#ASPEN MY DARLING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buckets-and-trees · 4 months ago

Text

Warm Shadows - The Working of Your Hands [4/4*]

Collection: Warm Shadows Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader, Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader. Bucky x Reader x Steve Word Count: 15.5k Summary: With your original Alpha returned to you and your new alpha waiting in the wings, uncertainty can finally be dealt with and whatever the uncharted future will be, at least you can figure out what it will be. Big questions loom, possibilities must be considered, and the chasm of what the three of you have been through must be confronted.

Content Warnings: dark themes and experiences discussed, a/b/o dynamics, angst; explicit smut: oral (m and f receiving), vaginal intercourse, double penetration, unprotected sex

Additional Notes: I've been working on this chapter for a very long time. I finally got some renewed inspiration for it recently, and I originally had hoped to finish it for @biteofcherry's birthday because she's one of the biggest supporters for this story, but it wasn't quite ready for you then darling, so... slightly belated birthday. BUT ALSO! It did so much better than I dreamed it would in my 2200 Followers Celebration poll, actually coming in the top four, so I really kicked things into gear, and thought it would be a fitting gift for ALL OF YOU now that I actually hit 2300 this week!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The sun is deliciously warm on your face as you shift and begin to wake up. Your body feels sated and content and initially that doesn’t seem strange, except your heart backtracks when you reach for Bucky only to find empty space on the bed next to you.

Another dream. Again.

Except there’s music playing softly from the little device in your hand – the one Bucky had shared with you!

Your face splits into a massive grin.

What’s more, you can feel the tie to your alpha again. The afternoon floods back into your mind, and you press your fingers over the bonding mark on your neck, warmth radiating through your chest. As you sit up and look around, through the bond you can tell that although he’s not there in the little cottage, he is close by.

So is your other alpha – you can feel him, too.

But that feeling is also different.

The bond between you and this version of Steve had crashed into your being as a hard and rough force. It had remained a hard presence - like a wall - while he kept you with him at the first Hydra facility, but lost the roughness by degrees over those initial weeks. When he worked you through your heat, broke and admitted some of what happened to turn him to the dark Captain Hydra, and orchestrated the escape for the two of you from the second facility, the bond had changed again. The wall morphed to more of what you could only describe as a firm hand against your chest, still holding you at bay, but more of a tangible connection.

And now something has altered it again. It's a hand against your chest, but not pushing up against you.

You know the only feasible reason Bucky would have left you had to have been to confront Steve, and the shift must be due to whatever has happened or words exchanged between them.

You slide of the bed and reach for your scattered clothes to get dressed. Your fingers tremble slightly as you pull them on, the fabric soft against your skin. You focus your senses, attuned to every whisper of movement outside. The wooden floorboards creak softly beneath your bare feet as you pad towards the window, drawing back the thin curtain to peer outside. The late afternoon light streaming through a partly cloudy sky bathes the surrounding forest in a golden glow. A gentle breeze carries the scent of pine and earth and wildflowers, mingling with something distinctly... alpha.

You catch a glimpse of movement between the trees. A flash of metal - Bucky's arm? - glints in the sunlight before disappearing again. Your heart races, the bond thrumming with proximity and anticipation. You press your hand against the cool glass, straining to see more.

Then, like a mirage solidifying, you spot them clearly. Bucky and Steve stand in a small clearing just beyond the treeline, their postures tense but not combative. Even from this distance, you can see the set of Bucky's jaw, the way Steve's hands clench and unclench at his sides. They're talking, but their voices are too low and their distance too far for you to make out any of their conversation.

You watch intently as the two alphas interact with each other. Your mind races with questions. What are they saying? How much more does Bucky know about what happened now? How will this change things between all of you?

Their body language speaks volumes - Bucky's shoulders are squared, his stance protective, while Steve's posture is more open, but far more alert and searching. You can feel the push and pull of their emotions through the bonds, a swirling mix of anger, guilt, confusion, and... hope?

Suddenly, Bucky takes a step forward, his hand outstretched. Steve tenses for a moment, then slowly, cautiously, reaches out to clasp Bucky’s forearm. The gesture is familiar, reminiscent of their old camaraderie, and it makes your heart clench.

As if sensing your gaze, Steve's head snaps up, his gaze locking onto the window where you stand. Even from this distance, you can feel the intensity of his stare. Your breath catches in your throat as a jolt of electricity seems to pulse through your bond. Bucky immediately follows Steve's line of sight, his eyes finding you as well. The intensity of their combined focus makes you shiver. Bucky's expression softens. Steve's face is a mask of conflicting and guarded emotions - regret, longing, and a flicker of the man you once knew.

You find yourself unable to look away, caught in the magnetic pull of their gazes. The air feels charged with potential energy, heavy with unspoken words and simmering emotions, like the calm before a storm breaks. Your fingers press against the glass, leaving faint smudges as you unconsciously lean closer.

Bucky gives a slight nod, his eyes never leaving yours. It's an unspoken invitation, a reassurance. You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you step back from the window. Your bare feet carry you swiftly to the door, hesitating only for a moment before you turn the handle.

The cool air hits your skin as you step outside, goosebumps rising along your arms. The grass is soft beneath your feet as you make your way towards them, each step feeling both too fast and agonizingly slow. The bonds within you hum with anticipation, drawing you forward like invisible threads.

As you near, you can sense there is a tentative, almost cautious, tension in the clearing surrounding the two alphas. Bucky's stance is protective, but not aggressive. He reaches out as you approach, his hand warm and steady as it finds yours.

"Omega," Bucky murmurs, his voice rough with emotion.

You naturally step close to him, drawing comfort from his solid presence, but your eyes go to Steve.

The other alpha remains still, looking continually between you and Bucky, his gaze intense but wary. The air between you all feels charged, crackling with tangled emotions and uncertainty.

Bucky squeezes your hand, and his thumb begins to trace soothing circles over the back of it. "We've been talking. Trying to figure some things out."

Steve takes a hesitant step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "I..." Steve starts, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. "I know I can never fully make up for what I've done. To either of you." His gaze flicks between you and Bucky. "But I want you to know that I'm trying to break free. To be myself again."

You feel a tremor run through you, a mix of fear and hope and something you can't quite name. The bond between you and Steve pulses, no longer unyielding, but rather something more malleable, raw and aching.

“I believe you, Steve,” your voice is soft when start speaking, but as you say each word, it grows stronger. “But I also know it. I’ve seen the glimmers of the alpha we knew before all this bleed through.”

You visibly see Steve’s chest swell a little.

Bucky's arm slides around your waist, grounding you. "Steve and I have spent a long time talking. We've agreed that we need to take this slow," he explains. "For all our sakes. But we also can't ignore what's happened. The bonds..."

"It won't be easy," you say, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you. "There's a lot to work through. A lot of hurt."

Steve nods, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and regret. "I know. And I'm prepared to do whatever it takes. For as long as it takes."

You feel a slight vibration run through Bucky, and you squeeze his hand reassuringly. This is difficult for him too, you know. The alphas' friendship has been tested in ways neither could have ever imagined.

"We take it day by day," you say simply. “Even without the dark pieces, something like this is,” you pause, searching for the right word, “unprecedented logistically. There are no records I’ve been able to find of two alphas claiming the same omega.”

“How did you…?” Steve furrows his brow.

You smirk. “When you left your secondary tablet in our quarters, I figured out the password. I knew I couldn’t access any of the external network, make contact with anyone, or conduct any searches that would seem out of the ordinary, but it was safe to scour the internal database. I couldn’t tell you where we were specifically, but it was evident we were at a priority one research and experimentation facility. Their library was flush with theories and documented studies and countless records in regards to alpha, beta, and omega dynamics, mutualism, and biological networks.”

Bucky’s chest rumbled. “Clever girl.”

You couldn’t help but preen a little. “Thank you, Alpha.”

Steve shifted slightly. Together now, there were new dynamics to feel and figure out. Experiencing and exploring it all would be a constant evolution and experiment for the foreseeable future, uncomfortable as it would likely be more often than not.

But there was also a flicker of admiration that crossed Steve’s face. "That's... impressive. And resourceful."

You shrug, trying to downplay the praise even as warmth blooms in your chest. "It was necessary. I needed to understand what was happening to me. To us."

"And what did you find?" Steve asks, his curiosity piqued.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Not much, to be honest. There were a few theoretical papers, some speculation based on rare cases of polyamorous relationships involving alphas and omegas, some based on relationships that involved betas, but nothing concrete. Nothing like our situation. No omegas documented with bonding marks from more than one alpha."

Bucky's arm tightens around you protectively. "We're in uncharted territory here."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "Exactly. Which is why we need to be careful. Patient." Your eyes meet Steve's, holding his gaze steadily. "We need to relearn each other. All of us."

Steve nods. The air between the three of you feels thick with potential, with possibility and uncertainty in equal measure. You can feel the bonds humming, adjusting, seeking equilibrium.

Bucky is the first to break the silence. "We'll figure it out," he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

"Maybe," you start hesitantly, "we could start with something simple. Neutral ground."

Bucky tilts his head, curious. "What did you have in mind?”

You shrug. “Can’t get more basic than the three of us going back into that house and cooking and sharing a meal together.”

The suggestion hangs in the air for a moment, its simplicity almost startling in contrast to the complexity of your situation. Then, slowly, Steve nods.

"I'd like that," he says softly, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Bucky's arm loosens slightly around your waist, his posture relaxing a fraction. "Sounds good to me. Though I hope you both remember I'm mostly still a disaster in the kitchen."

You can't help but chuckle, the sound breaking some of the tension. "At least some things never change. Steve, you still remember how to make that pasta dish? The one with the garlic and olive oil?"

Steve's eyes flare with recognition, a piece of the old Steve muscling through. "Aglio e olio? Yeah, I think I can manage that."

As you turn towards the house, Bucky's hand still in yours, you feel Steve fall into step beside you. The proximity makes your spine tingle, your body hyper-aware of both alphas. The bonds pulse gently, adjusting to this new dynamic.

Inside the small kitchen, you all move cautiously at first, cognizant every second of each other's presence. The space feels too small and too large all at once. You begin gathering ingredients, your movements deliberate as you try to establish a sense of normalcy.

"I'll start on the pasta," Steve offers, his voice low. He moves to the stove, careful not to brush against either you or Bucky as he passes.

Bucky nods, then turns to you. "What can I do? Without burning the place down, preferably."

You can't help but smile at that. "How about you set the table? Plates are in the cabinet over there."

As you all settle into your tasks, a fragile rhythm begins to establish itself. The kitchen fills with the sounds of cooking - water boiling, garlic sizzling, plates clinking. It's pure domesticity, and for a moment, you can almost pretend that everything is normal.

But then Steve reaches past you for the olive oil, and you feel the heat of his body, smell his alpha scent. Your breath catches, and you freeze. Bucky tenses immediately, his eyes darting between you and Steve.

The moment stretches, taut as a bowstring. Steve's hand hovers in the air, caught between reaching for the oil and pulling back. His eyes meet yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. You can feel the pulse of the bond between you, raw and uncertain. He worked you through one of your heats, and that experience was unforgettable and crucial to evolving your dynamic. You slept in the same bed for weeks and weeks now - a platonic but intimate negotiation of proximity each night, trusting in each other to some degree, but the bottom line is that the vast majority of the time has been spent with guards up between you until now. This is new and even though you're optimistic, your veins are laced with uncertainty.

Bucky takes a half-step closer, gauging the dynamics of the situation.

You don’t move, but it also means you don’t shrink or flinch. The tension in the room is palpable, but you're determined not to let it derail this tentative journey.

Steve takes the bottle with a nod, his movements careful and deliberate as he returns to the stove. Bucky remains close, his eyes never leaving you as he resumes setting the table.

As the meal comes together, the tension begins to fade again, replaced by a cautious camaraderie from things you all shared in what seems like a lifetime ago.

You find yourself falling into old patterns, teasing Bucky about his lack of culinary skills and offering suggestions to Steve as he stirs the pasta.

But reality reasserts itself in small ways - the way Steve's hand shakes slightly as he plates the food, the protective stance Bucky takes as he moves around the kitchen, the way your own breath catches when both alphas are near.

As you all sit down to eat, the atmosphere relaxes just a fraction again. You take a bite of the pasta, closing your eyes briefly at the familiar taste.

"It's perfect, Steve," you say softly, offering a small smile. "Just like I remember."

Steve's eyes light up for a moment. "I'm glad I could still make it right."

It’s going to be like this, undulating momentum and regression, but even the surety of that seems to settle your mind in its own way.

The alphas tuck in to their plates as well, and then snippets of conversation begin to flow.

"Remember that time in London when we tried to cook for Peggy?" Bucky says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Steve chuckles softly, twirling a bite of pasta onto his fork. "How could I forget? Nearly burned down the entire safe house. Neither of us knew how to cook back then."

You feel a smile tugging at your lips, even as a twinge of sadness hits you at the mention of Peggy. "I heard about that. Didn't you two end up ordering fish and chips instead?"

"And swore Peggy to secrecy," Steve adds, a ghost of his old grin appearing.

The easy back-and-forth continues as the alphas plate up more pasta and you reach for more bread.

As you all come to the end of your plates of food, the anecdotes ebb away and a more serious tone settles in.

"We’re going to need ground rules," you say, and they both nod. "But I say we start with this. We cook together, we eat together, we talk while we eat.”

“A good start,” Bucky says at the same time Steve murmurs, “Agreed.”

A small warmth travels through your chest, a modicum of surety.

Steve pushes his plate out of the way and leans forward on the table, his voice low as he speaks. "What else did you find in your research?"

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. "Not much concrete, honestly. There were theories, speculation, but nothing definitive. The closest I could find were some old legends, stories of powerful alphas sharing an omega in times of great need or crisis."

Steve nods slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "Makes sense. It's not exactly a common occurrence."

Despite all the uncertainty and complications, you can't shake something in your omega instincts that has you just believing that you can count on these two alphas by your side. Back in Brooklyn, the old Steve was the person you had grown to trust and rely on most outside of Bucky, and whoever this version of Steve is evolving into, it’s clear he is resolute in his investment in this future. It wasn’t something that had emerged out of nowhere today. You could look back and trace the threads of it coming together for a long time now.

It’s Bucky who cuts through the silence again. “I have something to share,” he says slowly, but there’s no hint of hesitancy in his words.

You and Steve turn your full attention to him.

“Well, go on, Buck,” the other alpha urges, his tone somewhere between curious, cautious, and suspicious.

Bucky takes a deep breath, his metal fingers tapping a soft rhythm on the table. "Over the last year, before all of this happened, I was already doing some research of my own.”

You lean forward, intrigued. "What kind of research?"

"Pack formations," Bucky says, his voice low and steady. "And how they could theoretically work in our modern world."

Your eyes widen, and you lean forward, intrigued. Steve's brow furrows, but he remains silent, waiting for Bucky to continue.

"It started as curiosity," Bucky explains, his voice low and thoughtful. "I'd been reading about wolf packs, about how they function in the wild. And it got me thinking about our own dynamics as alphas and omegas. How we might be able to form something similar, something more... expansive than traditional pairings."

Bucky pauses, his eyes becoming more intense as he recalls his research. "It started with some old texts I found in Wakanda last year. Stories of warrior tribes, of alphas who shared leadership and omegas who bound packs together. At first, I thought it was just folklore, but the more I dug, the more I found."

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest as Bucky speaks.

"They were rare and hard to find, but I found some fascinating anthropological studies on tribal societies in other parts of the world where multiple alphas and omegas lived together as well. They shared responsibilities, shared child-rearing duties. It was all about balance and mutual support."

The idea is both thrilling and terrifying, but somehow, it feels right, and your mind is already racing with the implications and possibilities.

He pauses, taking a sip of water before continuing. "I reached out to some contacts - anthropologists, historians, even.”

“Why,” Steve suddenly breaks into the flow of what Bucky was saying, “were you looking into pack formations? What possible motivation did you have before… before that night?”

Bucky's eyes lock onto Steve's. The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile, and he shakes his head slightly.

"Really, Steve?" Bucky's voice is gentle, but there's a hint of reproach in his tone. "After all we've been through, you have to ask that?"

Steve's brow furrows, flickers of doubt and confusion crossing his face. Bucky sighs, leaning back in his chair. The wooden legs scrape softly against the floor as he shifts, the sound punctuating the moment.

"You and I," Bucky continues, his voice low and intense, "we've been part of each other's lives since we were kids in Brooklyn. We've shared everything - scraped knees and stolen apples, first crushes and last dances."

His eyes flick to you briefly before returning to Steve. "And then there was the war, and everything that came after. The ice, the fall, decades apart. But even then, even when I didn't know my own name, some part of me knew you. We've always been connected, Steve. Always."

As Bucky speaks, the air in the room seems to thicken with memories. You can almost see them - two young boys laughing in the streets of Brooklyn, two soldiers standing side by side in the midst of the Great War and later the Infinity War.

Steve swallows, and his gaze is locked on Bucky.

“End of the line,” Bucky reminds him. You’ve heard them say that to each other before.

Steve's expression softens as the weight of Bucky's words sinks in. "Buck..." he starts, his voice rough with emotion.

You watch the interplay between them, feeling the bonds pulse with a complex mix of emotions.

Bucky leans forward, his gaze intense. “When everything with the Infinity War was over, when we were both finally free - you from exile and me from the conditioning - and we got to go home to Brooklyn, it did feel like going home, but it was also different. We’d both changed, grown. And then came our omega.” His eyes meet yours, warm and full of love. “Suddenly, it wasn’t just the two of us. It was three, and everything finally felt right for me.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Bucky reaches out, taking your hand in his. You can’t look away from Bucky in this moment, but you do feel Steve’s eyes on you now, too.

“That’s why I started researching pack dynamics,” Bucky continues. His eyes go back to Steve, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I could feel it building, this connection between the three of us. It was more than just friendship, more than just a singular alpha and omega bond. It was… family. Pack.

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at Bucky's words, at the acknowledgment of the bond that had been growing between all of you even before everything changed.

Steve's breath catches audibly. "Buck, I… I didn't know. I never thought…"

Bucky reaches out, his hand resting on Steve's forearm. "I know. And I should have said something sooner. To both of you. But I wanted to understand it better first, to see what the possibilities could be. If we hadn’t ended up like we are now, I felt that you would always fiercely protect us, like I would either of you, and if you’d ever bonded with another omega, it seemed natural that I would have felt about them the way you felt about…”

Bucky falters slightly, unable to finish. He squeezes your hand, and you grip it tightly right back.

You know there will be moments like this where the wound is torn open again, but if the three of you are diligent in working to heal, one day it may only be a scar.

A heavy silence falls over the three of you, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders. The bonds between you all pulse with a mix of uncertainty and determination.

“So,” you prompt, “I already have two bonds, two alphas, but how would a pack potentially work?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, his eyes flickering between you and Steve. "The most fascinating part of my research was about the bonding of alphas within a pack," he begins, his voice taking on a tone of eagerness. "It's not like the bond between an alpha and an omega. It's deeper, more primal."

He leans forward, an awe glinting in his eyes. "In the ancient texts I found, there were descriptions of a ritual. A blood bond between alphas."

You look at Steve, and your heart leaps because this moment feels like before, when Bucky would launch into an explanation of something he was passionate about, and you and Steve would go on that journey with him because Bucky was fiercely intelligent, and his enthusiasm when he got like this was irresistible. It’s the briefest of exchanges, but it’s like a suture in your heart.

"A blood bond?" Steve asks, prompting Bucky to continue.

Bucky nods, his metal arm gleaming in the soft light of the kitchen. "The alphas would come together under a full moon, usually in a sacred place - a grove, a mountaintop, somewhere with power. They'd bring their pack, their omegas, as witnesses."

As Bucky speaks, you can almost see it - moonlight filtering through ancient trees, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of alpha pheromones.

As he speaks, you can almost see it - the moonlight filtering through the leaves of ancient trees, casting dappled shadows on a forest floor. The scent of earth and night-blooming flowers and alpha pheromones heavy in the air.

"They'd stand in a circle, usually in a place of power - a clearing in an ancient forest, or atop a windswept hill. Each alpha would make a small cut on their palm with a ceremonial blade."

Bucky's voice drops lower, almost hypnotic as he continues, "Each alpha would make a small cut on their palm, then then they would stand in a circle and join hands, mixing their blood. As they did, they'd recite an oath - swearing to protect and provide for the pack, to lead with wisdom and strength, to share in both the triumphs and burdens."

You feel a shiver run down your spine. Steve leans forward, riveted as he listens.

"The texts described it as transformative. They say that as the oath was spoken there under the light of the full moon, a bond would form between the alphas. Not like an alpha-omega bond, but something different. Complementary. It was said to enhance their ability to protect the pack. Some accounts even mentioned shared thoughts or feelings or drawing on each other’s strength in moments of great need.”

"And the omegas?" you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky's eyes meet yours, warm and full of promise. "The omegas were crucial. They were the heart of the pack, the ones who bound it all together. Their presence during the ritual was said to amplify the bond, to make it stronger."

Steve clears his throat, his voice rough with emotion when he speaks. "And you think this could work?”

Bucky's eyes meet Steve's, a fierce determination in their depths. "I think it's worth trying," he says softly. "We're already bonded through our past, and now through our omega. This could complete the circle, so to speak."

Your mind racing with possibilities. The bonds within you pulse with anticipation and a hint of nervousness.

"When?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky glances out the window, his expression thoughtful. "The next full moon is in about two weeks. That would give us time to prepare, to adjust to this new dynamic."

Steve nods slowly, his gaze moving between you and Bucky. “You want this, Buck. I want this. But do you want this, Omega?” he asks, shifting his whole body to focus on you.

Your heart beats loudly in your chest, your eyes searching his blues, his searching yours just as diligently.

“I gave you no choice in changing your reality as an omega before, I will never do that again,” he says so fiercely it feels more like a solemn vow.

The blood running through your veins heats up, surging through you with a new fire. You don’t speak. You don’t have the words to convey everything running through your heart, your mind, your soul.

You push your chair back from the table and stand, eyes still fixed on Steve, your movements deliberate as you approach him. The air between you crackles with tension and possibility. Bucky watches intently, his body coiled with anticipation.

You stand before Steve, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes never leave yours as you reach out, cupping his face gently in your hands. You can feel the slight tremor that runs through him at your touch.

"Alpha," you say, the word heavy with meaning.

"Omega," he breathes, his voice thick with emotion.

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. Steve's breath quickens, his hands coming up to rest lightly on your waist. The bond between you pulses, warm and alive.

Bucky stands, moving to join you. His presence at your back is solid, comforting. You feel his hand on your hip, anchoring you.

You slide your right hand from his cheek slowly down the column of Steve’s throat until your fingers rest over the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You rub gently over his mating gland, and it evokes a rumble from his chest.

“We've been through so much, all of us,” finally finding words that feel true to this moment. “And despite everything, we're still here. Still together. I think this is how it was always meant to be."

Your fingers trace the contours of Steve's neck, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath your touch. Steve's eyes, deep pools of blue, search yours intently, the ever-growing storm of emotions swirling within them - hope, fear, longing, and something deeper, primal.

You can feel the bond between you and Bucky pulsing with encouragement and love, supporting you in this moment.

Time seems to slow as you lean in closer to Steve, your breath mingling with his. You nose down his neck, and he groans when you scent him. The smell of him is a mix of leather, pine, and something uniquely alpha – and all of it familiar. It fills your senses, making your head spin. Your omega instincts finally surge forward, finally feeling the safety you needed, recognizing your alpha, yearning to complete the bond that has been forming between you.

Steve's hands tighten on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. You can feel the slight tremor in his touch, a mix of trepidation and longing.

You can see the pulse beneath his skin, feel the heat radiating from the spot. You lock eyes with Steve again, asking the silent question. The moment stretches, taut as a bowstring.

Steve tilts his head to the side, offering his neck to you.

Your heart races at the gesture of trust and submission, more surety that he’s relinquishing the dark part that had taken over him. You brush your lips against his skin, feeling the rapid pulse beneath. Steve's breath hitches, and his hands tighten on your waist. Your tongue darts out, and you taste the salt of his skin.

"Omega," Steve implores. His scent intensifies, filling the air with pheromones that make your head spin.

Finally, your teeth sink into his flesh, claiming him. The taste of his blood floods your mouth, rich and coppery. Steve’s connection to you - that wall which had been only slowly thawing - suddenly melts away as you bonding yourself to him opens your soul to him. When he’d taken you by force, it had been a physical bond that you couldn’t deny. But an Omega claiming an Alpha in return? It wasn’t unheard of, but it was a ritual that signified a mutual decision of acknowledging only the deepest, purest connections, true partnership between Alpha and Omega.

A deep, guttural groan escapes his throat, reverberating through your body. As you release your bite, you lick the wound gently, soothing it. Steve wraps an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body, and you settle yourself into his lap.

Bucky's hands squeeze your hips, continuing to ground you as you're swept up in the intensity of the moment, but there’s also something primal you sense in the pressure now. You can feel his approval through your existing bond, supporting you as you form this new connection with Steve, but there’s another element there, too. It feels like hunger.

Steve's eyes meet yours, dark with desire. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip. The air between you is electric, charged with anticipation. Slowly, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. It's soft at first, almost hesitant, but quickly deepens as you respond eagerly.

Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss intensifies. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entry, and you grant it willingly. The taste of him is intoxicating, familiar yet new all at once. A soft moan escapes you as his hands roam your body, igniting sparks wherever they touch. You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing at your core, your clothing separating your sex from his. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate as you both give in to the intensity of the moment.

Suddenly, you feel Bucky's presence behind you more acutely. His chest presses against your back, his breath hot on your neck. "Omega," he growls, his voice low and husky with desire.

You break the kiss with Steve, turning your head to look at Bucky over your shoulder. His eyes are dark with lust, his pupils blown wide. Without hesitation, you reach for him, pulling him into a fierce kiss. Steve's hands continue to roam your body as you kiss Bucky, creating a sensory overload that has you moaning into Bucky's mouth.

“Let’s take her to bed, Buck,” Steve’s words are less of a suggestion and more of a command.

You break the intense kiss with Bucky, turning to face Steve. His eyes are filled with a primal hunger, his alpha instincts taking over. Without a word, he stands up from the chair, pulling you up with him.

Bucky falls into step with the other alpha, and they’re across the small cottage with you next to the bed in seconds.

Steve’s hands, Bucky’s hands, your hands - all three sets work to tug and strip of shirts and pants and undergarments - frenzied yet efficient, until you’re all three naked. Their touch is electrifying and immediately roaming your bare skin, igniting sparks wherever they go. The air is filled with heavy breathing and low growls as they begin to worship every inch of your body.

Steve picks you up effortlessly and lays you down on the bed before climbing on top of you. His mouth seeks out one of your breasts while his hand fondles the other one.

Bucky kneels beside the bed and takes one of your legs in his hand. He trails kisses up from your ankle all the way up to your thigh before finally reaching his destination - your core.

His tongue flicks out teasingly at first before delving deeper into your folds. You gasp at the sensation, arching into his mouth. The combination of their touches has you already on edge, but it's not long before Bucky's expert tongue brings you over that edge.

You cry out, one hand fisting the sheets and the other tangling in Steve’s hair as you come undone.

As you come down from your first orgasm, both alphas shift their positions. Steve moves up to capture your lips in a searing kiss, while Bucky replaces him at your breasts, lavishing them with attention.

Your body hums with pleasure, every nerve ending alive and tingling. You can feel the heat of their arousal pressing against you, their hard cocks at either hip, their scents mingling in the air - a heady, almost overwhelming combination.

"Alpha," you moan, not sure which one you're addressing, or if you mean both. Your hands roam over their muscled bodies, tracing scars and planes of hard muscle.

Steve breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell us what you want, omega," he growls, his voice low and commanding.

You whimper, overwhelmed by sensation and need. "I want... I want both of you," you manage to gasp.

“You have us, ‘mega,” Bucky assures you, murmuring the promise against your skin with the kisses and licks to your breasts, his vibranium hand squeezing the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

Steve shifts his position, moving between your legs. His eyes lock with yours, seeking permission. You nod, breath catching in anticipation. He enters you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. The stretch is exquisite, filling you completely. A low moan escapes your lips as he begins to move, setting a steady rhythm.

As Steve continues his slow, deep thrusts, Bucky moves up the bed, positioning himself near your head. His cock stands proud, hard and glistening with precum. You lick your lips in anticipation, your eyes meeting his with a look of hunger.

Bucky's metal hand cups the back of your head, cool against your heated skin, guiding you gently towards his length. You part your lips, taking him into your mouth with a moan of pleasure. The taste of him explodes on your tongue - salty, musky, and uniquely him.

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock before taking him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck.

Bucky's metal hand applies gentle pressure on the back of your head, not pushing, but guiding. As you relax your throat to take him deeper as he nudges more and more insistently, he places his flesh hand over your neck, feeling himself fill you with his length.

"Fuck, Omega," he growls, his voice rough with pleasure. "Your mouth feels too good."

You moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder. Neither of your alpha super soldiers are in any kind of hurry. Their actions are deliberate, but it’s clear the only thing they both want in this moment is to be inside of you.

Your body is alive with sensation, caught between the two alphas as they pleasure you. Steve's thrusts grow more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor. Fervor but not speed, and each thrust pushes you further onto Bucky's cock, creating a rhythm that has you moaning around him.

Steve's hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave bruises, as he drives into you, and you want it.

"So tight, Omega," he groans against your sternum, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel so good around me."

Bucky's metal hand threads through your hair, guiding your movements as you take him deeper into your throat. His flesh hand remains on your neck, feeling the bulge of his cock as it slides in and out. The dual sensations of being filled at both ends has you trembling with pleasure.

"That's it," Bucky encourages, his voice husky. "Take us, sweetheart.”

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, your inner omega preening at the approval of your alphas.

Both of them.

Yours.

The thought makes you whimper.

"Ready for my cum, Omega?" Bucky pants, his voice strained with pleasure.

You feel the first pulses as he throbs in your mouth, and you moan, blinking up at him, eyes watering but encouraging him to spill inside you.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he swears, and then his hips stutter and he groans as he begins to spill his release down your throat.

Your omega purrs in contentment as you swallow some of his seed, relishing in the taste of him. But before he finishes, Bucky pulls out of your mouth and pushes at Steve's shoulders to move quickly.

Steve understands immediately and pushes up with one hand, his other still gripping your hip. Then Bucky is fisting his cock, shooting the rest of his spend over your breasts, your chest heaving as your lungs greedily gulp in oxygen.

Bucky leans over you, his metal hand cupping your face as he kisses you deeply. You open your mouth to him eagerly, tongues tangling. His other hand moves to your breasts to rub the sticky mess of his cum over your tender flesh. He moans in what you can feel through the bond is satisfaction at the taste of himself on your lips and the primal marking of your chest. You indulge in the kiss you’re in desperate need for air, and push gently against him. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then pulls away and kneels above you to watch.

"You look so good taking his cock," Bucky remarks as Steve continues to thrust into you with precision.

Your pussy clenches at his words, and Steve groans in response.

“You should let her ride you, Steve,” Bucky continues. “She’s a glorious sight like that.”

Your heart stutters, and you look up at Bucky, only somewhat incredulously. And that satisfied curve of his lips, so familiar, makes your stomach rush with butterflies, and you chirp for him.

“Oh, that’s a sweet sound,” Steve exclaims in a rush, and before you can think another thought, another chirp bubbles up out of your chest, and you’re tumbling as in one fluid motion Steve flips your positions so he’s on his back and you’re above him, still impaled on his cock.

You suck in a breath at the feel of the new position. It causes his cock to hit new angles inside you. Your hands brace against his chest as you adjust, feeling the solid muscle beneath your palms. Steve's hands grip your hips, guiding you as you start to move.

Bucky is already languidly fisting his cock as he watches you, half-hard again, your ever-insatiable alpha with next to no refractory period due to the serum that enhanced his body in every way.

And now you have two of them.

You begin to roll your hips, finding a rhythm that has you both moaning. The new position allows you to control the depth and speed, and you revel in the power it gives you. Steve's eyes are dark with lust as he watches you move above him, his gaze roaming over your body.

Bucky moves behind you, his hands sliding up your back. You feel his lips on your shoulder, then your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. He presses his chest against your back as his hands come up to cup your breasts. He kneads the soft flesh, rolling your nipples between his fingers. The dual stimulation has you moaning, your movements becoming more urgent.

You lean back against Bucky's chest, your head falling onto his shoulder as you continue to ride Steve. The new angle allows Steve to thrust up into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes you forget anything else on the face of the earth, and still it seems he’s in no rush to get to his release.

Bucky turns your head, demanding your lips for more kisses again, and you mold your lips to his. He strokes your tongue with his tongue, mimicking the way he had had his mouth on your other lips earlier. He’s always eager to kiss you until you can’t breathe, driving you to that light-headed pleasure once more.

You’re panting, your entire body trembling with need as Bucky breaks off the kiss and presses a hand to the small of your back, urging you forward. You know what he wants, and you readily comply, lowering yourself down onto Steve’s chest.

Bucky moves behind you, his hands spreading the round cheeks of your ass to expose your tightest hole. He presses the head of his cock against the puckered ring of muscle, eliciting a gasp from you as he starts to slowly push inside. He’s taken you like this before, but never with another cock in your cunt at the same time. You feel stretched in the most delicious, almost impossible ways. Bucky slowly fills you up, his cock sliding deeper and deeper into you until he is buried to the hilt. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size before starting to move.

He sets a slow pace at first, sliding in and out of you with long strokes that have you moaning between them. You can feel every inch of him rubbing against sensitive nerve endings inside you, driving your arousal higher and higher.

Steve had stilled his movements, in awe and happy to pause in order to watch with increasing lust and need in his eyes. Once he sees Bucky has settled into a rhythm, Steve adjusts to work in tandem with him, thrusting up into you again.

You can feel every inch of them inside you. Bucky picks up speed, but Steve maintains his earlier slow pace. Wanting him to let go, you set your mouth to the fresh bonding mark you gave him and suck insistently. He growls, and you get exactly what you want, as his hips snap faster and harder, both men pounding into you with a rhythm that has become almost primal.

"Alpha... alph-ah!" You cry out their names incoherently as the orgasm hits with full force. Your release crashes over you like a wave, making your body tremble with its intensity. But before it can fully ebb away, Bucky's hand slips between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that send another wave of pleasure through you. Your vision goes white as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, your back arching as your muscles simultaneously strain and revel in the ecstasy.

Steve follows soon after, giving one final thrust before he's filling you with his hot release. Bucky is right behind him, and fills you with another load.

As you catch your breath, Steve pulls out of you and lays back on the bed, spent. Bucky, still inside you, leans down to kiss your neck as he slowly pulls out as well. You shift so you’re only draped over half of Steve, pressed into his side, one leg bent up over his hip, and Bucky presses up behind you. You feel them drip out of you between your thighs, the mess trickling over Steve’s thigh and down onto the sheets, but no one seems to mind or care.

After a few minutes of basking in the afterglow, Steve sits up and looks between the two of you. “We should get cleaned up.”

You nod in agreement and Bucky chuckles before getting up as well. The three of you head to the bathroom together, sharing kisses and some heated touches as you clean each other off under the warm spray of a quick shower.

The alphas change the sheets while you towel your hair dry and brush your teeth.

You collapse onto the fresh linens, feeling utterly spent but deeply satisfied. Your body hums with residual pleasure as you settle into the middle of the bed. Both men come to join you on either side of the mattress, but before Steve can, you turn to him and put your arm out over the spot he is about to occupy.

“Wait!”

Steve tilts his head, a small frown taking over his face.

“Will you open the window?”

He arches an eyebrow.

“Please?” you give him the softest, most pleading eyes that you can.

He shakes his head, but then smiles and strides away to go open the front window, moving quickly to satisfy your request. Your chest warms, and you realize it’s not Steve’s willingness to do something you ask - he’s been a much more dutiful companion since you two escaped from Hydra - but it’s because it’s the first time you have seen him genuinely smile since all of you were back home in Brooklyn.

What’s more, as Steve returns to the bed and slides in next to you, your mind considers that this is the first night you will have shared the bed with Steve. You had slept on the same mattress for weeks - at first with you refusing to even get under the covers - but even last night, it was still a functional practice. Tonight, you want to feel his presence close by, the intimate sharing of a space while you’re both vulnerable in sleep, and you want it with him as much as you want it from Bucky.

Today transformed everything, and for the first time in months, you feel unquestionably safe.

You curl into his side, resting your head on his chest, and Bucky presses up against your back. His metal arm drapes over your waist, cool against your bare skin. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, and Steve trails his fingers back and forth in soothing patterns over your arm. The bonds between you and your alphas pulse with contentment.

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, basking in the afterglow and the warmth of your alphas. Moonlight filters through the gauzy curtains, casting ethereal shadows that dance and sway with each gentle breeze. The antique clock on the dresser ticks steadily, marking the late hour.

The cool night air drifts in through the open window, carrying with it the scent of pine, earth, and wildflowers, and being held so warmly between your two alphas, you nearly drop off to sleep, when they start talking.

It’s Steve who speaks first, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "Do you really think this pack bond will work?"

You feel Bucky shift behind you, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Steve over your shoulder. "I do," he says firmly. "We've always been stronger together, Steve. This just makes it official."

You trace lazy patterns on Steve's chest as you consider their words.

"He's right," you murmur, your voice soft but sure. "We've always been meant for this, I think. Even before... everything." You pause, gathering your thoughts. "Back in Brooklyn, it always felt like we were more together. Something bigger than just friendship or traditional bonds."

Steve's hand finds yours on his chest, intertwining your fingers. "I felt it that, too," he admits quietly.

“Family,” you hum.

“A pack.”

"In the morning, we should start planning for the ritual," Bucky murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your back.

You nod sleepily, your eyes already heavy. "Mmm, good idea," you mumble.

Steve's chest rises and falls with a deep breath. "We'll need to find the right location," he says thoughtfully. "Somewhere with meaning for all of us."

Bucky hums in agreement. "And we'll need to gather the necessary items. The ceremonial blade, for one."

You're drifting off, lulled by their voices and the warmth of their bodies, but you manage to add, "Don't forget the full moon. Two weeks..."

Your words trail off as sleep claims you, nestled safely between your alphas. The last thing you're aware of is Steve pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and Bucky explaining some of the beliefs about the energy of a full moon and the significance of this coming full moon in particular.

Exhausted but also content for the first time in months, you sleep all the way through the night.

The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon when you stir, consciousness slowly returning. You're enveloped in warmth, cocooned between two solid bodies. For a moment, you keep your eyes closed, savoring the peaceful feeling.

Bucky's metal arm is still draped over your waist, his chest pressed against your back. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, indicating he's still asleep. On your other side, Steve's hand rests on your hip, his body curled protectively around you. Their scents mingle in the air around you, a comforting cocoon of alpha pheromones that makes your omega purr with contentment.

You blink your eyes open, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The room is bathed in a golden glow, giving everything an almost dreamlike quality. For a brief moment, you wonder if this is all a dream - if you'll wake up back in a cold Hydra facility.

But then Steve shifts beside you, his hand tightening on your hip. His blue eyes flutter open, immediately finding yours. A soft smile curves his lips as he takes you in.

"Good morning, Omega," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

The sound sends a shiver down your spine. You return his smile, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. "Good morning, Alpha.

As you and Steve exchange soft morning greetings, a gentle "meow" breaks the quiet. Your eyes widen in delight, and Steve's head turns towards the sound. There, at the foot of the bed on Steve's side, a graceful white cat has just leapt up and landed with the lightest of touches. Her fur is pristine, almost glowing in the golden morning light filtering through the curtains.

The cat's sapphire blue eyes blink slowly at you both, her tail swishing gently behind her.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you coo at the feline who has been coming around the cottage more and more often the past few days. You stretch your arm out and beckon her to come closer, meowing at her.

She stretches languidly, arching her back and extending her paws, before padding softly up the bed. Her movements are deliberate and elegant, each step barely making an impression on the blankets.

The cat pauses near Steve's hip, tilting its head as if assessing the situation. Its whiskers twitch slightly, picking up the subtle changes in the air currents caused by your breathing. Then, with a soft chirp, she steps up onto Steve’s hip, and then she settles in the small space between you and Steve. You brgin to lavish her with head scratches and soft pets. Her purrs vibrate against your chest. Steve watches with a mix of amusement and wonder, his hand coming up to gently stroke her silky fur.

"I didn't know we were expecting a visitor," he murmurs, his voice still husky from sleep.

You smile, continuing to scratch behind the cat's ears. "She's been coming around more often lately. You’re usually up and out for a run when she drops in for her morning visit. I think she likes us."

The cat's purrs intensify as she receives attention from both of you. Her sapphire eyes close in contentment, her paws kneading gently against the blankets.

Behind you, Bucky stirs, his arm tightening around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck. "Mmm, too early for talking," he mumbles sleepily.

You chuckle softly at Bucky's sleepy grumbling. "We have a visitor, Buck," you say, your voice warm with amusement.

Bucky grunts and props himself up on one elbow, peering over your shoulder. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of the white cat nestled between you and Steve.

"Well, hello there," he says, his voice still rough with sleep. The cat opens one eye to regard him before closing it again, clearly unimpressed by the interruption to her petting session.

Bucky reaches over you to gently scratch under the cat's chin. She leans into his touch, ready to indulge more attention, her purrs intensifying. "Friendly little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs.

Steve laughs softly. "This,” he explains to Bucky, “is why our omega wanted a window left open overnight. Had to make sure our familiar intruder could come in. I think she's made herself quite at home.”

You nod, continuing to stroke the cat's soft fur. "She has. I've been thinking we should keep her.”

The cat stretches lazily, rolling onto her back to expose her fluffy white belly. Her paws knead the air as she basks in the attention from all three of you.

"Keep her?" Bucky asks, his voice soft.

You nod, a hopeful smile on your face. "If you both agree, of course. She seems to have chosen us already."

Steve's hand stills on the cat's fur as he considers. His eyes meet yours, then Bucky's, before returning to the contented feline between you. "It would be nice to have a pet," he muses. "Something normal, after everything."

Bucky hums in agreement. "Plus, cats are good for stress relief. And lord knows we could all use some of that."

The cat chooses that moment to roll back over and stretch, her paws reaching out to knead gently against the duvet. Her sapphire eyes blink slowly at Steve, as if sealing her approval of this arrangement.

Steve chuckles, running his hand along her sleek back. "I think that settles it. She's stays with us."

You beam, your heart swelling with happiness. "She needs a name," you say, scratching behind her ears.

Bucky props himself up on his elbow, his metal arm still draped over your waist. "How about Alpine?" he suggests.

The name feels right, and you nod. "Alpine. I love it."

Alpine purrs contentedly, seeming to approve of her new name. She stretches again, her white fur gleaming in the morning light, before curling up in a tight ball between you and Steve.

"I think she's made herself right at home," Steve says with a soft chuckle, his hand gently stroking Alpine's back.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the domestic scene. It's such a stark contrast to where you were just weeks ago - trapped in a Hydra facility, uncertain of your future. Now, here you are, nestled between your two alphas, with a cat curled up beside you. It feels like a dream.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by Alpine's soft purrs and the gentle rustling of leaves outside the open window. The morning light grows stronger, casting a warm glow across the bed.

Bucky nuzzles into your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. "Breakfast?" he murmurs, his voice still husky with sleep.

“I thought I might go for a run first,” Steve says.

“You should,” you respond.

“I know we said meals together, but–”

You smile softly at Steve. "We'll wait for you to get back," you reassure him. "It's going to be important for all of us to have routines."

Steve's eyes soften with gratitude. He leans over, careful not to disturb Alpine, and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I won’t be long," he murmurs against your skin.

With careful movements, Steve extricates himself from the bed. Alpine mewls in protest at the disturbance but quickly settles back down, curling into the warm spot Steve left behind.

You curl back into Bucky's warmth. His metal arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back.

"How are you feeling?" Bucky murmurs into your hair, his voice low and intimate.

You take a moment to consider Bucky's question, assessing your body and emotions. "I feel... good," you say softly, a hint of surprise in your voice. "For the first time in weeks, I feel safe. Whole again."

Bucky hums in approval, his metal fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip. "I'm so glad, sweetheart."

You turn in his arms and snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. Alpine stretches and repositions herself against your back, her purrs a soothing vibration against your skin.

“I haven’t forgotten everything that has happened,” you explain, “but I don’t want to hold onto all of that forever. I think we have solid ground between all three of us to move forward.”

Bucky squeezes you tightly. “I think so, too.”

You pull your head back so you can see his face, your eyes searching his. "What about you, Buck? How are you feeling about all of this?"

His blue eyes are soft as they meet yours. "Honestly? I feel like a person again. I shut everything off until I finally saw your face yesterday."

You reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his stubble. “We both needed each other.”

“Are you upset I didn’t say anything about the pack to you before?”

You only pause for a moment, looking for the right words. “No, before the incident, you were still researching. Yesterday, I think you wanted to assess the situation with Steve before you put it out there for either of us to consider.”

He smiles. “Always my smart omega.”

You chirp, and he kisses you.

The movement shifts Alpine again, but this, apparently, is the last she’s willing to suffer a disturbance, and she saunters away and hops up into a nearby windowsill where she settles into a loaf so she can soak up all the direct morning sunlight uninterrupted.

“I know I’m only going on gut instinct with Steve, but with my eyes wide open, I don’t feel like I’m wrong.”

You trace your fingers over his forehead, soothing his furrowed brow. “I think you can trust your gut. There’s something I didn’t tell you yesterday when it was still just us.”

“Oh?”

“I think I was waiting to see how you two would handle each other. But I found something…”

You slip out of his arms and roll out of the sheets. When your feet his the floor, you duck down next to the bed, lift the mattress slightly, and reach between the mattress and the boxspring, sliding your hand in until your fingers find and latch onto what you’re looking for. You stand back up and show Bucky.

“Why was there a pillowcase wedged under the mattress?” he asks.

You toss it to him, and he catches it easily. “Smell it.”

He cautiously takes a whiff, and then his head snaps back to you. “This is-”

“Yep.”

He takes a longer inhale of the soft fabric.

“It’s your pillowcase, Buck. He was regularly going on missions while we were at the first Hydra facility - not significantly long ones, usually only a day, once there was a two-day absence, but he was gone when you broke into the facility and they evacuated me away. He knew my heat was coming up. He went to our home in Brooklyn, and he brought something back that smelled like you, something small and innocuous that he could hide both from me and from Hydra. I didn’t realize it was there at first. Everything happened so quickly and I was in a pre-heat mess, then in heat. But once we were here and settled, I realized that as impossible as it should have been, there was a trace of your scent here. I found it while he was on one of his morning runs. He went to considerable trouble to go and bring me something that smelled like you.”

Bucky's eyes widen as he processes what you're telling him. He brings the pillowcase to his nose again, inhaling deeply. His scent mingles with the faint traces of yours and Steve's, creating a complex blend that speaks of home and pack.

"He did that. For you." Bucky's voice is soft, tinged with a mix of wonder and something like resolve.

You nod, settling back onto the bed beside him. "I think a part of him was fighting against the conditioning even then. He knew how much I needed you, how much having your scent nearby would comfort me. He was an alpha taking care of his omega."

Bucky is quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing the edges of the pillowcase. When he speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion. "That's our Steve. The one we knew before all this. He's still in there."

You crawl back up on the bed and lean against his chest, his arm coming around to hold you close. The weight of his metal arm is comforting, grounding. You both sit in contemplative silence for a few moments, the only sound in the room Alpine's soft purrs from her sunny perch.

"I refused to acknowledge it at first," you say softly. "But as the weeks wore on, there were little chips in the armor - his and mine - and I could see the small shifts. The Steve we knew is still there. He's fighting his way back to us."

Bucky presses a kiss to the top of your head. "And we'll be here to help him every step of the way."

You nod, feeling a renewed sense of hope blooming in your chest. The morning light continues to strengthen, filling the room with a warm glow. You can hear birds chirping outside, the world coming alive with the new day. It feels like a metaphor for your own situation - emerging from a long, dark night into the promise of sunlight and warmth again.

You and Bucky remain cuddled together in comfortable silence for a while, lost in your own thoughts. The morning light grows stronger, casting long shadows across the room. Alpine stretches lazily in her sunny spot on the windowsill, her white fur appears almost ethereal as she basks in the warmth.

The scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers drifts in through the open window, carried on a gentle breeze that rustles the curtains. You can hear the distant calls of birds greeting the day, their songs a melodic backdrop to the peaceful morning.

As you lie there, your mind wanders to Steve, out on his morning run. You picture him jogging along the winding forest paths and country roads, his powerful strides eating up the miles. He’s been gone for almost an hour, and you know he should be returning soon based on the previous days as you’ve been in this cottage together.

“I think I want to go meet Steve on his way back and go for a walk with him. Do you mind?”

Bucky presses a kiss to your cheek. "Of course not, sweetheart. Go ahead. I'll start on breakfast for when you two get back. Nothing complicated," he says with a wink.

You smile gratefully, giving him a quick peck on the lips before sliding out of bed. As you dress in comfortable clothes suitable for a morning walk, you can hear Bucky moving around behind you, the soft rustling of sheets as he gets up.

As you're lacing up your shoes, Alpine hops down from her perch and winds herself around your ankles, meowing softly.

"Sorry, sweet girl," you coo, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. "You stay here with Bucky. I'll be back soon."

You give Bucky one last smile before heading out the door. The morning air is crisp and invigorating as you step outside, filled with the scents of pine, the aspen trees, and wildflowers that you have grown fond of here over the last week. Dew clings to the grass, sparkling in the early sunlight. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the fresh, clean scent, and step off the porch.

The forest around you is alive with the sounds of birds and small animals going about their morning routines. Sunlight filters through the canopy of leaves overhead, dappling the path before you with patches of golden light.

As you walk, you let your mind wander, reflecting on the events of the past few weeks. So much has changed in such a short time - and even more in the last twenty-four hours. You've gone from being a captive, wounded and betrayed, uncertain of your future, to being here in this peaceful place with both of your alphas. The thought brings a warmth to your chest.

You've been walking for about ten minutes when you catch Steve's scent on the breeze. Your heart quickens a little in anticipation. A moment later, you hear the steady rhythm of his footfalls approaching. As he rounds a bend in the path, his eyes lock onto yours and a slightly hesitant smile spreads across his face.

"Good morning," he says as he slows to a stop in front of you. He's slightly out of breath, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. "This is a welcome surprise."

“I wanted to talk, just us.”

Steve's smile softens, a mix of gratitude and nervousness flickering across his features. "Of course," he says, gesturing to the path ahead. "Shall we?"

You nod, falling into step beside him as you continue down the winding forest trail. For a few moments, you walk in companionable silence, the only sounds the crunch of gravel beneath your feet and the melodic chirping of birds overhead.

"How was your run?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

"Good," Steve replies. "Helps clear my head." He pauses, then adds softly, "Gives me time to think about... everything."

You nod, understanding. "There's a lot to process."

Steve hums in agreement. "I keep expecting to wake up and find this has all been a dream. Or a nightmare, and that I'm back... there." His voice trails off. “Or that I’m back in Brooklyn and none of this had happened. But it has.”

Steve's fingers tentatively reach out to intertwine with yours, his grip firm but gentle. "I know I have a lot to make up for," he says softly, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "I hurt you both so much."

"Steve," you say, tugging on his hand to make him stop and look at you.

He meets your gaze, his blue eyes filled with a mix of emotions - guilt, hope, and something deeper that makes your heart skip a beat.

"We've all been through hell," you continue. "What happened wasn't your fault. You were being controlled, manipulated. Yes we were hurt, even devastated. But the fact that you fought against it, that you're fighting your way back to us? That’s all I care about now, and I know Bucky feels the same.”

His blue eyes search yours, vulnerability clear in his gaze. "How can you forgive me so easily?"

"Because I know you, Steve Rogers.” Your bring your free hand up to cup his cheek. “I know your heart.”

Steve leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the contact. When he opens them again, they're shining with unshed tears.

"I don't deserve you," he whispers. "Either of you."

You shake your head. "That's not for you to decide. We choose you, Steve. We want you."

He takes a shaky breath, his hand coming up to cover yours on his cheek. "I want to be worthy of that choice."

"You already are," you assure him. "But I know it'll take time for you to believe that."

Steve nods, a look of determination settling over his features. "I'll spend every day trying to make it up to you both. To be the alpha you deserve."

"Just be you, Steve,” you whisper. You lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I feel like the weight of all this will never truly go away,” he confesses.

“The work of healing is hard, but you won’t do it alone.”

He groans your name, and you can feel the guilt masking as irritation.

“And I think we should get help,” you press. “And I think we should go back to Wakanda to get it.”

Steve turns away and starts pacing. You watch him for a moment, his agitation clear in the tense set of his shoulders. You know this suggestion isn't easy for him to hear, but you also know it's necessary.

"Alpha," you say gently, stepping into his path to halt his pacing. "Look at me, please."

It’s not like an alpha command, but you know the unique power an omega can invoke for an alpha to listen to their request.

"Wakanda?" Steve asks, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of wariness. He stops pacing and turns back to face you. The turmoil in his eyes is evident. "Why Wakanda specifically?"

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "They have the most advanced technology and medical expertise in the world. If anyone can help us navigate the aftermath of what Hydra did, it's them. Plus," you add softly, "they've helped Bucky before. They understand the complexities of deprogramming and healing from that kind of trauma."

Steve's brow furrows as he considers your words. You can see the conflict playing out across his face - the desire to heal warring with his ingrained instinct to protect and isolate.

"I understand why you're suggesting this," Steve says slowly, his eyes meeting yours. "But I'm not sure I'm ready to face… everyone. To be around other people."

You step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "We wouldn't have to see anyone we don't want to. Wakanda is a big place, and I'm sure T'Challa would respect our privacy. We could stay somewhere secluded, just the three of us, and only interact with the medical staff when necessary."

Steve's shoulders relax slightly at your words, but you can still see the tension in his jaw. "What about Bucky? Have you discussed this with him?"

You shake your head. "Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. But I think he’ll agree it's a good idea. He knows better than anyone how helpful Wakanda can be for recovery."

Steve takes a deep breath and nods, processing for another moment.

"You're right," he says finally, his voice soft but resolute. "We can't – I can't do this alone. And Wakanda does have resources we couldn't find anywhere else."

You reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And a deep kinship you and Bucky established. That matters."

He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It does," he agrees, squeezing your hand in return.

"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," you say, your voice soft but steady.

Steve's brow furrows slightly, a mix of curiosity and concern crossing his features. "What is it?" he asks gently.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I found the pillowcase," you say softly, watching his face carefully for his reaction.

Steve's eyes widen in recognition, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Oh," he breathes, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I wasn't sure if you'd noticed."

You step closer to him, your hand coming up to rest on his chest. "Why did you do it, Steve?"

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. "Because even when I couldn't remember who I was, who you were to me... I knew I had to take care of my omega, and I knew you needed him."

“That, the clothes, the books, forcing me to accept my heat naturally so I didn’t experience a dry heat, mounting our risky but well-calculated escape… I think it speaks to more than being my alpha. You did them because you’re still you. I think it’s time for you to start believing that, too.”

His hand comes up to cover yours on his chest, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "I want to believe that," he says softly. "But sometimes it feels like I'm still fighting against the programming, like I could slip back at any moment."

You shake your head, your free hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You won't," you say with conviction. "You're stronger than that, Steve. And we won’t let you get lost. I think it’s another thing becoming a pack will help."

Steve leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the contact. When he opens them again, there's a new resolve in his gaze.

"You're right," Steve says, his voice growing stronger. "We're stronger together. And if becoming a pack will help us all heal and move forward, then that's what we need to do."

You smile up at him, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. "I'm glad you feel that way. I think it's the right step for all of us."

He nods, pulling you into a tight embrace. You melt into his arms, breathing in his comforting scent. For a moment, you just stand there, holding each other in the quiet of the forest.

You tilt your head back to look up at Steve, taking in the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the intensity in his blue eyes. The sunlight catches in his hair, turning it to spun gold. Your heart quickens as his gaze drops to your lips, his pupils dilating slightly.

Before he claimed you as Captain Hydra, the Steve before - the Steve you knew in Brooklyn - had grown to be one of your closest friends. Next to Bucky, he was the person you trusted the most. There had been such a safety with him. There had never been a romantic twist or temptation, just a steadfast bond that formed.

But now, now that he's not the terrifying alpha who forcefully bonded you, but now that he's becoming Steve again and is your alpha? Your heart is starting to beat for him now, too.

Time seems to slow as Steve leans in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he's afraid you might disappear if he holds you too tightly. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and his thumb gently traces the line of your cheekbone. The tenderness in his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes flutter closed as Steve's lips meet yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It's gentle at first, almost chaste, but as you respond, melting into him, the kiss deepens. Steve's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entry.

You part your lips with a soft sigh, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair. The kiss grows more passionate, a slow burn igniting between you. Steve's scent envelops you, a heady mixture of pine, clean sweat, and something uniquely him that makes your omega purr with contentment.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing heavily. Steve rests his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed as he savors the moment.

This feels like your first true kiss - the one that will matter for your future.

"We should head back," he says. "Bucky's probably wondering where we are."

You nod, taking his hand as you start walking back towards the cottage.

When the cottage comes into view, you see Bucky sitting on the porch steps, his metal arm glinting in the sunlight, and Alpine curled up next to him. He looks up as you approach, a mixture of relief and curiosity crossing his features.

"There you are," he says, standing up as you draw near. "I was starting to worry."

Steve gives him a reassuring smile. "Sorry, Buck. We’re good."

Bucky's eyes flick between you and Steve, taking in your joined hands and the lingering flush on your cheeks. A knowing smile tugs at the corner of Bucky's mouth. "I can see that," he says, his voice warm with affection. "Everything okay?"

You nod, squeezing Steve's hand. "Yes. Actually, we have something we'd like to discuss with you."

Bucky's eyebrows raise slightly, but he nods, gesturing towards the door. "Let's head inside then. We can talk over breakfast."

The three of you make your way into the cozy cottage. Alpine trails along as well. You note how quickly she has gravitated to Bucky, and you can’t help but grin. Breakfast is simple, but the three of you move together in the kitchen to quickly pull things together, then bring it all to the table and set in.

"So," Bucky says, his steel-blue eyes moving between you and Steve. "What do you want to discuss?"

You set down your piece of toast and swallow. “Wakanda.”

Bucky's eyes widen slightly, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. "Wakanda?" he repeats, his voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Steve nods, and you reach out to place a reassuring hand on Bucky's arm. "We’ve just been talking about it, Buck. We think it might be good for us to go there for a while."

Bucky sets his fork down, his brow furrowing as he processes this information. "For treatment?" he asks softly, his eyes meeting Steve's.

You lean forward, your voice gentle but firm. "For all of us, Bucky. We all need time to heal, to adjust. And Wakanda has resources we can't find anywhere else."

Bucky's gaze shifts to you, his expression softening. "You're right about that," he admits. "The time I spent there, well, even in just two weeks there it helped more than the time I spent trying to fix things on my own the two years before that.”

Bucky is quiet for a moment, his eyes distant as he processes this information. You can almost see the gears turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons.

"It's a good idea," he says finally, his voice soft but certain. "Wakanda would also be an appropriate place to perform the pack rites and rituals. And..." he pauses, a small smile tugging at his lips, "I miss Shuri's jokes about my arm."

You and Steve both laugh. Steve was going to be your tougher sell, but you’re still relieved Bucky is sold on the plan. Having a plan is reassuring, and there are many more plans you all need to discuss this morning.

“Wakanda is perfect, actually. I’ll reach out to Shuri and see if they could even send one of the Dora Milaje to come escort you there and keep you safe until Steve and I follow and join you.”

“What?” you asked, not anticipating this suggestion at all.

Bucky looks at Steve. “We have loose ends to clip.”

Steve nods.

"Absolutely not!" you protest, your voice rising. "We're not splitting up. We just found each other again."

Steve reaches out, placing a calming hand on your arm. "It's just for a short time," he says softly. "We need to make sure there's no trail leading back to you, to us. Bucky and I can handle it quickly and efficiently."

You shake your head, feeling a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. "No. We're stronger together. Isn't that what we all agreed on?"

Bucky leans forward, his eyes meeting yours. "Omega, we're trying to protect you. To protect our future together. If there's even a chance someone could track us down..."

You feel a chill run down your spine at the edge in Bucky's voice. You know exactly who he's talking about - the people responsible for what happened to Steve.

"I understand why you want to do this," you say, looking between them. "But I can't just sit safely in Wakanda while you two put yourselves in danger. We face it together."

Steve's jaw tightens. "No, Omega. Not this time. There’s no question about this - it's too dangerous."

You feel a surge of frustration and hurt at his words. "I'm not some useless and fragile thing that needs to be protected, Steve."

Bucky reaches out, taking your hand in his. "Omega, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. This isn't about you being fragile. This is about Hydra, and we need to know you're safe while we take care of them."

You pull your hand away, standing up abruptly. "And what if something happens to you? What if you don't come back? I can't lose you again. Either of you."

Steve stands as well, moving around the table to pull you into his arms. You resist at first, but eventually melt into his embrace. "We will come back," he murmurs into your hair. "I promise you. We've been through too much to lose each other now."

You cling to him, breathing in his scent, trying to calm your racing heart. "I hate this," you whisper. "I hate feeling helpless."

Bucky comes up behind you, sandwiching you between him and Steve. His metal arm wraps around your waist, cool against your skin. "You're not helpless," he says softly. "You're our anchor. Our reason for coming back."

You turn your head to look at him, seeing the determination in his steel-blue eyes. "Promise me," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Promise me you'll both come back."

Bucky's eyes soften as he meets your gaze. "We promise," he says, his voice low and fervent. "We'll always come back to you."

Steve nods, his arms tightening around you. "Always," he echoes, his breath warm against your ear.

You feel a shiver run through you at their words, at the intensity in their eyes. The air around you seems to thicken, charged with an electric tension that makes your skin tingle.

Bucky leans in, his lips brushing against your neck. "Let us show you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends heat pooling in your belly. "Let us prove our promise."

Steve's hand comes up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him. His blue eyes are dark with desire as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You melt into him, your heart yearning for this, even though you know they can’t guarantee their promises, only their intentions.

You need this.

The air grows thick with the scent of arousal as Steve's lips find your other side, trailing soft kisses along your jaw.

"Yes," you breathe, tilting your head to give them better access. "Show me."

In a fluid motion, Steve lifts you into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. Bucky follows close behind, his eyes dark with desire. As Steve gently lays you on the bed, Bucky's hands are already working at the buttons of your shirt.

"We've got you, Omega," Steve murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek. "We'll always come back to you."

Bucky's metal hand slides under your shirt, cool against your heated skin. "You're ours," he growls softly, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. "And we're yours. Always."

Your breath catches as their hands and mouths explore your body, peeling away layers of clothing. Steve's lips trail down your collarbone while Bucky's metal fingers dance along your inner thigh, sending shivers of pleasure through you.

"Please," you gasp, arching into their touch. "I need you both."

Steve pulls back, his eyes dark with desire as he meets your gaze. "We're here, Omega. We've got you."

Bucky's hand slides up to cup your face, turning you towards him for a deep, passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth as Steve's fingers find your most sensitive spots, teasing and stroking with expert precision.

Your body arches as waves of pleasure wash over you, Steve and Bucky's touches setting every nerve ending alight. Their scents mingle in the air - pine and metal, sweat and arousal - surrounding you in a cocoon of desire and comfort.

Bucky breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck as Steve moves lower, his mouth replacing his fingers. You cry out at the sensation, one hand tangling in Steve's hair while the other grips Bucky's metal arm.

"That's it, sweetheart," Bucky murmurs against your skin. "Let us take care of you."

Steve hums in agreement, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact.

Bucky's flesh hand finds your breast, kneading gently as his thumb brushes over your nipple. Steve tenderly kisses and licks your cunt, while Bucky’s mouth latches onto your other breast. Then, Bucky moves down the bed and spreads your legs wider to make room for both of your alpha super soldiers. He begins kissing up your inner thigh, and then they take turns giving you pleasure in your most intimate area, worshipping your sex until you’re dripping, writhing, and begging for more.

Steve moves to the head of the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. With gentle hands, Bucky flips you over, guiding you onto your hands and knees. You shiver in anticipation as you feel Bucky's strong hands grip your hips, positioning you. The cool air of the room kisses your heated skin, making you shiver with anticipation.

Bucky's metal hand trails down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. Steve cups your face tenderly, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

You gasp as Bucky slowly enters you from behind, stretching and filling you deliciously. Steve's hand tangles in your hair, gently guiding your mouth to his hardened length. You eagerly take him in, moaning around him as Bucky begins to move.

The room fills with the sounds of pleasure - skin against skin, breathless moans and whispered endearments. Bucky's thrusts are deep and measured, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Steve's fingers massage your scalp as you work him with your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip.

"That's it, sweetheart," Bucky growls, his grip on your hips tightening. "You feel so good."

Steve's breath hitches as you take him deeper. "Perfect," he murmurs, his voice strained with pleasure. "So perfect for us."

"Are you ready for us, Omega?" Steve asks, his voice thick with need.

You nod eagerly, your body thrumming with desire. "Please," you breathe, looking up at Steve through your lashes. He dips down to take your lips in a brief, possessive kiss.

Your body trembles with anticipation as Steve pulls away from your mouth, his hand guiding you back into position. You moan around him, loving the feeling of being filled by both of your alpha super soldiers.

Bucky's thrusts become more urgent, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he picks up the pace. "You feel so good," he growls.

Steve's fingers dig into your hair as he begins to move faster in your mouth. You eagerly take him in, wanting to please both of them. The intensity of having them both inside you is almost overwhelming, but it's a the kind of overload that you need right now.

As they move together in tandem, you feel yourself reaching the edge. Then you're lost in a haze of pleasure with your release. All you can think about is how they fill you physically, and how they consume every inch of your soul now as well.

Bucky's thrusts become more erratic as he buries himself deep inside you one final time before finding his release. His grunts and groans mix with Steve's moans as he comes undone in your mouth.

Feeling the vibrations from their orgasms only heightens your own pleasure. Your walls clench around Bucky as waves of ecstasy pulse through your body.

The three of you collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and racing hearts. Breathing heavily, Bucky pulls out and collapses next to you while Steve rests against the headboard.

You lay there for several moments, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. Steve's hand gently strokes your hair while Bucky's metal arm drapes protectively across your waist. The room is quiet except for your collective breathing gradually slowing to a normal pace.

"I still don't like the idea of being separated," you murmur, breaking the silence.

Steve sighs softly, his fingers still carding through your hair. "We know, sweetheart.”

Bucky presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder. "It won't be for long. Just enough time for us to tie up loose ends and make sure no one can track us."

"I understand," you say softly, "but I still wish there was another way."

Steve leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We'll be as quick as we can," he promises. "And we'll stay in regular contact."

Bucky nods in agreement. "You know we won't take any unnecessary risks. The goal is to get back to you as soon as possible."

You sigh, snuggling closer to both of them. "I know. I trust you both. It's just... after everything we've been through, the thought of being apart again is terrifying."

"We feel the same," Steve murmurs, his arm tightening around you. "But this is to protect our future. To make sure we can live without always looking over our shoulders."

Bucky's metal fingers trace soothing patterns on your skin. "You’re strong, Omega, this will be nothing compared to,” Bucky pauses, and you feel both alphas tense.

“Compared to what I put you through,” Steve finishes.

You turn to face Steve, cupping his cheek gently. "That wasn't you," you say firmly.

Steve's eyes are still haunted as he meets your gaze. "But I still did those things. I still hurt you."

Bucky reaches over, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. "We've both done things we regret under Hydra's control. But we're free now."

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to Steve's lips. "And we're moving forward. Together."

Steve pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair. You can feel the tension slowly leaving his body as he breathes in your scent.

"We can't change the past, but we can shape the future," Bucky reminds him.

"You're right," Steve murmurs after a moment.

“I know, punk. You’re the one who told me that over and over and over. I’ll remind you as many times as you need, because that’s what you did for me.”

"Thank you," Steve says softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Both of you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You snuggle closer to Steve, feeling Bucky press against your back. The warmth of their bodies and the mingling of your scents creates a cocoon of comfort and safety.

"You'll never have to find out," you murmur, pressing a kiss to Steve's chest.

Bucky hums in agreement, his metal arm draping over both you and Steve. "Till the end of the line, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Steve chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Omega,” his voice turns serious again, “you woke me up from the nightmare, helped me shed the specter of Captain Hydra; and yesterday you anchored me back to my true self again, Buck.”

Your heart both aches and soars, and you have to kiss him. When you break off, Bucky reaches for Steve’s head, and then he presses their foreheads together over your shoulder. It’s an intimate moment between all of you that you don't want to break, and so you don’t and neither do they.

You lie there in silence for a while, basking in the afterglow and the closeness of your alphas. Despite the lingering anxiety about the upcoming separation, you feel safe now. You feel loved now. You never want to leave this now.

“I’ll go,” you finally whisper. “But can it be tomorrow? For one more day, please let it be like this, here, just us.”

Steve and Bucky exchange a glance over your head, a silent conversation passing between them in an instant. After a moment, they both nod.

"Of course, Omega," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "We can have one more day here, just us."

Bucky's arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. "We'll make the most of it," he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck.

You feel a wave of relief wash over you. One more day of peace, of being together, before facing the challenges ahead. You snuggle deeper into their embrace, savoring the warmth and comfort of their bodies.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. Bucky buries his face in the crook of your neck, Steve’s hand moves from your hip up your side, and you get lost in them again.

go to the double epilogue: THE DAWN HAS COME

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Ah! I'm just! Final chapter finally getting to share it with you all! It's been such a long journey! Thank you for those who have been waiting patiently. I hope you're feeling all the things!

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers #bucky barnes fan fiction #captain hydra #aspen wrote something #steve rogers x reader #omegaverse #marvel omegaverse #warm shadows au #female reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

252 notes · View notes

hogwartsstudentconfidential · 5 days ago

Text

Update Hogwarts Confidential

Hello my good people. It has been a very boring week. You all need to step up your game. But since there's less gossip there's going to be more updates and bs, cause why not.

Starting with this weekend is Ravenclaws final game of the season. In the game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is supposedly hosting a board game night tonight whether they win or lose so dress comfy and get ready for the most competitive board game night ever.

After board game night, Hogwarts will begin setting up for the loveliest holiday, Valentine's Day. We will have mini cupids and even house elves set up to deliver love letters and telegrams to send to those you love. Professor Slughorn has even convinced Dumbledore to allow anonymous telegrams to take place.

And since I have nothing else to write for announcements I guess we'll hop back into our weekly gossip.

Starting with this previous weekend Phoenix Harvey and Jamie Ho preformed at karaoke night, both showing up in the best suits ever, showing off their hot bodies (especially Phoenix, I mean I could cook a steak on those steamy abs), then ending the night with a steamy kiss. Just kidding, we all know it was two bros showing each other some love and I believe calling a small truce.

Speaking of Phoenix the boy seems to have met up with Ho’s stunning girlfriend, Anastasia Selwyn. The two were caught hanging out in the snow before disappearing off into the woods where I believe the two actually finally kissed. I think Ho has gotten a little too trusting with the two while he's away.

Congrats Mr. Ho on your quidditch interviews.

Now onto a totally different couple(?) Aspen Parker and Noah Montague seem to be getting really close. The two were seen mingling and might I say heavily flirting at karaoke night before disappearing together and I believe I saw Aspen making her way to the older boys dorm just last night.

And another couple- why are there so many couples? Do y'all actually like each other? What is going on- is love actually in the air?

And on to our final couple for this week (boring), Xenophilius and oh wait this isn't about their girlfriend, this is about their secret relationship with none other than Lucius Malfoy. Xenophilius and Lucius were caught talking and even confessing their feelings to one another. Xeno even going as far as feeling the need to break up with his new girlfriend, Pandora. The two concluded their confession with parting ways instead, the boys guilt becoming too much for him to break up with the girl. But to be honest I called this soooo long ago. Pandora, honey, get your man. Xeno, sweetie, get your shit together. Lucius, darling, stop trying to ruin Pandora's relationships.

Anyways that's all for this week! Catch ya next time on Hogwarts Confidential!

Tah Tah 💋

@james-the-amazing-potter @starlight-starbright-thatsme @looneymoonyy @wormy-loves-ch33se @mystical-magical-me @king-ofthe-crop @xeno-graphical @rodolphus-le-strange @averykissableguy @fire-allayer @poison-penmanship @lifeofthe-barty @whokilledevanrosier @pandoras-nox @little-king-official @cas-not-the-band @marls-mckinn0n @hjonesworld @mary-mcdeal @emmelineandhervans @sybill-patricia-trelawney @lilytheginger @alicethekindone @andromedashoax @the-queen-bellatrix @severusprince-snape @fabian-with-an-f @mollberryshortcake @fawningamos @k1ndest-keeper @aelius-with-a-quill @annajohn-silvae @adam-lukas-morningstar @imogenmorningstar @oxxen--free @camille-laurier @luciagraham @your-favourite-callie @addison-caddel @daughter-of-spring @magandang-kaluluwa @flyasaphoenix @tjsinclairofficial @secretlifeof-asher @toby-newtman-tics @bones-and-edgar @ted-the-teddy-tonks @scattered-across-thesky @alectocrow @lucius-malfoy-back

54 notes · View notes

stylesonfilms · 5 days ago

Text

ink & innocence - 25

word count: 5.0k

The next morning arrived with a flurry of responsibilities for both Aspen and Harry. Her schedule was packed—starting with a 10 AM lecture that stretched an hour and a half, followed by two more classes, both with looming exams. Meanwhile, Harry had a back-to-back lineup of clients at the shop, as did Zayn and Niall.

Despite the busy day ahead, Aspen moved with a lightness in her step, a dreamy haze lingering from the night before. She hummed softly under her breath as she slung her bag over her shoulder, fingers brushing against the strap as she adjusted it. With a quick swipe, she tucked her phone into her pocket, her ponytail bouncing as she padded toward the kitchen, still lost in the events of last night.

The moment she stepped into the room, her gaze landed on a bouquet resting on the counter, wrapped in delicate white paper. The flowers were breathtaking—soft pink lilies and creamy white roses nestled together, tiny sprigs of baby's breath woven throughout. A single tulip lay beside it, its petals fresh with morning dew. Aspen's lips parted slightly, a warm blush creeping onto her cheeks before she even had the chance to ask.

Isobel, who stood at the stove stirring eggs in a pan, glanced over her shoulder with a knowing grin. "Harry stopped by this morning while you were still asleep. Left those for you."

Aspen's heart gave a little flutter. He came by? She stepped closer, fingers brushing over the velvety petals as she took in their soft fragrance. It was such a simple gesture, but it made her chest bloom with something warm and golden.

Her gaze flickered to the side, noticing another bouquet in a vase by the sink—this one different, scattered with a mix of wildflowers and a single sunflower standing tall in the center.

"Harry dropped something off for me too, from Zayn," Isobel added, reaching for the salt to sprinkle over the eggs. "A sunflower, because I mentioned I liked them once. Cute, right?"

Aspen's fingers traced the smooth edges of the paper wrapping, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness behind it all. "They really are something else," she murmured, before her eyes landed on the small folded note tucked beneath the bouquet.

Her breath caught as she picked it up, unfolding the paper with careful fingers.

"My darling Asp,

Good morning! I wish I could have seen you before I had to go, but you were soundly and peacefully asleep. Thank you for last night. Being with you is an incredible feeling that I can never get without you. I miss you every second, and I love you. Best of luck with today, sweet girl.

Harry. X"

Aspen pressed her lips together, her fingers gripping the note a little tighter as she read over his words again. It was simple, effortless—but it was him. The sincerity, the affection—it settled deep in her heart like an embrace she could carry with her all day.

"You're grinning like an idiot," Isobel teased, bumping Aspen's hip with hers as she turned off the stove.

Aspen only let out a soft laugh, cheeks still warm. "I can't help it." She carefully folded the note and slipped it into her bag, a keepsake she knew she'd revisit more times than she'd admit.

She turned her attention back to the flowers, gently tucking them into a glass vase, arranging them just right before setting them next to Isobel's. They looked beautiful there—like little remnants of love left behind.

"Oh, yeah! Harry brought me the sunflower along with Zayn's bouquet, and Zayn tagged on a tulip for you," Isobel added, nodding toward the single tulip still resting on the counter. "Something for both of us."

Aspen reached for the tulip, twirling it between her fingers before glancing over at her friend. Without thinking, she moved closer, looping her arm through Isobel's and resting her head on her shoulder with a small, content sigh.

"You're okay with that, right?" Aspen asked after a moment, her voice soft. "It doesn't make you uncomfortable that Harry got you something? Or that Zayn got me something?" She tilted her head up slightly, suddenly feeling a little shy about it.

Isobel let out an easy laugh, shaking her head as she set down the spatula. "Asp, don't be ridiculous. Of course not." She turned slightly, nudging Aspen playfully. "I think it's sweet how they take care of us both. Honestly, it's kind of adorable."

Aspen exhaled a quiet breath of relief, her small smile returning. She didn't doubt Harry's intentions—not for a second. But hearing Isobel say it so easily made that warmth in her chest settle even deeper.

She glanced back at the flowers one last time, unable to resist the way her fingers skimmed over the petals again. She wasn't sure how she got so lucky—how she found someone who loved her in such quiet, thoughtful ways. But she wasn't going to waste a second of it.

After slipping the note safely into her bag, Aspen grabbed her phone and made her way toward the front door. She still had time before class, and though she knew Harry was already at the shop, she wanted to hear his voice—just for a little bit.

The cool morning air greeted her as she stepped outside, the scent of dew still lingering in the breeze. She pulled her phone from her pocket, heart doing a little flip as she tapped on Harry's contact. It barely rang twice before his deep, familiar voice came through.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Aspen smiled, the warmth in his tone already making her stomach flutter. "Hi, H." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she balanced her phone between her shoulder and ear, adjusting the strap of her bag as she started toward campus. "I just wanted to thank you for the flowers—and the note. That was really sweet of you."

She heard the faint hum of background noise, the occasional buzzing of a tattoo gun in the distance. Harry let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah? You liked 'em?"

"I loved them," Aspen admitted softly, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I—I wasn't expecting it, but it made my morning, so... thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, sunshine. Just wanted to do something nice for my girl." His voice was smooth, affectionate, and she could practically hear the smile in it. "I wish I could've been there to see your face when you found 'em."

Aspen bit her lip, her cheeks warming further. "Isobel said you stopped by this morning. You must have been up so early."

"Didn't mind it," Harry replied easily. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't wanna wake you."

The image of him standing outside her apartment, dropping off flowers while she was still curled up in bed, made her chest tighten in the best way. He was always so thoughtful in ways that made her fall for him over and over again.

"Oh! And tell Zayn I said thank you too," she added, remembering the tulip. "The flowers were beautiful."

"I will," Harry promised. "He'll probably say somethin' dumb like 'you're welcome, but I'm still the prettier one' or whatever."

Aspen giggled. "Sounds like him."

"Mm. Speaking of which, he and I were talking this morning—figured we'd swing by later after my shift, if you're up for some company."

Her heart leapt slightly at the thought of seeing him so soon. "Really?"

"Yeah, baby. Thought we could all hang out for a bit. Unless you're sick of me already."

Aspen rolled her eyes, though her smile never wavered. "You know I could never be."

Harry let out a content sigh. "Good. 'Cause I miss you already."

Her blush deepened, and she was grateful there weren't many people around to witness how flustered she'd become. "You just saw me last night."

"Exactly."

Aspen shook her head, but the giddiness in her chest wouldn't fade. "Well... I'd love to see you later. I've got exams today, but once I'm done, I'll be free."

"You're gonna do amazing," Harry assured her. "I just know it. My girl's brilliant."

Aspen smiled at the conviction in his voice, her nerves about the exams easing slightly.

"I hope so."

"I know so," he corrected, and she swore she could hear the smirk in his voice.

Before she could respond, she heard someone calling Harry's name in the background, followed by the faint rustling of movement.

"Shit—gotta go, sunshine. Client just walked in."

"Oh—okay! Good luck today," she said softly, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"You too, sun. I'll see you tonight, yeah? I love you."

"Yeah. I love you, Harry."

"Bye, baby."

"Bye, H."

The call ended, and Aspen sighed dreamily, pressing her phone to her chest for a moment before shaking herself out of it.

Time for class.

The next few hours passed in a blur of lectures and exams, but Aspen found herself feeling more confident than she had in a while. Maybe it was Harry's unwavering belief in her, or maybe it was the lingering warmth from his morning surprise, but either way—she tackled each exam with steady determination.

By the time she handed in her last test, she felt good.

She wasn't naive—she knew she wouldn't be scoring a perfect 100, but she had done her best. And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.

As she exited the lecture hall, a cool afternoon breeze brushing past her, she pulled her phone out and shot a quick text to Harry.

Aspen: just finished my exams! i think they actually went really well. thank you for the extra confidence boost this morning. you were right. ☺️

She didn't expect an immediate response—he was likely still with a client—but seeing his name in her messages sent another wave of warmth through her.

Feeling lighter, she made her way back home, where the familiar scent of Isobel's cooking greeted her as soon as she stepped inside.

Isobel looked up from the counter where she was slicing vegetables, eyebrows raising. "Well? How'd it go?"

Aspen set her bag down and leaned against the counter, her lips curving into a soft smile. "I think... I actually did really well."

Isobel's face lit up. "Yes! I knew you would." She wiped her hands on a towel before reaching over to pull Aspen into a quick hug. "I'm so proud of you."

Aspen melted into the embrace, grateful for the support.

"Oh—by the way," she said as she pulled back. "Harry and Zayn might stop by later."

Isobel smirked knowingly. "Might?"

Aspen rolled her eyes. "Will, then."

"Mhm," Isobel teased. "Y'know, you might as well just give him a spare key at this point."

Aspen's cheeks flared with heat. "Oh, my God—stop."

Isobel cackled, clearly enjoying herself, but she softened a second later. "I think it's sweet, though. He really adores you, you know."

Aspen bit her lip, trying (and failing) to suppress the smile spreading across her face. "I know."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The metallic click of the shop door's lock echoed in the quiet street as Harry twisted the key, securing the entrance for the night. Zayn stood beside him, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket while Niall let out a yawn, stretching his arms overhead.

"Long-ass day," Niall muttered, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "I swear, if I see another drunk walk-in trying to get their ex's name inked, I'm quitting."

Zayn smirked. "No, you're not."

"Yeah, probably not," Niall admitted with a chuckle. "Anyway, you two heading out?"

"Yeah, we're gonna stop by Aspen and Isobel's," Harry replied, pocketing his keys. "You coming?"

Niall tilted his head in thought. "I'll think about it. Gotta shower first. Maybe I'll swing by after."

As Niall stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, he took a few steps back from the shop, rolling his shoulders with an exhausted sigh. "Well, I'm off. If I don't show up later, I either fell asleep or changed my mind. Probably both," he quipped, flashing a lazy smirk.

Zayn smirked back. "Your loss, mate."

"Yeah, yeah," Niall waved a dismissive hand, turning on his heel. "Tell Aspen and Isobel I said hi."

Harry chuckled, watching as Niall sauntered down the dimly lit street, his footsteps soft against the pavement. The streetlights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a dull orange glow that barely reached the edges of the alleyways. The night was quiet aside from the occasional distant honk or the muffled chatter of pedestrians from a few blocks away.

Then, as Niall rounded a corner and disappeared from view—

A low, slow hum broke the silence.

Harry's fingers instinctively curled around the key in his hand, his grip tightening as the unmistakable sound of tires rolling over asphalt crawled into his ears. It wasn't just any car. The deep, steady purr of the engine was too smooth, too controlled—something expensive, something deliberate.

Zayn stiffened beside him, the air shifting between them as their bodies went rigid with awareness. They didn't have to look to know who it was.

The vehicle prowled toward them like a shadow slipping through the night, its sleek black exterior barely reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights. The tinted windows were impossibly dark, swallowing any trace of the inside. It came to a calculated stop just feet away, the silence that followed more deafening than the noise itself.

For a moment, nothing happened.

The two of them stood still, breath shallow, instincts screaming that they were being watched from behind the blackened glass. The cool night air suddenly felt suffocating, wrapping around them like a vice.

Click.

The back passenger door unlatched, creaking open ever so slightly, just enough to reveal the shadowed interior.

A pause.

Then, a voice— low, composed, laced with an almost lazy amusement that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck rise.

"Get in."

Leone.

Neither of them moved at first. Zayn's jaw ticked, his fingers twitching at his sides, but he remained still. Harry, meanwhile, swallowed down the sharp unease slithering through his chest. He wasn't afraid—not exactly—but there was a certain heaviness to moments like these, a silent knowledge that once they stepped into that car, they were at the mercy of whatever came next.

Harry cast a glance toward Zayn, whose dark eyes met his for a split second—calculating, resigned.

Without another word, they moved.

Zayn slid in first, followed by Harry, their muscles coiled tight as the door shut behind them with a soft but final thud. The scent of leather and faint traces of cologne clung to the air inside, thick and almost suffocating.

Silence.

Harry's pulse drummed steadily against his ribs, but his expression remained unreadable, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting as he settled into the seat.

The car pulled away from the curb, smooth and soundless, vanishing into the depths of the city like it had never been there at all.

Leone sat ahead of them, silent. The only sound was the faint rumble of the tires over asphalt and the rhythmic, menacing click of Leone's ring tapping against the leather seat.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Harry shifted slightly, the movement slow, deliberate. Carefully, he slid his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the screen as he typed out a quick message.

Harry: Small delay. Be there soon. Don't worry.

He pressed send just as the car hit a rough patch in the road, using the movement to subtly tuck his phone away again. He barely had time to settle before a pair of cold eyes flicked toward him in the rearview mirror.

Leone had noticed.

Harry held his breath, keeping his expression even as the man studied him for a second too long before turning his gaze back ahead.

The car pulled into a secluded alleyway, weaving through dark streets until they reached a rundown building with boarded windows and a rusting fire escape hanging loose from its side. The tires crunched over gravel as the vehicle rolled to a stop.

The doors swung open again.

Two men—large, broad-shouldered, faces shadowed under the dim streetlights—grabbed them roughly, yanking them out of the car.

Harry barely had time to react before a firm hand shoved him forward, nearly making him stumble. He caught himself with a hiss, but the grip on his arm tightened.

"The fuck is this?" Zayn growled, voice low as he tried to shake off the hold on him, but it was useless.

Neither man answered.

They were hauled inside the dark building, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of gasoline and damp wood. The floor creaked beneath their boots as they were forced forward into an empty, cavernous space.

Then, without warning, a shove.

Harry crashed into a chair, the wood scraping sharply against the floor. His arms were wrenched behind him, rough rope biting into his wrists as they were bound tightly to the backrest. Zayn suffered the same fate beside him, both of them cursing under their breaths as they struggled against the binds.

Heavy footfalls retreated.

Silence.

Thick, suffocating darkness enveloped them.

Harry's breaths came slow and measured, his jaw clenched as he tried to adjust his grip against the restraints. Zayn sat just as tense beside him, his breathing sharp through his nose.

Minutes passed.

A single overhead bulb flickered to life, bathing the room in a sickly yellow glow. The light cast harsh shadows against the walls, making the space feel smaller, more suffocating.

Footsteps echoed from the far end of the room.

Steady. Unhurried.

Leone stepped into view.

A cold smirk curled at the edge of his lips, his hands slipping into the pockets of his tailored coat as he took his time closing the distance between them.

"Well," he murmured, tilting his head slightly as his sharp gaze swept over them. "We have a lot to talk about."

The silence in the dimly lit room was suffocating, thick with tension and the stale scent of cigarettes and sweat. The air was damp, clinging to Harry's skin as he flexed his wrists against the rough rope binding them to the wooden chairs. His fingers curled into fists as he forced himself to breathe evenly, his jaw tight with controlled rage. Zayn sat beside him, his own expression hardened, dark eyes glaring up at the man who stood before them.

Leone.

He was dressed as he always was—meticulous, precise. A deep navy button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the ink that crawled up his forearms. He took his time dragging a slow inhale from the cigarette between his fingers, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted lazily above their heads. Behind him stood two of his men, their presence looming, watching—waiting.

"Well," Leone finally murmured, his voice smooth, almost conversational, as he took a step closer. "We have a lot to talk about."

Neither Harry nor Zayn responded.

Leone exhaled through his nose, flicking a bit of ash onto the ground as he took another step forward, his boots echoing against the concrete floor. He rolled his shoulders before tilting his head slightly, studying them as if they were nothing more than disobedient children.

"I'd really hate to believe that two of my most reliable guys—two boys I've given so much to—would fuck me over." His voice was laced with mock disappointment, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue. "But imagine my surprise when I go to count my money from the other night, and I come up short."

Harry's muscles tensed. His stomach curled with disgust as Leone crouched down to their level, holding up a single finger.

"Over a thousand fucking dollars short."

Zayn's jaw ticked, but he kept quiet, his eyes flickering toward Harry, whose breathing had deepened, nostrils flaring.

Leone turned slightly, nodding toward one of his men. "Tell them what you told me."

The man took a step forward, his expression impassive. "They counted up eight grand. That's what they gave us."

Leone hummed, dragging the cigarette to his lips before blowing the smoke directly in Harry's face. "Yeah, except when I counted, there was only seven."

Harry clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to recoil from the smoke burning his throat. His blood simmered beneath his skin, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"We didn't fucking take your money." His voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air like a blade. Cold and firm, unwavering.

Leone chuckled.

And then, before Harry could react, the cigarette was dragged along the side of his neck, the faint sting of heat trailing along his inked skin before—

Crack.

A sharp slap landed against Harry's face, the force snapping his head to the side. A searing burn blossomed across his cheek, the sharp edge of a ring breaking skin. A faint trickle of blood slipped down toward his jaw, but he remained still, his fists curling tighter beneath the ropes. His ears rang slightly, but the white-hot anger inside of him burned louder.

Leone tilted his head, taking in the sight of Harry's bleeding cheek with a smirk. "If you didn't take it, where the fuck is it?"

Zayn straightened, his voice firm. "We counted exactly what we got. We didn't pocket a single fucking dollar."

Smack.

This time, the blow landed across Zayn's face, sending his head snapping to the side. He let out a low hiss, jaw clenching, but he refused to give Leone the satisfaction of a reaction.

Leone sighed, feigning disappointment as he shook his head. "You really expect me to just take your word for it?" He turned slightly, pacing in front of them as he took another drag of his cigarette. "That's the problem with you two. You think you're untouchable. Think you can do whatever the fuck you want without consequences."

Harry's teeth gritted. "We didn't fucking take from you."

Another hit—this time a brutal punch to Zayn's stomach from one of Leone's men. He gasped slightly, swallowing down the sharp pain, his head dipping forward for a brief second before he lifted it again, eyes burning with defiance.

Leone turned to Harry. "What about you, huh?" He crouched down again, tilting his head. "You gonna tell me the truth, or are we gonna have to keep playing this little game?"

Harry's lip curled, his voice dry. "Go fuck yourself."

Another hit.

This time, one of Leone's men slammed a fist into Zayn's ribs, forcing a rough grunt from his lips as his body lurched slightly against the chair. He exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring, but he refused to let them see him break.

The cycle continued. Accusations. Retaliation. A hit for every defense.

Leone spewed filth at them, words laced with venom, taunting and cruel. He degraded them, calling them ungrateful little shits, mocking the way they sat tied up like weaklings. He told them they were nothing without him, that they owed him, that he made them.

Minutes passed of the pain lingering and blood dripping alongside the harsh words.

Harry spat.

A mixture of blood and saliva landed near Leone's expensive shoes, just inches from where he stood.

His scowl deepened as he lifted his head, voice razor-sharp with venom.

"Check the fucking cameras."

Silence.

Leone's eyes darkened.

Harry held his gaze, his chest rising and falling steadily, unfazed. His jaw was tight, his cheek throbbing, but he didn't care.

A tense moment passed.

Without a word, Leone turned on his heel and disappeared into the next room. The only sounds left were the faint buzz of the flickering bulb overhead and the uneven breathing of the two boys.

Zayn exhaled through his nose, rolling his aching shoulders. "Think he'll actually check?"

Harry flexed his fingers. "Doesn't have a fucking choice."

Minutes crawled by, stretching thick and heavy. Finally Leone returned. A slow, amused smile stretched across his lips, his eyes glinting with something sickly amused.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, placing his hands on his hips. "Looks like my men made a mistake in miscommunication."

He took another step forward, crouching slightly to tilt his head at them.

"You're free to go."

Harry's lip curled in disgust. Fucking bastard.

The ropes burned against Harry's wrists as one of Leone's men roughly untied the knots, yanking them free with a final jerk that sent a sharp sting through his already bruised skin. Zayn let out a quiet grunt beside him, shaking out his own hands as soon as they were free, rolling his sore wrists with a scowl.

"Get the fuck out," one of the men sneered before a forceful shove sent Harry stumbling forward. He caught himself at the last second, his muscles coiling as he clenched his jaw.

Another shove.

Zayn staggered slightly but caught his footing just as they were both forced through the metal door, spilling out into the dark alleyway behind the building.

The heavy steel door slammed shut behind them, the echo of it reverberating through the narrow space. A streetlight flickered at the far end of the alley, casting a sickly glow over the cracked pavement and scattered debris. The air was damp, filled with the faint scent of mildew and trash, and the sound of distant traffic hummed in the background.

Neither of them spoke at first.

They just stood there, breathing heavily, the weight of what had just happened settling into their bones.

Zayn was the first to move. He exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders before swiping a hand across his mouth, wiping away a smear of blood. "Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head. "That was some bullshit."

Harry huffed a humorless laugh, pressing his fingers against his throbbing cheek. The cut Leone had left behind was warm and wet, the sting of broken skin sharp under his touch. "Yeah," he muttered, "no shit."

Zayn turned slightly, scanning their surroundings before letting out a low curse. "Where the fuck even are we?"

Harry sighed, glancing up at the looming buildings that surrounded them. The streets were unfamiliar, the alleyway giving no clear indication of which part of town they were in. His body ached, his ribs sore from the hits, but they had to keep moving.

"We need to go to Aspen and Isobel's," Harry said after a moment. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Zayn turned to him with a questioning look. "Are you serious?"

Harry wiped the back of his hand across his busted lip, nodding. "Yeah. If we don't show up, it'll look suspicious."

Zayn scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair before letting it drop back to his side. "Mate, we look like we just got the shit beaten out of us."

"We did just get the shit beaten out of us."

Zayn gave him a look, and despite everything, Harry let out a small smirk. It hurt like hell, pulling at his busted lip, but it was something.

Zayn exhaled. "We need to clean up first."

Harry pulled his phone from his pocket, the bright screen illuminating his bruised knuckles as he quickly scrolled through his contacts. He found Aspen's name and hit call, bringing the phone to his ear as he and Zayn started making their way toward the street.

The phone rang twice before Aspen's sweet voice came through the line.

"Hi, Harry."

Something in Harry's chest tightened. Even through the pain, her voice was like a balm, easing the sharpest edges of his anger.

"Hey, baby," he murmured, his voice softer than he expected. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture as he forced a casual tone. "Listen, there was a bit of an accident at my place. Zayn and I were putting away some kitchen supplies I ordered, a blender and such for those milkshakes you wanted, and the shelf came loose. Stuff came crashing down, and I—uh—got a little knick on my face."

Aspen's sharp intake of breath made him wince, guilt tugging at his ribs. "Are you okay?"

Harry forced a small chuckle, glancing at Zayn as they stepped out onto the street. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just a scratch, really. We're gonna clean up, and we'll be over soon."

She hesitated, but she didn't seem suspicious. "Okay," she said softly. "Just—be careful, please?"

Harry smiled faintly, nodding even though she couldn't see him. "Always."

They exchanged a few more words before Aspen told him she'd see him soon. When the call ended, Harry let out a slow breath, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

Zayn gave him a look. "Kitchen supplies? A blender?"

Harry shrugged. "It was the first thing I could think of."

Zayn snorted, shaking his head. "She bought it?"

Harry nodded, adjusting his pace as they moved down the street. "Didn't question it."

Zayn exhaled. "Lucky bastard."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes before they spotted a small pub on the corner of the street. The neon sign above the entrance flickered slightly, casting a dull red glow onto the sidewalk.

"This'll do," Harry muttered, nodding toward the entrance.

They shoved their way inside, ignoring the lingering stares from a few patrons as they made a beeline for the restrooms. Once inside, Harry turned the faucet on, cupping his hands beneath the cool stream of water before splashing it onto his face. The sting was immediate, but he gritted his teeth through it, watching as diluted blood swirled down the drain.

Zayn stood beside him, dabbing at his split lip with a damp paper towel. "We should start charging him for this shit," he muttered. "Hazard pay."

Harry huffed a quiet laugh, running wet fingers through his curls before examining himself in the mirror. The cut on his cheek wasn't deep, but it was noticeable. His lip was swollen, and his knuckles were raw. A small patch of deep blues and greens started to swell under his eye, but an ice pack should have it gone in no time.

Zayn looked just as rough. A dark bruise was already forming along his jaw, and there was a red mark on his temple.

"We look like hell," Zayn muttered.

Harry wiped his face with a dry paper towel before tossing it into the trash. "Yeah, well, let's just hope the girls don't notice." The man twisted his fingers around each wrist, soothing the burn of the rope. It wasn't enough to leave a mark, but it hurt like hell for now.

Zayn gave him a flat look. "They're women. They notice everything."

Harry sighed. "I'll figure it out."

After cleaning up as much as they could, they made their way back to the bar, asking the bartender where exactly they were. Luckily, they were only a fifteen-minute walk from Aspen's place.

As they stepped back out onto the street, Zayn shoved his hands into his pockets. "What if Leone pulls this shit again?"

Harry glanced at him, his jaw tight. "Then we deal with it."

Zayn let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

They walked in silence for a moment, the cool night air biting against their bruised skin.

"You know," Zayn said suddenly, "we could just—get out. Cut ties. Leave all this shit behind."

Harry scoffed. "You think it's that easy?"

Zayn sighed. "No. But I don't know how many more times we can do this."

Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "We'll figure it out."

Zayn didn't respond.

Because they both knew— deep down— that they weren't getting out that easily.

#harry styles #fanfic #one direction #zayn malik #niall horan #fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #wattpad #louis tomlinson #harry styles fanfiction #smut #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

53 notes · View notes

aspenvelaz · 9 months ago

Note

Meanwhile with aspen...

TW: gory, gonna get worse in RBs, proceed with caution

Aspen is standing in the corridor of Mictlan’s palace, outside his door. Not many things scare the demon, but the prospect of knocking on the dark stone door has them trembling. It’s been years, so many that Aspen almost wants to forget the idea and leave. They knock before fear can root itself more. They need his help. Three knocks, three seconds apart each. They count the five seconds before the door swings open and he stands in front of them. He smiles, and it’s positively horrifying to Aspen. Really, he’s just baring his teeth, which doesn’t shock Aspen in the slightest. He had always been the viciously cruel type, which makes sense considering the civilizations he watched over.

“Umm..I know its been a while but I need help…and you’re you…”

“Come sit darling, I can see your troubles already but please tell me whats wrong.”

The words would have been sweet were it not for the tone they were spoken in, but Aspen knows him better than to take his words as anything but an underhanded threat either way. Nothing he says is ever truly meant to be kind. He will help Aspen, they know that much, it just wont be for their sake. They don’t bother trying to convince themself that maybe he does care about them. He doesn’t, he never has and he never will. However, he’s their best bet.

“Well…I mean you can see the issue right?”

“I can, did you burn up again?”

“I did…but this time someone tried to help me and he restored me physically but I was still burning and now…well…”

They gesture to their current state, which was…not the best. To put it lightly: their bones were still burning and so all of their muscle and soft tissue had simply detached. To put it less lightly: their normally healthy dark skin was greying and falling off in chunks. Along with their muscle, tissue, and even their nerves and tendons. They were essentially just bone.

“Of course I’ll help you. You’ve always been my favorite child after all. Say, could you help me with something afterwards?”

“…Yes. Just fix it. Please.”

“Not even asking what you’re agreeing to?”

“I have a pretty good guess.”

They sit in their designated spot on the sofa, letting him put a hand over their eyes. They feel the dizziness wash over them, and attempt to lay back. He puts a hand on their exposed spine to stop them from doing so, and within seconds they’re unconscious.

103 notes · View notes

kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit · 8 months ago

Text

List of characters you 🫵 the Audience can request!

___________________________________________

In my oneshot all characters are aged up in their senior year 18/19 others in college 20/25 even if it don't say it in the story I strongly want to add this clarification

I only write Fem Reader and Gender neutral Reader

No poly relationship request please they make uncomfortable (not the people just that I'm not poly)

___________________________________________

What I do write

W/W lesbians

M/F Heterosexual

Fluff

Angst

Au's

Strangers to lovers

Friends to lovers

Meet cutes

Established relationship

Sensual insinuations

Sexual scenes (very minor it's not full smut just the scene afterwards the act)

What I don't write and that I'm uncomfortable with

Adult x minor

Rape/ grooming

Sexual Harassment in fiction

Pro shipping

_________________________________________

Monster high list. And their genderbent names

Draculaura = Laurence

Frankie stein = frankie stein

Cleo de nile= Cleon de nile

Clawdeen wolf= Claws wolf

Nefera de nile = Nefero de nile

Abbie Bominable = Abbott Bominable

Catty Noir = Clawton Noir

Castra Fierce= Casper Fierce

Robecca Steam= Robert Steam

C.A Cupid = C.A Cupid

Rochelle Goyle= Rockwell Goyle

Gigi grant= Gavin Grant

Venus McflFlytrap= Vinny McFlytrap

____________________________________________

Ever after high and their genderbent names

Apple white= Aspen white

Raven Queen= Raven King

Briar Beauty= Bryce Beauty

Ashlynn Ella = Ash Ella

Lizzie Hearts= Liam Hearts

Blondie locks= Brody Locks

Cerise Hood= Crimson Hood

Madeline Hatter= Mason Hatter

Melody piper = Ryder Piper/Rhythm Piper (can't decide over these two names)

Darling charming= Dashing Charming

Chase Redford= Charlie Redford

Courtly Jester= Gallant Jester

Duchess swan= Duke Swan

#fanfiction #request box #character x reader #x reader #ever after high x reader #monster high x reader #genderbent #character list #ever after high #monster high x you #monster high #x female y/n #x gender neutral reader #x reader fanfiction #rules in requesting #please request #request open

63 notes · View notes

arcielee · 2 years ago

Text

Silk Binds

Paring: modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1500+ Warnings: Smutty smut, slight bondage, foreplay (female receiving), overstimulation, p in v. Author's Note: This is a a request and I just wanted to say thank you so much, anon. ♥ I really enjoyed thinking this through and though I didn’t delve into everything requested, I enjoyed the idea of comfort fluff shared between partners who know one another so well. I hope you enjoy! As always, a huge shout out to @aspen-carter and @foxee-writes for being my darling beta readers! Dividers by @jaysdividers Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx

It had started with a tag sent by a friend, a series of stories from a depraved site that you would read in silence; you did your best to remain stoic, but both fortunately and unfortunately, your boyfriend had been with you far too long and knew you too well.

“What are you reading?” His voice was coy, playful, and he curled up to your side, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you against his chest.

Your face burned with his question and, at first, you brought your phone to your chest. His cheeks dimpled with his suppressed laughter, surprised by your sudden shyness. You nestled against his chest, his voice low and soothing, coaxing you to share with your significant other until you finally hand him your phone.

Aemond was quiet, no reaction except for the curl of his lips when he finished the chapter. He turned towards you, pressing closer until his nose touched the column of your neck and trailing upwards until his lips were against your ear. “Is this what you want, sweetness?”

This is why you loved him. After all these years together, he was still so willing to do or try anything for your satisfaction.

And a few nights later, you felt the flutter of trepidation as you watched his large hands take care with tying the silk cloth around your wrists. You held them obediently towards him, as if you were about to say a prayer.

He made sure you were bare, wearing only a pair of cotton panties, but his features were focused on the task, his lips pursed into a thin line and the furrow of his brow with his concentration.

“How do you know how to do this?” You could not help but ask.

He looked up to your face and the bicolor beauty of his gaze, his one lavender eye nearly swallowed by his blown pupil and the sapphire stone that replaced his other, caused your breath to hitch in your throat. “I looked up a YouTube video,” he hummed, pulling the silk cloth under and over, between your wrists, with the trail of leftover fabric enough to leash you to him.

He tugged to check the hold and you stumbled forward, your fingers pressed against his bare chest to hold yourself; you could see the curl of his lips, pleased with himself. “This should hold,” and he leaned forward until you felt the warmth of his breath tickle the shell of your ear. “Now, don’t forget,” he whispered. “Dracarys.”

Aemond waited until he saw you nod your understanding of the safe word, then his eye roamed over to admire your form, the curves of your body and the goosebumps that flushed over, your nipples erect and the subtle, fervent clenching of your thighs. He smirked and you watched his gaze darken, pulling you until you were staggering towards the bed, dragging you on to the mattress.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, your back flushed against the sheets and your arms above your head; you watched him knot the excess fabric to the headboard, keeping you in place.

Satisfied, he pulled back and shifted until he was straddling your thighs, his body weight and warmth made your core clenched.

You could not help the subtle tremor that rolled over you when he reached forward and allowed a single finger to touch your hip bone, tracing the waistband of your panties towards your center and dragging it down over your clothed slit, drenched with your anticipation.

“So wet for me already,” he mused, smirking again.

When you opened your lips to reply, his other hand held up to stop you. “That wasn’t a question,” his tone matching his dark gaze. “Or do I need to get the gag as well?”

Aemond was startling with an almost ethereal beauty; his broad shoulders, the planes of his abdomen and the lines led to his slender waist, the jutting of his hip bones with how he was seated, watching as you mulled over your words. There was a moment you debated to push him further, but instead you remained quiet, licking your lips, and his smile brimmed on sardonic.

He leaned forward and the touch of his silver hair to your bare chest caused your back to arc slightly. There was the purr of his low baritone when he said, “That’s what I thought.” He leaned towards the left side of the bed and reached into the top drawer, pulling out your vibrator. “Good girl.”

Your breathing quickened as he moved and nestled his thigh between to spread your legs apart, his hand dipped to hook into your panties and push them aside. You felt the curl of his finger and loved how he was so adamantly aware of your pressure points within, the jolting feeling of pleasure pinning you against the mattress.

He watched you and you mewled pitifully as he added the second second finger, joining the come hither curl of the first digit and the motion caused you to squirm. He was quick to bring his other palm to press down on your hip and hold you still.

“Aemond,” you breathed.

He hummed, looking down to your center and you watched his bow lips part, the pink of his tongue that ushered forward a line of spittle that broke away and onto your cunt. “You are doing so well, sweetness,” he encouraged, adding a third finger and you cried softly with the stretch.

You heard the hum of your vibrator and watched as he brought it to the tops of your folds and nestled between, gingerly rubbing it against your bundle of nerves. The sensation, coupled with the motion of his three fingers, their rhythmic in and out of your cunt, brought you to the precipice of your climax and it began to crest over you with his simultaneous ministrations.

His thumb pressed a button and the hum grew high-pitched, the vibration intensified, and tears spilled on your face. “Aemond,” you gasped. “Aemond, please-”

He hummed, “Not until you come for me, sweetness.”

And it crashed into you, roaring in your ears as your cunt clenched at his fingers with your release; you whined at the pressure of your vibrator still against your clit. “Too much, too much,” you cried out. “D-dracarys!”

Only then did the sound stop, abrupt, but your core still throbbed as you laid there, panting and your cheeks wet, trying to pace your breath. You shifted your weight, trying to ease the slight ache to your wrists and only then were you aware he was standing at the side of the bed.

You watched him remove his sweatpants, his cock swollen and flushed, and he crawled back between your thighs. His hand grabbed his base and he dragged his tip along your silken folds, until it glistened from your release.

You could have cried from the overstimulation, your pleasure curling up your spine, your wet eyes searching for his face and saw he wore the same severity to his sharp features, the sight of him caused your core to clench. “We are not finished, sweetness,” he murmured, lining himself with your entrance. “Not yet.”

Despite the years spent together, even after your orgasm, you still relished in the delightful stretch as he sheathed himself in you. You whimpered and he held still, that dark façade cracking for a moment as he watched you, always careful, always considerate.

You exhaled, but your eyes met with his stare; you bit your bottom lip to prepare and gave a quick nod.

He folded you in half, it seemed; he pulled your legs up, until the tops of your thighs pressed into the mattress and his large palms held behind your knees. There were the lewd sounds with his brutal pace, perfectly agonizing as his hips snapped against you and his hip bones dug deliciously into the softness of your thighs.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, still sensitive from the first release, feeling him hit that same sweet spot within you. The build up was quick and you cried out again, stars dancing in your eyes.

His thrusts grew lazy and he pulled back, fisting his length and the pearly ropes of his release fell onto your abdomen; his arm reached forward and held himself above you, your legs melted back into the bed. His eye caught you and he quickly untied the knot, then pressed a kiss to your hairline with the promise, “I will be right back.”

He returned with a warm washcloth and you hummed as he was careful to wipe your stomach. He moved to remove the silk bindings and saw the red from the holding; he took care to massage your palm in turn, kissing your wrists.

You sighed from the intimacy of the moment, enjoying the softness of his lips against your skin and, when he was finished, how he fit so perfectly against your backside; you enjoyed the comfort of his arm that wrapped around your waist and how he pulled you flushed against his chest.

arcie’s masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd modern au #modern aemond #modern aemond fic #smut and fluff

415 notes · View notes

carnivorousyandeere · 1 year ago

Note

👀 Aspen in a virgin killer sweater and high thighs getting tied up using Christmas light and then ridden until she's an absolute mess

Yessss, that’s so cute… having Aspen tied up would be a perfect time to sit on her face, or suck her off too… you could tease her for hours…

Aspen’s Xmas Surprise

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: smutty, restraints, teasing, overstimulation, crying

Info: gender-neutral reader, dom reader

Aspen squirms uselessly next to the Christmas tree, muttering to herself.

“Shoot, shoot shoot…”

All she’d wanted to do was give you a nice surprise, let you come home to all the Christmas decorations already set up. But she’d only got some of the lights strung up around the tree, before her antlers got caught in a tangle of lights… in trying to get them off, she’d only managed to tangle the lights around her hands, too.

Aspen closes her eyes and sighs. The twinkling lights still shine through her eyelids, mocking her. Aspen’s about to start trying to untangle herself once more, when the sound of the front door unlocking makes her freeze like a deer in headlights. She shifts her legs and tries to curl up a little to hide herself, regretting her choice to wear the short, backless sweater dress you’d gotten her.

“Aspen~!” You sing, arms full of bags, “you home?”

Aspen squeezes her eyes shut tighter and prays that if she doesn’t say anything, you’ll leave the room without seeing her and she’ll have another chance to get unstuck. Of course, she’s not so lucky— the bags rustle, fall on the couch. You giggle, and then— a click.

Aspen’s eyes fly open. “H-hey! Don’t be taking pictures like that!”

You only laugh again, squatting down next to her. “Sorry, sweetie~! You just look so cute like this.”

You pause thoughtfully. Aspen pouts, eyeing the phone in your hand. “Can you please untie me now…?”

“Hmmm… No, I don’t think so. Not yet.”

Aspen’s heart skips a beat as you straddle her hips. You take another picture, giggling again at her flustered expression. She tries to turn her head, embarrassed by the neediness you must see on her face, but her bound antlers hold her in place.

“Ah ah ah… don’t move so much, baby girl. You don’t want to knock over the tree you spent so much time putting up, now do you?”

Aspen gulps, swallowing a whine at the pet name and the pressure of your body atop hers. You cup her face in your hands, silently asking for a kiss. Her cheeks are burning hot under your touch. Aspen shuts her eyes as you lean in, lips parted and breath shallowly fanning over yours. You press a soft kiss to her lips— gingerbread lip balm, how cute— and pull away, watching her through lidded eyes as she strains upward to follow you. Your fingers slide down her cheek, to her neck, feeling her pulse.

“Your heart’s beating so fast, baby… tell me what you want.”

“You, always you, anything for you—“ the words begin to slip out before Aspen can think them through, but you only smile and cut her off with another kiss.

Aspen’s head is buzzing by the time you pull away. You can feel her hardness growing against you, and Aspen whines softly every time you shift your weight. You move back a little bit to slide your hands up her thighs, then further, dragging her dress up. Her abs twitch under your touch as you uncover her lacy panties, the tip of her dick peeking from the waist band.

“Oh, baby…” you purr. Aspen’s breath catches as your thumb runs under the waistband, tracing dangerously close to her cock. “These are so pretty… haven’t seen them before.”

“G-got them for you…”

“Awww, a Christmas present for me?” You trace the lace with your fingers. “You wouldn’t mind if I… opened it early, would you~?”

Aspen gulps and agrees with a nod, shaking the tree and dislodging part of the string of lights from its branches.

“Hehe, okay… just try to stay still for me, okay?”

She can’t, not when she has to watch you open yourself up on your fingers, can’t touch you. Her fingers clench and unclench, her thighs twitch beneath you.

Aspen’s eyes roll back and she arches up against you as you hover over her and guide her inside of you. She’s just so big, you have to pause every few seconds just to breathe and make yourself relax. Your thighs tremble with the strain. You can barely hear her whispered pleas for more over your own blood rushing. Aspen’s breath hitches, then spills over into a hiccuping whine as you finally settle all the way down, resting your head on her chest. Her hips jerk once, then twice, and you gasp at her warmth spilling inside you.

“M’sorry, sorry…” Aspen hiccups again, tears beading her lashes.

“Mm, you’re okay baby…” you grind your hips against hers. “You’ve got one more in you, don’t you? One more for me?”

Aspen nods tearfully. Anything for you.

#torn between Darling gently shushing her when she cries from pleasure and embarrassment #and Darling telling her to cry louder ‘cause it’s just so cute when she does… 🤭#mail 📬#oc Aspen #biker yans #yandere smut #my thoughts #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere cw #mdni #nsft

63 notes · View notes

weewooooweew · 9 months ago

Text

"I don't find you that interesting."

"You will."

Note One: Call me Aspen He/It/They/Neos/She My Card Please ask before using She/Her or feminine terms for me, permission for that depends on who you are You can ask for my discord but be prepared for me to not give it to you depending on who you are

other blogs: @weewooooweew-draws - art blog @weewooooweew-draws-other-stuff - more risqué art blog @weewooooweew-is-gay - yearning/simping blog @stimmystimboardswheeeee - stimboard account @billy-loom-tits - billy loomis rp account @warcrimes-and-gaysex - nikolai gogol rp account

@bloody-grahamcracker - will graham rp account

@fuckfuckfuckfuckfuvkfuckfuckfuck - vent account READ RULES

File One - Music

-Ricky Montgomery -Bears In Trees -NOAHFINNCE -Mickey Darling -Mindless Self Indulgence -Cavetown -Ricky Jamaraz -Aberdeen Is Dead -Tally Hall -Pierce The Veil -Surf Curse

File Two - Shows and Movies -Hannibal -House -Dead Boy Detectives -Jujutsu Kaisen -Bungo Stray Dogs -Criminal Minds -Hunter x Hunter -The Promised Neverland -Scream Franchise -Jack Goes Home -Intruders

File Three - Books -“Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley -“Neverwhere” by Neil Gaiman -“A Dark And Hollow Star” by Ashley Shuttleworth -“1984” by George Orwell -“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald -“The Ocean at the End of the Lane” by Neil Gaiman

#Intro post

60 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 3 months ago

Text

Aspen [Femboy Housewife Yan] with a darling he suspects to have been a former assassin like him, but they were just in boy/girl scouts as a kid and or enjoys hunting-

A small gasp proceeds the successful latch of a suitcase to the roof of your car. Muscles burning from the stress and the strain, affectionate squeezes to your arm come off more painful than they had meant. You brush the ache aside, settling your hand atop your wife's head as he rests against your shoulder.

"Darling, you are a godsent! I was beginning to fear we'd have to leave something behind on our vacation. The expertise of your knot typing can't be ignored either. Had I not known any better I'd say you tied things up for a living! Perhaps even.... people?'

You sheepishly scratch at your neck. "Eh, not exactly- Though, there was this on time me and my folks caught a deer larger than the bed of the vehicle we drove in so we had to tie it to the roof."

Darn.

He thought had you this time. You always come up with the best excuses to wave off his questions. He knows he's close- Just thinking about how romantic it would be for too former killers to fall in love makes him weak in the knees. Someday you'll slip up and he'll catch you.

Until then, Aspen could only pray you used your knowledge with a rope on him during your vacation.

#Aspen my oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere #yandere assassin #yandere femboy

959 notes · View notes

aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year ago

Note

Will there be smut between Elvis and Elaine in the 70s/80s chapter of the saga? I absolutely adore the second gen, but i am also really obsessed about the both of them still finding time (to make babys obvsly) but also enjoy eachother soo passionately like in the early years 😍 i am very invested 😂

Oh, oh darling yes there will be and…it just might be my favorite of all their eras. Plenty of fic in the works, and I’m delighted that interests you. Nothing hotter than a couple fused together by time and devotion. Also, this is beyond random but I do envision Elvis getting a bit cuddlier and bulkier into the 90’s…whereas in this AU the 70’s remain about the same health and looks as around ‘74…with some gray allowed to creep in by the mid 80’s. 😏 ALL THAT TO SAY, I find the idea of warm and sturdy Elvis being enamored with his Pilates obsessed wife pretty swoonworthy

There’s a lot coming soon for the 80’s and earlier but for now, how about a little intermediate, plotless, fluffy, wintry smut fest between Grandpa Elvis and his Tink when they’re stuck in a ski lift on their aspen holiday? …it goes something like this (WARNINGS, fluffy smut involving p in v, semi public sex but not observed, tender cum feeding (somehow Elaine made that a thing) and subby older Elvis, 18+:

Sarge & lil Mama blurb, Jan 1995,

|| Snow Bunnies

“When’d I get so damn fat?” Elaine hears her man huff over the rustling sound of their snow coats rubbing together and wants to roll her eyes, amused that Elvis didn’t expect that result from almost nightly burger and shake runs with Shiloh for the past decade.

She does roll her eyes at the thought that he wiggled her snow pants down and her panties, too, before even unzipping himself.

“You’re cuddly,” she retorts with a smile directed down to the ski slope far below them, her hand pressed to the frosting glass of the lift, “as all grandpa’s should be. Nobody wants a scrawny grandpa.”

Case in point is the waft of steaming heat Elaine feels against her bare backside the minute he gets his pants undone, sweaty body heat radiating off of him despite the freezing temperatures around them. Instinctively she arches her back a little and shifts her footing, putting a leg up on the bench to make some room for little Elvis, slotting her ski carefully between the narrow walls. It barely fits.

She thanks God for the fact she’s got just enough height to her that they can do this standing up, have been doing it this way for over three decades now, because if he can’t wait for a private moment and if he must take advantage of the stalled ski lift, then she’s secretly relieved she won’t be the one exerting effort with ten pounds extra of ski equipment hampering her.

As it is, it’s funny how swelteringly hot they both feel besides their barely exposed privates. She can hear the minute Elvis frees himself from his little wounded hiss at the cold air and his pitiful need always did make her run wet.

“C’mon mopey, come to mama.” she encourages and braces her hand on the glass, checking to make certain her long coat covers any frontal view, only the back tugged down and her husband is soon behind her with enough width and padding to hide a dumpster. “Give lil Elvis some shelter.” she tries to reach between her legs to guide him but there’s too much winter bulk in the way and only her fingertips make it to his line of sight.

Elvis moans at the eager gesture anyway, touched by how ready she still remains for him, how willing even when it ain’t her idea or need.

“Keep ya hand right there, Mamas.” he tells her in a conspiratorial little whisper, “Hims gots a little gift for hers.” he says and Elaine grins wildly in delight, trying to anticipate it, beyond the delicious stretch she readies for with braced and booted feet.

She hears the shlick/shlack of him rubbing something, along with the muffled creaking of his nylon jacket and leather gloves, and after a few moments of white breathed puffing behind her she feels a warm drop hit her finger tip.

Then another, and another and then a little string of liquid and she knows it’s his precum, he’s dripping it onto her hand and Elaine closes her eyes against the bright white landscape of an Aspen morning and imagines his drippy pink cock in a sea of leather and nylon, one warm and vulnerable little knob in the harsh elements and she knocks her forehead against the glass wall in mouthwatering craving.

“Oh Elvis!” she groans, curling her fingers as the puddle grows and begins to puddle in her palm, slicking up her own curls down where her hand is wedged so tightly from her barely removed pants. “Put it in baby, mama wants it, c’mon pretty baby.”

“Ok.” The whine and shuffle she hears behind her sounds like a child clumsily but eagerly obeying and that’s rather characteristic of her man. She bites her gloved thumb at the feel of his tip pressing blindly at her folds, poking and prodding the wrong places for entry and strangely it’s terribly exciting, this inhibited Elvis, this clumsy man who wants her so bad he’d try to bonk her in a sky lift with Pillsbury Doughboy amounts of padding striving to keep them apart.

The path of true love never did run smooth.

The jabbing and novice pokes are worth it for his frustrated little grunts in her ear and the way he tries to wiggle on top of her leaning frame, like extra height is going to help matters. She bends a little further with a fond smirk, wanting to chuckle at the way his arm presses across her shoulder and the back of her neck. It’s so desperate it’s comical and Elaine always has a weakness for being overly wanted by him.

His face is hanging over her left shoulder when he manages to wedge an inch into the correct hole and his hot breath blasts her cheek in relief and she spares a gloved hand from propping herself against the glass to pat his squishy cheek. It’s not fair how packing on a few pounds has seemed to erase the age from him, filling out the wrinkles he collected last decade and turning him into something as cute as the grandsons all over again.

Elaine feels like she did when she was freshly married and he was a chubby cheeked baby man. Even now when she can’t really see his face with the positioning, she can imagine it and it makes her heart flutter. She pats at his face and the scritch of his trimmed sideburns is noisy against the leather, Elvis nuzzles her palm.

Before she knows it he’s got her gloved fingers in his mouth and his teeth clamp against the leather at the tips and he starts to pull the glove off. She helps him, yanking her wrist and he drops the glove over her shoulder like a dog depositing a gift.

“Pet me, mamas.” Elvis begs again and nestles into her body a little further, half way in if she were to guess, and after all these years, she’s a pretty good guesser about little Elvis. “M’too fat to get in all the ways.” he fusses, forlornly starting to hump inside her in aborted little fucks like a bunny with his mate.

The mental image makes Elaine chortle, as do the silly little jabs from those famous hips. He’d get more depth violating a jacuzzi jet but Elvis Presley waits for no man and she supposes if the slide is tight enough to drag his little scarf back and forth, maybe it’ll be sufficient. She clenches for him, little rhythmic kegels that remind her of postpartum rehabilitation and his answering moan encourages her. “That feel good, baby boy? Hmm? Is mama warm and cozy?” she asks, her cheek getting sweaty from where his is pressed to hers.

Into their sixties and Elvis still twitches madly under her doting, purring in her ear when he’s being spoiled.

“Ssso’cozzzeeey.” he slurs right into her ear and she shudders in delight, feeling his arm around her waist through her layers of bundling, his hand on her shoulder needy and insistent.

After a decade of peace and over three so intertwined and inseparable, it’s as if Elvis has forgotten they are separate people. Older and less fastidious over timing or moods, when her husband gets a craving for his better half, he indulges it. It’s wholesomely nasty and Elaine doesn’t expect her children or the public to understand but she gets it.

She leans her forehead against the glass, lets her sweat smudge the clear view, and thinks she sees the specks that are their friends and kids below, commenting on the stalled lift no doubt, and she grins at the notion that Elvis can’t get enough momentum to actually make it obvious as to what these two bundles in the sky are doing.

His chubby and familiar cock is rubbing inside her delightfully as do his balls, hanging lower and swollen by age, smack her backside with every lurch, and she lets out a happy sigh at the slick sounds of his sloppy movements. Elaine can hear when he starts to get close, his breathy moans of exertion quicken and he lets out throaty little noises of delighted panic as his climax nears. His hands grasp her hips over the padding and he nearly climbs on her like it’s a piggy back ride, squirming to get a little deeper before letting out a long and loud sigh of contentment as he lets go, a sigh that has begun to crack at the end in a hoarse moan the older he gets.

“You feel so good, Tink.” he groans into her ear and her pussy clenches at the praise and the feel of his wet slop inside her.

The gush between her legs is obscene due to his shallow depth and just when she thinks he’s done with his deposit, Elvis will jerk some more and out sputters another little bit to join the rest slowly leaking out of her and dripping onto the crotch of her ski pants. “Mmm, shit, I made a mess, mama.” he mumbles apologetically at the obvious and easily foreseeable consequences to his actions.

“S’ok mopey,” she reaches back and strokes his sweaty cheek as he burrows his lips into the collar of her jacket and kisses her neck ardently and grateful, “that do it for ya, baby?” she asks, tipping her head back to allow him more access.

“Yeas,” He sighs happily, “m’all better.” he declares and Elaine’s heart thuds like a teenager from his soft, adoring tone, from the way she’s still his cure-all at all times. “But damn is it soupy down there, sorry mama.”

“You’ve been holding that in for a couple days now,” she coos, “been makin’ you grumpy and it must’ve been so hard, bein’ so full and achy and not able to relieve it.”

Elvis sniffles into her neck even as he begins to pull out, the gush of his release beginning to pour out and she quickly cups her hand to her cunt to catch some of it in her palm and spare her pants just a little.

“It’s been verra rough.” he agrees with a pout that no longer reaches anywhere else on his face save his mouth, quite an improvement from the grumpy storm cloud that was Elvis traveling here yesterday in a crowded Bus with kids and grandkids, deprived of his naps and his autonomy, with his bed full of grandkids at night and unable to have his Tink at whim.

Vacations were nice in theory, and suddenly relieved of his more irritable humors -which Elaine was cupping milky white in her palm- they might end up being nice in practice too. He just needed a little dotin’ on, like a vintage car, one can’t expect it to purr constantly without some upkeep. Tink knows this and she smiles back at him sweetly, same way she smiled at him on the bus when his boyish and round face was puckered in a moody scowl that matched Jack’s a few rows behind.

“Yeah, I know,” she’s still smiling but he watches her glance down to the pearly puddle in her palm as she adds, “but we gotta count our blessings we’ve got kids who wanna bug us as much as they do, people dream about families working as well as ours. Nothin’ we did alone, God’s been good to us, I mean -look at those sweet idiots, they’re not even skiing even though the conditions are perfect, they’re too worried for us. Don’t you think most rich kids would be hoping the car falls so they get the inheritance faster?”

Elvis wheezes a laugh and does a little hop to pull his padded pants back up, struggling with the zipper a bit. Slightly thicker around the middle and he acts like he’s nine months pregnant, unable to fasten his closures or put his shoes on, the pink happiness in his cheeks when Elaine offers to help him, betrays his act each time.

“I’ll help ya, if you need,” she offers, her own pants having been pulled up by him as he’s a gentleman, even if he’s a feral one.

“Yeah baby I need a hand.” grunts and his chin has a soft double under it as he looks down to his fly.

“Well, then clean me up so I can help.” she casually presents her cum coated hand and he balks for a brief moment until her unflinching little smile tells him she’s not kidding in the slightest, and he doesn’t need her to remind him she’ll be waddling and skiing all day in the soupy mess he made in her pants. It’s the least he can do, her eyebrow remind, and with a stuttering little whimper of aversion he takes her wrist in his large, gloved hand and bends over it like he’s gonna kiss it with all his Hollywood honed suavity.

Instead he gets to work on his task with only a fleeting grimace at the tepid saltiness of his own release and his compliance makes Elaine shiver and clench. She can feel the warm little kitten licks from his tongue, so reminiscent of other activities she uses him for, and his black lashes fan against his cheeks through the orange visor of his ski glasses as he peaks up to see her approving expression.

“That’s good enough, well done, let me help you now, sweet man.” she sighs dreamily while rubbing her finger against his curling tongue.

Elaine pats her shiny hand on her leather vinyl ski pants and finds it ineffective for drying it but there’s nothing to be done about it and so she dutifully lifts up his jackets and grasps the top of his pants and brings them together, “Suck in just a lil.” she suggests as her knuckles dig into the soft, hairy flesh of his belly, rubbing against his little treasure trail. “There we go.” she clasps it and he lets out a sigh and she steps back and both smile shyly at each other over the pretense of him needing help with something so easy.

“I love you.” it bubbles out of her lips as she sees him bundled and shy in front of her with a face shiny from his exertions inside her.

Elvis’ pink lips gasp a little at the common little declaration and he brings his large hand to the back of her neck, pulling her in for a deep kiss. She tastes his salty spend still on his tongue and moans into his scorching mouth. Her man and his body -always so warm and never more so than when he’s been freshly sated.

The ski lift jolts and Elaine falls further forward into Elvis’ embrace, losing her footing in the clumsy footwear, and he holds her up, looking above them to find the car has begun to lurch in what he hopes is an intentional motion to help the stall.

“Are we about to die?” Elaine asks with a giggle into the poofy padding of his jacket and his own laugh rumbles under her ear.

“Dunno,” he jokes, “but if we are, I want ya to know I don’t regret a damn thing ‘bout lovin’ you, ‘cept that I just left ya hangin’ in our last ron-day-voo like a green boy.”

Elaine smacks at his arm and feels the ski lift start to slide down the cable as it ought to have a whole half an hour before. “Gosh, I think we’re actually going to make it.” she mutters as their skiing party has remained intact for the most part, loathing to split off before the Boss and Boss Lady made it up safe.

When they get to their drop Elvis helps Elaine hop off the lift and he follows after, being swarmed by kids and grandkids and their friends asking if they’re alright. Which they are, of course they are.

A employee from the Resort, no doubt the fella who got them moving again, comes up and apologizes profusely for the inconvenience.

“Say nothin’ of it boy.” Elvis beams and claps him on the shoulder and Jack shares a look with his wife Vic at the quite obvious attitude adjustment that seems to have occurred since leaving the lodge. “Ya never know, one day I might tip ya for stallin’ an elevator or something so I can get this sweet creature alone for a minute.” and Elvis squeezes Elaine to his side like a typical, flirty old man and the poor employee stops chewing his gum in confusion.

“Uh. Well I’m glad you’re not shaken up, these things are quite safe they just stall occasionally.” the guy assures, loathe to get a bad review from the Presleys of all people.

“Yes of course.” Elaine smiles demurely at him and that should be his signal to move along but he’s one of those overachiever types, rules and regulation sorts, and so he persists.

“What can be dangerous is rocking a car in hopes to get it going.” he explains, “If this happens again, God forbid-“

“-better not.”

“-then it’s really important not to rock the thing or sway it too much, that can snap a cable, really Mr. Presley it’s important you guys don’t try that again.”

“We-we didn’t-“ Elvis is the picture of confusion even as Elaine’s face solidifies into diplomatic blankness.

“But we saw it rocking.” Bee, Shiloh’s best buddy and a tag-along to all Presley events, insists she saw what she saw, which was the lift rocking. She had commented as much to Danny despite his arguments that it was the wind before he dragged her off to watch him fail at a misty ski trick.

That’s why his forehead was busted and Elaine stares at the gash partially hidden by his shaggy brown hair with some concern.

“Must’ve been the wind.” Elvis repeats his son’s logic and Bee stares in confusion as they’re all out to ski because of the lack of wind.

Elaine beckons Danny over and makes his lanky frame crouch a little so she can ascertain the damage to his head while elbowing a still protesting Elvis in the ribs.

“We did try hopping a few times.” she admits breezily and as soon as she says it, Elvis stops his lying, quickly clamping his mouth shut, “Just thought we might get the momentum back. I’m sorry sir, we didn’t know we could die, we won’t try it again.” she assures.

Content the employee leaves them be and the various groups split off for the various courses, eager and red cheeked. Elvis and Elaine agree to shepard the youngest kids in the group down the easier slopes with the help of Rosalee and Sam.

On their way to their starting places Elvis brushes by Elaine, grandchild's hand in his on his opposite side and mutters in her ear, “Shouldn't make promises ya can’t keep.”

🥰 I hope y’all don’t mind me tagging y’all in blurbs as well as fics, most of y’all asked to be tagged in “everything” so I took you pretty literally, lol. Let me know and I’ll remove you for future. Xoxoxo

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #sarge & lil mama #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis #welcome home elvis #elvis presely smut #Elvis smut #elvis the king #elvis history #elvis and priscilla #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction

108 notes · View notes

buckets-and-trees · 15 days ago

Text

Huffily Ever After: A CindereLloyd Story [4/?]

Chapter Four - The Awards Gala Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 6.5k Summary: A night of industry glitz and glam brings with it some encounters and revelations you didn't expect.

SERIES Content/Warnings: modern Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities, enemies to lovers, toxic coworkers, eventual smut CHAPTER WARNING: UNWANTED SEXUAL ADVANCES

Notes: The sixth offering in my Birthday Jubilee collection.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The dress Maggie had insisted on buying for you was nothing short of breathtaking - a floor-length gown with a fabric that shimmered subtly as you moved. The bodice hugged your curves perfectly before flowing into a graceful skirt with a discreet slit up one side. The neckline dipped low enough to be alluring without being scandalous, and delicate beading along the shoulders caught the light beautifully. You felt like a modern day princess.

Maggie had, of course, found a marvelous new dress for herself, as well.

Your mother's necklace, usually hidden beneath your clothes, now rested perfectly in the hollow of your throat, the delicate gold chain complementing the beadwork of the dress. It was a simple jewelry statement, but the dress brought enough elegant glitz that anything more might have been too much.

As the elevator doors slid open, your heart skipped a beat. There, leaning casually against the back wall, was Lloyd Hansen. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours for a fraction of a second before you quickly averted your gaze. You hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside, deliberately choosing the opposite corner of the elevator.

The small space suddenly felt even more confined as a few other conference attendees filed in, creating a human barrier between you and Lloyd. You were grateful for their presence, giving you a perfectly acceptable excuse not to engage him in conversation at all. You kept your eyes fixed firmly on the illuminated floor numbers above the door as the lift descended.

The elegant fabric of your new gown rustled softly as you shifted your weight, hyperaware of every movement. The subtle scent of your perfume mingled with the various colognes and perfumes of the other passengers, creating an oddly intoxicating blend in the enclosed space.

You couldn't help but sneak a glance at Lloyd's reflection in the polished metal doors as you waited to be released in the lobby. He cut an impressive figure in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, the crisp white shirt a stark contrast against his tanned skin. His hair was neatly slicked back, as was typical for him. The full look - even with his bold statement mustache - combined to give him an air of sophisticated elegance that was undeniably attractive.

If only he were more of a Prince Charming instead of a Prince Charming said with sarcasm, annoyance, and an eye roll.

You quickly averted your eyes when you realized Lloyd had caught you looking. A small smirk played at the corner of his mouth, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck. Thankfully, the elevator dinged, announcing your arrival at the lobby, and you rushed out quickly ahead of him and the others.

You spotted Maggie near a large potted palm, resplendent in her new emerald green gown. Her eyes lit up when she saw you, and she waved you over enthusiastically.

"Oh, darling, you look absolutely stunning!" Maggie exclaimed, giving you an appraising look. "That dress was made for you. We certainly chose well, didn't we?"

You smiled, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Thank you again, Maggie. I still can't believe you insisted on getting it for me."

"Nonsense," Maggie said, “it’s fun playing fairy godmother.”

Your anticipation grew as you walked side by side with your mentor towards the grand ballroom, and it peaked as you entered the prestigious event. The room was awash in soft golden light, crystal chandeliers twinkling overhead. Tables draped in crisp white linens were adorned with elaborate floral centerpieces, and waiters in pristine uniforms glided between guests offering flutes of champagne.

"Deep breath," Maggie murmured, patting your arm reassuringly. "You belong here just as much as anyone else. This is PR - we’re all faking it. "

You nodded and grinned, grateful for her steadying presence. As you moved further into the room, you began to recognize faces from the conference - industry leaders, renowned academics, influential figures in the world of public relations and marketing, and even a few of the new friends and acquaintances you’d made over the past two days.

You wondered if your actual Prince Charming from the masquerade might be here… Though if he were, you really had no idea how you would recognize him. Versailles had been enchantingly but dimly lit - more so than this ballroom - and then your walk around the grounds and gardens had been even darker - with only occasional lamps and moonlight, but even if you’d had more proper lighting, your masked man had been wearing a full face mask. You had nothing to go off of but a general recollection of his height and build and the knowledge that he had a mustache - which you’d only felt and not seen as you’d been good and not peeked when he told you to close your eyes when he’d kissed you.

You could not go around kissing every man with a mustache here tonight.

But what would you do if you were ever face to face with him again anyway?

"Maggie!" a booming voice called out. You turned to see Claude Dumont approaching, his face eager with excitement. "And our rising star!”

He greeted each of you with the customary French double kiss.

You smiled warmly at Claude, feeling a resurgence of gratitude from the panel earlier. "Thank you again for the opportunity today, Claude. It was an incredible experience."

Claude waved his hand dismissively. "No need to thank me, my dear. You more than proved your worth up there. In fact," he leaned in conspiratorially, "I've had several people asking about you since the panel. You've made quite an impression."

You felt a flutter of excitement at his words. "Really? That's... wow. I'm honored."

"As you should be," Maggie chimed in, beaming with pride. "I told you she was something special, didn't I, Claude?"

Claude nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed you did, and as always, your judgment was impeccable." He turned back to you. "Now, the two of you simply must join us at the Hansen Global table tonight.”

As fond as you’d grown of Claude, you knew immediately that would put you at a table with Lloyd Hansen yet again and did not relish that possibility.

But Maggie was already eagerly accepting.

"Wonderful!" Claude exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Let's head over, shall we? I believe they're about to start seating for dinner."

You tucked your reluctance away as you followed Claude and Maggie through the crowded ballroom. And as you did, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. Just days ago, you never would have imagined being invited to sit at one of the most prestigious tables at this gala. Despite your misgivings about Lloyd, you knew this was an incredible opportunity.

You also noticed the way Claude gently placed his hand on Maggie’s back as he helped navigate through a particularly thick part of the crowd. You bit your lip to keep from smiling with too much giddiness. If there was something there for Maggie, you could endure sitting at a table with anyone tonight.

The Hansen Global table was centrally located, offering a perfect view of the stage where the awards would be presented later in the evening.

As you approached the table, your eyes immediately fell on the familiar figures of Victor Chen and Lloyd. Victor, looking dapper in a classic black tuxedo, stood up to greet you with a warm smile. Lloyd, on the other hand, remained seated, his piercing blue eyes following your every move as you drew near.

But it was the unfamiliar faces at the table that truly caught your attention. Seated on the opposite side of the round banquet table from Lloyd was a distinguished-looking man in his late sixties or early seventies. His silver hair was immaculately styled, and he exuded an air of quiet authority that immediately commanded respect. His features bore a striking resemblance to Lloyd's, though softened somewhat by age.

Claude gestured towards this man. "Allow me to introduce you to Robert Hansen, the founder and architect of Hansen Global."

Robert Hansen stood, his movements graceful and powerful, effectively erasing a decade off his age, and extended his hand to you with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice rich and resonant. "I heard wonderful things about your panel performance earlier today."

You felt a flutter of nerves as you shook his hand, acutely aware that you were in the presence of one of the industry's most influential figures. "Thank you, Mr. Hansen. It's an honor to meet you."

Robert chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Please, call me Robert. Any rising star Claude speaks so highly of is welcome at our table so long as you sit by me."

As you took your seat, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between Robert's welcoming demeanor and Lloyd's cool indifference. Lloyd barely acknowledged your presence as you sat down, his attention seemingly focused on his phone.

"So tell me," Robert said, turning to you with genuine interest in his eyes, "what inspired you to enter the world of public relations?"

"Well, I've always been fascinated by the power of story and how people latch onto narrative. I wanted to be an author, so I joined the lit mag for my college, and eventually was part of the marketing team. I took a marketing class to help me get better and realized marketing is storytelling. What really drew me in was the challenge of navigating complex narratives and helping an organization connect authentically with an audience. And a more guarantee-able paycheck than trying to strike out as an author."

Robert laughed - as anyone did when you added the quip in your story.

“I was too far into my undergrad to want to switch majors at that point, but it sent me on the path to grad school, and Maggie was one of my professors there.”

Robert nodded approvingly. "A good journey to root you in this business. Too often, people enter this field thinking it's all about spin and damage control. But true public relations is about building genuine relationships and trust."

Around the room, everyone else seemed to be taking their seats, and servers began bringing out the salad course. Robert continued speaking primarily with you, though in his command of the table, he drew others into the discussion at various points.

He shared anecdotes from his early days in the industry, offering insights into how the field had evolved over the decades. While remaining engaged in the conversation, you did keep stealing moments to observe Maggie and Claude sitting on your other side. They weren’t overt or showy, but it was plain to see there was more than what you had assumed was only a platonic interest there, and it made your heart swell.

By the time the main course arrived, you found yourself thoroughly enjoying Robert's company. His wealth of experience and sharp wit made for engaging conversation, and you were flattered by his genuine interest in your insights. Victor, who had proven to consistently be an engaging companion in conversation, was also eager to contribute to the flow, and smiled at you often.

"You know," Robert mused, swirling the wine in his glass, "it's refreshing to see someone so young with such a nuanced understanding of brand authenticity. In my day, we were often too focused on controlling the message rather than fostering genuine connections."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and humility at his praise. "I think social media has really changed the game in terms of transparency and authenticity. Brands can't hide behind carefully crafted press releases anymore."

His eyes flicked briefly towards Lloyd before returning to you. "But you, my dear, clearly understand the importance of adapting to our rapidly changing landscape."

Lloyd's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at his father's words, but he remained silent, taking a long sip of his wine.

Robert continued, his voice carrying just enough to be heard by those nearby. "I've always believed that the key to success in this field is a combination of intuition and adaptability. The ability to read a room, to sense the undercurrents of public opinion before they surface. It's a rare talent, and one that can't be taught in any classroom."

You felt a flush of pride at Robert's words, but also a twinge of discomfort at the undercurrent of tension you sensed between him and Lloyd. "Thank you, sir. I still have a lot to learn, but I'm passionate about understanding the nuances of public perception and how it shapes brand narratives."

Robert's eyes twinkled. "Modesty is admirable, but don't sell yourself short. From what I've heard, you have quite the promising career ahead of you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lloyd's posture stiffen slightly. His gaze flickered between you and his father, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.

At that moment, the emcee took to the stage, signaling the start of the awards ceremony. You settled back in your chair, grateful for the brief respite from the intensity of the conversation.

The emcee, a charismatic woman in a striking red gown, began announcing the various categories and winners. You found yourself genuinely interested in the accomplishments being celebrated, from innovative crisis management strategies to groundbreaking social media campaigns.

Throughout the ceremony, you found your gaze occasionally drifting to Lloyd. Despite his earlier coldness, you couldn't help but notice the way the soft lighting caught the angles of his face, highlighting his strong jaw and those piercing blue eyes. But what’s more, you couldn't help but wonder about the dynamic between him and his father. His gaze alternated between the stage and his phone, though you caught him glancing in your direction more than once. There was something in his expression - a tightness around his eyes, a slight clench in his jaw - that hinted at barely contained tension.

Robert continued to engage you in conversation during breaks between awards, his eyes twinkling with approval as you shared your thoughts and responded to his comments and questions.

When Hansen Global won an award for their crisis management work during a high-profile data breach, Robert stood to accept it. As he made his way to the stage, you couldn't help but notice the way Lloyd's shoulders tensed, his knuckles whitening around his glass of whiskey.

Robert's acceptance speech was gracious and eloquent, praising his team's hard work and innovation. As he spoke, you couldn't help but notice that he didn't once mention Lloyd by name, despite Lloyd being a key figure in the company.

When Robert returned to the table, he was met with a round of congratulations. Lloyd's smile seemed forced as he clinked glasses with his father, a gesture that felt more obligatory than celebratory.

As the night wore on, you found yourself increasingly aware of the undercurrent of tension between Lloyd and Robert. It was subtle - a continual tightness in Lloyd's jaw, a certain coolness in Robert's tone when addressing his son - but unmistakable to your trained eye.

During a lull in the ceremony, Robert turned to you once more. "You know," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, "I’m so pleased you landed at our table tonight. I was so curious about whether the buzz around you could stand up to the hype, but I’m convinced you were the perfect choice to fill the spot when Leon fell ill. Claude was holding on to Lloyd here as a back up pick, but destiny intervened.”

Robert's words hung in the air, and you felt a sudden tension descend over the table. Lloyd's eyes flashed dangerously, his jaw clenching visibly.

"Father," Lloyd said, his voice low and tight with barely controlled anger. "Perhaps this isn't the time discussions like this."

Robert waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. We're all professionals here. And a rising star deserves to know just how impressive her performance was today."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, acutely aware of the brewing conflict. "That's very kind of you to say, Robert. But really, I was just excited for the opportunity. I learned so much."

Lloyd's eyes met yours for a brief moment, and you were startled by the intensity of emotion you saw there - a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

Robert cleared his throat, a flicker of something - regret? frustration? - crossing his face before he smoothed his expression back into a polite smile. "My apologies," he said, his voice low again, only for you - though you weren’t the one you felt might appreciate an apology. "Family dynamics can be... complicated in this business."

You nodded, unsure of how to respond. Victor quickly jumped in, steering the conversation to safer topics, and you gave him an appreciative smile.

As the awards ceremony drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that you had inadvertently become a pawn in some long-standing family drama between Lloyd and his father.

The tension at the table had abated somewhat as everyone began to stand, preparing to move to the after-party. You glanced at Maggie, hoping to catch her eye and signal your desire to make a graceful exit. However, she was deep in conversation with Claude, their heads bent close together as they spoke in hushed tones.

Lloyd vanished so quickly, you didn’t even see him take leave of your party.

Quite a few guests from other tables were pressing closer to your group to speak to Robert, and you were unsure of whether to head to the second ballroom for the next portion of the evening or use the transition to leave.

Victor suddenly appeared at your elbow, a warm smile lighting up his handsome face. "Quite the eventful evening, wouldn't you say?" he said softly, his dark eyes twinkling with understanding.

You nodded, grateful for his steady presence. "That's certainly one way to put it," you replied with a small laugh.

Victor's smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. "Listen," he said, leaning in slightly, "I know things got a bit... tense there for a moment. I always find it fascinating to observe the Hansen family dynamics, but I’ve never been the one in the crosshairs. But the night's not over yet, and it would be a shame for you to miss out on the best part of the evening."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Victor's eyes sparkled with excitement. "The dessert buffet and dancing, of course! It's standing tradition to end the awards gala with a grand finale of sweets and a big swanky band. Let me be your guide?”

You hesitated for a moment, but after all the tension, some lighthearted fun sounded perfect, and you knew conversation always seemed to flow easily with him.

"I'd love that," you replied with a genuine smile. "Lead the way!"

Victor offered his arm, and you took it, allowing him to guide you through the crowd towards the adjacent ballroom. As you walked, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"I must say, you handled yourself admirably back there," he murmured. "Not many could navigate the Hansen family drama with such grace."

You smiled at Victor, grateful for his kind words. "I'm just glad I didn't make things worse," you admitted. "I felt like I was walking on eggshells there for a while."

“No, nothing close to that. You were effortlessly charming,” he said in a low tone that shot butterflies through your stomach. "Now this is more like it," he added in a lighter tone as you entered the second ballroom.

The space had been converted into a lavish dessert paradise, with elaborate displays of cakes, pastries, and confections artfully arranged on tiered stands and elegant tables. The live band was set up on a stage at one end of the room, already playing a jazzy tune that had several couples swaying on the dance floor.

"Shall we start with something sweet or take a sweep across the dance floor?" he asked.

You hesitated, torn between the allure of the desserts and the infectious energy of the music.

"Let's start with something sweet," you decided, eyeing the tempting array of desserts. "We can build up our energy for dancing."

Victor grinned, leading you towards a particularly enticing display of chocolate creations. "Excellent choice. I always say, life's too short to skip dessert."

As you perused the options, Victor kept up a steady stream of witty commentary, pointing out particularly intriguing confections and sharing amusing anecdotes about past galas. His easy charm and genuine warmth helped you relax, the tension from earlier in the evening slowly melting away.

Having each chosen a few bite-sized treats, Victor guided you toward a more quiet corner to enjoy your selections. As you savored a delicate chocolate mousse, you couldn't help but notice the way Victor's eyes lingered on you, his gaze warm and appreciative.

“You really do look stunning tonight," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. "That dress is exquisite on you."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment. "Thank you," you replied, smoothing your hand over the shimmering fabric. "It was a bit of a splurge, but Maggie insisted."

Victor chuckled. "Well, remind me to thank Maggie later. She has impeccable taste."

One compliment was not a problem. But two and now three didn’t seem to keep things in the professional friendship area that you felt it should firmly stay in, especially since…

Hadn’t he been wearing a wedding band earlier today? Wasn’t he married? Maybe he had been divorced. But maybe he really only meant Maggie had impeccable taste. Because she did.

That was all this was. You were getting carried away - this man was not flirting with you.

“Didn’t you say I couldn’t miss the dancing tonight?” you asked a moment later.

Victor's eyes lit up at your suggestion. "Indeed I did. Shall we?" He offered his hand with a flourish.

You placed your hand in his, allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor. The band had just started a new song, a lively swing number that had couples twirling and laughing all around you.

Victor proved to be an excellent dancer, guiding you through the steps with confidence and grace. His hand on your waist was warm and steady, but nothing more than that, and you found yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the music.

As you spun and swayed to the music, you found yourself relaxing into the moment, your earlier concerns fading away. Victor's easy smile and gentle teasing kept you laughing, and you realized you were genuinely enjoying yourself.

You caught glimpses of familiar faces - Maggie and Claude swaying together near the edge of the crowd, Robert Hansen chatting animatedly with a group of industry bigwigs by the bar, Dr. Rossi, Aaron Lang, even your Nexus CEO and thankfully no Amilla.

But there was no sign of Lloyd either.

Not that you needed to care.

The song transitioned into a slower, more romantic melody.

Victor's hand on your waist seemed to tighten ever so slightly, and you worried he might try to pull you closer. Your mind raced, trying to figure out how to extricate yourself without causing a scene if he did.

But then a familiar voice carved through the music.

"Mind if I cut in?"

You turned to see Lloyd standing there, his expression unreadable. His blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Victor's smile tightened, but he stepped back with practiced grace. "Of course," he said smoothly, though you detected a hint of disdain in his voice. "I’ll find you again for the next dance." He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it and melting into the crowd.

Before you could protest, Lloyd had taken Victor's place, one hand on your waist and the other clasping yours. His touch was firm but not forceful, and you found yourself instinctively following his lead as he guided you into the dance.

"I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything," Lloyd said, his voice low and tinged with something you couldn't quite identify. Sarcasm? Concern?

You shook your head. "Not at all," you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral. "Victor was just being friendly."

Lloyd's eyebrow quirked slightly. "Friendly. Right."

You bristled at his implication. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lloyd's eyes flickered over your shoulder, presumably to where Victor had disappeared into the crowd. "Nothing. Just be careful around him. His 'friendliness' has a tendency to blur professional lines."

You frowned, unsure how to respond. Part of you wanted to defend Victor, but you couldn't help but wonder if Lloyd's warning held some truth. You'd had your own doubts about Victor's intentions, after all.

Still, you didn’t need Lloyd of all people nosing in.

"I can take care of myself," you said finally, your voice firm.

Lloyd's eyes snapped back to yours, a hint of surprise in them. "I don't doubt that," he said, his voice softer than you expected. “Like I said, just be careful.”

He said nothing for a moment, guiding you through the steps of the slow dance with surprising grace. You were acutely aware of his hand on your waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your dress.

"I wanted to apologize," Lloyd said suddenly, his voice low and surprisingly sincere. "For earlier. My father can be challenging."

You blinked, caught off guard by his unexpected apology. "Oh. It's... it's alright. Family dynamics can be complicated."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Lloyd's mouth. "That's certainly one way to put it." He paused, his blue eyes searching your face. "I hope it didn't make you uncomfortable. You shouldn’t be a pawn in his games.”

“Is that all I am?” you bristled. You had wanted to be more sympathetic, but his assertion that you were only a pawn irked at you.

Lloyd's eyes widened slightly, his grip on your waist tightening. "No," he said, his voice low and intense. "Christ, that's not what I meant."

You held his gaze, challenging him. "Then what did you mean?"

He sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "My father has a way of using people to make a point. Especially to me. He’s masterfully good at it. I didn't want you caught in the crossfire of our complicated relationship."

You softened slightly at his words, recognizing the genuine concern behind them. "I appreciate that," you said carefully. "But I'm not some delicate flower that needs protection. I can handle myself in difficult situations."

A ghost of a smile played at Lloyd's lips. "I'm beginning to see that," he murmured.

The two of you fell silent for a moment, swaying to the music.

As you moved together on the dance floor, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly Lloyd led you through the steps. His movements were smooth and confident, a stark contrast to the tension you'd sensed from him earlier in the evening. The warmth of his hand on your waist and the gentle pressure of his fingers intertwined with yours sent an unexpected thrill through you.

"You're a good dancer," you said, breaking the silence.

Lloyd's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Years of practice. My mother insisted on ballroom lessons when I was younger."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this glimpse into his past. "Really? I wouldn't have pegged you for the ballroom type."

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment you had the wild thought that he could be your masked man. Your mind raced back to that conversation with him on the dance floor, his refusal to ask or answer boring questions, and so you’d gone for a bold punch.

“What's your biggest regret?”

“My biggest regret is not taking more risks when I was younger. The kind that make your heart race and your palms sweat. The kind that could change everything.”

One question, and you would know…

“What's your biggest regret?"

He stiffened, and your heart leapt.

That had to mean…

“Fuck,” he cursed, “asking you to dance five minutes ago.”

You laughed at his annoyed but light tone, but your heart sunk back down. It didn’t fall, because you didn’t want it to be Lloyd. You were just mildly disappointed, the prospect of discovering who he was delayed. Similar builds, they both could dance, and Lloyd certainly had a mustache, but that was it apparently.

“Not all of us had ballroom lessons, okay?”

“It’s what all the WASP-y moms make their kids do. Cotillion and all that bullshit.”

“On some level, I knew it was still something that happened, but you’re the first person I’ve ever heard firsthand knowledge of it from, so I did kind of think it was only something they put in tv and movies for the plot.”

He laughed. “I don’t know, pumpkin, maybe you’re part of my plot. Things can get pretty magical at a PR conference.”

His tone was absolutely rank with so much sarcasm that you couldn’t help but laugh as well.

"You look nice, by the way," he said. His eyes flickered down to your mother's necklace, then back up to meet your gaze. "I like the necklace."

It seemed genuine. So you responded with a simple, “Thanks.”

A few moments later the song ended, and you split apart, but for a beat, neither of you moved beyond that, caught in a strange limbo. The air between you felt charged, filled with unspoken words and conflicting emotions.

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, Lloyd cleared his throat. "I should..." he gestured vaguely towards the bar.

"Right," you nodded.

It seemed like he might say something more, but then his eyes flickered to something over your shoulder and his jaw tightened.

You turned to see what had caught his attention and found Victor making his way towards you, two flutes of champagne in hand.

When you turned back to glance at Lloyd, he was already gone. You shrugged it off.

"I believe I was promised another dance," Victor said smoothly as he approached, offering you one of the glasses.

“Yes, of course!” you responded, taking the glass he handed you.

“Or we could take these to the terrace and get some fresh air,” he suggested.

“That actually sounds perfect,” you said, giving him a grateful smile.

Victor led you through the crowd towards the terrace doors, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. As you stepped out into the cool night air, you felt some of the tension from the evening begin to dissipate. The terrace overlooked a beautifully manicured garden, softly lit by strategically placed lanterns.

"Much better," Victor said, taking a sip of his champagne. "It was getting a bit stuffy in there, don't you think?"

You nodded, leaning against the stone balustrade and looking out over the gardens. "It's beautiful out here," you murmured, taking in the twinkling lights and the sweet scent of night-blooming flowers.

Victor moved to stand beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So," he said, his voice low and intimate, "what did Hansen’s heir apparent want with you?”

You tensed slightly at his proximity and the tone of his question. "Just to dance," you replied carefully, taking a sip of champagne. "And to apologize for the awkwardness at dinner."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "How magnanimous of him," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Lloyd Hansen isn't exactly known for his apologies."

You turned to face him, studying his expression. There was something in his eyes - a glint of curiosity, perhaps even jealousy? - that made you uneasy.

"People can surprise you," you said neutrally, trying to steer the conversation away from Lloyd.

Victor tutted at your response and cocked his head to the side.

You frowned, feeling a flicker of annoyance at his attitude. "I don’t say that with wide eyes and rose-colored glasses. I'm not some naive intern."

Victor held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't mean to imply that you were," he said, his tone softening. "I apologize if it came across that way. I just... I worry about you getting caught up in the Hansen family drama. It can be all-consuming."

You sighed, taking another sip of champagne. "I appreciate your concern, Victor, but I can handle myself. I'm not looking to get involved in anyone's drama - I'm here to do my job and build my career."

Victor nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "Of course. And you're doing an excellent job of that, by the way. You've made quite an impression on everyone here."

You felt a flush of pride at his words, but also a twinge of wariness. Victor's compliments, while flattering, were starting to feel a bit too effusive.

Victor moved closer, his eyes glinting in the soft light of the terrace. "You've made quite an impression on me," he murmured, his voice low and husky. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your bare arm.

You tensed at his touch, a mixture of unease and surprise coursing through you. "Victor, I..."

But he pressed on, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort. "You're not just intelligent, you know. You're absolutely captivating." His hand moved to your waist, pulling you slightly closer. The scent of his cologne, which had seemed pleasant earlier, now felt cloying and overwhelming.

You took a step back. "I'm flattered, really, but I think you've misunderstood. I'm not interested in anything beyond a professional relationship."

You tensed as Victor moved closer, his hand sliding to your lower back. "Come now," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "I’m not looking for a relationship. We're both adults here. No need to play coy."

You tried to step back again, but his arm snaked around your waist, holding you in place. Your heart raced, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through you.

"Victor, please," you said firmly, pushing against his chest. "I'm not interested. This isn't appropriate."

But he remained undeterred. His fingers trailed up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "We have such amazing chemistry," he purred. "Don't tell me you haven't felt it too."

You glanced towards the terrace doors, hoping to catch someone's eye, but the party inside continued on, oblivious to your predicament.

Victor leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Think about it," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "We could slip away right now. No one would even notice we're gone."

You tried to lean away, but found yourself trapped between his body and the stone balustrade. "Victor, please," you said firmly, pressing your hands against his chest. "No. This isn't appropriate."

But he seemed oblivious to your discomfort, his hand sliding to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. "Don't be so uptight," he chided softly. "Everyone has a bit of fun at conferences."

Your skin crawled at his touch, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. You glanced towards the terrace doors again, but still no one, only music and laughter and clinking glasses pouring out the doors.

Victor's other hand moved up, his fingers trailing along your neck. Your skin crawled at his touch as he leaned in, clearly intending to kiss you. You whimpered, struggling against him, and turning your face away.

He chuckled and his lips landed on your throat, hot and wet and paralyzing.

Then suddenly, Victor's oppressive presence was pulled back. Your eyes flew open to see Lloyd forcefully trying to yank Victor back by his shoulder.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lloyd snarled, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.

But Victor was stronger than he seemed, and he was still clutching at you, quickly recovering from Lloyd's sudden appearance. "This is none of your business, Hansen," he spat.

"Like hell it isn't," Lloyd growled.

The three of your struggled for another moment before Lloyd landed a punch to Victor’s face and was finally able to tear the man away from you, the last point of contact his strong clutch to the side of your neck.

Once free, you backed away and Lloyd positioned himself between you and Victor, his stance protective. "She clearly told you no. Or are you too drunk to understand basic consent?"

You continued to back away, and you could already feel tears of humiliation and anger trailing down your cheeks, though you didn’t know when you’d started to cry.

Victor's face contorted with anger. "You don't know what you’re talking about, you spoiled, corporate nepo prince.”

You took advantage of Lloyd and Victor's heated argument to slip away, your heart pounding in your chest. As you retreated, their angry voices faded into the background noise of the gala. You darted through the terrace doors, blinking as you re-entered the bright ballroom.

The cheerful music and laughter felt jarring after what had just transpired. You ducked your head down and weaved through the crowd, desperately trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself.

As you neared the main doors, you spotted a discreet side entrance marked "Staff Only." Without hesitation, you slipped through it, finding yourself in a dimly lit service corridor. The stark fluorescent lighting and utilitarian decor was a stark contrast to the opulence of the ballroom and a blessed escape from the cacophony of people at the party.

You rushed down the corridor, your heels clicking rapidly on the polished floor. Your mind raced as you tried to process what had just happened, the nice night turned nightmare.

You turned a corner and found yourself facing a bank of elevators. Without thinking, you jabbed at the call button repeatedly, desperate to put as much distance between yourself and the afterparty as possible. When the doors finally slid open, you stumbled inside, pressing the button for your floor with shaking hands.

As the elevator began to ascend, you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and taking deep, steadying breaths. The tears you'd been holding back began to flow freely now that you were alone. You angrily wiped them away, smearing your carefully applied makeup.

The elevator dinged, announcing your arrival at your floor, and you nearly ran down the hallway. It took your unsteady hands longer than usual to get your door open, but once you managed it, you flung yourself inside, and then leaned against it, letting out a sob as you sunk to the floor.

The events on the terrace replayed in your mind, and you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. Victor's unwanted advances, the fear you'd felt when he wouldn't let go, the humiliation of needing to be rescued… and by Lloyd Hansen, out of anyone who could have found you… A stranger would have been so much better.

You put your hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but then your breath hitched and another wave of emotion crashed over you.

Somewhere in the commotion of the struggles and your escape, you lost your mother’s necklace.

next chapter: coming January 13

🥺

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #chris evans characters #aspen wrote something #huffily ever after #aspen's birthday jubilee

103 notes · View notes