his life. He also knows Steve sometimes needs more, and it’s become worse the more potential mates they meet. And Bucky will be damned if he doesn’t give Steve everything he wants and needs.

“It’s going to be fine, Stevie.” Bucky then leans forward, placing a soft and lingering kiss on the other man’s lips. And he keeps kissing him until Steve hums against his lips.

“You promise?” Steve mumbles softly, eyes still closed.

“I promise.”

____________

Ever since the day you met Bucky, he’s been coming to your studio more and more. Only buying a few items at a time, some of which you’re pretty sure he’s not actually interested in, though he spends most of his time talking to you. And it’s a give-and-take with the conversation. Sometimes Bucky will ask a question and you’ll ramble for twenty minutes on the subject before realizing and promptly shutting your mouth.

Then there are times when Bucky is more so talking at you. Sometimes you just get so anxious that you get a little quiet, deathly afraid of saying anything embarrassing to the very handsome Alpha who likes to spend his time talking with you of all people.

And it’s confusing. And getting harder and harder to convince yourself that the Alpha has no intentions other than simply getting to know you. Every smile he gives you makes you weak in the knees, the way his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches just make you want to melt.

Not to mention the subtle touches every so often. Whether it’s by stepping around you down one of the aisles and placing his hand on your waist to “steady you” should you fall, or by letting his hand graze yours for longer than it should when you hand him his bags, he’s gotten steadily more forward, though none of it is unwelcome. And maybe he can tell by each of your surprised yet pleased squeaks you let out whenever he shows off how good of an Alpha he is - including but not limited to doing the heavy lifting when you have to move some products onto the sales floor, bringing you coffee after you offhandedly mentioned your favorite cafe, and telling you about how he’s fixed up his motorcycle from the ground up, wordlessly showing that he’s mechanically and physically capable.

And on the sixth visit, exactly three days before your class, Bucky comes in once more at exactly noon. He tends to come in around your lunch break, knowing that you typically just paint in the studio while slowly taking bites of whatever food you brought. You’re in the back office sorting through some paperwork when you hear the bell ding above the front door. You don’t worry about going out to greet whoever just came in since Tori was there helping out.

You hear her chipper “Hi! How are you?” and for a moment your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Because who could she possibly be talking to that warrants a little too much enthusiasm?

The voice that responds makes your heart beat a tiny bit faster, the low and raspy tone saying something about visiting a ‘friend’. And then it hits you, it’s Bucky.

Another thought hits you mere seconds later, fuck, Tori’s out there.

And just as that crosses your mind you can hear Tori ask him, “So, you’re Bucky, right?”

Before you have time to think you’re rushing out of the back office, doing your best to listen to their conversation as you speed down the hall.

Bucky chuckles, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds “Yeah, how’d you know?”

You can also tell Tori is smiling when she starts talking again. “Oh, I’ve heard about you once or twice. My friend is the owner of this place, the one you’ve been flirting with, you know?”

You finally turn the corner and face the pair, Tori’s back to you while Bucky looks back at you. You can’t miss the wide smirk on his lips, his pleased scent slowly pouring out from him.

“Yeah? I’ve been flirting?” Bucky winks at you over Tori’s shoulder, apparently finding humor in watching you get flustered.

“Mhm,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know, from what she says, I think you like her. And she -” Suddenly she’s being cut off by your hand slapping over her mouth, appearing behind her and grasping her arm with your other hand.

“Okay! That’s it, you have to study!” You snap, glancing up at Bucky’s amused face for half a second before turning Tori around and shoving her toward the back office. “And don’t come out until you’re done with all three chapters!”

Tori huffs then rolls her eyes and trails off, leaving you and Bucky alone. And you feel like you’re on fire, like there’s no part of you that isn’t burning to the touch. Subconsciously your fingers start fiddling with each other, and you can’t bring yourself to look the Alpha in the eye.

“Hey,” He says softly, though still humorous. “It’s okay. She was right, you know?”

You hum in confusion, finally looking up at him even though it takes a lot of willpower to not look away. “What do you mean?”

“I was flirting with you. Is that okay?”

You’re no longer burning up, no. You’re ice cold now. It’s almost as if you’ve fallen into the seas surrounding the Antarctic and everything seems to slow down. Bucky’s been flirting with you? An Alphas been flirting with you? This Alpha? Your heart wants to beat out of your chest and your skin tingles, what are you going to do? What are you going to say?

“Oh.” Apparently, that’s all you can decide on, though you’re snapped out of your haze upon seeing Bucky’s face fall slightly. “No! It’s - I mean, it’s o-okay, if you… you know, are.” Internally you cringe, of all times to trip over your words, it just has to be now.

“Well, I’m glad.” Bucky smiles again, and you find yourself getting lost in his eyes, in the soft gaze and deep ocean-blue hue. A squeak escapes your lips knowing that his fond expression is directed at and because of you.

“I can’t stay long today, unfortunately. But…” Bucky trails off, slipping your hand into his and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “I just wanted to come by and ask if I could treat you to lunch after the class on Saturday.”

“Like… like a - a date?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. Your head is spinning, and you’re positive that Bucky can tell your nerves are building.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a date. Even though I’d very much like it to be.” Bucky smiles, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, earning him a soft yet cautious giggle.

Now, you’re not too sure what to do. Over the past week or so that you’ve known him you’ve become enamored with him. You enjoy his company, he makes you feel safe, and the fact that he listens to your rambling with rapt attention makes you preen.

But, you have to take a moment to gather your thoughts. Because mere hours ago Steve had come in asking the same question - though he had suggested dinner.

Steve has also been coming in quite frequently, though he mostly spends time with you as you paint. He comes in first thing in the morning, knowing that your business is usually slower so he can have more of your attention.

He’s not as forward as Bucky is, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t shown any interest. His approach is more careful; lingering glances, not-so-subtly checking you out whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention, the way his gaze drops to your lips every so often whenever you’re speaking to him. Not to mention the way he always compliments your artwork. It’s all so… charming.

His mischievous yet chivalrous persona could pull anyone in, including you. Not to mention, Steve’s bright smile and deep laugh just make your inner Omega want to tilt your head and bare your neck to him.

Interactions with him give you similar feelings when you’re with Bucky, making everything overwhelmingly confusing. Because, like you told Tori, you’d hate to lead one of them on, but you can already tell you’re developing romantic feelings for both Alphas.

And hours ago you’d given Steve a timid ‘yes’ when he asked you out. What are you supposed to do? Suddenly, your lonely inner Omega forcefully pushes its way past all of your negative thoughts and ever-growing anxiety to give Bucky the same answer.

“Okay.” Despite your inner turmoil, Bucky’s bright smile and unfairly cute nose scrunch settle any nerves you’ve been feeling.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, hopeful.

“Yes, I-I’d love to go on a… date. With you.” This time you can’t stop the way you physically cringe at your awkwardness, though Bucky only seems to find it endearing because he laughs softly.

“Awesome,” Bucky breathes out, giving you the softest gaze you’ve ever received, and the amount of restraint it takes for you to not melt into his arms is astounding. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”

“Y-yeah! Of course,” Your voice goes a little high. Jesus Christ, why does he have to be so charming?

At that, the Alpha brings your hand up to his lips at the same time he leans forward and presses a lingering, gentle kiss to your knuckles, looking you in the eye all the while. And the squeak that escapes your lips would almost embarrass you if you weren’t having an out-of-body experience.

“Okay, darling.”

Bucky releases your hand, walks back a few steps, gives you a wink, and then turns around to leave, sparing you one last glance before exiting.

____________

Soft. Warm. Gentle.

Everything is coated in golden honey, cotton-candy clouds, an ever-flowing river.

It’s ecstasy, his body aflame as it moves, rocking forward, pulling back, then pushing forward again. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and short and breathy gasps fill his ears as grunts and groans travel up his throat and out of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes open, and the view makes his heart want to stop.

It’s you, with your arms above your head, body bare to him and, wait. Someone’s behind him. The person's strong arms wrap around his waist and his muscled chest presses against his back, and then a metal hand turns his head to the left. And there’s Bucky, his Alpha. Bucky presses a filthy kiss to his lips while the brunette’s hands rest on his hips, aiding in their movement. With a quick smack to his backside, Steve gets back into the action, grinding his hips against your pelvic bone before slowly pulling out. The force of the forward thrust of his hips causes you to shriek, your breasts bouncing wildly as he continues his harsh thrusts.

It takes no time at all for Steve to feel his knot throb, threatening to expand and lock into your sweet pussy as he fills you with his cum. He’s close. Oh so fucking close when you moan.

“Alpha!”

Steve wakes with a gasp, his eyes flying open and heart racing as he tries in vain to cling onto any remnants of sleep, desperately hoping to finish the dream - his first wet dream in a while.

“Stevie?” Bucky appears from his left, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping from the shower. “You okay, Alpha?”

Steve shudders, the way you sweetly moaned for him, for your Alpha, coming to the front of his mind, and his cock throbs in a rude reminder of his current predicament.

“Y-yeah, I’m, fuck…” Steve trails off, his hand sneaking under the covers and grasping the base of his cock. “I’m good, baby. Just…”

“Just had a wet dream?” Bucky chuckles, walking over to their bed and sitting sideways on it so he can face Steve and run a hand through his already messed-up hair. “I could hear you whimpering from the shower.”

Bucky then flings the covers back, shooing Steve’s hand away from his cock so Bucky can grasp it. “I heard you whining for her, our sweet little Omega. She’s perfect, isn’t she? She’s so small compared to us, bet we’d break her the first time we get our knots in her perfect pussy.”

Bucky’s hand is jerking Steve off in earnest, his grip is tight as he strokes and pulls and flicks his wrist every so often. And Steve is helpless but to let him, to listen to his mate spout filth of how well you’d take them, how sweet you’d be for them, how he’d let Steve be the first to take you. He takes everything he’s given, gripping the sheets tight enough that he’s sure they're tearing, letting his pleasure climb higher and higher by the second.

But what really sets him off is Bucky’s growl, “I had to jerk myself off in the shower just listening to you moan for our Omega.” Steve cums with a shout, his eyes clenching shut, and he’d be embarrassed about how fast he came if it weren’t for the extremely vivid dream he just woke up from.

It takes a few moments for Steve to get his bearings until he’s finally able to open his eyes and meet Bucky’s playful gaze. Steve wants to feel bad about dreaming about you when you’re not even theirs, but he just can’t bring himself to do so. Just thinking of you made him shoot off like a rocket, he doesn’t really know how he’s going to handle actually being with you.

But they hadn’t even taken you on a date yet, and they both get the feeling it might take a while before you feel comfortable enough to give yourself over to them like that. But that doesn’t matter, because Steve is sure that he and Bucky will wait however long is needed for you to feel comfortable like that with them.

“So,” Bucky says with a smirk, bringing his hand up to lick Steve’s cum off of his hand. Steve groans in response. “You feelin’ better about today?”

Ever since they both asked you out neither has gone back to your studio, they didn’t want to make you anxious since they knew they both asked you out and you might get even more conflicted if you saw them again since then. Steve’s been worried. He doesn’t want to back out, God no. He just… he really wants this to work out. And every awful scenario keeps playing in his mind on a loop.

What if you get too overwhelmed with both of them together? What if you turn them down when you realize they’re mated? What if you’re disgusted and don’t even want to be their friend? What if -

“Stevie.” Bucky’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and Steve sighs. “Stop thinking too hard, it’s going to be fine.”

“But-”

“No, Steve.” Bucky sighs and gets off the bed, then he crouches down so his face is level with his mate’s. “I promised you, didn’t I? I promised that everything would work out and I’m going to fulfill that promise today. We’re going to go to the class, explain everything to her, and ask her out together.”

Bucky pauses to lean forward and press a kiss to Steve’s lips.

“She likes you, baby. And she likes me. That’s why she agreed to go out with us. It might be a little weird for her since two mated Alphas aren't common, especially since she doesn’t seem used to Alphas flirting with her at all. But, it’s going to be okay in the end. Everything will work out.”

Bucky kisses Steve again, and Steve gives his Alpha a gentle smile.

“I love you, Alpha.”

Bucky smiles back and says, “I love you too, Alpha.”

____________

“Okay, okay, okay,” You mumble to yourself, running your hands down the front of your apron for the hundredth time. “Everything is going to be okay. They don’t know you’re going out with both of them, everything is going to be fine.”

Sighing, you mumble another ‘I can do this’ before turning around, jumping in shock when you see Tori standing in front of you.

“Jesus Christ, Tori! Warn a girl, will you?”

Tori laughs, smirking. “Sorry, I just thought I’d tell you that your Alpha, Bucky, is here with some friends but I didn’t want to interrupt your pep-talk.”

Oh shit, in your panic you didn’t even realize your class starts in less than ten minutes. But then you realize a certain word she used. Your Alpha.

“He’s not my Alpha. He’s just… an Alpha that happens to like me and wants to take me on a date.”

Your eyes widen in horror, because the realization that you’re actually going on a date with him, and, separately, Steve, in just a few hours is hitting you in full force.

Oh God, how am I going to survive today?

Tori pulls you out of your thoughts, literally, by grabbing your bicep and leading you out of the back office.

“Whatever you say, babe. Now, let’s not keep him waiting.”

When you get to the studio part of your store you see him, well, them. It’s Bucky, surrounded by about ten other people, all talking and laughing. Wow, he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d bring all of his friends.

There are about five other people milling about, looking at all the different canvases and paints available for the class. It makes you happy that you had so many people show up, even if most of them probably had to be convinced to come.

There’s just one person missing; Steve. It’s only two minutes from twelve, and you can’t help the disappointment at the fact that he probably forgot or, worse, was just joking about being interested in you and doesn’t actually want to see you.

It hurts you, deeper than it probably should, but you mask the hurt when you get up to Bucky and his friends.

“Um, hi, Bucky,” You say softly, glancing over at his friends all looking at you with knowing smirks.

“Ah!” The Alpha says, smiling widely at you. “Hello, darling.”

It takes everything in you for you to not melt right into the floor, both from embarrassment from having his friends chuckle in amusement as well as his smooth yet low tone directed at you.

You turn slightly to the group of people behind him, all giving you amused expressions and small waves. You wave back at them with an awkward smile, then turn back to the Alpha in front of you. “Um, I… It’s nice of you to come.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky winks at you, and you press your lips shut so as to not let out the high-pitched whine that wants to be set free.

After a tense few seconds of silence, Tori appears from beside you. “I hate to break up your moment but it’s time to start.”

“Oh! R-right.” Your heart is racing ever so slightly, but it’s also hurting. Because it seems like Steve really did bail.

That is until you ask everyone to sit wherever they want. Bucky sits at the front, taking the easel closest to you. His friends and the other patrons all sit as well, and one spot remains open, right next to Bucky.

The bell above the door dings, and your head whips up to see the Alpha in question rushing through the door. He gives you a wide smile, and immediately makes his way to the empty seat.

Fuck.

“Sorry I’m late, I got held up.”

“No, it’s - it’s fine!” Your heart rate increases again, and you don’t know how you’re going to survive this class, especially considering Bucky is already giving you a heady gaze.

“O-okay, everyone, let’s get started.”

Surprisingly, the class goes by pretty smoothly. However, the intense stares from both Steve and Bucky, as well as their smirks and Bucky’s occasional winks, make you stutter over your words every once in a while. That would cause Bucky’s friends to snicker and smirk. Though it seems relatively harmless, simply finding amusement in watching you get flustered over flirting with Bucky but not with any malice.

Still, it’s going well.

It’s not until you tell everyone to put down their brushes that your nerves return, hoping that Steve won’t stick around and you can just meet him at the diner he suggested.

But, fate has other plans. Because Bucky’s friends stand and choose to hang around the window, looking at some of your other displayed paintings. The others came up to you with thanks, complimenting your work as well as your teaching skills, all of which make you smile so wide you’d think it’d hurt.

But then they leave, and after the last lone customer leaves, you turn and see, oh no. Fuck. Steve and Bucky are talking, laughing, standing way too close to one another for two people who don’t know each other. You’re standing by your easel still, eyes locked on to them, frozen. Because you have a strange inkling that they do actually know each other, which would mean that they would know you’re going on a date with both of them.

Then why would they ask you out if that were the case?

It takes everything in you not to run away when Bucky turns to face you with a wide smile, Steve turning next and smiling too.

“Hey, darling,” Bucky says, walking toward you when he realizes you’re frozen in place. He stops in front of you, and Steve follows his lead and stands next to him. They look at each other for a moment, Steve nodding his head once before Bucky turns to you and opens his mouth.

But you’re panicking. Because you’ve already decided that they’ve just now found out and are going to cancel the dates and maybe insult you for accepting a date from both of them. Even though, logically, you know they would never say anything even remotely rude to you, your anxiety is telling you that they would. They will. So you take it upon yourself to apologize.

“Guys, I-I am so sorry! I know I shouldn’t have accepted a date with both of you but I really, really like both of you and I didn’t know how to choose because I don’t want to choose between you two because you’re both really nice and amazing and I know it sounds awful that I want both of you when you’re probably not even interested anymore because why w-”

“Darling!” Bucky cuts you off, placing a warm hand on your bicep, squeezing it once, and then running his hand down your arm until he can take your hand in his.

“It’s okay, honey,” Steve says, bringing up a hand to gently turn your head to face him more directly.

“I-It… It is?”

They both give each other another glance while they chuckle to themselves. Steve takes your other hand, slowly rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“We have something to tell you, darling.” Bucky sighs, then clears his throat. “We… planned this. We didn’t want to tell you upfront because we didn’t want to scare you away, because we really like you too. We’re… Steve and I are…” He trails off, and now his nerves are swirling deep in his stomach. Steve steps in for him though.

“We’re mates. And we know it’s not common, and two Alphas with an Omega isn’t common either, so we didn’t want to be too overbearing by flirting with you together. We’ve been wanting to court an Omega together so we wanted you to get to know us individually so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed because we can be… a lot. We’re sorry we lied.”

By the time they’re done speaking, you think you’re dreaming. No, you’re positive you’re dreaming. They’re mates? And, as Steve said, two mated Alphas aren’t exactly common. Even still, that doesn’t bother you. You’re big on doing what you want as long as no one is getting hurt. And you can understand why they didn’t want to approach you together, because, yeah, even just being in both of their presences makes your heart race and stutter.

But, they both want you? Like, together? They want to court you and maybe bring you into their relationship? It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship, and even then it was with a Beta, so you can’t even imagine how dating two Alphas would be.

“Oh.” Smart. Really fucking clever. God, why can’t you just say anything?

“Do you… Do you not want to date us?” Steve sounds disappointed, sad. And the way he frowns makes you mentally slap yourself out of your haze.

“No! I- I do! I just… I’ve never dated two Alphas. I don’t mind that you’re mated, really. I’m just not used to…” You trail off, biting your lip and glancing down, realizing that they still have hold of your hands. It makes your skin tingle, their large and warm hands fill your entire body with fire, and the smile that returns to Steve’s face makes you smile too.

“You’re not used to what?” Bucky asks, squeezing your hand.

“To being wanted this much, I guess.”

You miss the way both Alphas look at each other with furrowed eyebrows, both men frowning now.

“How about this,” Steve says, bringing up his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. “We’ll cancel the dates for today. And we can go on one tomorrow, together. All of us. And if you think it over more tonight and decide you don’t want to anymore, then that is okay. But we really do like you, honey.”

Well, you’d never stood a chance against them from the very first meetings, so there’s not really a doubt in your mind that you do want to go on that date, it’s just your anxiety that’s causing you to doubt their feelings.

But Tori’s voice pops up in the back of your head telling you to stop overthinking, to just take a chance. So, that’s what you do.

“O-okay. Tomorrow is good.”

Both Alphas smile, simultaneously sighing in relief at your words. Bucky then releases your hand so he can pull out his phone, unlock it, then hand it to you.

“Here, we’re going to go but you can give me your number so we can talk over more details before tomorrow.”

You do so, typing in your number and watching with dazed eyes as they gather their things to leave. And when they’re about to leave, both men make quick moves of kissing each of your cheeks before retreating with charming smiles.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, darling?” Bucky asks, only leaving when you give him a nod and a wide smile.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

tagging: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @perdidosbucky-yyo / @wckedheart / @kandis-mom / @meteorshowercoffee / @wandaneedstherapy / @buckysbarne / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @p1ut0smoon / @venusfly11 / @buckybarnesmetalarmswife775 / @the-photo-hoe / @clownsbf / @matsumama / @fandoms-writings / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @sweater-bee / @stuckysbike / @lovelylittleleigh / @buckyshbic / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @emeraldfairy23 / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @glistenuplove / @monicachic13 / @bbellen1411 / @akmenia / @shawnftjacob / @ladyravenclaw / @sadsadbabygirlrob / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @sweetmoonlove0214 / @yesprettypleasesir / @duckies16 / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @xonickibaby / @matchat3a

[tinycozycomfort]

i found the door

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day seven of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: edging -> read her day seven here

summary: Joel is a beacon, the warmth sloughing off his chest keeping you in that hazy place between tired and restless—the brightest slice of your vision.

warnings/tags: edging, daddy kink, c*ckwarming, touch of somno, unprotected piv, age gap (joel is 50s, reader is not), dom/sub dynamics, the tone of this is: they're in love, bulge kink, name calling (slut) + pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc)

word count: 1.8k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: i am so hashtag nervous about this one but very big thank you to @pascalisbaby for encouraging me and listening to me complain every day 🖤

main masterlist

“What is she, sweetheart? What do we call her when she’s drooling like that?” 

Joel noses at your chin, puffy stripe of scarring across the bridge dragging colder than the rest, lifting a field of goosebumps in its wake.

You can barely mumble at first, the swipe of his thumbs along your ribcage doing little to ground you, focus washed out with the low light that pools in from the window. His hands are firm—even in their spread—pinkies dipping into the crease of your side as he keeps you seated atop him, sweat-damp sheets taut where they weave between the folds of your knees. 

You’re pliable over him, hiked up and lopsided where he’s fixed you high in his lap, the shape of his cock outlined inside you to the hilt. 

Nights like this—right before the onslaught of Wyoming winter—he likes to just let the time pass, to make use of his body while it’s still skin-warm, no cold to slow his joints or frost to stiffen his muscle. He wants to prove himself capable, spry, even in his climbing age, to make sure you both know how in control he still is of this vessel, of your pleasure. 

He does it in the slowest way—the only way he sees appropriate—unwrapping you in pieces, biting away at the minutes like they’re endless, peeling away at the doubts he only thinks you have for him. 

Joel is a beacon, the warmth sloughing off his chest keeping you in that hazy place between tired and restless—the brightest slice of your vision. The valleys of his hollowed cheeks are deep, his restraint bound there in the tense sinew between his molars.

Only when he feels you deflate does he rock up gently, nudging at the apex of your womb, never touching—just the suggestion of what he’s able to find within you. He lets you whine and plead until you’re at the steep slope of your orgasm before stopping altogether, letting it wane, over and over, the pause to recoup shortening with each near-miss—a loop of ‘almost’s and ‘just-so’s that remind you he can take away as much as he can give.

“Hm?” He’s encouraging as he draws you from your stupor, a lapse in his unkindness—some space for you to right your wrong.

“A slut.”

Joel rolls back on the knob of bone that ends his spine, curling his hips up to give you just the slightest bit of friction. 

“That’s right. Little pussy’s being such a slut for me.” He shifts up again, just a beat to punctuate his point, the squelch that follows sounding out in the silence as if on cue. “Don’t know how you don’t fall all over yourself dripping like that.” 

You’re humming again in response, the last two full words taking more of a toll than they’re worth, voice scratchy from just how much crying you’ve done. The little analog clock on the nightstand ticks, tallying the painfully long stretch that’s passed since he promised to fuck you; that and the hour, maybe—or well over—since he decided he was going to make you wait for it instead. 

He savors this—the chance to make you up like some sleepy, weak thing that he can dote on, that he can thaw between his hands and mold into all of his beloved shapes, syrupy and unwound and enamored. He loves you like this, at his mercy, the heft of his strength and his promise enough to carry you through to the other side of content. 

He needs you like this. 

Joel reaches down to where your middle scrapes the start of his chest, grazing his knuckles over the swell in your lower tummy, rubbing at the wide protrusion that evidences his excitement. He flattens his palm over it like a bandage, uses it as leverage to put some space between you so he can get a better view, carving out more room where he’s hooking into you.

“Look at that. Got me so deep inside you it’s trying to come out. You gonna keep it in for me?” 

You’re nodding before he’s even finished, ready for him to bring you to another barely-peak, shoulders slack so as to not work yourself up, hope strapped to the last notch. 

“Poor thing. Had enough, honey? Ready to beg for it?” 

You huff before thinking, “I have been.” 

“No—crying at me isn’t begging. You have to ask.” 

“Please.” 

“Please…?” 

“Joel, can you pl–” 

He scoops up the meat of your cheeks with his free hand, fingers scalloping the flesh in a tight grip, wedging the points between your teeth until it feels like he’s inside you; he has you by your soul at this point, his hold runs so deep. 

“I know my girl isn’t that dim. How many times have we practiced this, sweetheart? Still can’t get it right on the first try?” 

He’s dead serious—frown severe—but you can’t help the curl of your mouth, laughter bubbling at the base of your throat. What a horrible, mean man he wants to be. In reality, he loves you more than he’s able to say most days, only leaning back on this game of obedience and correction and reward as a crutch when he can’t find the words. 

“Sorry, daddy.” 

Joel angles his fingers back so that he’s hanging onto the hinges of your jaw, the broad U of his middle-to-thumb long enough to give you room to speak and breathe and scream. 

His hips start to cant, the sticky swing of his cock inside you pulsing outwards, a fresh wave of arousal pooling at the joint. 

“There we go. Go ahead with the rest, then.”

“Daddy—fuck, please.” 

His resolve begins to melt at just the mention of his newly-appointed favorite title, a thing that slides between completely earnest and a silly pass at something new, not completely settled into habit. Even so, it’s sticking fast, the sheen over his eyes and abnormal measure of his breathing proof enough. 

“Please, what, sweet girl? You need daddy to make that slut pussy happy? You need to come?” 

Your mouth is wide open, nothing coming out but brief, irregular puffs of air that keep you conscious. He’s enjoying it—hoists his chest up so he can get close to your face, unhinge his own jaw, mock you that much more. He fails to not smile, head bobbing has he continues to fuck up into you with all the effort his body, and this position, are willing to allow. 

The hand pushing into your stomach falls, twisting at the wrist so he can toy with your clit, struggling not to slip in the web of slick that’s yet to dry where you’re connected. He’s determined, though—switches his thumb for the flat section of skin between his last two knuckles, gliding along the bead of skin at your core until you’re slumping forward, unable to take the whole brunt of him at full mast. 

“Oh, honey. Can’t even get fucked right anymore, can you? What’s gonna happen when you can’t take this cock? What do you suppose I do with you, then?” 

“No, daddy. ‘M just tired. Don’t stop, please.”

“Half-awake and the only thing you can think to do is ask for more. Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

“Yes, more, more.” 

“That’s right. Tell daddy how grateful you are. Tell me how much you need it.” 

“Fuck, yes. I need you.”

The fingers on your face pinch harder, throbbing as your cheek contours to the line of your teeth. Joel shakes his wrist, your neck lolling in his clutch as he commands your attention.

“Hey, I let it slide the first time. Don’t use that kind of language with me, girl. Be polite to me for all I do for you.” 

You’re too close to the end to say anything other than sorry, sorry daddy, the pitch rising in time with his movements, the burn of your climax worming its way up your spine. He’s equally as close, descending into the force of his movements so quickly he abandons his half-hearted reprimand, lashes clumping and wet, the line of his brow shining with sweat. He works at your clit with unwavering effort, sliding ten-fold as you begin to meet his thrusts, the two of you fighting to be on-beat in the work-up.

“I’m gonna come. Please. Please, can I?” 

“What am I going to want to hear from you before you do, sweetheart?” He tucks the bow of tissue that separates his thumb to your chin, his longer fingers plucking at some of the hair that's tacked down with wet—another show of sympathy.

“I love you.” 

“How sweet are you, hm—when you want to be? That’s my perfect girl. Just one more time, now.”

“Joel, I love you. More than f—more than anything.” 

He manages a exhale—his best attempt at amusement in this state—at the way you fumble to catch your own error, too close to the edge to afford another mistake. 

You clamp down with both hands on the forearm clutching your face, like more of you on him can better emphasize your statement and he moans, a high, ragged thing that falls out before he can contain it. 

Eventually, he accepts, “I love you, too, honey. More than you know.” 

You’re right at the cusp now, cunt seizing around where he’s driving up into you and he aims to bring you there before he falters, “Come on, let me have it. Show me just how much you love me.“

It's just a slew of yes’s after that, body locking up as the crest of your orgasm washes over you in flashes of white, so intertwined with him you don’t realize he’s made his way there as well, the sear of his release a welcome addition to the flurry. 

He doesn’t stop until your breathing evens, dropping his grip to wind his arms at the small of your back. He envelops you the way he wishes he could have to begin with, with all of the raw affection he needs courage to produce. 

“I mean it. Really.” He thumbs at the bumps of your spine, a swirl of something like guilt threading through his voice. 

You’re quick to dismiss it, dropping your head into the slope of his neck, the chill of September flooding in now that you’ve halted. You bring an arm up, fingers pleating into the hair he’s grown out in preparation for the season—a cut you suspect he’s kept because you’d mentioned taking a liking to it. You shuffle closer, knees slanted inwards to cradle him.

“I know, Joel. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

[rottingfern]

all the wine is all for me || a Bad Omens fanfic

Summary: Noah’s just admiring his gains. Perhaps he’s a little more proud of his progress than the average guy. There’s definitely not a secret third reason for why he’s spending so much time in front of the mirror…

Pairing: Noah x himself lol

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unbeta'd trash. masturbation. narcissism in the greek mythology way not the psychology way

A/N: I drank a lot of wine (what else is new) and also @throughwoodsanddirt showed me that one panel from the comics that made me cackle so hard because damn Noah just really thinks he's hot as fuck huh and then I cackled until I wrote this fic

Brainrot Club: @familiarscarsxelectrichearts @throughwoodsanddirt @cowpokeomens

Masterlist here.

Title taken from All the Wine by The National; banner made by me (using Caravaggio's Narcissus); dividers by @saradika

Noah’s reflection is smiling at him. 

That, of course, is explainable by the fact that he himself is smiling; grinning, in fact, because he just looks so damn good. His gains this month were frankly goddamn impressive. Already he can see the widening of his chest to form an inverted triangle of his torso, the definition building in his bicep when he flexes.

What worries him, though, is the naughty glint in his reflection’s eye, the too-sharp canines, the raise of a single eyebrow that he definitely is not capable of reproducing. Never has been. 

He knows this look. Once, he had a fling with this girl who was an absolute freak, gets him half-hard even just remembering half the things she got up to between the sheets. And the fucking cherry on top: she loved making movies. Editing those for her unfailingly devolved into multiple-hours long dates between him and his hand. The face he’s making - his reflection is making - is the one that painted his face in the movies when she, pointing her phone to get his reaction, would ask him for the nastiest shit he’d thought only a fantasy in porn. 

So it makes no sense that he’s looking at his reflection like this, because it’s not like he’s into himself. 

His hand beelines south down the expanse of his strong (so goddamn strong, he’ll have definition in his six-pack any day now) stomach. That’s definitely not something he’s doing of his own volition. He’s not that self-absorbed. 

Well, that’s a lie. He’s not gay (unless you count the exploratory hand stuff him and Nick did as teens), but if he could, he’d totally fuck himself. 

It takes a bit of effort to shuck the grey sweats he’d worn down his hips with one hand, distracted as he is with the shapes his other arm makes as it continues to flex in the mirror. These used to be pretty loose, just crossing the line of oversized on him. Now, they’re filled by thick thighs and marble-cut hip flexors. With a single finger, he traces the vee framing trimmed pubic hair. These used to show just a hint of the magic underneath. Now, his hardness bulges a vulgar display. 

Dropping the band even just an inch springs the tip of his cock, leaking and ready to play. It’s the only part of his body he’s never been self-conscious of, because God or whoever else decided he at least deserved a win in that department when they decided to make him a skinny bitch with weak lungs. Gives the girls who settle for him a nice reward. 

Except, he never gets this hard for all the pretty girls he bags. This - the red, burning tip, the feeling like if he touches it he’ll cum in just a few strokes, the pain of wanting to draw the pleasure out as long as he can - is reserved only for the times he’s fucking his hand. 

There’s a quiet battle of wills that follows between giving up inspecting his gains and giving into his own touch. He cups his balls through his sweats, head kicking back tugged by an invisible hand at the squeeze. Noah’s sure the column of his throat looks positively delicious like this, has seen enough photos of himself in this devout escape onstage, and thinks he’s no better than all the commenters saying they’d like to lick it. He’d do it instantly, and he knows it’d feel good.

In the end, the sweats come down his thighs. He’s never denied himself pleasure so heavily mounted, not when paraded before him so, not when the boundaries are inexistent. He won’t let himself be fucking tease.

The drag of the calluses on his fingers against the tenderhot flesh of his cock sends gooseflesh up his arms. 

His toes numb for a moment as he finally takes himself in hand at the base, breath hitching wetly as he watches his hand wrap against himself. He’s heavy in his hand even to himself, so thick and veiny and so hard. A drop of precum splashes his thigh before he even has a chance to run his hand up the length. He collects it with his pinky when he reaches the tip, not daring let it go to waste. 

Thunder thighs has always been a confusing insult to him. Thighs are the strength in legs, the support to a body, the place you put your hand to hint your desire to a lover. Thighs are his handles when buried in a lover - the cradle to what every person wants most from another. Years of touring and running out of underwear have made him accustomed to going commando, but since his thighs filled out - though he now can afford to just buy a five-pack Hanes on a whim - he prefers it. There’s never a better cradle for a commando cock than a thick set of thighs. 

The overeager spit bubbles as it mingles with the precum on his palm, glistening in the mid-afternoon sun. The way they rapidly deflate feels like a countdown, one he’s determined to beat, and so finally, finally, he takes himself in hand earnestly. 

He can’t help the strangled hiss that escapes.

Noah’s usually pretty quiet in bed. Doesn’t like the vulnerability that comes with voicing his pleasure, with sharing the secret of how easy to please he is with a partner. But, fuck, does he love talking himself through it. “C’mon, baby,” he chants to his hand as it increases speed. “So fucking good,” he groans through gritted teeth. 

His voice is so fucking smooth. So fucking deep when he speaks through his chest. Just the perfect amount of grit that, if he shuts his eyes, he can feel reverberate through his nape and scalp and bang against the back of his nose as the sound waves travel to his cochlea. 

He won’t shut his eyes now. Never - not when he’s looking like that with his brow furrowed, gaze hard and nearly icy, nostrils flared and jaw clenched tight. 

He clenches it tighter, raises his chin just so to create the illusion of that perfect jawline. 

“Noah,” he moans, “god, Noah, fuck.” It echoes in his ear, and it is his voice, but he swears he didn’t feel his lips move as he watches them round around each syllable in his reflection. 

His name sounds so good rolling off his own tongue. 

Release hits Noah not like a full-speed bullet train, but the way it feels when you pulled your first tooth: slow, painful, and with each tug more builds up until it just pops out. Only after does he register the relief, the shoot of tension up his spine to burst behind his eyes and temples, the numbness in his fingers as he struggles to jerk himself through. 

Just those few final caresses. His cum blinds him with exploding stars and broken breaths. It paints the mirror in sloppy strokes of seminal goo, but he supposes that’s what Windex is for. 

Before he registers the signal from brain to limb he kneels, the rough of his wall-to-wall carpet digging into his knees as he releases his eager tongue. The spend is saltybitter when it coats the bed of his taste buds, slimy as it runs down the ramp of his throat. Noah makes sure to collect every single drop. 

He doesn’t feel shame when his eyes meet his own in the wet, distorted reflection once he’s done savoring himself. “You did so well, baby,” he says. “Such a good baby.”

His reflection nods eagerly, eyelids fluttering blissfully, head dropping as Noah’s neck stays stiff and still, eyes wide open. 

God damn, he is a sight to be seen.

[harley-sunday]

(Don’t You) Forget About Me

Summary: Charles promised her he would call her. Problem is, he doesn’t. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader [f] Warnings: None Word count: 2.6k AN: As soon as I published Champagne Supernova I was unhappy with how I ended things because I’m nothing if not a sucker for a happy ending and so here we are. I hope you enjoy :) As always, comments are very much appreciated. As are reblogs! And no, eL, we’re not turning this into a multi-chapter even though that is in fact the problem here and I seem to be only capable of writing two-part stories for Charles...

Champagne Supernova (aka part 1)

Charles watches as her fingers fly over his screen before she locks his phone and hands it back with a wicked smile, “Let’s see if you remember my name- Later.”

“Oh, I will,” he assures her, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget it. He’s known her for not even an hour but already it feels like they’ve already spent a lifetime together, like she’s always been right there next to him, if only slightly out of reach. 

“Good,” she says, interrupting his thoughts, and leans over the centre console, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek that he can feel burn into his skin nonetheless. “I’ll be seeing you then.” 

“You will,” he replies with a wink that he hopes makes him seem more confident than he is. 

“Thank you for driving me home,” she tells him as she steps out of the car. “Drive safe.”

He’s not sure if she means now or when he’s back on track again next week but still he tells her, “Always.” 

He doesn’t want to go, not really, but there are people waiting for him, people to take pictures with, and hands to shake, his only appeal that those people can then boast they know a Formula One driver. He hates it. Hates this part of his job. Hates that he has to leave her and this promise of something more behind but he knows he has to, and so he waves and tries not to look back because he thinks he’ll never be able to leave if he does.

***

“Where were you?”

He could have given a vague answer, could have told his older brother that he simply went outside for some fresh air, but instead he tells the truth because he doesn’t want to lie about her, “A girl bumped into me and I spilled my drink on her so I-”

Lorenzo gestures at his chest “So where’s your jacket.” 

He shrugs, because isn’t it obvious? “I gave it to her.” Then, as if that’s what Lorenzo will be worried about, “I’ll get it back. Later.” 

His brother eyes him suspiciously but doesn’t say anything and instead starts taking off his own jacket and hands it to Charles with a nod towards the dining room, “Here, you’ll need this for the pictures. They’re waiting for you.” 

Charles figures they can wait a little longer and takes his time putting the slightly too big jacket on, still thinking about her. The way her dressed hugged her curves, even more there where his drink soaked the fabric and-

“Charlie,” Lorenzo flicks the side of his head with an exaggerated sigh, “where’s your head at?” He gives him a gentle shove towards the door and repeats his earlier words, “They are waiting for you.” And because Lorenzo is his older brother and always seems to know exactly what is going on in Charles’ mind he winks and adds, “You can tell me about her later.” 

***

“So I drove her home,” Charles says, coming to the end of his story, “and told her I would be back for my jacket.”

Next to him Lorenzo keeps his eyes on the road and nods but from the backseat Arthur lets out a low whistle before he leans forward and rests his elbows on the seats on either side of him, “So you’re just going to show up at her house or-?”

Charles smiles and shakes his head, “I asked for her number and-”

“Oooh,” Arthur draws out and ruffles Charles’ hair. “Very smooth, frérot.” 

Charles ignores him, “-I’ll call her later this week.” 

***

He doesn’t. 

He doesn’t call and he doesn’t pick up the jacket. He wants to. God, does he want to but he gets home late and the next morning, before he’s even had the chance to replay last night’s events in his mind, he gets a call from Mattia who asks- Makes him fly out to Maranello that same day. Something about more testing, more meetings with the team, more efforts to turn the season around to try and clench the championship. He goes, of course he does. 

He still has a chance to become world champion and it’s everything he’s ever worked for in his life and so he goes and he doesn’t call.

***

After a week in Maranello the triple header starts. Spa first, Zandvoort next, and then Monza. Two podiums in three races isn’t bad, but he doesn’t win and so it doesn’t really count. Max is more than a hundred points ahead of him in the standings but Charles still thinks he has a chance and so he stays in Italy after Monza for more time at the factory, more adjustments, and more time on the sim. 

It’s not that he’s forgotten about her, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to, it’s just- It’s been too long for a casual text or call and so he’s starting to make a bigger deal out of it than it probably is and still doesn’t call. 

***

The championship is decided in Japan, with a penalty that drops him from second to third place after the race. Somehow it doesn’t surprise him that this is how he finds out he’s not going to be world champion this year. It seems- Fitting. 

That night, when he’s alone in his hotel room somewhere in Suzuka, is the first time he actually pulls up her contact and lets his thumb hover over the call button. It’s been eight weeks since the fundraiser - he knows because of course he’s kept track - and he doubts she even remembers him. Doubts she even still has the jacket. And so he locks his phone and once again doesn’t call.

***

He fights for second place the remaining five races of the season, a heated battle with Checo that gets decided in Abu Dhabi during the final race. In his favour this time. And while he much rather would have been crowned world champion, coming second to a superior Max Verstappen and a superior Red Bull is the best he and the team could do this year. Next year. Next year it will be him, he decides.

After Abu Dhabi, after post-season testing, he goes back to Maranello for the team’s detailed debrief of the 2022 season, a week-long affair that has him cooped up in meeting rooms for most of the day. He stays in Italy because a week later he has to be there for the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony in Bologna anyway. 

He still doesn’t call.

***

It’s when he’s getting ready for the FIA event, putting on his Ferrari-issued suit, that Lorenzo asks, “Did you ever get your jacket back? The one you lent to that girl?”

Charles shakes his head, “No, I-”

Lorenzo lets out a frustrated sigh in a way only a brother can, “You didn’t call her?”

“No,” Charles says as he buttons up his shirt. “I did not.”

Lorenzo mutters something under his breath that Charles just knows in an insult and so he doesn’t bother with a reply. His older brother doesn’t relent that easily though, “You are an idiot, you know that? I thought you really liked her?”

“I did,” Charles agrees easily enough. Corrects himself then, “I do. I think. But-” he shrugs, “-it’s almost been four months, I doubt-” He ducks just in time to not get hit in the head by his phone that Lorenzo hurls at him from across the room, sending up a silent thank you to Andrea for all those reflex exercises he always insists on doing, even during off-season. He throws his brother a look, “What did you do that for? You could have-”

“Call her,” Lorenzo says, pointing at the phone that bounced off the wall and landed on the floor with a miraculously intact screen. “I don’t need you moping around, thinking about what could have been, over the winter break, Charlie. Just call her, take her on a date, and hey-” he shrugs with a sly smile, “-if you do get your jacket back well then that’s a win-win, non?”

He doesn’t call right away but promises himself he will. Later.

***

“The jacket you are trying to reach is no longer available. Please try again later.” 

He can’t help but laugh and looks up at the house he’s standing in front of as he runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck because all of a sudden he’s nervous. He tries to hide it with a confident, “Salut ma chérie, I’m sorry for not calling any sooner but-”

“Don’t try to sweet talk your way back into our lives, Leclerc-”

“Our?” Shit. The possibility that she might have a boyfriend never even crossed his mind. He quietly curses himself, it’s been four months, of course she didn’t sit around and wait for him to maybe call her. Stupid. Stupid, stupid-

“The jacket’s and mine,” her voice interrupts his thoughts. “We are doing quite well for ourselves.”

“Hmm,” he hums, his smile returning. He takes a step closer to the front door, “Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to come see that for myself,” he says, his finger already hovering over the doorbell.

“Hmmm,” she draws out. “We might be able to arrange a supervised visit. When would you-”

He pushes down on the button and chuckles, “Now?”

“Now,” she echoes, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “Yeah- Ok. Sure. Let me just-”

The light inside the hall comes on not much later and he sees a silhouette walking towards the door. Charles takes a step back and hides the flowers he’s got her behind his back. When the door opens, the light from inside framing her face like a halo, he knows he’s done for and vows right then and there to call her every day if she’ll let him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she says, a little uncertain, and gestures at her jeans and hoodie, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone-” 

“You look beautiful,” he assures her and means it. She could be wearing a garbage bag and he’d still think she’d be able to take his breath away. He holds the flowers out to her, “For not calling sooner.”

She smiles as she takes the flowers from him, “That’s very kind, thank you.” 

He doesn’t really know where to go from here, doesn’t really know how to explain why he didn’t call, and he almost feels as helpless as he felt when he accidentally spilled his drink on her.

Just like that night, she takes charges and steps aside, “Come on. I’m sure your jacket will be delighted to see you.” 

***

She’s offered him a drink and this time he accepts and so he finds himself sitting at her kitchen table not much later, his jacket hanging from her chair and if a garment could, he’s sure it would mock him. There’s a cup of coffee in front of him and he watches her as she makes one for herself too. When she sits down across from him he makes himself look at her when he says, “I really am sorry for not calling sooner. I didn’t mean to- What is it? Ghost you?” 

“Well, you did, Charles. Disappeared like a ship in the night,” she mimics the movement with her hand but there’s a smile on her lips that he hopes means he still has a chance. 

He hangs his head, guilt washing over him, “I know. The second half of the season was so crazy and I know that’s no excuse-”

“Just don’t do it again.” 

It takes him a second to register her words and so he sits there with his mouth open, gaping like a fish, until he can feel himself start to smile, his hope renewed when he sees the way she’s looking at him, like she’s challenging him to not recognize this second chance that for some reason, only known to her, she has granted him. He shakes his head, “Never.” 

***

At some point they move from the kitchen to the living room, her with her knees folded up under her in one corner of the couch and him angled towards her in the other. He’s told her about the last few months, the pressure he felt, not only from the team and the fans but also from himself. How it was a fight until the very end, not just on track but off track as well, with endless hours spent in the factory and on the sim. 

Some of the questions she asks in between his stories tell him that she’s actually watched the races and it makes him feel both incredibly happy that she cared enough to do so and even more like an idiot for not calling her sooner. 

When he tells her so she agrees with a kindhearted smile. 

***

It’s only after she’s stifled a yawn during a lull in their conversation that he risks a glance at his watch and sees that it’s already past midnight. He smiles at her, “It’s late, I should probably let you get some sleep, no?”

She shrugs apologetically, “It’s been a long day-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells her as he pushes himself up from the couch and waits for her to do the same before he walks to the front door where he turns around and finds her standing there with a hesitant smile that makes him want to kiss her. 

And so he does.

Taking a step closer, he licks his lips and lets his eyes fall from to her mouth in a silent question. When she tilts her head back and looks up at him he leans in and lets his lips brush against hers before he captures her mouth with his and deepens the kiss. 

She puts one hand against his chest and pulls him closer with the other, which has found its way to the back of his neck. 

His hands are on her hips, gently pushing her up against the wall as he lets his tongue run over her lower lip. When she opens her mouth he sighs against it, enjoying the way she tastes- Something sweet, like an apple maybe, and then he slips his tongue inside and she moans and he knows that if he doesn’t stop now he’ll regret it forever. He pulls back and lets his forehead rest against hers, breathing heavily. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, hands gripping the fabric of his sweater in an attempt to bring him back.

He shakes his head, “I want to do this right, ma belle.”

“It’s not actually like you’re doing it wrong now,” she counters, sounding as out of breath as he feels. 

He chuckles and pulls back a little further so he can look at her, “Go on a date with me.”

Her eyes widen before she narrows then, a mischievous smile on her lips, “Why don’t you call me first and we’ll take it from there.” 

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him because that seems entirely fair, “I will.”

“Good-”

“Good,” he echoes before he presses a more chaste kiss to her lips. “And I won’t wait four months this time.”

“Don’t you dare,” she says and pushes him back and towards the door. A little quieter then, “Don’t you dare.” 

He gives her another quick kiss once he’s opened the door, “I’ll see you soon.” When she nods he steps outside, the feeling of hope renewed blooming in his chest. He’s almost at his car when he looks back, a little surprised then because while the front door is still open she’s gone and so he turns around, ready to head back inside to see what’s going on.

“Hey, Leclerc,” she says then as she steps into the hall again, walking towards him with his jacket dangling on one of her fingers. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

He shakes his head and smiles widely at her, “Keep it. I can come pick it up later.” 

[whatevermakesyoubreak]

> Why do Lira and Hisoka hate each other?

> an analysis/character deep dive that no one asked for 👻

> and no, it has nothing to do with them both slutting illumi out, cmon y’all. it’s actual hate here 💀

> spoilers for sic infit below~

hi.

if you’re reading this, i know u fw my fic heavyyy lmao. love u!!

ok so. we haven’t gotten to Hisoka’s POV in my fic (it’s coming soon) but, Lira has already established the fact that the two of them DO NOT like each other (to Illumi’s surprise) because outwardly they seem like they would. what, with the near carefree & bloodthirsty nature that they both seem to possess, why wouldn’t they get along?? so— what’s the problem?

the answer is literally so simple & LET ME JUST SAY— it actually has nothing to do with any of their sexualities (i feel like i have to mention this, especially with these ships smh). (no, lira does not have issues with hisoka just because him & illumi have had a sexual relationship. she actually is pretty laid back when it comes to things like that, considering she has no objection to being with another woman). she’s awful, but not THAT awful, nor is it from a place of jealousy.

Hisoka has stated in the series that he is a fan of honest & straightforward people, hence his interest in Illumi.

for Illumi, i believe he doesn’t have enough shame to lie unless it’s for something absolutely necessary, such as his job, but even that’s debatable. Illumi even said it himself, “I’m an honest person so I can’t help answering whatever I’m asked,” or whatever the exact quote is, and i’m pretty sure he was completing a contract then, too!

yes, while this could have been a lie on his part, i don’t think it was.

additionally, the illumi in my fic is written to be so devoid of shame he’s basically not capable of it, nor does he have the time to waste lying to himself, so he literally says whatever’s on his mind to Lira within reason, because as he himself said, he doesn’t feel the need to lie to her.

so, what does that have to do with Lira and Hisoka?

well, Lira is not an honest person. at all. she is extremely deceptive as well as evasive, and frankly, she often tells little white lies because she thinks they’re funny (birkin, anyone?) and due to the fact that Lira and Hisoka have indeed crossed paths and even lived under the same roof before (y’all just wait for the Lira x Phantom Troupe backstory), he clocked that shit from her immediately despite her trying her best to mask it, and she HATES that he can essentially see right through her.

ultimately, upon realizing it, Hisoka DOES NOT LIKE THIS, and he DOES NOT LIKE HER BEING AROUND HIS (their) ILLU. especially with how close she is to Illumi, and how fast their relationship is progressing. he knows she’s a drug addict, he knows she’s self serving, and, again— he sees RIGHT THROUGH HER, and wonders why Illumi can’t.

he is not jealous of their RELATIONSHIP but he absolutely despises how it seems that Illumi is apparently unaware of her deceptions (he’s not). he also considers her as nuisance who EVEN HE doesn’t have any real interest in fighting (though he certainly will) even though she is quite strong and would normally be enough to pique his interest. he feels as if she is disingenuous to a fault (which is a lot coming from him) and refuses to let go of his belief that she is incapable of telling the truth no matter what she does or how she has changed.

although, with Hisoka being Hisoka, he still does find himself intrigued by her Nen and in typical Hisoka fashion, has asked himself whether he’d like to kill Lira and make an enemy of Illumi, kill Illumi and make an enemy of Lira, OR, sit back and watch as they inevitably destroy each other, which he believes is bound to happen & honestly wants to happen purely because he thinks it’d be funny.

now, for Lira. one- Lira, while she does not particularly care about them, nor is she good with them- draws a HARD line in the sand for herself when it comes to killing or hurting children. the reason she is such a successful assassin who has managed to avoid being killed is because she refuses to do anything she will regret later. harming children is one of those things. due to her history (being trafficked as a child, essentially, which is wrong as fuck, no matter how she tries to justify it with the fact that she was born into an assassin family and that’s what’s expected of her), she is disgusted and repulsed by Hisoka’s actions and thoughts towards the boys, such as Gon and Killua, despite how many times he has tried to explain to her whatever his state of mind is when it comes to them, and how it isn’t sexual. it means nothing to her. she doesn’t care. all she sees is an adult man putting children into adult or abusive situations and it enrages her. (possible foreshadowing for the Alluka incident… hmmmm?)

additionally, she DESPISES the fact that he can see through her facade,as well as the fact that he calls her out on it, and it makes her blood BOIL. she would gladly kill him- if she was certain she could defeat him, which she's NOT- but she knows that Illumi would be affected (she does, in fact, care about Illumi), and while part of her doesn’t want him to feel upset or any other way, a bigger part of her would consider it a nuisance in regards to the aftermath, especially with the whole 'providing emotional support,' thing. additionally, who knows if leaving Hisoka alive might come in handy later…

TLDR: Lira and Hisoka have a deep, caustic hatred towards one another because they’re both homicidal fake bitches that goes deeper than something as superficial as being eskimo siblings.

pls free illumi yall he didn’t ask for this shit.

[the-river-runs]

My best friend Fandom has once again returned and asked me to post to Tumblr for her! Once again, I have permission to post this video and all edits were done by Fandom (http.redshoes on Instagram)

These memes are all based on Cryptid Sightings by @naffeclipse

She has a lot to say this time around!

A message from Fandom:

"Hello Naff!! And hello everyone :D

It’s me, your girl, your local meme and edit maker, Fandom (aka http.redshoes on Insta 😎)

I’ve come back to make another meme comp for you guys! I wanted to make this earlier, but:

1. I was busy saving/collecting ATSV content on Instagram like Pokémon to getting noticed twice by Jack in the Box ☺️

2. I had to create an Ao3 account (understandably ofc AI theft sucks) and was um. You know… being silly in the comment section 👀 (please don’t mind me if you ever stumble upon them - I react and appreciate the stuff I enjoy in weird ways 💔)

3. Was waiting for my friend here to finish reading so I didn’t spoil anything in the memes! We both loved the series so much and man. The Naff do be eclipsing fr in releasing chapters left and right biggest round of applause for one of my favorite authors here 👏👏👏

Naff, you did such a great job writing this fanfic. I’m going to repeat myself from the comment section BUT you need to give yourself a pat on the back, relax, take a break - just reward yourself. You deserve it all and I hope that you take care of yourself for all the hard work you’ve done 💞💞💞

I’ve also included the lovely artist themselves, @themeeplord , again in one of my meme comps.

It’s only one meme but dang they always draw Eclipse to be getting that gain 💪💪💪 (bc of how muscular he is haha.) Mad respect to all of the drawings they create - they’re always a banger to see.

(Most of the memes surround the last episode + epilogue so if you haven’t read those chapters LOOK ‼️ AWAY ‼️ Don’t get spoiled 🤯)

(P.S. for the imagine scenario that’s not a meme, this is what they’re saying in the audio:

“[Amused] You can hear their heartbeats? Come on, that’s a little far fetched.”

“[Soft chuckling] I can hear yours too… Your heart’s beating pretty fast.”

I’d like to think this would take place around the beginning of “The Episode Bedeviling Bodies,” where the Hunter is still trying to understand their dear friend and what they’re capable of. I thought it was fitting ngl and included it in the comp.

There were uh, more memes I wanted to include, but I’m running low on storage space atm. I’ll get back to making more after I’m done clearing that out ^^’)

(P.P.S. Okay I don’t have Tumblr obviously but 🕴️ apparently you guys really liked the SJ memes I made??? Because my friend’s been receiving notifs of it still??? Thank you so much you guys!! I didn’t really expect people to enjoy them that much 😭💘💘💘)

Now without further ado, enjoy the meme comp! >:D " -Fandom

[one-idea]

So I’ve been thinking about my dream dream fruit idea. Where a devil fairy user can steal someone’s dream/ambition.

They hear about the strawhat crew and go after them with the intent to steal Luffy’s dream. But as the watch them the user knows they can’t beat Luffy head on so they have to use some trickery. They attack his crew instead. Durning the fight Luffy blocks a hit that is meant for one of his crew mates and gets his dream stolen.

My only question is, who did Luffy save?

I can’t imagine him pushing Zoro or Sanji out of the way. Not because he doesn’t care for them but because he trust them to take care of themselves. I can only see it if it was an enemy far above their capabilities and Luffy know he has to handle it.But I don’t think that’s how the first fight would go. Yes they’re being attacked but I don’t think the user would go all out in their first assault on the strawhats. Why show their true strength and draw out the protective fury of the monster trio.

The only way I could see Luffy blocking the hit for Zoro or Sanji was if he knew the users power was to steal dreams, as Luffy is so protective of his crew and their dreams/ambitions. But I don’t want them to know what the users devil fruit doesn’t until after Luffy drops like a stone and loses all conviction towards his dream.

(But how traumatic would it be for Sanji or Zoro to see their Captain block a hit for them only to drop like a stone. He shouldn’t drop like that, that hit wasn’t enough to take him out! Before they can do anything their enemy disappears. When Luffy wakes up he’s completely despondent and they come to realize that Luffy didn’t just take a hit for them but he lost his dream for them! Can you imagine how wrecked Zoro or Sanji would be!)

I could see him shielding Robin. He fought the world government for her and while she can take care of herself I think the whole crew will always be a little protective of her.

(Again I can’t imagine how wrecked Robin would be at being the reason her captain is despondent. He took a hit for her. Once again he put it all on the line for her. But this time their opponent stole Luffy’s dream! Nothing is standing between her and getting her Captain/little brother’s dream back

I only just met Franky (and I don’t know Brook and Jinbei yet) they are crew and Luffy will always protect his crew but I’m still figuring out their places in the group.

The most obvious answer would be Nami, Usopp, or Chopper. The weakest members of their group.

It makes sense. It’s not the first time Luffy, Zoro, or Sanji has had their backs.

But how will Nami react to seeing her captain drop like a stone? How does she respond to Luffy losing his dream for her? After he saved her from arlong. After all their adventures how can he just give up?

How does Usopp respond to watching his best friend take a blow for him? A blow that takes everything from him. After water 7 and the Merry and their fight. How will he handle being the reason Luffy, who has never given up, never been scared (in front of Usopp or in Usopp’s eyes) is suddenly completely despondent.

Or Chopper who never thought he could have friends. Never thought he could be part of a family like this. Watching the man who dragged him from his solitude. The man who plays with him and makes him feel safe and welcomes who trust him completely to be his doctor, has lost all passion and drive.

There are just so many good possibilities. Not just Luffy’s relationship with his crew but also their relationship to each other.

What if he shields more than one member. What if since the fight doesn’t seem that serious, Zoro and Sanji start bickering the way they do and the user gets the drop on them, when Luffy moves to block them well….

Or both Nami and Usopp get caught off guard together. It’s happened before.

Or Robin and Chopper. Robin moves to protect Chopper but Luffy blocks both of them. Again there are just so many options.

[all-pacas]

self indulgent headcanon post: secret retcon sister edition

Daniela Maria Chase. She's gone almost universally by Ellie or Ella since she was little: Chase tends to call her Danielle. It's an old defiant habit: their father called her Ellie and little teenage Robbie was like no her name is Danielle, you don't get to call her a cute nickname if you're not here for her. (But he got it wrong, her name's Daniela.) Meanwhile she has called him Robbie since she was old enough to talk.

Ella was pretty young when her mother died, which isn't to say that her addictions and neglect didn't affect her. As with Robert before her, their mother would lock Ella in the nursery to "get her out of the way;" unlike Robert Ella never really knew or remembered her mother sober, has no good memories to draw on, just a vague terror of a very sick woman.

Robbie got the Good Looks gene. Ellie looks okay, they’re still related and all. But nowhere near his prettiness level. They don’t look alike generally; they take after different parents. But they are both blonde.

Oddly, Ella got along alright with Rowan. Because she was a girl, he had much lower/fewer expectations of her (sexism win!) and because of her age he took her in after her mother died. He still wasn't a great dad by any means. They kind of just ignored one another. She got along okay with her step-mother, too, who is one of those rich ladies who loves a good Society Dinner and Fundraiser.

Robert did his best but wasn't a good parent to Ella either. Obviously he should never have expected to be. But he was fifteen and barely coping and fifteen.

So she ended up growing up to be incredibly independent, capable of fending for herself, but also deeply prone to self destructive behaviors. If Robert is bad at relying on others, Ellie is 800% worse. She essentially emancipated herself at 17, got a job, lived on her own, never married (because relying on people), does everything Herself.

But she also periodically self destructs. She is an addict. She's an alcoholic. She self medicates and does stupid, reckless, attention seeking things, it all spirals, she checks herself into rehab, she's fine for a few years and then does it again. She was also cut out of dad's will — not a surprise, she was a complete non-entity to him and didn't even go to university.

Robert sends her money sometimes. (When he was pulling double wages in S2, she'd just been sent to rehab and he wanted the extra money to help her out.) He is the one tentative exception to the I'll do it on my own clause: Ellie will still do it on her own, thanks, but she doesn't mind him "lending" her money or buying her groceries or making her "on her own" thing easier.

Around 2010 — in her early twenties — she has a kid. Dad is not in the picture and never was. She and Robert have a huge falling out about this, he quite bluntly thinks she can't keep her life together and is being irresponsible and stupid (and flashing back to his own childhood). She has a boy. Chase has never met his nephew. They didn't speak for a couple years after.

Ellie tries to be a good mother. She stays clean, she works hard, she's actually quite proud of herself for "making something of herself." She really resents Robert as much as she does intellectually know he did his best and shouldn't have been responsible for her. But from her perspective, he abandoned her. He's rich and successful and a famous doctor (and Rowan probably was the type to compare her to him, even if he'd never once praise Chase to his face). He has it sooooo easy. And yet Robert is constantly lecturing her, telling her what to do, doubting she can make it on her own. In her mind, Ellie came from nothing and made something of herself, where Robert was given what he has.

But she does love him. And has fond memories of him. And is proud of him and his success! They just… do better with low contact. They always end up arguing. Robert sees Danielle and just feels guilt and is reminded of everything that was bad in his childhood; Danielle mostly was too young to remember the worst of it (and what she does remember is good times with her brother), and resents him for leaving.

Cameron absolutely reached out to Ella as soon as she learned she existed. She picked up the name Danielle from Chase, and no one told her it wasn't technically correct. Ella was immediately suspicious of Cameron's motives, but quite liked her. She thinks it makes perfect sense the marriage only lasted a few months, since obviously Robbie is a huge fucking loser. (She's told him so to his face, that Cameron was way too good for a stuck up asshole like Robert. He will never ever tell her about Dibala.)

Her son's name is Noah Robert Chase. His uncle has no idea.

[superbfirnacho]

What is dreamtale Ivy's species?

What is her connection towards dream and star sanses?

What is her relationship with the other bad guys

.. how would she react to Bluu?

What are her magical capabilities

How did nightmare meet ivy?

What's the difference between canon nightmare, and ivymare nightmare?

Are her children canon to the main story

What is her favorite food?/ Drink?

.. Since it's pride month, is she a fruit bowl or is she able to drive a car straight..

What is her least favorite sans au?

Thoughts on Error, Ink, Or lust?

Has she ever met a monster kid before?

Does she have any toxic qualities?

Has she ever been to a zoo before? And if so what was her reaction to seeing the goats?

Opinion on Toriel?

Has she ever been outside of her AU and went to the omega timeline? If so opinions on core?

What was she like when she was little?

Have nightmare and ivy ever.. k.. k-kissed..?!

Finally, How does she think of me? Interview sans!

*[A very short skeleton bugs you with millions of questions.]

I love these questions!! (Note this will be about Dreamtale ivy unless I say otherwise) 1. Ivy is herself an immortal being, her mother (the goddess of fertility and nature) combined the souls of monsters and humans along with the seed of a blessed willow. So ivy technically has monster and human inside of her.

2. Ivy was friends with Dream, though not as close as him then with nightmare, she think he’s a good person. She met ink and Swap and though ink was….an interesting person (she’s okay with him) and enjoyed being a lil ADHD gremlin with Swap.

3. She likes playing pranks on killer and they have a frenemies relationship. She doesn’t bother dust. And she occasionally asks horror to teach er how to cook things (she’s ass at cooking) they get along best. 4. She would think bluu is adorable and would want to ask them questions/ play with them if they’re a kid.

5. Ivy has the ability to control plants with her soul energy, it acts as sort of a puppet to control the plants. She can also heal herself and others with soul energy. She had a limited amount and if she run out of Soul energy there’s a risk of death and extreme vulnerability. Her magic gets stronger as she ages.

6. Nightmare met ivy when they were young kids, she found her way into the town he was at, heating of a bad omen on the top of the hill, she figured she would eliminate it (despite being like 7) and gain favour from the townsfolk. To her surprise to was a young skeleton her age and they started talking. Eventually growing to be close friends after she protected him from bullies.

7. Really the only difference between the canon nightmare and the one in this story is the fact he had ivy growing up, and that passive is this nightmare, they aren’t separate beings. I don’t want to make him super different then the canon.

8. They are! I may draw angst art/ what would happen if they got in a big fight but it’s all (mostly) non canon.

9. Nearly anything sweet, also cheese. It’s because when she was a kid (5 centuries ago) sweets were uncommon and only eaten by wealthy and rich people.

10. She’s Bisexual and Demisexual! Also she can drive for ass so no way.

11. She hates a lot of the Aus that have killed aus of her, for example Killer and Dust, they have killed their Ivys.

12. I already said inks so I’ll say error and lusts, she finds error annoying and he has canonically stolen her kids before. She thinks lust is chill and asks him for advice sometimes.

13. Dreamtale hasnt, original has. Og thinks they’re pretty cool and and funny.

14. Ivys only really “toxic” traits are that she lives in the past, has trouble excepting large changes, and sometimes struggles to keep secrets. She carries a lot of self hate and guilt.

15. She has been to a zoo before, tried to free all the animals. She would kind of laugh at the goats but doesn’t associate herself that much with them. She loves all animals except for parasites.

16. Og Ivy has met Tories and Tories is like another figure to her, If dreamtale met her she would be shocked because her mother, Ren, was very emotionally abusive. She would be frightened if Tories tried to keep her with her, though, because that’s what Ren did.

17. She has been outside of Dreamtale after meeting Nightmare again. She thinks core is silly and they get along.

18. She was (is still very) ADHD coded (one thing her mother hated about her) , very rambunctious, forgetful and all over the place. She loved to explore nature and catch animals. She loved playing pretend with nightmare. Ivy didn’t know how to read until nightmare taught her.

19. They have. He Immediately Stated it was a mistake however. She’s knows he feels something for her and she still cares about him.

20. “I like your outfit! You seem very nice! :3”

-ivy

sorry for any typos.

[ladytauria]

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit Words: 11k

After Jason experiences a moment of insecurity, Tim and he decide to take their relationship to the next step.

i've been wanting to write this sequel for over a year. it wasn't until i was talking to @deepwithintheabyss a few months ago that i finally figured out why it wasn't working <33

i got distracted by some other wips (including 'the sweetness of honey') but at long last <3 she's finished. i hope you guys enjoy!

Jason doesn’t know how he let Tim talk him into going dancing. Clubs aren’t really his scene, and honestly, he wouldn’t have expected them to be Tim’s either. He was wrong.

Tim had a standing date with Steph and Cass; the three of them would take the night off of patrol to dress up and go dancing instead. Tim calls it stress relief. Tonight, though, Steph and Cass are working an op together on the other side of town. So… Jason is here instead, in one of his tighter pairs of dark wash jeans, a nicer leather jacket than his usual, and a shirt he knew hugged his pecs just the right way. It’s not nearly as daring as Tim, who looks like sin in tight black short-shorts, fishnets up to his belly, and a crop top that ends just above his belly button.

It wasn’t nearly as daring as some of the stuff he’d worn undercover, but… It still made Tim look at him with dark eyes when they met up, so Jason figured it worked for him just fine.

Other than Tim’s single shot of whiskey at the start of the night, neither of them have had anything to drink. Jason wouldn’t have minded if Tim had, but—I don’t go out to drink, Tim had said. He’d come there to dance, and dance they have.

He can feel his shirt clinging to him by the time Tim finally drags him off the dancefloor and back to the bar. Tim orders them both water, and another shot of whiskey for himself; two fingers hooked in Jason’s belt loops.

He bends his head, lips brushing Tim’s ear. It makes the omega shiver. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He taps out ‘bathroom’ in morse code on Tim’s hip, just to make sure the message gets across.

Tim tilts his head back, the back of it brushing Jason’s shoulder. “Okay,” he says, though Jason has to read his lips rather than hear him. His fingers slip from Jason’s belt, and Jason, reluctantly, draws away.

When he returns, Tim is standing by their drinks, his shot already empty and one of the waters in his hand. He’s not alone.  With him is an alpha, tanned and blond and a little shorter than Dick, leaning in toward Tim like he’s flirting.

Jason—

It’s not the first time that Tim’s been hit on while they’re out. Won’t be the last, either. Jason isn’t normally bothered by it. He might get a little territorial—throw his arm around Tim’s shoulders, raise his brows like he’s daring them to keep trying, but. He knows what those alpha want—and it’s not Tim, no matter what they think. They want a sweet, submissive little thing, not an omega who wants to bring them to their knees, and is more than capable of doing it.

But this alpha—

There’s something about him that has Jason’s hackles raising.

It’s the subtle turn of his head; the way it exposes his neck without calling attention to it. The way his body seems to—fold, toward Tim’s. A subtle sort of submissiveness you usually see in omega flirting with alpha, not the other way around.

Combine that with the way he’s shorter, smaller than Jason, his muscles less defined, it—

His belly twists.

He takes a deep, centering breath, and approaches, careful not to rush. “Hey, baby,” he says, his smile only a little forced. “Thanks for watchin’ my drink.”

The way Tim brightens at the sight of him, all of his attention switching to Jason as if the other alpha isn’t even there… Jason is ashamed of the way it comforts him, the way it soothes the terrible thing coiling in his chest.

Tim passes him his water, and Jason kisses his temple when he takes it, settling his arm around Tim’s shoulders. He resists the urge to pull him into his side—to growl, bare his teeth. Tim won’t appreciate that kind of stupid alpha dominance shit, especially when he hasn’t shown a lick of interest back. Jason doesn't want to give him any reasons to be upset.

He can’t resist cutting a cool look at the alpha, though.

Tim presses up against Jason’s side all on his own. “Like I was saying,” Tim says, a wonderful note of satisfaction in his voice, “thanks, but no thanks. I’m with someone.”

The alpha looks Jason up and down, the slow drag of his gaze flaying Jason open. He looks at Tim again, one brow raised as if to ask, Seriously? This one? Aloud, he says, “Right, well.” He slides a napkin across the bar. “If that doesn’t work out—give me a call, won’t you?” With a wink, he slips back into the crowd.

Jason takes a sip of his water. His scent doesn’t shift, but he locks it down anyway; ignoring the way his chest feels tight. It’s not the first time someone has assessed him and found him wanting.

It doesn’t matter what that alpha thinks. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, except Tim.

But—

Jason can’t help but compare them, still. The confidence in his submission, the way it looked so easy, so automatic, without the fumbling Jason feels. How much less challenging it would be for Tim to move him around, the way he could overpower him without strain. He’d be a much easier sub than Jason. Prettier, too—he bets that alpha isn’t a gnarled mess of scars and blemishes. Doubts he’s carrying a minefield of trauma, either, bets Tim wouldn't have to worry so much about triggering him by accident.

The accent, or what Jason caught of it, was different, too; more Upper Gotham. It’d be less of a scandal, for Tim to be seen with him. Maybe not even a scandal at all, with how clean cut he looked.

No complicated history, either.

Just—

All-in-all easier and better suited for an omega like Tim than Jason is, or ever could have been.

Tim mutters something Jason doesn’t catch, though whatever it is doesn’t sound flattering. He takes the napkin with the alpha’s phone number and tears it to tiny little pieces. The sight makes Jason feel better—though only just. He’s still… unsettled.

Tim drains the rest of his water, and then steps closer into Jason’s space, turning so his front is pressed against him. His arms twine around Jason’s neck; fingers playing with the short curls at the base of his skull.

“Take me home,” he says, looking up at Jason, glossy lips shaping the words.

Jason doesn’t think anyone could resist an order like that. He leans down, capturing Tim’s mouth in a brief, warm kiss before taking another drink, and setting the rest of it down on the counter.

He keeps one hand on Tim’s back as they exit the club. “We don’t have to go home if you don’t want to,” he offers, when the din of music and the crowd has faded behind them. “We could hit up somewhere else.”

Tim only takes one night every few weeks to do this, to let go of his stress by dancing the night away. Jason doesn’t want that to be ruined for him.

Tim’s hand settles on his back, under his jacket. The warmth of it spreads through Jason’s core; the placement of it, right at the small of his back, makes his brain buzz a little, a pleasant sort of static that soothes the awful thing awoken in his chest and belly. “No, I’m done for the night.” He looks up at Jason, a coy sort of smile on his face. “I’d rather dance with you somewhere more… private.”

Jason shivers.

It’s—

It’s something he knows alpha do. That possessive urge after their mate has been hit on—dragging them back home and fucking them, reminding them of their claim.

Jason lets himself imagine it. Tim, throwing him down on his bed, turning him over, making him present. Working him open just enough to take him, to let him feel the burn and stretch of his cock, splitting him open. And then fucking him so hard he forgets everything but the shape and sound of Tim’s name.

It’s.

Hot.

Really hot.

Jason’s belly twists and squirms, hole clenching. Tim fucking him is showing up more and more in his fantasies—he wants ot know what it would feel like, for his omega to claim him so completely. So utterly. He’s not nearly brave enough to ask for that yet—and Tim hasn’t mentioned it either. It’s more likely that Tim will shove him down on the bed and ride him within an inch of his life, which… He’s absolutely not opposed. The opposite, actually; the idea, the mental image of it… It makes him salivate.

Or maybe he’ll want Jason to do the work; to rut into him, waiting to come until Tim has reached his peak at least once, maybe more.

He’s in for a good time, whatever Tim decides. Tim knows just how to take him apart; those long, slender fingers coaxing desperate noise after desperate noise from his throat.

“Sounds good,” he says, voice a little hoarse.

>> continue reading on ao3 <<

[fe-fictions]

I have an idea (although this may be an AU 😅); Byleth is pregnant, Felix is beyond happy and tries to help her when he can. He is extremely jelly his father is even more gentle and seems to know a thing or two (cuz you know, he had two kids xD), until Byleth confronts Felix and tells him that they are all a family

(So I did make it more fluffy than confrontational haha!!)

He was glad that his father was still present, and was thrilled when you revealed you were two months pregnant with your firstborn. Felix was overjoyed, even if his facial expressions rarely showed it. 

Despite that, you knew full well how absolutely thrilled he was. He’d wanted to be a father since before you were married, as it was a topic you discussed quite often. 

The only problem was that he didn’t feel like he was particularly good at it. The baby wasn’t even born yet but he had few ideas of how best he could help you, and worse yet, he was awkward and insecure about trying to find the best methods to care for his expecting wife.

His father, however, seemed utterly natural at it. Having sired two sons himself, Rodrigue was exceedingly capable at providing you with assistance and recommendations on how to make the pregnancy go smoothly. Felix would watch, jealous, as you tittered away happily with the head Fraldarius, enjoying his company more than himself.

Though to admit he was jealous of his father was simply out of the question. He would never do such an embarrassing thing. Rather he would seethe in the background, just as he was doing today.

The Archbishop was enjoying a rare moment of respite, taking a walk through the monastery gardens with her husband and father-in-law. It didn’t take long for the walk to become more of Felix following behind the two of you, glaring sharply and listening intently while you discussed the latest happenings of your pregnancy.

“I fear the swelling has already begun, Rodrigue.” You sounded so tired, which was somewhat upsetting to your husband. “It’s hard to keep focus in meetings when it feels as though my feet will burst from these slippers.”

“They’re not what you usually wear, are they?” His father replied, as gentle and introspective as always. “They seem to be a different pair than what I recall seeing the Archbishop in.”

“They are- Felix bought them for me recently to help with the discomfort.” You nodded back to your husband, flashing him a small smile. “But I fear I’ve outgrown them already; why must they be so uncomfortable?”

“I can assure you, though it may feel akin to your body growing exponentially, it’s simply the sensation that accompanies the mild swelling. Enclosed shoes tend to be restrictive, despite shoemakers’ best efforts to fashion comfortable slippers for those faced with your situation.”

“What would you recommend, then?” You asked, feeling Felix’s sharp glare somehow intensify on your back. He was embarrassed he made a mistake.

“I recall open-toed sandals were a favorite of Felix’s mother, aprticularly when she was carrying him. Glenn was a little gentler on her body, for whatever reason. But having some sturdy, open faced shoes like that should be a marked improvement.”

“Where do you think I can get-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Felix snapped, drawing both your attentions forward. He  flushed slightly, glancing away “I mean, you’re pregnant. You don’t need to go into town. I’ll get them for you, so just tell me what kind of shoes you want.”

“You know I’m not picky,” You started, until you recognized the angry glimmer all but begging you to help him out for a second.

You stifled a laugh. 

“I’ll think up some ideas for sandals, then.”

The rest of the walk was somewhat pleasant although you did share a knowing smile with your father-in-law, feeling Felix pouting behind you.

He was already overprotective, but he wasn’t sure what to think about his father jumping in and giving you some much needed advice.Mostly because he felt like it shouldn’t be coming from Rodrigue at all, but that it was knowledge he didn’t have any experience with at all. 

And he definitely hated that.

“If I may be candid, I’m afraid that’s not the only thing that’s been causing me discomfort.” You continued, earning Felix’s immediate attention.

“Of course, Byleth. I can assure you that there is nothing to be ashamed of, asking for assistance with your pregnancy. And I am certain it won’t be anything I haven’t dealt with, before.”

“All right, well…I have been dealing with some swelling and discomfort in my breasts, too.”

Felix nearly face planted into the path when you said that to his father.

Dear gods, you were telling his father that your breasts were-

“Not to worry. When she entered the second trimester with Glenn, we discovered that she had severe discomfort and pain for several days while we waited for the doctor to come to our home. Thankfully we were given plenty of helpful advice.”

“Father, please!” Felix cut in, all but throwing himself between his wife and guardian, his face alight with an agitated blush. “We can consult with a midwife- the last thing I want to hear is you giving my wife advice about her-”

“We don’t have to summon him and wait days for him to make it up the mountain, Felix.” You cut him off gently, not understanding what he was so upset about (because why would you?). “Please, Rodrigue, continue.”

“Very well,” He laughed, “There are a few surefire methods to easing your pain. I recall purchasing a number of braziers that did not have wiring or lace; the feel of them can cause discomfort at this stage of pregnancy. Something with cotton, or something more firm that can provide better support.”

“Excellent, that’s more than enough-”

“I would also recommend some more loose clothing; I’m certain Seteth would be glad to arrange for a new wardrobe for the expectant Archbishop. And if those things do not help enough, a cold compress rested on your chest will be quite effective- and, ironically, if the cold doesn’t help, a warm bath should be able to help instead!”

“That’s all excellent advice.” You beamed at him, looking far more relieved than before. Felix stared at you, in utter disbelief. “I wish I had written it down…but it shouldn’t be hard to remember.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Felix snapped, “But I think this conversation is over. Byleth, we should go.”

“Oh, but I wanted to ask him about my cervi-”

“We’re leaving!!”

He grabbed your wrist, tugging you away from Rodrigue and all but storming down the path, leaving the man in the dust.

Rodrigue watched after his flustered son with a fond smile; that boy could get so worked up over the smallest things, even all these years later.

-------------------------

You allowed him to pull you along for a few minutes, at least until you were halfway up the stairs and headed back to your bedroom.

“Felix?”

He didn’t answer, jaw clenched tight as he marched up the stairs.

“Felix, please slow down. My feet are…”

When you trailed off he paused, shoulders stiff as though he suddenly remembered the state of you. He turned around, checking you over and feeling a pang of guilt when he saw you were panting, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He stopped, kneeling in front of you. He took your foot in his hands, carefully slipping the shoe from your heel and tucking it into his pocket. You watched as he switched to the other foot, working methodically and very, very carefully so as not to press on your feet and hurt them further.

“Thank you,” Your whisper was met with a bashful nod.

“Let me carry you the rest of the way.” He lifted you to his chest, very gently so as not to risk harming you any further. The sigh of relief that escaped was quite involuntary, but it did make him feel a little better knowing he was helping.

He kicked the door shut behind him, lowering you onto the bed. He made sure you were comfortable before he relinquished his hold.

“Is there anything else you need? Are you feeling hungry, or tired?”

“A bit of both, but also…do you think you could get me a cold compress, like your father mentioned?””

Felix hesitated some, his lips drawn into a thin line. “You sure you want that?”

“It sounded promising. And my breasts are more uncomfortable after that walk…I must not have as supportive undergarments as I thought.”

“Y-yeah, well, it’s not like we can just take his word for it, I mean what does he know?”

“He raised two children, of which you are one.”

“That was over two decades ago! His information is outdated, at best. We can’t trust a thing he says! Just let me call a midwife in, and while we wait I can draw a warm bath for you.”

“Felix…what’s on your mind?” You leaned back into the pillows, eying your husband warily. He was clearly upset, as he had been since the garden walk.

His shoulders fell some, and he looked away, clearly indicating that he was indeed troubled.

“It’s nothing. I’m just…I’m just being stupid.”

“Well it’s not ‘nothing’ if you’re bothered by it.” You held out your hand, gesturing for him to come back to your side. “Tell me what you’re worried about.”

With a soft sigh, he returned to your side and took your hand, holding it awkwardly. He sank down onto the bedside, earning a squeeze of his fingers.

“Out with it.”

“I…didn’t like Father talking to you. A-about that stuff.”

“Why?” 

“Because it made me feel frustrated. Like I- like I should know those things! I’m the one who’s expecting a baby. I feel like it’s not his place to talk about things like that, especially not with you! If he really wanted to help, he could at least save us both embarrassment and just talk to me directly.”

You covered his hand with both of yours, smiling softly at your agitated little panther. “Felix…there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We are both  new to this. You’d think I would know how to remedy these things, since it’s happening in my body, you know?”

“That’s ridiculous- you’ve never been pregnant before, so how are you supposed to just know how to- …oh.”

He cut himself off when he caught your smile, just slightly more smug than usual. 

“You’re going to be a father for the first time. Nobody expects you to know everything, and I wouldn’t put that pressure on you, either. I don’t want you to get frustrated because you might be unsure. We’re learning together, Felix.”

“I…I suppose.” He huffed, “But…even you have to admit that asking my father about your breasts is incredibly odd.”

The laugh that escaped was bright, enhanced when he shot an embarrassed glare at you. “If it really bothers you, I can ask for a midwife’s help. But you’re going to have to let me consult with him when there isn’t one nearby.”

“Or you can just write down the questions and I’ll give them to him.”

“Or, you know…I can have a little time with my father-in-law and ask him questions directly.” You cupped his face in your hands when his frown deepened, drawing him into your sweet gaze. “But I will reserve more delicate questions for the midwife so you’re more comfortable. Is that reasonable?”

He tilted to kiss your palm, “That is reasonable.”

“Good. Now if you don’t mind, I could really use that cold compress because I’m incredibly sore.”

“Yeah.” He stood, planting a kiss on your forehead before letting you go. “I’ll be quick.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Felix would indeed make quick work to get the cold compress, which did wonders for your soreness. It did give Felix a reason to reach out to his father for a few more tips and tricks, and a bashful apology to his father for being so flustered when he was helpful.

At least, until you received the letter stating the midwife had been called to a sudden birth on the other side of the mountain and would likely be gone until right before your delivery…

Rodrigue being your temporary long-term consultant was a delightful surprise to you, though Felix had to work hard to suppress how mortified he felt. Luckily he was easy to placate; nothing plenty of kisses and letting him put his head in your lap and mope couldn’t fix.

[umbrllman0001]

why Chronus deserves to be in -STRIVE-

-STORY/FEATS-

Chronus is supremely important to Xrd’s story and is a major player in the world of GG. 

He was the leader of the United Nations Conclave, an organization (if an organization can consist of just four people lol) that essentially dictated the entire world, he was one of the five original apostles of The Original alongside Asuka, Baldias, Axus and Libraria, he caused the entirety of Xrd -SIGN-’s story to happen, and he was a major behind-the-scenes player in Revelator when he freed That Man. 

He’s an extremely proficient magic user, capable of freely moving extremely large objects in and out of the Backyard, staying in the Backyard for long periods of time and activating/deactivating Absolute Defense: Felion in a matter of seconds. It’s honestly a little strange to me that people say Ariels should’ve been playable since she was “the main villain” when Chronus was ripe for the picking lol. 

-CONNECTIONS-

Chronus has some kind of relationship with almost every character in -STRIVE- (mostly negative ones lol), opening the door for many, many unique interactions with different cast members. Personally, the ones I’m most interested in are Zato-ONE, Faust and Asuka but there’s so much more: Ramlethal, Slayer, Venom, Milia, Chaos, Ky, etc, etc.

I’d love to see Zato’s relationship with the Conclave explored in more detail, how does he really feel about being resurrected? Would he thank Chronus, or despise him for bringing him into this world without emotions?

Chronus has a very interesting relationship with Asuka. It’s clear that they knew each other from being students of The Original and Chronus bringing up Asuka’s “Master Thesis” when they met in Revelator but I really want to see it explored more! How different are their respective relationships with The Original? Do they even like each other? Is Chronus using the same methods as Asuka to stay alive? Why did all of The Aposltes decide to hide their identities?

As for Faust, I feel like he’d have the only positive relationship with Chronus. Unless Faust’s “square one” transformation made him go back to hating Chronus, I think they’d just have a nice chat. 

Furthermore, (according to this translation of him at the France Japan Expo), when asked for funny stories about Faust, Daisuke answered:  “Just Faust himself is funny, right? But well, this is a story we haven't depicted yet, but after the story of Strive, Faust and a character called Chronus end up continuing to travel together for a long time…Going with that- Chronus is a character with a very rigid personality, but through living with Faust, I imagine he would gradually become softer over time in a slice of life comedy-like scenario.”

-DESIGN-

Chronus, along with the rest of the Conclave are clearly based on the mysterious Q from Street Fighter III. This by itself is, to me at least, already a good enough design to get into -STRIVE- with some minor adjustments. However, at the end of -SIGN- Chronus’ design gets even cooler! Now sporting a cracked mask, a ripped up hat and blood running down his face.

Plus, it’s not like they’re completely locked in with this design, they can always change his outfit or mask to make him look even cooler than he already does! Hell, they could even bring back the old mask from Vastedge with a few changes and it’d look great!

In conclusion, I wholeheartedly believe that Chronus deserves a spot on the -STRIVE- roster before Arcsys stops adding characters. He’s a wonderful character with a ton of potential and I’m sure he’d draw in both new and old fans no matter what they do with him! Thank you.