#If you learned you were meant to be something else but god said NO would that be fucked up or what

[starryeyed-seer]

Okay I am going to make a post trying to explain Firmament main plot I think. Because it's confusing, but I DO think I understand what's going on! (in as much as we can know what's going on, there's plenty of mysteries still)

I am though missing a lot of text from firmament 1 (the gullet and vulgate) so if anyone happens to have echoes handy from the climax of that, would really appreciate

[emmyrosee]

What would boyfriend sukuna do if he accidentally made his beloved cry? 👀🩵

*claps hands together and bites lip* AYO-

You’d been arguing about something minuscule, about whose turn it was to wash the dishes, and he merely rolled his eyes and said he could find someone else who would do it.

Because sukuna doesn’t think. No matter the time, the context, the situation, when he’s on defense, he’s going to bring out the big guns and says things to hurt. To damage, to break, to shatter.

Because sukuna is not a good person. He may smack on this “learning how to love” facade, he may hold doors open for you and cradle you when you cry, he may introduce you to his friends and family, but at the end of the day, he’s a trashy man who just fends for himself and only thinks about himself.

Or. That’s what he thought.

Until he sees the hot, betrayed tears bubbling in your waterline. He sees the way your shoulders are tightened, and the way your bottom lip wobbles. He sees the way you look at him in disgust, in hatred, you hate him you shouldn’t even be looking at him right now, but you’re so in disbelief that he could conjure such a claim to you that, like a car accident, you can’t look away. Your eyes glaze over his body in distain and god, fuck, he would do anything, worship any gods, fight any evil and give up his greatest treasures if it meant you’d never look at him like this again.

“Why would you say that?” You whimper, and he sees your hand twitch as it makes a move to wipe the tear, but you never connect the movement. The tear falls, and so does your clenched hand. “Did that make you feel better? To hurt me like that?”

“No,” he chokes. “No, no, this isn’t right, I didn’t mean that-“

“You sure had a hell of a time hiding it,” you scoff, and your arms come up to hug yourself, an action that he should be doing, but he feels like if he moves he’s going to shatter. “God, fuck, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he rasps. He cards a big hand through his hair, “fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, not to you, never to you.” His hands ball into fists as he loses himself, “fuck, fuck fuck, god, I swear I didn’t mean that, I would never-“

“But you did, Sukuna,” you wail in anguish. “And you said it so easily, what, do you have someone else on the back burner?”

“I don’t!” He says, mind melting and heart pounding because he ruined this, he ruined one of the few good things in his life, all with one stupid phrase he never should’ve even let cross his mind, let alone his lips. “It’s only you, I’m only ever obsessed with you! I love you!”

Love is not a word Sukuna uses. It’s more well intentioned hugs and kisses, he’s a shower not a teller, and he takes in a big gulp of air as the foreign word tingles his tongue. You blink at him in awe, and he lets out a shaky sigh, “god, fuck, I love you. And… And-And-And I’d never want to make you hurt this. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The room is quiet. The air is heavy as sukuna watches you cautiously, not sure where to go from here.

Then, you sniffle and walk towards him. You slip into his arms, and sukuna thinks you’re made of glass, too fragile to be in his cruel embrace. He gently cradles the back of your head as you cry softly into his chest. “I’m sorry,” he echos. “I mean it. Never going to say that shit again.”

“You fucked up,” you sniffle.

He swallows the thick wad in his throat and blinks up to the sky, begging to be grounded in his heightened state.

“I know.”

“I hate you.”

But he’s got you, for now. That’s all he cares about, and if you ever smarten up and leave him for the dirt he is, he’d never blame you.

But for now…

“I know.”

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin.

With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice���it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself.

While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages.

You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into that situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible.

It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group.

Kie, Pope, John B…weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a weird balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence.

You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in your life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the fucking chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst.

It was a burden you bore proudly, protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity.

While others your age worried about stupid matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending beating in his eyes.

You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream.

You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, you knew that. His expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," his tone was condescending, like you were a child, “You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too. And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains in your room, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, clearly growing frustrated with your stubbornness, “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that.

And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, “Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no clipped answer from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing.

He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different.

Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, the frame sturdy.

That’s it! 

You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances.

Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was strong enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

You gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building.

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations or politeness.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, “It’s important.”

He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper and thrusted it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him.

Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before running out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline pumping in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a moment.

You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp,“You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden changes in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

“What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at his chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe nodded in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained unwavering. He was being dead serious.

Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, but now?

“I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened.

Oh. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him.

You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into, again. The events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly, "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere.

There were more important things to worry about. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream.

You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe.

The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat.

It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you

It was a lot to process, and you handy had the time to figure everything out yet.

His fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up.

It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you had been feeling deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead.

All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…”

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead.

Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

His hold tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again.

“Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him. Was he telling you to spoon him?

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you did as he asked, turning onto your side to face away from him.

He moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like some kind of shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you moved again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his hoarse, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head.

Rafe's reaction was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me to stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted.

You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire you needed to reach.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit.

You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts turning to mush as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening.

His breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me come,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised,“Want to feel you dripping around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz inside you building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your pussy.

Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Shit shit”, you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. 

Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he tried to control himself.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in.

His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so so close.

“I c-can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You tryn’ to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix.

Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn grew into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch.

You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole.

The taste of him filled your mouth, cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours.

The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m s-so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Come for me, pretty. Wanna to feel you drippin’ all over my cock.”

That was all it took.

With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe, jaw slack open as his hands never left your body.

As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips tender. He murmured soothing words and you swore you were on cloud nine.

You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the pleasure subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, “Need to feel you come inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass,

"Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open,"You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel your cum."

The pet name did it.

With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his ass as he drove into you in a mean mating press. His pace was relentless, like he’d die if he stopped.

The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, only amplified the passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Come for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising.

And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. Your own body still buzzed with the aftermath of your pleasure.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that left you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as his lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss so different to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but you broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed, "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you weren’t feeling so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else.

He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering, "I know, Maybank," he whispered,"I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?"

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you a little strength.

After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly.

Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[ast4tarion]

hi!! hope you’re having a good day:)

i was wondering if you can write a smut where mike is a nerd in college and the popular girl needs to bring her grade up so he tutors her. she would always flirt with him and make him get all nervous. she repays him by giving him a blowjob and you can add anything else to the story if you want!! thank youu

ooooo i havent written anything like this, thank you for a new idea :D ty for the kind words too i hope everyone reading this day is a good one too <3 (god this is way longer then i meant for it to be)

cws; sub!mike, slight dom!reader, virginity taking, blowjob, gender neutral reader, a little messy

“Have you ever had sex with a girl before?”

The question you ask Mike is completely genuine but he stops writing in his tracks, his face visibly flushing red.

The two of you are studying for midterms (actually, more like Mike guiding you through the subjects) together in his dorm, books and papers strewn everywhere at his table.

“I—what?” He really wasn’t expecting you to ask that and he looks almost nervous.

“Have you?” you ask it like it’s the most casual question in the world, flipping your pencil around in your hand.

“Uh….no,” he looks very embarrassed, it’s cute on him. “I haven’t gotten close to anyone like that before, and no one was particularly interested in the guy hiding behind his engineering book.”

You were quite surprised to learn this, in your opinion he was quite the attractive guy.

“Would you be up for an offer then?” His eyes widened, and he let his pencil slide out of his grip completely.

“What kind of offer….?” He said it, but the implication after the topic of conversation was understood between the two of you, but he clearly didn’t believe it.

“Well I’d really like to do something nice for you in return for tutoring me, we’ve already talked about this but I really wish I could pay you but everything’s going to food and tuition right now and I couldn’t ever ask my parents so I was wondering if you’d let me make you feel good instead?” You said.

His entire face was visibly red now with blush, and his gaze dropped and avoided yours as he processed what you were saying. He seemed in total disbelief, his hands tapping the table which you knew was a nervous habit of his.

“I-um, but I-I’ve never done that with anyone? I wouldn’t wanna, um, somehow do it wrong.” He was incredibly sincere and it was quite endearing.

You leaned back in your seat, trying to catch his nervous eyes.

“I’m cool with that, I could even teach you if that would make you feel less nervous? Think of it as…….a tutoring session. Only if you want too though.” His hands found themselves, wringing and thumbing his palm. He was clearly deep in thought and given permission you wanted to wipe that stress from his face. It would be an honour to teach him, after all the exams and quizzes he’d helped you pass.

“Alright…I think I’d, uh, like that. When?” You smiled at his confirmation of consent, excitement and arousal already beginning to build up inside you. You stood up, walking around the desk and sitting on one of his thighs.

“We’ve been studying for a while now, I think this would be a good opportunity to take a break and learn something new.” You put your hands on his chest, your voice dropping in a suggestive way that earned a shiver out of him.

“O-Okay,” he gulped, finally gathering the courage to look at you in front of him. “What’s the first step?”

You leaned in to kiss his neck and he gasped loudly. “First the ground rules. One, if you decide it’s too much we can always stop, alright? Two, tell me if you’re going to cum. Three, listen to your body, Mikey, tell me what feels good.” You purred into his ear, trying to take things slow so he could adjust to them. He quickly nodded, and you starting leaving light kisses down his chest.

As much as you wanted to grind down on his thigh you had an objective: make him cum. You moved off his lap and he watched you the entire time with a mix of nervousness and curiosity in his eyes. You slid to the floor in between his legs as he was seated at his desk.

Your first step was massaging his thighs, getting closer and closer to his dick. Your hand settled over the fly of his jeans, palming the denim and smirking when you felt the bulge it held.

You began unzipping it, speaking as you worked. “First step is to relax, this parts all about you baby boy.” He felt the urge to whimper and aggressively bit it back.

Just the tiny amounts of friction and sultry words you provided had began to work him up. You pulled down his boxers enough for his cock to be freed, hardening at every touch.

He was fairly big, your fingertips just barely met around it when you gave it a couple experimental jerks. He made a little noise at this, and you smiled.

You spit in your hand, spreading the wetness across his length to make it easier. It was clear he was unuse to his own boner, his mouth agape and his hips beginning to shift in the chair.

You started by giving the tip a tiny kiss, followed by short little licks to the head. You flattened your tongue and swirled it all around the head, running your tongue over his sensitive slit.

This gained an immediate reaction, another little noise escaping his mouth followed by his hands gripping his own thighs. You were barely touching him and he was already panting at the sweet sensation.

You took it a little further, pumping the base and farther into your mouth. You were licking the underside of his dick, dragging hot wet stripes further and further down each time. You were halfway down his length, finally taking it all into your mouth and pushing it in until your lips reached your loose fist.

His pants were evolving into full blown moans, his hand white-knuckles gripping his desk. He spread his legs further, hoping to give you more access. Every moan is music to your ears, coming out in little “hnngs…” and “mmmfng…..”

The tip almost reached the back of your throat and there was spit dripping down your chin, mixing with whatever slick he was leaking. You moved forward and back, your tongue sliding wetly and stimulating him. You repeated this, grinding into the floor for any ounce of your own friction.

His cock was a wet mess, and the sounds coming from your mouth became more and more vulgar. Slick-filled wet slaps of skin on skin as your fist pumped faster and faster and your tongue swirled around his girth.

He was getting closer and you could tell because he was absolutely loosing control of himself. He’d been reduced to drawn-out moans and whimpering at how fast you were going; his hips had also started bucking forward, pushing more and more of it into your mouth until you were almost completely swallowing him.

Your own desperation made it even more wet and messy, you drew back and a long string of precum dripped from his tip to your tongue thinly connected. Your gaze was driving him crazy, the combination of your eyes locked on his and the slurping wet kiss you licked up his shaft again.

When your mouth dove back on it you could tell he was getting incredibly close to finishing. His thrusts were becoming sloppy and so pathetic that it was hitting the walls of your cheek and the very back of your throat.

It was ultimately your groan that sent him over the edge, the vibrations sent through your mouth felt all over his cock and it felt so good, so wet, so overwhelming that he barely had time to whimper “fuck, I-I’m going too—!”

His cock throbbed and pulsed as you licked his slit once more, taking it out of your mouth absolutely cockdrunk. It barely took a single pump for him to explode, thick white ropes bursting from his tip and all over your chest.

His head was thrown back and he was panting hard, his cock head was flushed a pretty pink like his blush and it kept twitching, smaller streams erupting until it came to a slow stop.

Your face was a mess of his hot cum and your underwear absolutely soaked through. His eyes were closed and he was still gasping, sighing as he slowly loosened his grip on the desk as he rode out the end of his orgasm.

“Fuck, holy shit, thank you.” He mumbled, still coming down from the adrenaline of finishing. When he did look down he swore he could’ve came a second time, the way your face was lit up by a smile and absolutely drenched in his sticky white seed.

“Of course, if I wanted to teach you about sex I had to make sure you’d at least get to cum before you made someone else do it,” You stood up, standing close to him and running your hand through his pretty brown hair.

“Tomorrow after we finish calculus, I’ll show you how to eat someone out~”

[fangsandfeels]

Playing Veilguard and making it everyone's problem

I am going to rant, and I will rant a lot, and there will be spoilers, so if you're not afraid of them and the game criticism, buckle up.

Elves and their gods

I am absolutely fucking livid about how Veilguard handles the Dalish and elves in general. The events of Trespasser made it clear that the elves started flocking over to Solas, including the elves working for the Inquisition:

After the events at the Winter Palace, elves left the Inquisition under mysterious circumstances, as did elven servants across Thedas. None could say where they went, but those who believed the Inquisitor's story about Fen'Harel wondered just how large the Dread Wolf's forces were... and what the ancient elven rebel had planned.

Solas had multiple spies working for him during Trespasser, and If I remember correctly, there was even a note, left by one of the elves - they were anticipating the great change and the return of the elven glory. Anyways, the established fact is that: elves learned that the stories about their gods were true and one of them now was going to restore the world as it used to be. At least, this is how they interpreted it (maybe, this is the version Solas didn't debunk) and so they started following him.

You might think, the Inquisitor and their allies are going to have a huge problem with breaking it to elves that their chosen leader isn't going to make things better and that their gods don't love them. Especially, if the Inquisitor is a human or anyone who isn't an elf. You'd imagine any attempts will end in failure because of course elves aren't going to listen to outsiders trying to explain their own culture and gods to them. You'd imagine that their trauma caused by centuries of oppression and discrimination will make it impossible for the Inquisitor and anyone else to make them see the truth.

You'd assume anyone who tries to find and stop Solas will be sabotaged every step of the way, feeling themselves horrible for having to clash with people desperate for a chance of a life without injustice - even if it means burning the rest of the world down.

You'd imagine that they will only change their mind if/when they see the harm done by Solas' actions and get to witness their gods true intentions by themselves - which would lead to a massive crisis of faith and schisms happening between elven tribes and groups.

You'd imagine will get all this incredible drama in the Veilguard, with elves initially resisting the group's attempts to stop Solas, then trying to pull themselves together after the revelation. You'd assume there will be zealous groups doubting Solas (because the Dreadwolf is a liar and a deceiver) and intending to use him to actually free the elven gods. You'd think this is how actually some of them get out.

But, NOPE. Not only Solas ends up working alone, with none of his followers throwing themselves at Rook and the party to buy him time, but also all elves now hate Solas because...Varric said so?

You meet a group of Veil Jumpers (elves devoted to exploring their ancient culture and history, learning more about their gods and reclaiming their heritage) and their leader instantly calls Solas an asshole. Based on WHAT?

I get it, Varric had met them before and told them that Solas was Fen'Harel...

(needless to say if you expect players to find and read other media in order to make sense of the events in the game, you are doing something wrong)

...but why were they so fucking calm about it, instantly eating up the "yep, he's bad" version? Even if the Dread Wolf is vilified in the Dalish mythology, wouldn't they be curious about what that means? Wouldn't they have gotten tempted or excited by the implication that other gods exist too? They weren't told the full story - why the fuck did they instantly accept the "Solas is an asshole" narrative? Especially when Solas comes with a promise of a world for the elves like it was meant to be?

WHY?

The Veilguard has no response for that. I guess, Dalish never cared about their history and traditions, and city elves were dandy about Alienages and oppression, so they easily believed some randos over a literal god promising a new, better world.

I don't even play Dalish, but I love their plotline and arcs - and I was bracing myself for some downright painful choices and conflicts during the next Dragon Age. But it felt like the writers couldn't be bothered with developing such a nuanced narrative, so they just waved it all down with "Nah, elves are chill now and they never really cared about their gods in the first place".

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★  𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— a few days have passed since you last saw lando, yet your feelings are as strong as ever. there’s nothing like another party to finally set the record straight. (3.2k words)

+ aka. part two of don’t delete the kisses (and my longest fic to date on this blog !!)

+ again mentions of drinking and clubbing, largely fluff . lando n reader are only slightly tipsy ! this took far too long to get out but she's finally here - hope you all enjoy !!!

it had been three days since you’d gone to the club, and three days since you’d consequently fled from the club due to your inability to act normally around lando norris.

you hadn’t seen him since then, but you’d texted back and forth from the morning afterwards. you’d felt bad about the whole thing, just leaving without even finding him to say goodbye, and so made up some excuse about getting too overwhelmed and not wanting to ruin his night with your desire to go home.

and because he was an angel, lando didn’t even question you. instead, he instantly accepted your explanation, assuring you it was more than fine as long as you were okay. he could go without a goodbye, if it meant the best for you.

eighty percent of your subsequent conversations were complete nonsense. ever since you had became close all those years ago, lando had taken it upon himself to text you every single thought he ever had, no matter how menial or silly.

embarrassingly, as a result of being down so, completely, horrifically bad for him, you found each and every one endearing. yes, even the god-awful memes he would send you religiously between the hours of two and five am when he couldn’t sleep.

perhaps it was even worse that you’d go on to forward said memes to other friends, pretending that you had found them. you were unable to prevent the laughs that would escape your lips every time your phone buzzed with a notification from lando.

one on hand, you were on top of the world. on the other, you were going insane.

lando had positively taken over your mind, every corner of your head filled with deep brown curls and impish laughter. even the most menial things proved to link back to lando in some way, a tangled red string of association that to anyone else would make zero sense but was obvious to you.

you were icarus, and lando the sun; something to dream of but never to have. you were certain that if you chased him, your wax wings would melt rapidly as you succumbed to your impulses before you crashed onto the harsh ground of reality.

learning to cope with the heavy feeling of yearning was something you could do. suffering with a little heartache to keep lando in your life far outweighed not having lando at all.

being definitive in your decision to bury your feelings didn’t mean it wasn’t a struggle, though.

now more than ever, it seemed impossible to not think about lando, or talk about him, shout his name from the rooftops so the whole world could hear the praises you would sing for him. it appeared to be a pretty clear sign that you were losing any remaining shreds of self control, but what could you do? no matter how many times your head said no, your heart would tell you that it would always be lando, one thousand times over.

a notification lit up your phone screen, and you were convinced it was a sort of cruel taunt from the universe. 

landonorris just posted a photo!

it was borderline masochistic, the way in which you tapped the notification instantly and allowed yourself to be led to lando’s latest instagram photo dump. alongside a few selfies, pictures of him from that night in the club were littered throughout, and though he was posing with friends in each photo, your eyes were focused solely on him.

without really thinking, you pinched the screen, zooming in a little further to admire every detail of lando’s face that had been captured by someone’s iphone. the moles that were dotted across his face like they’d been individually placed there, the unruly curls that begged your fingers to find a home in them, and that fucking smile.

realisation hit soon after, and you caught yourself with a groan. here you were, sitting looking at his pictures with a dopey, love-sick grin on your face, acting like a teenage girl with an innocent classroom crush.

“god! might as well write all over a notebook that he rocks my world or something,” you scoffed, mock disgust lacing your words.

oh great, now you were fucking talking to yourself. christ, what had he done to you?

in an act of frustration, you quickly liked lando’s photo before throwing your phone onto your bed, partially hoping it would get lost amongst the pillows so you couldn’t find it again and fawn over more pictures of your supposed best friend.

a distraction was what you needed. and so you stood up and made your way into the kitchen, praying that maybe cooking a nice meal for yourself would sort you out. either that, or you could hit yourself over the head with a frying pan and hope that the concussion would remove any feelings that breached the label of ‘platonic’.

and for two whole hours, your plan had worked. 

not only were you able to enjoy the delicious meal you’d made, but also got through a good few episodes of the new tv series you had started watching a week or so ago. the lando shaped hole in your mind had been replaced by witty dialogue and pointless character drama, and you were beginning to think that you had everything under control.

that was until you returned to your bedroom and reached for your phone once more, your lockscreen lighting up to display yet another text thread from lando.

lando: going out tomorrow at 10!!!

lando: be there or be square😈

lando: i need my best dance partner w me

fingers dancing across the keyboard, the text was sent before your brain could even think about the invitation.

y/n: i'll b there🥳

it was official: you were absolutely fucked. 

. . .

it was 10:28pm and you were already questioning your decision to come out.

you would say that you had no idea why you’d even agreed to the invitation, but that would be a lie. you knew exactly what had convinced you to get dressed up and leave your house tonight, and that reason was currently grinning at you from his place at the bar, clothed in another stupid button down shirt and sunglasses, of all accessories. 

how he had managed to make sunglasses indoors not only acceptable, but attractive to you was just another sign of the power that the man held over you. you’re sure that if you told your friends, they’d never let you live it down. and hell, you wouldn’t even blame them for it.

from the moment you had arrived, lando had commanded your attention. there wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t intently tuned in to every word he spoke, each movement of his limbs and the expressions on his face. he had you completely hooked, and you were letting it happen, swept along in the riptide of your stupid crush,

whether it was from the pulsating house music, the shot lando had shoved into your hand the moment you’d shown your face, or even just lando himself, you felt electric. sparks of lightning rippled beneath your skin, every last nerve in your body buzzing with anticipation for something that you couldn’t even put your finger on.

butterflies swarmed your stomach, and if someone were to tell you you were looking at lando with stars in your eyes, you would have no doubt that it was true. because as he grinned at you once more, the lively groups of club-goers began to fade away leaving only a vignette of his figure.

you were experiencing every romantic cliche in the fucking book, all thanks to him.

you were unsure as to whether it was a minute or a hour before he was standing in front of you again, the scent of his aftershave almost taunting you as it enveloped you. lando was expertly clasping two vodka cokes in one hand and two shots of tequila in the other, sporting a lopsided smile.

“lando!” you groaned, actions betraying your scolding tone as you reached out to pluck the shot from his hand before grabbing your drink, careful not to cause lando to spill anything. 

the last thing you needed right now was to spill a drink on lando’s white shirt. the sight of the material slowly becoming see-through until it offered you a glimpse of his tan, toned skin was more than you would be able to handle. 

lando held up the plastic shot glass with a cheeky expression, a silent toast to god knows what, before he tipped the liquid down his throat. his face quickly soured, and he wasted no time in seeing off a large portion of his drink in an attempt to rid himself of the tequila flavour.

“woah, woah, slow down there,” you laughed, gently pushing the cup away from lando’s mouth. “got the whole night ahead of you.”

watercolour eyes dropped to glance at your hand, lando’s stare lingering even after you had pulled your hand back towards your body hastily, as though merely being in the proximity of his body was enough to burn. 

you would have thought it odd, if lando hadn’t immediately taken your hand into his larger one and stalked off towards the dance floor, gently tugging you along without a word. your mind told you that lando had simply felt the effects of his drink quicker than expected, and it took him a minute to realise that leading you to the dance floor was the mission he would give himself for the night.

flashbacks of the last time you were out clubbing with lando played in the back of your mind like an old movie, something you would put on in the background for comfort yet wouldn’t pay much attention to. 

one dance turned into two, and then three, and before you knew it you had been dancing with lando for the better part of an hour, both of you expertly adapting your moves to match the vibe of whatever song the dj decided to play next.

one of the many perks of attending clubs with formula one drivers was that there was an ever-flowing supply of alcohol. it was something you’d discovered after the first few times you had gone out with lando and his friends: you would finish your drink and before you could blink, someone had shoved a new one into your hand, the cup still marbled with cold condensation.

your current drink had been supplied by max, or maybe even carlos, a far too strong liquor mixed with nowhere near enough soda for your liking. your nose scrunched up at the taste, and lando laughed before gently plucking the cup from you, his fingers brushing against your own for a fleeting moment. 

a fire burned in the pit of your stomach, noticing that lando’s lips landed perfectly over the lipgloss mark you’d left moments ago. an indirect kiss. 

much like your own moments prior, lando’s face twisted up into a grimace at the taste, and he shook his head furiously.

“that's fucking awful,” he claimed, leaning down a little to shout his complaints into your ear. “whoever bought you that has shit taste.”

“says the man who bought a round of tequila earlier in the night.”

lando chuckled, mumbling a ‘fuck off’ that held more adoration than malice, in your humble opinion. like he had rehearsed it, lando smoothly palmed your drink off onto max before delicately taking hold of one of your wrists, twirling you around just like he had done a few nights ago.

possibly driven by a subconscious want to set right the events of your last night out, you repeated your own actions and spun lando under your arm in response.

lando’s grin was almost blinding, and he pulled you towards him, your hands still clasped by his as he moved your limbs around like the world’s worst puppetmaster.

you were convinced that, had he had enough room around him, he would have spun you both around until you were dizzy, a move he’d pulled many times when you were dancing together in one of your kitchen’s to pass the time it took to cook your meal. 

sadly, lando had to settle for flailing arms and uncoordinated shimmies, his priority making you smile rather than trying to look suave amongst the mass of bodies at your every turn. 

a few other drivers started to join your circle, handing you both more drinks as they tried to engage in miscellaneous conversation and playfully poked fun at yours and lando’s lack of coordination or apparent shame.

unable to control who stood where, thanks to the power of free will, you had been separated from lando, instead flanked by oscar and george whilst he was wrapped up in a conversation with max fewtrell.

thanks to his position across from you, lando was able to catch your eye, his brow quirked slightly in a silent question meant only for you to decipher. you nodded, a clear response to his wordless communication.

as though it were planned, you and lando began to leave. this was how your last french exit should have been; no longer were you alone and flustered, stumbling into the back of your uber with the desire to bash your head off of a brick wall.

no, this time you had lando’s hand in yours, the pad of his thumb brushing soft circles against the back of your hand as he expertly manoeuvred you both through the crowd, informing you that a car would already be there to take you back to your flat with him in tow. 

apologetic texts and goodbyes weren’t necessary this time around, if the loud, obnoxious whooping and whistling from pierre and charles were anything to go by. with their propensity for gossip, you were sure that every inhabitant in the club would be informed of your swift exit with lando within the hour. 

the ride home was filled with melodic laughter as lando made it his mission to unload every observation he’d made in the past few hours onto you. he’d taken particular interest in the argument two girls were having when he was waiting at the bar, and left no detail out as he recounted the whole event like some sort of one man show, his only audience you. 

the streetlights you passed caused a flickering glow to dance across lando’s features, and the momentary flashes of illumination caused lando to look otherworldly, all shadows and contours framed by deep curls.

lando was so caught up in his story that he was oblivious to your wonderstruck stare, completely unaware of the way you were drinking in every last inch of him, committing each miniscule detail to memory and storing it away for a rainy day. 

good, you thought. he’d only take the piss anyways.

the alcohol rendered you both a little unsteady on your feet, and you snorted a laugh as lando stumbled through your front door, catching his shoe on the tiny step that led into your apartment. 

whoever lived underneath you would likely be cursing your name right now, as neither you nor lando were too concerned about remaining quiet and light on your feet as you bumbled over to your bedroom. comfort was the only thing on your mind, though you made a mental note to push an apology letter underneath the poor soul’s door the next day. 

making himself at home, lando threw himself down onto your bed, the plush mattress eliciting a soft groan from him. his once closed eyes snapped open as you tossed a pair of his joggers at him, a pair he’d left at yours a few months ago (and that you may or may not have ‘forgotten’ to return to him.)

“i’ll get changed in a sec,” lando promised, sinking back into your sheets. “you can too. just, come on, lie down for a bit.”

lando delivered two quick pats to your bed, perhaps hoping it would prompt you to join him faster than you already would have. secretly, you were glad that he thought you needed convincing to lie down with him for a moment.

you pretended to consider it, eyes flitting over to where your makeup remover sat, before you gave in, mumbling an ‘okay’ as you clumsily removed your shoes and clambered onto the bed next to him.

the gap between you both was barely there. if you moved your hand just slightly, your fingers would brush against lando’s side. how easy it would be, just to grant yourself a slice of heaven for once.

lando’s voice brought you out of your trance. 

“when you left, last time…”

an unfinished question. lando was clearly attempting to seem nonchalant as he broached the topic that you had both been skirting around since it had happened, his eyes trained onto the thread of your duvet that he had busied his hands with. 

in that moment, you didn’t think you could ever lie to him, no matter how humiliating the truth was. 

“it got too much. y’hands on me and everything, i got too flustered. i just didn’t want to make a fool out of myself, i guess,” you admitted as an embarrassed smile played on your lips. 

a giggle trickled from lando’s mouth, prompting you to roll onto your side and face him with a raised brow.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothin’. just the fact you fancied me so much that you had to run away from me,” lando responded, grinning mischievously.

your response came in the form of a pillow hitting lando square in the face.

“oi!”

the pillow came flying back, but missed your body by roughly a couple of inches, the alcohol clearly impairing his usually decent aim. 

“missed me,” you taunted.

unexpectedly lando’s face lit up at your words, and he rolled closer to you, propping himself up onto an elbow so that his face was hovering over yours.

you swallowed thickly at the sudden movement, eyes darting across his face frantically as though his motives would be written into the curve of his smile.

“think there’s a saying about that,” lando mused, a hand trailing up your side so gently that you half believed you were imagining it. “missed me, missed me, now you’ve gotta kiss me, or something.”

and if that wasn’t a sign to press your lips to his, you weren’t sure what was.

you swallowed lando’s sound of surprise as your lips melded with his own, his mouth soft and warm as he more than returned your affections.

clearly not content with the level of control he possessed, lando briefly pulled back and swiped the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip before attaching his lips to your once more, gently sucking the flesh into his mouth and nipping at it with a smirk.

it was slow, and a little sloppy, a blend of tongue and teeth as you desperately tried to taste as much of each other as possible.

your grip on lando’s shirt was vice-like, as though you were scared he would disappear if let out of your hands for even a fleeting second.

“don’t worry, ‘m not going anywhere, pretty girl,” lando teased softly, punctuating his words with another kiss. “y’stuck with me.”

and suddenly, everything had become clear. it was always going to be you and lando, a love that would transcend a lifetime.

tags : @wintfleur @faerieroyal @starriesworlds @itscrzy @ssararuffoni @tbsloneely @onecojg @basicchelsea

[zhongrin]

Plot bunny?

You are a servant of some god during the Archon War.

He enslaved you and your people, saying that humans are too simple to rule themselves.

***

You scratched the dirty floor, trying to achieve perfection as your god demanded it. It didn't matter that your knees hurt as skin gave up and broke. It didn't matter that your fingernails were almost completely destroyed. It didn't matter that your spine was giving up.

This task was the simplest one your pathetic self could do. That's the only thing you could do. Thing that you were made to do.

At least it was what your "Master" said.

Your village laid in the mountains, growing into a small city over the years, slowly connecting with other small villages. It was peaceful, your biggest enemies being some rowdy slimes and a geovishap from time to time. But that changed when your "Master" marched in the town and claimed all that he saw. He was the one who told you that as humans, you are simple, made to serve. He killed anyone who disagreed, showcasing how weak you are.

Now, you almost believed him.

Yet, as years of breaking your back and thinking of not being worthy of doing anything else but serving your master, one moment in your life caused it to change completely.

*

You only watched as guards dragged someone, following Master and his toy - Alatus. You wondered who angered your Master this time and yet, as you uncharacteristically looked away from your work on the victim, you couldnt recognise even a bit of human in him. That meant one thing - your Master defeated a new enemy.

His beaten body was a mix of somewhat human and a dragon. He had a long tail with some missing scales and fluffy end was drenched in mud. His clothes that once could be white were mostly covered in blood and dirt. His back was bare of clothing, and you could see whip marks along it, scales on it missing as well. His hair was all over the place, tangled and greasy. And on top of his head you saw two orange horns, that dully glowed.

If it was your old self, you would say that this man was beautiful. But as you learned in the hard way - god's were cruel beings and their beauty was nothing but a mask put over a monster inside.

Your second encounter with him was when you were tasked with cleaning steps leading to the throne. Your Master often ordered servants to clean while he was there, so he could watch over you, as humans were so stupid that they often missed spots.

You dutifully scrubbed the steps and golden decorations while the god that your Master captured was being kicked around by him.

Your Master ordered Alatus to whip him again, and you heard grunts coming out of the strangers mouth. It sounded like he didn't have any strength left to scream.

For some reason you felt... sad? As if you didn't want this stranger to suffer. You were told that god's are heartless and humans are replaceable, so why do you feel sad for him?

*

You were tasked with giving the new prisoner food while he waited for his execution. It was weird.

He tried to talk to you. Like you weren't lower being. He thanked you for goodness sake. It wasn't something a god would do. Or maybe it was something your god wouldnt do?

You thought about this for a long time. This stranger was the kindest treatment you experienced in years. You couldn't let him die.

So now there you were, running with a torch and stolen keys through long and gloomy corridors, looking for him.

Your heart was racing and your mind was filled with terror. If you were caught, you would suffer. Why were you even doing this again? Humans weren't supposed to have free will, so why?

You saw him, chained to the walls behind thick bars. His wounded flesh angry red, wounds dirty with various spices that your Master ordered to smear in his wounds. He now looked weak, but you knew it was only because of that collar made of cursed metal. It was suppressing his godly powers.

But not for long.

Frantically you searched the keys and opened his cell. He looked at you shocked - he only saw light when he was dragged outside for torture. And you definitely looked too weak to do that. He was silent as you unchained him and freed his neck from that collar. Grabbing his hand, you stormed out, running towards the hidden exit.

As you stopped and opened door to the outside, you looked in his reptilian eyes.

"Free us please"

You didn't know where these words came from.

As he tried to speak, you heard ruckus and screams. Your Master felt his enemy being freed. You didn't listen to the stranger, pushing him outside and slamming the door, only telling him to go.

You then ran to servants quarters and laid down, praying that the chaos will buy him enough time.

You will be dead by tomorrow morning, but perhaps as you dared to hope, maybe some of the others will taste the freedom in their lives.

luke: plot bunny? :)

also luke: *dishes out a whole fic*

me: what-

also luke: and here's a cliffhanger :)

me: *angery kitten screams*

NO BUT FR THIS IS A WHOLE ASS FIC YOU JUST DROPPED IN MY INBOX HELLO????????? imma cry my zhongli my bby he does not deserve all these tortures ;A;

but but but the potential for this to turn yandere..... oooohfladhufsebfurnsuf frothing screaming salivating-

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Mizu Being Jealous•°

Mizu isn't naturally a possessive person by any means. She knows the shit women have to go through, being controlled by others and the world.

So, she'd never be dominating towards you or think she has any say in what you do.

That being said, while she trusts you wholeheartedly... she doesn't trust other people. Particularly other men.

Men who view you as just a pretty face. A prize they'd want nothing more than to steal away from her.

Now that just won't do.

See, if it's an easy matter such as someone touching you or groping you without your consent, say no more.

Their fingers? Gone. Their arms? Sliced clean from their body.

If some sleazy flesh trader sets their eyes on you and begins chatting you up, their hand sneaking to places on your body only meant for her touch alone, well...

They're dead. Plain as that. She'll waste no time in tearing them to shreds with her sword, their viscera painting the walls.

And, with blood stained hands she'll cradle your face, her cold demon exterior vanished.

She'll look at you like you're her whole world, which you are. She will protect you to the ends of the earth.

When it's a lascivious man vying for your attention, Mizu doesn't get jealous. She gets protective.

But, when it's not? Well that's another story.

Sometimes it's a girl at a brothel and she takes a liking to you.

The girl will be sweet where most men aren't. She'll smile at you and gingerly slip her kimono off her shoulder.

The sex worker will talk with you, with the hope of something more. Her eyes shining and all the while you seem to be enjoying yourself.

That sets Mizu on edge. Leaves her feeling twisted inside.

Because you should be with someone else.

Someone not hellbent on revenge. An impure demon with a vengeful, angry soul.

The girl would be a better match maybe or someone like her.

Perhaps not a sex worker but someone who can take care of you better than the blue eyed Samurai. Give you a normal life in ways she cannot, at least not until her revenge is complete.

Mizu won't rescue you from the girl because you're smiling and content. Instead she will let you be, never mind the hollow ache in her chest when she sees you start to laugh.

You were just chatting with the sex worker, conversing on friendly terms, regardless of the girls intentions. But, how could your beloved Samurai know that from a distance?

Like an internal echo in your body, you'll feel Mizu's absence immediately and you'll go out into the snow capped village to find her.

She'll be alone beside a natural hot springs, sapphire eyes sad behind her orange lenses.

You'll curl up at her side as if she were your shelter, your blanket.

You'll know right away how she feels. Having learned how to read her slight expressions like the back of your hand.

Mizu is jealous but more than that. She's feeling like she's not good enough for you.

A ridiculous thought really. She couldn't be more wrong.

You'll reach out to take off her glasses and thread your fingers through her hair, undoing her up-do.

"I love you, Mizu. Only you. It will only ever be you who holds my heart."

Her gaze softens from your tender touch. She'll take your hands in hers and kiss every knuckle.

Her mouth, warm against your skin, travelling up your arm until her tongue reaches the moonlit column of your throat and she plants a wet kiss along your necks pulse.

Mizu doesn't deserve you, she thinks. Still, with you in her arms, open to her, your pupils blown wide with sudden lust... who is she to disagree with your choice?

Perhaps the gods gave you to her. A gift for her cursed existence.

"Say it again." She'll whisper against your flesh, hot to the touch despite the winter. Hot from her.

Her fingers deftly untying your kimono, her hands grabbing at your hips as she pulls into her lap.

Her calloused digits digging into your thighs to spread them for her, your chest pressed against hers...

Her fingers tracing your hipbones, making you shudder...

You gasp when they ghost over your navel and down... and further.

To in between your legs. The spot that craves her and is glistening like the hot springs rippling surface beneath the moon.

"I love you, Mizu." You'll moan.

She can't get enough of the sounds you make. Just for her.

"I belong to you." You'll whimper.

Ah, like music to her ears.

Despite Mizu's feeling of jealousy and her worry of being an undeserving partner, she believes you above all else.

You chose her, a miracle really, so she'll do anything to make you happy.

"You're only mine, huh?" She'll rasp, seeking reassurance, between kisses and gentle bites along your skin.

"Y-Yes. Only yours." You'll pant, her expert fingers bringing you to the edge.

Mizu smirks and holds you even closer. She could tease you longer, draw it out like usual but she wants to be good for you. Give you what you need.

In a moment of softness she brushes her lips against your collarbones...

"I love you. You are my life." She'll say to you before making you come.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Icarus.

Yan (Emperor) Zhongli x F Reader.

Synopsis: You were taught ever since you opened your eyes to never go against your god. So why do you wish now that you have never opened them at all?

Warnings: Yandere themes, major power imbalances, manipulation, future forced marriage, some violence/gore, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 3k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Little Dark Age by MGMT

As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese

The Other Side Of Paradise by Glass Animals

All Eyes On Me by Bo Burnham

Space Song by Beach House

Murders by Miracle Musical

Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez

A Pearl by Mitski

Isabella’s Lullaby by Takahiro Obata

*~*~*~*

“‘You know that I love you.’ And despite herself, Coraline nodded. It was true. The other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold. In the other mother's button eyes, Coraline knew that the other mother loved her as a possession, nothing more, a tolerated pet whose behavior was no longer amusing.” – Neil Gaiman, Coraline

*~*~*~*

There is no sin greater than to be a bird.

To be a bird is to be devoid of all burdens, soaring above all who are shackled by them, like a warden overseeing prisoners, or the sweetest and ripest peaches up on the highest of branches so no one can reach it. They can go anywhere, birds, with the winds at their call, the very embodiment of freedom itself, something your god has taught all his people to be wary of. Freedom can be a blessing, he told one of his counselors once, but it can also cause humans to be too conceited. There is no sin greater than to be a bird because all others will be envious. Envy is also a sin, one so common that even Archons are said to possess it. Sin gives birth to more sin, more suffering, and thus only the original that birthed it all shall be punished by Celestia’s fury. 

There is no greater sin than to be a bird, so the gods put in place cages, made to make those trapped by gold and chains and other things entirely. Birds who are not lured into such traps are dealt with by lightning, making them fall back down to the ground below, the last thing they see is the very sky that punished them. The sky, the stars, the moon, the sun… the entire world will be against you when you are a bird.

It will be that way until you die. The world hates birds and the way they fly and soar. Birds are meant for cages, or to be struck down with their corpses made into trophies.

There is no title greater than to be a hunter.

The sin; to be a bird, freedom… the title; to be a hunter, despotism.

To shoot, to stab, to twist until the prey bursts, is the way of someone whose greatest sin is doing good for this world.

To bleed, to be trapped, to be killed and put on display for all to see, that is what a bird’s purpose truly is, in the eyes of the divine.

They are different, quite so, like different ripples in lakes of mixed blood and water.

You can almost hear them, can’t you?

Celestia favors the strong. Celestia despises the weak. It makes sense to most people, those who were born into power be it money made from blood or strength made from blood. They don’t see the way the world works. The way flies feast upon rotting meat and are soon to be eaten by something bigger. It makes sense for most people, but not for you. Despite everything you have ever been taught from word of mouth, life on the streets teaches you otherwise. For everything you have endured, you have learned that you are not weak. In any case, quite the opposite.

You don’t pray anymore with everyone else, as they keep reciting such things over and over again at the states positioned throughout Liyue as if the emperor would listen to them. 

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!” They would hold hands with their bodies being placed in circles around the sculptures. They close their eyes altogether, to not see the sacrifices trapped between them at the monuments, the last thing they see is the Lord of Geo’s face, looking down at them with a stone-cold glare laced with eerie delight. “O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all! O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

To be praying and to be preying are two quite different things, but to the people of Liyue, there is no difference. Blood seeps into the earth all the same, regardless of who sheds it. So, as evidence that the people of Liyue do indeed bow down to Celestia’s every whim, they bring birds of all kinds and steal them of all they have. Their feathers make for excellent clothing, their bones make for stellar weaponry, and their feet make for charms of good luck. Celestia only smiles down upon the strong, after all. Celestia despises freedom because, without the divine, humans would have nothing to leash them onto rationality and laws. Perhaps that is why Mondstadt is very much in chaos now. Their god was said to have betrayed Celestia by giving his people forbidden knowledge of how nature originally ran its course, causing an uproar among the citizens. 

No one knows what happened to the god of Mondstadt after that.

Was he smitten down? Did his people turn on him? No one in Liyue knows for certain, as people of Mondstadt are forbidden from entering the land said to be made up of the purest of gold.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

That is the first thing you hear when you wake up, huddled in a corner to prevent yourself from getting even more wet from the rain. You assume that maybe it will be the last thing you hear when you close your eyes for good.

*~*~*~*

You grew up in Qiaoying Village and, once you grew up, got exiled from Qiaoying Village. You stood out, which no one saw in a good light. You were a mischievous, rule-breaking child, always stealing Jadevein Tea Eggs and both tea and tea sets made of fine porcelain. Your older brother taught you lessons far too valuable and unique for the traditionalist settings of Qiaoying Village, lessons like how to pick the elderly’s door’s locks, how to properly identify which pockets had the most Mora, and how to make alleyways a labyrinth for those who chase you.

Your older brother, though, did not partake in thievery himself. You suppose that might have been the first warning sign of many more to come. He made you, a child about half his age, do his dirty work for him. He always hoarded the rewards afterward, and if you got caught or he got caught with whatever treasure you had given him, he would pretend to scold you for going against the way of the Qiaoying. He said it was just pretend, but that look in his eyes still haunts you to this very day. As you got older, though, you got dumber. You crossed a line with everyone. You decided to steal from a Fontainian duke.

It was a foolish decision. Fontainians are known for their high sense of justice, and their tunnel vision when it comes to crimes and punishments. But you were just a child, were you not?

You couldn’t help it. You were just a child. That is what you told yourself then, and it is what you tell yourself now.

No one helped you then, and no one helps you now. Hell, it would be a miracle, a blessing from Celestia, if your older brother came to Liyue Harbor to visit you. But he never loved you, did he? He never loved you, and you never hated him until you saw him for what he truly is. A petty servant of Madam Mei with a spine thinner than that of a twig. He was a coward then, and likely still a coward now. Perhaps it would have been noble of him, while you were still an infant, to use that pocket knife he always carried around. It would have been better for you, for you to not know anything you know about him now. 

But he was a coward, your older brother. The person who taught you everything about thievery is also now the person who taught you how important it is to keep your cards close. Life on the streets calls for both, you suppose. Liyue Harbor may not be the friendliest for the homeless, but at the very least it had pockets to swipe into when no one was looking. Old habits die hard. You ended up relying on every memory of the past, no matter how bitter or how deceivingly sweet they were. You bore it. You bore it all. Every memory, every fragment of a lie, and every fragment of a half-truth. Life is never so simple after all, is it?

Your life was never perfect, and therefore still is not now. But you know deep in your heart that you would prefer this life over seeing your older brother’s face ever again.

But now, with eyes brighter than amber staring above you as you lay, your arm broken, you wish that your brother had taught you some fighting skills instead of everything else he taught you.

But he was a coward, and so are you.

To be fair, though, he never met the emperor and never thought that he would. So did you. No one in Qiaoying Village did, most likely. It was so far from the proclaimed harbor made of gold and trader’s blood and prayers. This was where the emperor lived, in his castle in the mountains surrounding Lingju Pass and Mount Tianheng. It was made up of the finest gold and wood and jewels. Only the best for the emperor, while people like you get mere pebbles. That is why, when you saw yet another stranger in a white cloak roaming around the alleyways, you attempted to strike. Your mistake.

Your mistake.

You were on the ground in an instant, your arm breaking so loudly an elderly man on his deathbed could hear it. 

The stranger’s eyes glittered like gold.

Frozen gold, perhaps, with how he was staring down at you with such disappointment.

So, he stared down at you.

You stared down at your arm.

You should have known better. But you are just someone trying to live, are you not? It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. But that white cloak the man is wearing with the sigil of geo on the back, one of the few symbols of the emperor himself, should have made you not attempt to pickpocket him. You should have known better. You really should have known better. Should you apologize? You are already as good as dead though, aren’t you?

Does a death sentence await you?

Life? Death? Prison? Life. Death. Prison.

Escape.

You have to escape.

But the emperor seems to know what you are doing, what you are planning.

So he stops you with a simple hand raised, and pillars of geo appear out of nowhere, trapping you in the corner. Now there is nowhere to run.

He stares down at you.

You stare down at your feet, all mangled up from a life made of thievery and poverty.

He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. You prefer it that way.

You are in a cage. But he is not.

Please.

Please don’t kill me. 

Please.

*~*~*~*

Is it a sin to indulge? Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. Perhaps it depends. Is the indulgence centered in reality or fantasy? This escape attempt, perhaps, is both.

Like the many that came before it, the only sounds you can hear is the rain, the water falling from the glass windows like teardrops, and sometimes you can swear you hear the sound of someone weeping. Despite everything you have gone through though, you do not weep with them, whoever they are. You only keep stepping on ahead for a brighter future, one where you sneak off to Sumeru, a land that prioritizes knowledge over riches. You’d have a better life there than here, you think. Anywhere but here you would run off to actually, even if it was Snezhnaya. 

You are treated well, too well.

You still don’t know why instead of throwing you in the dungeons, Morax placed your unconscious body in one of the many, many guest rooms that were spread about in his castle.

You are treated far too well, almost to the point that it is maddening. Everything is so perfect, from the morning birds outside your window that wake you up every morning when it just so happens to be time for breakfast to the hairbrush you use to put your hair up when it is time to sleep, the design intricately laced with jade and topaz. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It’s maddening, sickening, how perfect everything is. You wish he had just put you in a cell because at least then everything would not have been so planned out for you, even the type of flowers you saw in the gardens that week. 

“Damn it all…”

In your opinion, the clothes you received today were more intricate than usual. The sleeves are puffed and transition from white to a deep teal color. The dress itself showcases delicate lace patterns of glaze lilies around the waist and wrists, while the skirt is impractically long for any running. Strangely, the inside of the skirt features a constellation pattern, though it seems to be a design meant for your eyes alone. The purpose of this starry sky motif remains unclear. The dress, like everything else, appears flawless and fits you perfectly, almost as if it was tailored specifically for you. Given Morax's wealth, you can't help but entertain the possibility. However, the overwhelming perfection of it all borders on madness. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect, so damn perfect. 

Today, you were not given shoes, presumably due to the rain and the consequent cancellation of your garden visit with Morax, where you typically indulge in tea and wine. As you approached the staircase leading to the dining room, however, the guards obstructed your path. Their actions were gentle, but their words were not. They formed a human barricade, preventing your descent. One guard clicked their tongue disapprovingly, while the other remained silent. Perhaps they harbored some disdain towards you. The servants in this establishment either treated you with utmost care or completely disregarded your presence, so it was not entirely surprising that the guards displayed a semblance of dislike.

The real surprise was you not being allowed to go to the dining room to eat.

“The emperor wants you to stay in your room for the time being. He shall see you shortly there.”

So, you went back, albeit muttering curses along the way. Due to your lack of shoes and the guards not even allowing you to go downstairs, this escape attempt is as short-lived as a moth flying much too close to a flame.

As you were told, Morax came in his usual attire, black and brown robes with a geo sigil on the back. 

“...”

“I have been told that you have been getting a bit too curious with your wandering.”

Ah, straight to the point, it would seem. 

There is no point trying to beat around the bush when it comes to Morax. “It is not like there is anything else to do here.”

He sits beside you on the bed, not too close but not too far either. A perfect balance. “I can give you other activities to do if you would like. I can also answer some questions you have since you’ll be living here from now on.”

“...This isn’t temporary…” You look down at the arm he broke, a time which feels like a millennium ago. “Am I being charged?” Your question is quietly said. “Aren’t thieves simply sent to cells for a few moons?”

His chuckle was unexpected, causing a slight surprise. Morax, who was typically expressionless, wore a smile on his face. Despite the possibly good intentions behind it, the sight and sound were unsettling and made your skin crawl.

“...You don’t tell me anything.” You whisper under your breath. That much is clear. Despite Morax's little attempts to conceal it, his secrecy is unmistakable. You can't help but feel like a naive child stating the obvious.

“You are here for multiple reasons. For instance… you remind me of someone. As such, you must have questions, if you are anything like her.” His eyes glaze over you, from the top of your head where your hair is half put up with a hairpin to the anklet just hovering over your right foot. “All humans are born with an innate sense to pry. I won’t judge, as I am an Archon.” Are his words heartfelt? “Through my veins flow gold, but yours flow with sanguine, life, and desires.” 

His hand reaches forward, but he does not touch you. “You must see yourself as better than us because of this. Am I correct?”

“My feelings are not as monochrome as they seem to you. They are complex, quite so. But you are right, in some regard.”

“This is why I cannot stand the so-called divine.”

“Another reason as to why you are here. You are a sleeper of such, and I intend to help you open your eyes to the truth.”

You look at his eyes, seeing all the horrors within their depths.

The emperor known as Morax possesses eyes of pure gold, along with attractive features and pale, rosy lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile. Your body instinctively reacts, urging you to flee before your mind can fully comprehend the situation. However, your brain, awakening and analyzing the situation, is interrupted by the overpowering force of instinct, echoing the same warning as your body: the charming smile is a mere facade, reminiscent of something unsettlingly artificial. It is akin to a sculpture with painted skin and eyes or a doll with exaggerated, intricate features. This man, with his literal golden eyes, his potentially persuasive words, and his captivating yet unnerving countenance, is someone you cannot trust.

Desperate to escape, you attempt to run, only to find that arms and hands, seemingly made of stone, emerge from the walls, gripping and restraining your own. Two of these strong hands ascend, slithering towards the center of your back, forcefully pushing you down into a bow, while you remain compelled to gaze upwards. Your focus remains fixated solely on the emperor's eyes, observing the eloquent patterns of gold within them.

The caress of their touch is tender upon your cheeks, unlike solid ones that demand for you to stay.

“You shall become my consort and see the gates of Celestia for yourself. Humans are made to worship, after all. The divine are made to simply awaken those who have strayed off the path of destiny.”

*~*~*~*

To possess the gift of sight, encompassing all, is the gravest transgression one can commit. Thus, those winged creatures who lack this awareness are banished to the depths of the earth, their vision, their literal eyes stripped away until their cries reverberate to the surface, where the emperor Morax shall pronounce the ultimate verdict.

[ldrfanatic]

hi!!! could i please request prompts l17 & r20 for theo nott? 🤭

good ones never wait

theo nott x fem!hufflepuff!reader

yesss!!

L17 - His hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it's mine

R20 - Only bought this dress so you could take it off

05.30.2024

T Swift Lyrics Prompts

suggestive at the end but no smut!

theodore aurelius nott the man that you are 😌

works slytherin boys masterlist

your heart was pounding in your chest as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. theodore nott, your best friend, and also the man you were irreversibly in love with, had just finished the first quidditch practice of the season. despite his teammates insistence that you were only there to spy for your house team, theo had invited you to watch for some reason you had yet to figure out.

still, watching him wipe sweat, dirt, and god knows whatever else from his perfect face while he grinned with his mates did something to your insides. couldn’t your heart just be still for once?

after being friends with theo for nearly five years, you’d learned to tune out the butterflies for the most part. but crushing on theodore nott isn’t something that one just gets over. he’s the kind of guy that you’d spend your whole life helplessly in love with.

“sweet little puff. if you’re so infatuated, ask nott out.”

the voice of pansy parkinson in your ear made you jump.

after gathering yourself once more, you shrugged thoughtlessly at the idea. of course you’d like to think he’d say yes. but with theo there was no telling. he’d never had a girlfriend his entire time at hogwarts. in fact, now that you really thought about it, you couldn’t remember him ever even giving any of the numerous girls that asked him out a chance.

he was so well known for instant rejections that eventually even his most committed fan girls had simply given up.

“pfh.”

you made a noise of disbelief in pansy’s direction.

“sure, and ruin a five year friendship with my best friend. no thanks.”

“no, you’d much rather wallow in your feelings and never say a word about it to anyone except me apparently.”

she stood up from next to you and held out a hand. a silent invitation.

“the worst he could say is no, y/n. and at least if he does, you can start moving on.”

you grasped her hand and allowed her to pull you up, but inside you knew that there was no moving on from theodore nott. he would always have a place in your heart. you’d resigned yourself to that a long time ago.

it was a stiff silence as the pair of you made your way to where the boys were all shoving each other and rolling around in the quidditch pitch. you watched with amusement as theo shoved mattheo’s face into the grass with a playful grip on his dark curls.

as he noticed your approach, he looked up from his entanglement with a broad smile. “y/n!”

his temporary distraction gave mattheo the few vital seconds he needed, and a few moments later, he’d wrapped his arms around the taller boy’s waist and maneuvered himself to pin him.

“too slow, aurelius. distracted by your little girlfriend like usual.”

whatever theo said next was drowned out by mattheo’s rather unmanly shriek as enzo wriggled free of blaise’s grasp and flung himself at mattheo’s head.

pansy leaned over to you.

“at least come to our little gathering tonight. nothing big, just slytherin house. and of course, our little badger.”

“where theo is, i am.”

—

there was a part of you that wished that statement could be untrue for at least once in your life. you weren’t typically much of a party person, but since you were nearly joined at the hip with the nott boy, where theo went, you followed. and vice versa.

after forcing him into countless bookstores with you, it was really only fair that you join him for the occasional night of uninterrupted revelry.

especially since so many bodies in one room meant that theo would be practically on top of you the entire time.

you tugged at the green sundress in hopes that it was straight. you’d only bought it because theo said it would look good on you when you’d gone shopping together this past summer. but you hadn’t had an occasion to wear it yet and figured tonight was as good a night as any. softly clearing your throat, you spoke the password and watched in amazement as a snake seemed to appear out of nowhere, slithering to form the door to the slytherin common room.

the moment you stepped foot inside, music thrummed through your body. after a quick scan of the room, you found your serpents as they lounged across some furniture in a corner. yet, upon approaching, you noticed theo’s absence.

“your boy is getting you a drink.”

draco nodded to the drink table where sure enough, theo was pouring up some sort of concoction. you softly excused yourself and started your way towards him.

theo’s friends watched on as the boy completely lit up when he saw you. mattheo felt a plan began to hatch.

enzo, who apparently recognized the look on mattheo’s face, immediately began to shake his head violently.

“no. whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.”

immediately, mattheo’s face twisted into a look equal parts disbelief and exasperation.

“oh come on, don’t tell me you aren’t tired of those two dancing circles around each other.” he took a swig of his drink and then stood dramatically. “we all know there’s only one way to fix this.”

midway through a rather animated conversation with theo, you felt a large hand in your own. out of the corner of your eye you could see mattheo with his signature smirk.

“don’t hog her all night, aurelius. c’mon sweetheart let’s dance.”

before you could reject him, the boy had dragged you onto the dance floor and was yanking you in various directions while “dancing” with you. of course, mattheo was respectful of you and theodore’s albeit odd relationship and simply held your hands while dancing with you.

still, he knew that it wouldn’t take much to rile up his friend when it came to you. and having you ripped away from him while he was in the middle of admiring you would be frustrating no doubt.

and thus, no longer than ten seconds into your dance, mattheo was ripped away from you by his collar and dragged off by a rather irritated theo.

well, anyways.

pansy grinned knowingly as you made your way back to where she and the others were sitting. she clearly knew something. you pulled her from the couch by her wrist and out of ear shot of the boys.

“what the hell pansy?”

“mattheo has a brilliant plan to get dear little theodore to confess his feelings for you.”

“oh yeah. brilliant.” you say sarcastically. “one problem though. theodore doesn’t have feelings for me.”

she rolled her eyes at you, then fixed you with a stare so intense you were suddenly reminded of why she was in slytherin.

“yes he does. honestly, you like him too right? cause it doesn’t really seem like it anymore.”

you blushed at the thoughts that entered your head. you really shouldn’t be thinking these things about your best friend but there you were.

“his hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it’s mine.”

pansy wriggled her eyebrows suggestively at you.

“well then you better go get him before he blows a blood vessel in his neck.”

she motioned behind you lazily. when you turned, theo was standing a few feet away from you and sure enough was glaring intensely at a grinning mattheo on the couch, looking as though he may kill the boy any second now.

deciding that mattheo’s death would be annoying for everyone to deal with, you approached theo timidly. yet, when his gaze met yours, you felt at peace.

your muscles relaxed involuntarily under his stare, and the closer you got to him, the more your mind seemed to clear. every thought jumped soundlessly from your brain to make room for the only thing that mattered: theodore.

"why do you let him rile you up theo?"

“he knows all the right buttons to press.”

“just ignore him.”

the brunette shook his head.

“i can’t do that. not when it’s you.”

your mouth fell open at his confession. thoughts raced through your brain but none of them actually tumbled off your tongue.

“you don’t have to say anything, bella. it’s okay that you don’t feel the same, i just needed you to know.”

your arms snaked up to wrap around his neck. electricity surged through the air and a grin spread across your face as you pulled the boy into a kiss.

“you’re so cute when you’re all dumb.”

theo’s thick brows sunk in confusion.

“i only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

—

@moonlightreader649 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess @nighttimemoonlover

[creamhoodie]

First Time

A/N: Written for the person who requested it, I hope you enjoy it! synopsis: After you both confess that you are virgins in a game of truth or dare, Gojo offers to take your virginity. (afab reader, aged up characters, set during Gojo's Jujutsu High days)

You still remember the moment you fell in love with Satoru Gojo. It was when you had joined Jujutsu High and met him for the first time. You had met him outside by the koi fish pond. Coming from a non sorcerer family, you didn’t know anything about him then. Not that he was the strongest, a practical God on Earth, the honored one. 

Not a damn thing. 

All you had known then was that he was handsome and so you had made small talk to him the way you would anyone else as you two sat and watched the fish swim in circles. You enjoyed his kind and witty personality and had immediately felt at ease with him. 

It was such a small thing but it had meant everything to him as well. You had seen him as simply Satoru and had spared him from all the usual awkward ogling. He had hoped as time went on that you wouldn’t change in your behavior with him as you learned more about him. 

He was grateful when you still treated him the same and as a result the two of you had become close friends. Of course neither of you had crossed that bridge regarding your mutual feelings out of fear of rejection and ruining the dynamic the two of you had going. 

Still, it was evident to anyone that knew the both of you that there were feelings there: mutual yearning and longing looks that when called out would be denied. Perhaps the two of you would have continued that way for who knows how long if it hadn’t been for Geto and Shoko that had suggested playing drunk truth or dare one night after coming back from a mission. 

“Wait so you’ve never had sex?” Shoko had asked you as that had been your truth question to answer. You had foolishly believed that choosing the truth would spare you from any embarrassment. 

“I told you the truth. I’ve never done that,” you had said, face hot. 

You hated talking about this in front of Gojo. Both Geto and Shoko admitted to having lost their virginity, the former bragging about just how many women he had been with from the sister school. 

“Well why haven’t you done it, yet? You’re very pretty I’m sure lots of guys would want to,” Shoko continued to press the issue. 

Though you knew she didn’t mean for it to be embarrassing, the spotlight on your lack of sexual experience was growing humiliating. Luckily, Gojo, who seemed to always be in tune with your feelings, spoke up. 

“So what if she hasn’t had sex? Leave her alone. It’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” he said. 

You gave him a wry smile as thanks, the heat from your cheeks dying down. 

“Well don’t leave us hanging, Satoru. You’ve been awfully quiet, what about yourself?” Geto asked.

You found that odd. Surely the two would talk about these things amongst each other, but Gojo was ever the mystery. 

“I haven’t had sex either if you must know,” he said. Unlike you there was no shred of embarrassment visible in his demeanor. 

“No way! But what about all those girls from the other school?” Shoko asked. 

Gojo shook his head.

“I said I didn’t have sex not that I didn’t do anything at all. Now can we please move on to something else?”

Luckily, the alcohol in everyone’s system kept the mood light hearted and the other two were easily derailed to other topics.

Afterwards, Gojo walked you back to your room. He had his hand resting on his neck the way it always did when he was pensive. He stopped in his tracks causing you to do the same.

“Listen what I said back there, I meant it. You shouldn’t be embarrassed just because you haven’t had your first time yet,” he said.

“Thanks for that,” you replied a little unsure of why he was bringing it up now. His cheeks seemed a little pink but perhaps that was the alcohol?

“I just think your first time should be with someone special, don't you agree?” he continued. 

“Yeah I feel the same,” you said. His next words caught you by surprise. 

“So I want you to know even though there’s nothing wrong with it, if you- you know don’t wanna be a virgin anymore I’d be cool with helping you out with that,” he said. His stuttering was unusual for him, especially since he was usually so confident and well composed. He was a young man of conviction and that’s why earlier he hadn’t been embarrassed to admit he was a virgin because he believed in the sentiment of the first time being sacred. 

“Are you offering to have sex with me?” you asked slowly, your mind not fully registering his words yet. 

“If you want to. I just- look, you’re special to me. You’ve always seen me for me,” he said, closing the slight gap between the two of you. His hand cupped your cheek before adding, “am I special to you?” 

Him touching you wasn’t unusual, as your close friend he had hugged you, ruffled your hair, and laid his head on your shoulder. All of these actions had always made your heart react and now was no different, in fact it only raced more alongside the question he had asked you. 

“Yes you’re special to me Satoru,” you said in almost a whisper. 

“Well I want you to think about it. My offer always stands. Shoko is right there’s no shortage of guys that would want to be with you, but I wanna be your first. You’re so special and important to me I wanna make sure you’re well taken care of.” 

He planted a kiss on your forehead and wished you goodnight then, leaving you to stay up restless considering his offer.

First, your mind thought about how he could possibly be a virgin as well. He was a known flirt and had flings even if not serious girlfriends, but he wasn’t a liar so you knew when he said he was a virgin he was telling the truth. 

Second, you wanted to be with him. You had always known that you had feelings for him so why deny him when he was offering it with good intentions? Despite it being the middle of the night, you called him. He answered on the first ring.

“What are you still doing up?” He asked, though his voice sounded just as alert with no hint of sleepiness.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied.

“Same,” he said laughing slightly and you were glad to know at least he was in a similar position.

“Listen about your offer. I agree,” you said.

“Holy shit, really?” He asked in both shock and excitement. 

“Yeah, I just thought about what you said..” you paused, chewing the inside of your cheek before continuing.. “Am I really special to you?” 

“Of course you are. I’ve never lied to you and I’m not going to start now,” he said seriously, and you believed him. You were silent for so long he spoke up again: “so do you want me to come over now or..”

Your cheeks felt on fire as you realized you hadn’t exactly called with a plan of action other than telling him you agree. 

“I hadn’t thought that far,” you admitted. 

“It’s okay. How about tomorrow night? That way we have time to prepare and think about it and everything,” he said gently and you were grateful at how he was trying to accommodate you. 

“Yeah tomorrow night sounds good,” you agreed. 

“Cool, so you wanna do it in my room or yours? I have no preference,” he said. 

“My room if that’s okay,” you replied. Your reasoning was you’d enjoy the familiarity of your room and your own bed would allow you to relax without having to worry about somehow ruining his. 

“That’s okay. I have some errands to run tomorrow but we’re still good for the night and I’ll text you to confirm,” he said. 

“Sounds good, well goodnight,” you said a little hurriedly.

“Goodnight,” he said before hanging up. 

Unbeknownst to each other, the two of you both struggled to get sleep that night as anticipation for the next night’s engagement. 

— 

“What’s that?” You asked Gojo as he showed up at your door at the time you had agreed upon with a medium sized pink paper bag in hand. 

“Just some things to set the mood and things we may need,” he said walking past you into the room. 

You closed and locked the door behind him watching as he started taking out white candles from the bag and placing them on your nightstand.

“That’s so thoughtful of you. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before,” you said, shifting slightly. 

Your prep had consisted of taking an ‘everything shower’ earlier and making sure your body was moisturized and groomed to your liking. 

“Don’t worry about it. I want you to be comfortable,” he said, lighting the candles then going to turn off your electric light. 

“Should we use a condom?” you asked suddenly, remembering.

“It’s your decision. I brought some in the bag if you want me to wear one,” he said. 

He seemed to have thought about everything. You were grateful for his efforts to make you comfortable. You weren’t sure if you wanted to use a condom for your first time as you did want to be able to feel everything and you knew where you were in your cycle so the chances of pregnancy would be very low. 

“We can start with one if that’s okay and see how it goes,” you offered. 

“Sure, whatever you want,” he said, seeming indifferent about it.

You stood there and shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He smiled at you and went to sit at your bed, motioning you to come sit with him. You did so. 

“Sorry if this is awkward,” you said shyly, not meeting his gaze.

He lifted your chin up gently so you were forced to meet his eyes.

“It’s a learning experience for both of us. Don’t worry. Can I kiss you? That’s how it usually starts anyways,” he said. 

You gave him consent by nodding and his lips were on yours. At first the kiss was soft and gentle, sweet light pecks that allowed you to get used to the taste and feel of him. They soon grew more feverish as you kissed him back. His tongue entered your mouth, lightly grazing the roof of your mouth. 

“You taste good,” he whispered as the kiss broke apart a faint trail of saliva still connecting the two of you. 

“You do too,” you said, already feeling a pool of arousal forming between your thighs. His lips moved down your neck, and it felt so sensual and eventually he traced that path back with his lips, his destination being yours once more. You felt him smile against your lips. 

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, pulling away gently, his eyes ever so soft. 

“Yeah, you’re a really good kisser Satoru,” you complimented him. He shrugged it off but you could tell from his smile and the blushing of cheeks that the praise meant a lot to him. 

“Would it be okay if I took your shirt off? You can take mine off too,” he offered. 

“Yeah that’s fine,” you replied and held your arms up as he helped discard your lounge shirt leaving you exposed in your bra. 

“Wow you’re incredible,” he whispered in awe. 

“Thanks,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice how red your face was getting before you added,”let me help you now.”

His white cotton tee was soon discarded, revealing his muscular torso. Instinctively, you reached out to touch his six pack and he shivered a little at the touch.

“Sorry,” you said, quickly dropping your hand. 

“No,” he replied, taking your hand and placing it back where it had been, “it’s fine I like when you touch me.”

The sincerity in his words gave you courage and so you let your hands run down his chest, taking in the firmness of his sculpted figure. 

When you looked up at him he was watching you intently with fondness in eyes. 

“Can I touch you as well?” he asked. 

You nodded.

His large hands went to cup your breasts, the nipples were almost seeping out of your bra from this gesture, and it was alluring to him. He wanted to take his time though, and cherish every moment with you. 

You felt the same, and no words were needed as he kissed you again, still cupping your breasts through your bra. You sighed in pure bliss and you were really enjoying how you were both taking the time to become used to each other’s bodies and touch. Losing yourself in the feel of him, your hand rested at the front of his pants and you could tell he was hard already.

“Fuck,” he groaned, breaking the kiss apart as he felt your hand palming at his front. 

“This okay?” you asked innocently. You knew he had done stuff before even if he hadn’t had actual full on sex so you were trying to lead by his example, not wanting things to be so formal or awkward.

“It’s more than okay, baby. I’m just worried I won’t be able to last long if you keep at that,” he said laughing a little before continuing,”here how about I start to prep you a little, yeah?” He tugged at the drawstring of your matching lounge pants. 

You nodded but then felt embarrassed at the immense pooling you felt in your panties. 

“Wait, Satoru-“ you said as he undid the tie of the drawstring.

“Something wrong?” he asked with genuine concern.

“I’m just really wet down there, forewarning,” you said. 

He smirked at that.

“Good you’re supposed to. It’ll feel better for you that way, trust me,” he said. 

When he felt your body relax, he undid the knot now fully allowing for you to pull your pants down. You appreciated how he allowed you to do it yourself, letting you make the decision. Your pants fully discarded, you were exposed to him in the matching baby blue set you had chosen specifically for him. 

For Gojo, the curved shape of your ass and the soft supple skin of your exposed thighs were driving him crazy. 

“You’re perfect,” he told you. He positioned himself so he was on his knees in front of you. “I’m gonna try something, let me know if you want me to stop.” His hand went to your sex, cupping it briefly before moving the fabric of your underwear to the side so he could feel and see your pussy. 

“Satoru..” your breathing hitched, you weren’t sure why exactly you were calling his name but you knew you needed more of him. He seemed to understand. 

“Fuck-you’re soaking,” he exclaimed. His eyes were fixated on your pussy and he was biting his lip. Taking one finger, he pushed through the folds gaining entrance. 

You winced a little and he paused. 

“It’s okay, just getting used to it,” you said, relaxing your body to make it easier. You felt long his finger gain full access to you and the sensation of it being inside you felt interesting and new. Yes, you had explored and pleasured yourself before, but it was much different when someone else did it. His digit felt much more prominent. 

“Good girl, you’re so fucking good. I had brought lube in case we needed it but it seems like you have plenty of your own,” he praised, entranced by how you pooled around his finger, “let’s see if you can take another.” He took another long finger and put it inside of you next to the former, gently stretching you as he did so. Determined to make this a good experience for you, his free hand searched and easily found your clit, a bud behind the rose petal folds of your pussy. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned as you felt him stimulate your clit and begin to buckle his fingers inside of you at the same time. 

“Feels good?” he asked for feedback, though from the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure he was sure he knew. 

“So good, Satoru. How are you so good at this?” you asked, succumbing to moans as his free thumb stroked your clit. 

Truth was, he had spent his prep time reading up on female anatomy. Sure, he had messed around with women before but he was still a virgin and as a man he felt it fell on him to make the first time perfect for you. He had also watched some porn but when a lot of them seemed catered to men with unrealistic expectations and regard for the women he had turned to amateur couple porn and read erotica. 

Of course he wasn’t going to tell you any of that though, despite what you may have thought he also got flustered around you. 

“Gonna give you another,” he said, turned on at how putty-like you were becoming for him. The third finger didn’t go in as easily as the first two. “Shhh come on baby you can do it. Need you to take them, otherwise we can’t fuck.”

To help you relax, he inched up closer to you until his face was in front of yours, kissing you sloppily. Your hands went to his snowy hair, loving how soft it felt and earning you a moan from him. When the kiss broke apart, you felt more turned on. 

“Hold on to me if you need to,” he said, pushing the third finger all the way in. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you sighed feeling the fullness of his three long fingers inside of you. “Good girl, I knew you could do it.” He began to thrust his fingers inside of you, mimicking the action of what was to come. All the while his free thumb stroked your clit. 

Your moans became gurgle-like and you couldn’t believe how good he was making you feel from just fingers alone. 

“Satoru, I feel-“ 

“You’re close, baby I know. I can feel it from how your pussy is gripping around my fingers,” he said. Your toes curled and you felt your orgasm coming as he kept the steady tune of stimulation. 

“Ahhh..oh fuck,” you moaned, your words slurring as you hit your peak. 

He chuckled as you laid back, breathing heavily and trying to collect yourself. You watched him suck on one of the fingers he had put inside of you. 

“Want a taste?” he teased. 

You shook your head, still breathing hard. That was so good.. too good. You hadn’t even orgasmed that good on your own. 

“Satoru, promise me you’re a virgin too,” you said. 

His eyes lit up at that. 

“Was it that good? I promise I’m a virgin. I just read up on stuff. I want it to be good for you,” he said. His skin became rosy and you believed him, noticing his bashfulness. 

You watched as he walked over to the pink bag he had brought with him rummaging through it. 

“What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Getting a condom,” he replied. 

You had nearly forgotten about that. You remembered how good it had felt to feel all the ridges and skin of his fingers, suddenly you couldn’t think of anything worse than having that skin to skin contact blocked. 

“Wait Satoru, I changed my mind. We don’t have to use one,” you said. 

“Really?” he asked, excited. 

“I just want to feel all of you,” you said shyly. He came back over to you, bending down like before to kiss you. 

“Thank you for trusting me with that honor,” he said afterwards, his lips still lingering inches from yours. The intensity of his gaze and his proximity made you feel faint. 

“Shut up, Satoru,” you said giggling both from nerves and at how serious he sounded. 

“I mean it. I’ve meant every word of what I’ve told you. You’re special to me,” he said, then you felt him hook his thumbs underneath your bra, “let’s get you out of this pretty thing, yeah?” 

He undid your bra easily and you helped him remove it, placing it on the floor. Your underwear soon followed. 

For Gojo, it was everything he had ever fantasized about, having you laid bare before him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe but it was enough for you to hear. 

Laying there completely vulnerable to him, you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you thought you would have. You chalked that up to him having taken various measures to make you comfortable. 

He began to undo his pants, unzipping the front and pulling them down alongside his boxers to reveal his hard, long length. 

You gulped at seeing how big and thick he really was. It was also veiny and the head was plump and pink.That was supposed to go inside of you? 

“Don’t worry, baby. That’s why we prepped,” he said, seeming to read your thoughts. 

“It’s so big, Satoru,” you said astonished, but you supposed it made sense he was just tall and big in general. 

He seemed smug at that and came over to you again lining up in front of you. 

“You ready? Just relax, we’ll go nice and slow,” he said. 

“I’m ready,” you said. 

You felt a slightly brief discomfort as his tip fettered through your folds into the plush entrance. 

“Shh, how are you doing? Just relax like you did for my fingers,” he said gently, almost nurturing. 

This was so much different than a finger however, it was thicker and wider and to think this was only the tip. He shoved a little more then sighed, a laugh of relief falling from his lips as his full tip was in. 

“You feel really warm,” he said. He craved more of it, wanted his full length soaring inside of you already, but he knew in order for the sensation to feel good and be non invasive to you he had to take his time. 

As for you, you enjoyed this new feeling of the sensitive skin of his head soaking inside of you. 

“I want more, Satoru,” you whined, desperate to find out how his full length felt. 

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled at your mutual enthusiasm. With that, he gave you another, inch adoring the way your lips let out a delicate little ‘o’ as he did so. All the while you soaked him more and more as you grew more excited. 

Another inch, another moan, all until his full length was finally resting inside of you. 

You felt each unique ridge and curve of his penis and it felt amazing knowing you were the only one who had ever felt him this way. 

“Satoru, it feels so good,” you whispered. 

“You feel incredible too, like you were made for me,” he said, amazed and enthralled at how you fit perfectly around him. He bent down and kissed you passionately, still in this missionary position. The skin to skin contact with him felt divine, incredibly intimate as his chest smushed against your breasts. When the kiss broke apart he added: “To think it feels this good just to soak and I haven’t even started thrusting yet. I suppose I’ll start now, but please don’t hold it against me if I don’t last too long.” 

“It’s okay, Satoru,” you said, assuring him. After all, it was his first time as well, you wouldn’t possibly hold anything against him performance wise. 

With your reassurance, he began to thrust his length, giving you steady rhythmic strokes.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking warm,” he groaned. Never had he felt a pleasure this good. Your soft walls engulfed him in their warmth, the sensation could only be described as the same soothing feeling one got from standing near a fireplace. Your pussy was greedily clamping down on him and your bed had begun to squeak at the back and forth motion. 

“Yes Satoru oh yes give it to me,” you whined, your legs wrapped around his waist bringing him even closer still and your hands went to his back desperately clawing at him. 

“Fuck, don’t think I can last much longer even though I want to- ah oh you’re so fucking hot,” his voice sounded so animalistic as he was losing himself in the feel of it. 

You moaned as he continued to fuck himself into you, his length hitting your sensitive spots. 

“I’m close we never discussed it- where do you want me to finish?” he asked, voice pained as he tried to be considerate despite being completely out of his mind. “Baby, baby tell me where you want me to cum,” he continued, urgency in his voice when you didn’t answer him. 

“Inside, Satoru, I want it inside,” you replied at last, forming words out of your moans. 

“Ahhh fuck so good to me,” he praised. The sounds of wet skin slapping against each other, the bed spring creaking and your shared moans was enough to set him over the edge. 

His hot fluid shot into you and he collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his full weight. You stroked his hair as you both tried to catch your breathing. 

You weren’t a virgin anymore, you had sex with your best friend who you’ve been crushing on for so long. It was enough to make your head spin.

“Did you like it?” Gojo asked, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes were vulnerable and you could tell his mood relied on your answer.

Luckily, you had enjoyed yourself and could tell him just as much.

“It was perfect. You really made our first time so special, Satoru,” you said truthfully. 

“I wanna sleep here with you tonight. Would that be okay?” he asked. 

You couldn’t think of anything better than having him sleep between the sheets with you. It would add to the intimacy of it all. 

“Yes I’d like that,” you replied. 

“Cool,” he said. 

The two of you laid like that a little while longer. You traced shapes into the skin of his back and felt the rise and fall of his chest against yours. 

When he at last spoke again he said: “I don’t just want to be your first, I intend to be your one and only.” 

If your heart could smile you know it would at his words. You watched the wick of the candle drop the flames, an ever present reminder of the passion between you two. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

[lexirosewrites]

Hey happy slick sundays! This is inspired by a Drabble by wheatnoodle and your fics, hope you like it.

*in this universe the upside down never happened but Steve still became pack mom to all of the kids and saved them from various situations*

The Corroded Coffin boys have just had about enough of it. Every session it was “Steve this” and “Steve that”, the pups could not seem to shut up about Harrington and they had all about had it. They didn’ t care that he was an omega and they didn’t wanna hear about how the King had supposedly changed. According to the kids rainbows shot out his ass and everything he touched turned to gold.

It was with these thoughts in his head, intensified by just having finished their weekly dnd session, that Gareth got thinking. The four older boys kicked back and within minutes he couldn’t hold back the vitriol from pouring out his mouth. “There’s no way I can take much longer of that guys” Gareth said while running his hand over his face. The others already knew what he meant as this wasn’t the first time they had sat back and complained about the ever present Steve shaped stain in their lives. Jeff sitting forward gets a contemplative look on his face, “there has to be some kind of way to deter him from hanging around, I mean the pups need a wake up call on who they idolize”. This thought would then spur them all into trying to figure out how to get back at Steve while showing the pups who he truly was on the inside. A spoiled, stuck up, and rotten omega.

You see even during his reign, there had been rumors. No one really took them seriously at first because being the most popular omega in school meant stories true or false circulated daily. But there had been one rumor, one that at the time, they had all laughed at and joked around about. One that they could maybe use to their advantage; that King Steve had a crush on Eddie the Freak Munson and that’s why he avoided him at all costs. The rumor was started by Tommy of course and while the boys weren’t sure it was true (it was) there were signs present day that it might just be. (Steve blushes like crazy around him, compliments him, bakes something for every dnd session, the list goes on)

All that to say Gareth gets the brilliant idea that Eddie should just try and romance Steve. I mean he dated just about anything that moves, and the pups were joking about a dry spell lately (coincidentally lining up with when Eddie and him started interacting more), so this could be their golden opportunity. Get all the dirt they can on sir highness to prove to the pups to drop him, make him fall in love, and then leave him in the dust when it’s all said and done. It was a genius plan.

Well that is until Eddie is 3 months in and Steve still hasn’t wanted to have sex because he doesn’t want this to be like all the other times. And they’re 4 months in and him and Wayne are watching the game while Steve cooks them all dinner in the kitchen. And then they’re 5 months in and Eddie realizes that Steve is maybe one of the best people he will ever be privileged to know, and oh god fuck he’s in love, he wants to mate him and pup him and spend everyday just watching the sunshine that is Steve Harrington. But the guilt sits heavy in his stomach, like he swallowed too much lake water and he’s waiting to finally throw it back up.

And Steve finds out of course. While the other boys had come around to Steve, finally seeing that he wasn’t the bad villain they had always thought him to be, Gareth had also been struggling. Realizing what a horrible suggestion it had been to begin with, learning about Steve’s home life and past relationships, he felt they had to tell him the truth. Unanimously they decide to tell Steve, all of them together. And it goes just about how you’d expect it. Steve left absolutely gutted, his omega weeps because the instincts that he followed that led him to Eddie hurt him just like everyone else had in the past. Trying to hold it together through his shame and embarrassment Steve tells them that he’s sorry. He’s sorry that he was ever the kind of person they thought deserved this. Sorry that he had hung around so much. Sorry that he was there at all. Still putting others before himself Steve tells them not to tell the pups about any of it, that he won’t be mentioning it either and they can all just move on with their lives. He won’t come around anymore, he won’t show his face when he drops off the pups, and he’ll even ask them not to mention him to them if they want him to. He even ends it with saying that maybe one day they could be friends, just friends, but that’s not right now and he needs time to even speak to any of them again after this.

After that life goes on. Steve isn’t quite the same after though. He doesn’t date at all, or mention his dreams for the future like he used to to Robin. There is no talk about his dream Alpha, (who had always sounded like a description of Eddie) or details about his fictional hoard of pups. Eventually he leaves Hawkins in tow of Robin when she leaves for Chicago; he works retail until finding his calling volunteering at an animal shelter to which he then gets his certifications as a vet tech.

It isn’t until years later that Steve comes back to Hawkins. Mrs. Henderson started developing some health issues, and there is no way he wasn’t gonna be there for her and Dustin. Dustin who still doesn’t know what happened all those years ago, none of them do. Eddie’s still in town, working as the head mechanic for thatcher tires, and he still talks to all of the pups.

Of course they end up running into each other, what else did Steve even expect. It’s hurts at first to know his heart still flutters when he sees Eddie. That even after all this time, and what he did, the omega still couldn’t help but feel that pull. They’re both in their late 20s now, Eddie a little closer to 30 every day. Both of them maturing in different ways while being apart. It doesn’t take long for them to start a tentative friendship.

A year later and Steve has settled back down into Hawkins. He works at Hawkins Animal Hospital, has a little one bedroom apartment, and he spends an unreasonable amount of time with Eddie when he isn’t at the Hendersons.

Ultimately it’s Eddie who breaks, he can’t stand them talking around the elephant in the room that is their feelings for each other. He professes that he never stopped loving Steve, that he was the first person he opened his heart to and how he would never forgive himself for hurting him the way that he did. He wants another chance and will jump through whatever hoops set out for him if it means that they can be together. Steve is floored by this confession, fully believing that he was the only one that had ever harbored any romantic feelings to begin with.

Steve despite his disbelief takes what Eddie says seriously. If he claims he will jump through hoops to prove himself, then let him. If Eddie is prepared to marry, mate, and move in with Steve right away then they will. But if not they can forget all about it and just go back to normal. Of course not even thinking about it Eddie grabs Steve, and to his surprise, immediately drives them to the courthouse.

my chest fucking hurts and i’m gonna cry about this. i love the angst and hurt so much😭 steve’s heartbreak and feeling worthless and eddie being in love but ruining it from the beginning!!!!!! delicious!!!!

also you guys know i appreciate a good “dating someone as a prank” fic since i wrote one two years ago just to hurt my own feelings😅

[themillsdaughter]

a privilege I deprive myself of

Synopsis: you would rather chew glass than see Melissa yearn for something and not have it delivered to her. the thing, however, is that your life is a shitshow, and what was meant to be an act of kindness upends any effort you've made throughout the years to keep your feelings hidden.

or slightly insecure! Melissa and traumatized! reader in a Valentine's Day au inspired by this prompt.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Talks of body image.

Also, my first time dabbling in this fandom and character, so... Hope you like it!

This isn’t ideal.

Valentine's Day has never been your favorite. Truthfully, you think it’s only yet another excuse for Capitalism to suck some extra cash out of millions of pockets.

You’ve thought this your entire life, regardless of being in a relationship or not. The thing, however, is that you live in a capitalist society and escaping the emotional reliance on the holiday is damn near impossible. So, throughout the years, you’ve come to terms with at least doing something for partners on the day.

Well, that is, until you’d walked in your apartment one day and found your girlfriend straddling a woman you’d never seen before.

This year, you’re single, so the whole thing had just slipped into the background, a red and pink festival more than anything else, really.

“You’re not doing anything?” Janine had asked a few days before in the teachers' lounge, brow furrowed, pity shining in her eyes. Dear God. “You know, Galentine’s Day is really popular now.”

“Honey, I barely want to celebrate the day when I have someone. Why would I make a fuss now that I have an out?” You’d gone back to grading, trying your damnest not to roll your eyes.

“Well, Tariq used to be like that, too. Even though we were together. Sometimes he would forget and go on trips, and those times were pretty lonely… You know, with all the hearts and chocolate and candles and couples around. Not that that’s the case this year, you know. I’m with Maurice, and he’s super attentive.” Her uncomfortable fidgeting had made her chair squeak. As sweet as she is, she should really learn how to stop projecting. “Anyways, I just worry about you. I don’t want you to feel lonely.”

“I don’t.”

“She doesn’t.” Melissa had said, at the same time as you. Looking up from the papers, you’d shared a grin with her. “She has enough wondering thoughts to keep her company.”

Finally, you’d given into your urge and rolled your eyes.

So this really isn’t ideal.

“I think this one is too tight, though.” The voice coming from your phone said. You turned the heat from the stove down, placed a half-lid over the pan, and picked up the device from the counter. On the screen, you saw something that made you pull out a stool from your island and thank God that the woman on the other side of the line was too busy looking at herself in the mirror, brows furiously furrowed, to notice.

Melissa had her hair up in a messy bun, her old pair of glasses hanging in the middle of her nose, and a dark red dress on that stole the breath from your lungs.

The material was soft, with satin-like finish, puffy long sleeves, a square neckline that showed her cleavage to perfection and a skirt that hit her a few inches above her knees.

Nervously, her hands tried to smooth over the creases formed on the dress by her belly.

“Maybe I could wear some spanks” she sighed. “It’s too tight, right?” She turned back to where the phone was, asking you directly.

For a few seconds, you struggled to think of something other than ‘uh’ to say. Melissa is stunning and, in those moments, you wished you’d been braver back when you’d had the chance. Maybe, she’d be asking Barbara this, getting ready as a surprise for you, not for somebody else. 

In a breath, you swallowed that feeling, locking it away with all the ones of its kind, somewhere deep, deep in your soul.

“Hun? It’s too tight, isn’t it? Who the fuck do I think I am trying on something like this.” She’d taken your silence as disapproval, and if she only knew you’d only want to see that off of her if you’d taken it out yourself…

“Shut up, will you?” You finally said. “It’s gorgeous, it looks awesome on you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the nicest one of the bunch.”

“I don’t know if I have spanks short enough for it, though. And I need something to get this under control.” She pushed her belly in again, and it enraged you.

“Anyone who doesn’t find that hot is not someone you should listen to.” You said, holding back the rant that always appeared on the tip of your tongue when she said shit like this.

Honestly, the struggle of straight men to like women is mind-boggling.

“You might just be too gay for this.” Melissa snorted, going into her drawer in search of the spanks.

“Well, fuck you very much.”

She barked out a laugh, and you let go of your phone to stir the food you were cooking, glad for a break from the glory of the woman you did not love like that.

Which is yet another reason why this isn’t ideal.

You don’t really care for Valentine's Day, but on the morning of the 14th, Melissa had seemed off. You tried touching on the subject while you two got coffee, as weak as Abbott’s brew always was, however, Gary walked in in all of his mustached glory and her attention immediately shifted to him.

He’s her boyfriend, it’s Valentine's Day, it was only logical.

She gave him hint after hint, pushed her shoulders a bit back, highlighting her breasts just slightly, cocked her hips some while leaning against the sink, licked her lips more than usual, everything to get an ounce of attention back. The absolute idiot fussed over the vending machine, mumbled a few words to her, eyes not even moving in her direction, before leaving with a “see ya later” tossed behind him.

The look that had taken over her face then had made your heart sink.

“He’s been like this all week.” She said during lunch break in your car. “Barbara thinks he might be planning something, says he’s not cheating, but I don’t know… I tried fooling myself with getting the perfect outfit, getting my hair and my nails done, but he hasn’t mentioned any plans, and he’s been so fucking distant, he doesn’t even seem like himself. And I really can’t handle another Joe situation.” Taking the last bite of the Shepard’s pie you’d brought her, she leaned her head against the rest.

To nearly everybody else here, she shows her angry, reactive, gray side. It’s easier for her, something that still makes her an outcast, but firmly protects her inner-self. But some magical, all-powerful, incredible being out there had made it so you were the one she chose to show her other side to, the one that is not always confident, not in her worth or her looks or her ability as a teacher.

The one that loves so intensely it scares her, and the one that has so many scars she spends half her time trying to heal them, or, at the very least, stop them from bleeding all over the place and being visible to the outside world.

“What do you think?” She said, bringing you back to the inside of your 2010s Honda. “You’ve always been better at these things.”

“Do I think he’s cheating on you?”

She nodded.

“Well, first of all, if he is, he is an absolute deepshit who doesn’t know how to count his blessing for you even giving him the time of day.”

You looked into her eyes while you said it, and she turned her head after, staring at the Tupperware in her hands. You thought you saw a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“But I don’t think he is. Hey, maybe he’s just seen Valentine’s Day for what it is!” You nudged her arm with the back of your hand. “Maybe you’re the one who has to get on board.”

She relented a smile then, but it didn’t last.

“Mel, I think you’ll just have to ride this one out. Wait until the end of the day, so then you can actually have a conversation with him. If he really forgot or if there’s really something wrong, you’ll find out, but, honestly, me? I think he might just have some goofy-ass surprise planned.”

Melissa nodded while keeping her gaze out the window.

There’s a beat, then another, and you thought perhaps you’d convinced her, and she was only taking some time to absorb it.

“You know, you may not feel lonely with this kind of stuff, but…” She paused, voice tired, heart bearing all those tender scars, “I think I’m more like Janine than I’d thought.”

So, hm, this isn’t ideal.

You’d be damned if you let a man who didn’t realize the one in a million he had found ruin Melissa’s day.

Even if Valentine’s Day was traumatic for you, even if it was silly and forced and the world would be better off without it, Melissa was Melissa, and she deserved everything she wanted out of life. You’d thought Gary would see it, but if he didn’t, it’s up to you, even with all your emotional limitations.

So you wrote a little card. Nothing much, just made out of a fancier piece of purple paper you’d had lying around the classroom, with a heart-sticker you’d found at the bottom of your purse decorating the front page. Inside, the note wasn’t all that special, just enough for her to know she would never be alone. That you loved her. That she’d always have you, even if one day she didn’t have anyone else. That she’s your favorite, and if she wanted to, you’d take her out for dinner yourself.

As a friend, of course. Truly.

The fact she made your chest inflate and your pressure drop and a flock of butterflies run a full marathon in your stomach were not things that were included.

After sending the students home, saying goodbye to everyone else (Gregory and his Legos, Janine and her designer bag she knew nothing about, Ava and her many flings and Jacob and his slam poetry), you’d walked to the lounge, where you’d seen Barb and Mel walking towards only a few minutes earlier.

On the way there, you’d seen a bouquet of gerberas discarded on the hallway floor. You’d wondered if a poor kid had gotten broken up with on that day of all days, or if the bouquet held any card of its own. You’d picked it up, deciding to bring it to the compost pile later.

You hadn’t realized how it looked until it had been too late.

“Hey, Mel, I have something for…” You’d started, rounding the corner to enter the room.

“I love you too.” She’d said, looking into Gary’s eyes. In a split second, you’d registered there was something off about her voice, something lacking.

And now here you are, in this less than ideal situation.

All three look at you, standing in the doorway with a card and flowers, calling after another person’s girlfriend. Shit.

“What do you have for her?” Gary’s hand tightens on her waist just so.

So, yeah. Not fucking ideal.

“Hey, look at that. I uh…actually forgot the… ah… The book I was lending you.” You mumble. Spinning on your heels, you walk as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a sprint.

Stupid-ass, invented, asinine holiday.

******

You’re more than half-way through a bottle of Merlot when your doorbell rings.

“Fucking finally!” You shout, jumping from your couch, your belly clenching painfully. Opening up your front door, though, your shoulders drop. “You’re not Postmates.”

“No, I am not. You know what else I also am not? Enjoying this beautiful night with my husband.” Barbara floods you with words, walking past you into the living room.

“Why is that, exactly?” And maybe you’re starting to get drunk, because she seems furious with you, and you can’t remember the last time that ever happened.

“Because I cannot possibly enjoy what was supposed to be a romantic moment with Gerald when I get a desperate phone call from my best friend’s partner asking me if I know where she is.”

It’s too many words too fast, so you sit back down and blink hard, trying to focus.

“What are you talking about?”

“Gary called me. He doesn’t know where Melissa is.”

Melissa. Suddenly, the reason you’d started drinking comes back to you. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Have you seen her?” Barbara seems to take pity on you, be it for your drunkenness or the way your face scrunches up at the name.

“Not since this afternoon, no. What happened?”

“Gary says she went after you, came back in a different mood. Then they got into an argument in the middle of dinner, because she didn’t seem to be enjoying it, which is strange considering she spent the day worrying he wouldn’t do anything special, as we both know.” She sits down on the futon in front of you. “He says she broke up with him right then and there, and left.”

What?

“What?”

“I don’t understand it either. What did you say to her in the hallway?”

“Nothing, I didn’t talk to her in the hallway, or at all.”

Barbara looks away, shaking her head with an incredulous smile on her lips.

“You two are… God forgive me, but infuriating.” She turns back, sighing. “Did she text you? I’ve called and called, but she hasn’t picked up. She’s not at her house, either.”

“I don’t know.” You pull your phone from the middle of the cushions. “It’s been on focus mode the whole night, I only got notifications for my food.”

“Can you try her? Maybe she’ll pick up if it’s you.”

“You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Yes, well, at least we’ll be on the same page.”

The line rings three times before going to voicemail. Then, there’s someone pressing your doorbell again. Your stomach aches.

Again, not Postmates.

“You’re an asshole!” It’s the first thing out of Melissa’s mouth. As the second person today pushes her way into your home, Barbara jumps up from her seat.

“You’re alive, you’re whole?” She turns Melissa over, taking advantage of the woman’s confusion at seeing her here. “Are you stupidly drunk?”

“Uh… No. Why…”

“Are you going to make any decisions that might land you in jail?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Barbara shouts, letting go of the redhead, lifting her hands in praise, and walking to the door. “Please, resolve your issues and let me have my steak in peace. I’ll call your boy-“ She looks Melissa over. “I’ll call Gary, let him know you’re okay. Goodbye. Also, you’re both on probation until further notice.”

She closes the door behind her with a bang, and the two of you are left alone, staring at each other.

Her make-up is smudged, as if she’d been crying, and that beautiful, beautiful red dress shines under the light. The vision worries you at the same time it sets the butterflies off.

Once more, with feeling: this is not ideal.

It feels like forever goes by, just like this, with neither of you moving or speaking or looking away.

Until she unclenches her fist, and you see your card, the one you’d lost on your rush to leave.

“You couldn’t have picked a better moment?” Melissa asks, placing the piece of paper on your entrance table. Her anger, so explosive moments ago, is low and dangerous now, simmering with the hurt in her eyes.

“Listen, I know how it looked-“

“Any other moment.” She keeps going, incapable of stopping now that she’s started. “Maybe one of the endless times when we sat on that fucking couch watching those boring movies you like. Or… Or maybe one of the nights when we spent hours pouring over project ideas or education strategies. Or really any other time before I made the decision to move on.”

Her heart is there, right in front of you, in the tears that drown the gorgeous green of her irises. Somehow, you feel like this is the cataclysm of thoughts and words and feelings you had both held back for years. 

“What?” You mumble for the second time tonight.

“I found every excuse in the book to avoid this, to avoid looking for someone else. And some of it was true, really. Joe did a number on me, which you know – which is why that just hurt worse.” She points to the card, bent in half and slightly crumbled. “But most of it was crap, and I knew it was crap, but I convinced myself it wasn’t because you weren’t ready, but you are amazing, and maybe it was better to wait just a little longer to see if you ever got your shit together, if you ever got over what that ex of yours did. But you never, ever did.”

“Melissa, the flowers…”

“Yeah, gerberas, my favorites, I know. That was a nice touch. You probably knew he wouldn’t remember that detail.”

“No, Mel, I didn’t buy them.” You step forward, past the table, close enough to reach out and touch her arm, if you were brave enough. You never are.

“What, are you gonna tell me you grew them too?” She snorts, humorlessly. “You know, the worst part is that you encouraged me. You told me to go after him, to let him woo me. Even this morning! You told me to wait for him, just to pull this crap.”

She raises her hand, wipes her eyes, and Christ, what the hell have you done?

She breathes in, and it would be wondrous if it weren’t terrifying, how she puts her heart away, takes the part reserved just for you to see and hides it from view.

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know, and this whole time you’ve been leading me on, never really letting me go, no, but still pushing me away.”

In love you with you. In love you with you.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

It reverberates inside your brain as if an echo in a museum. In love with you.

The person who lights up your days without a fail, the woman who’s made every single potential partner pale in comparison, a staple in your life so important that the mere thought of risking something that could make you lose her had forced you to bury all warm and fuzzy feelings. That woman. This woman. Melissa. Your Melissa. In love with you.

You feel your past is too broken to believe her, but still the thought of her being this hurt is unacceptable.

“Mel, I didn’t write the card to steal you away.”

You risk it now, because you feel her slipping through your fingers, and not seeing her heart when she looks into your eyes makes you feel the loneliest you ever have. You risk reaching over, placing one hand on each of her upper arms. The fabric there is so soft it surprises you.

She flinches, but allows it.

“Just to keep me from giving up, right?”

“You know me better than that.” You try, throat tight. You damn sure hope she does. “I wrote it because you seemed really hurt, and just in case Gary messed up, I wanted you to know you at least had me. You’ll always have me.”

She shakes her head, eyes welling up again.

“What a great pal you are.” Melissa whispers.

“I found the fucking flowers on the floor, I was gonna take them to the trash.” You lose your patience for a split second, because maybe you were tactless, but this is a bit too far, even for such a stubborn woman.

She raises a brow.

“I’m not trying to cover my ass.”

“’You’re the person I think about the most’” She quotes the card. “Did you mean that?”

“Of course.” You say without a thought.

“As a friend?” She challenges.

No. Yes. Maybe. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

If you risk this next step, will you lose her eventually? Like you have every other woman you have loved like this? Will you lose yet another person, yet another soul you feel you can rest beside?

You let your hands travel down slightly.

“Mostly.” She breaks eye contact, frowning. “I cherish our friendship so much, Melissa. But part of me wanted to say more. To say things that weren’t purely platonic. I didn’t mean to steer you around.” You sigh. This is… a lot. “I want to see you happy, Mel. More than anything in the world, you deserve that. And I just felt like allowing myself to feel all those things for you would jeopardize that. You’re an explosive, hot-headed, weird, outlaw Italian with a great mind and a huge, huge heart, and you’re definitely too good for me.”

She shakes her head again, but looking at those amazing, gorgeous, breathtaking green orbs, you find a glimpse of that other side of hers, even if the tears are still there, hiding underneath the surface.

“Today, I only wanted to make sure you would be okay. And I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. I truly didn’t want to ruin that moment for you.” Finally, you reach her hands, and she holds yours back. You fit. “And I have only ever encouraged you to go out there because I really believe you deserve to have the fullest life you can possibly have, and that’s probably with someone… less damaged. Someone good and kind. Someone like Gary.”

Melissa mumbles to herself in Italian.

Forse sarebbe più facile.

“But I don’t love Gary.” She says simply, in English, relaxing into your touch, sending your blood pressure through the roof.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

“I know.” You say.

You had seen it in her eyes when she’d returned his declaration earlier, the emptiness, the masking, the guilt for lying. She wanted to love him so badly.

She’d looked at you back then and, for a split second, before the confusion and embarrassment that had followed, she’d seemed relieved, as if saying there’s the one who sees me. And something more.

Now, the something more is clearer.

“I know you’re scared.” She whispers again. “And you always, always try to protect me from these things. Never when I get myself mixed up with family business or get into fights…”

“Well, I trust your right hook for that.” You can’t help yourself. She snorts very, very softly, and maybe there’s hope yet.

“But you always try to keep me safe from this, even from you.” Melissa lets go of one your hands, placing a palm against your cheek. Oh, so that’s what it means to have a heart attack. “But I have never, ever, been afraid of your baggage, you jackass.” The spark of defiance that flashes through her expression pulls a smile from you.

If someone had asked you yesterday if this happening was something you thought possible, you’d have laugh them out of the room.

“I just wish you’d given me that god-damn card before I’d wasted this dress on somebody else and had broken a man’s heart for nothing.”

“Poor Gary,” you whisper.

“Yeah… Poor Gary.”

So, perhaps it’s not ideal, with the tears and heartache and being on Barb’s bad side, but she leans up on her tip toes, squeezing your hand, palm migrating down to hold your neck, and despite not being ideal, it does feel oddly right.

“I don’t give a fuck if you hate Valentine’s Day and you think this is corny. You better kiss me before I lose my nerve, or I swear to…”

For the first time in your adult life, you forgo your mind, trying something with risks that may far outweigh the good. With a tug, you pull her in, leaning down, breath catching in your throat when your lips connect, and you find you don’t give two shits about the risks.

Heaven.

Of course, your doorbell rings not five seconds later. Fucking Postmates.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

No longer yours to keep

summary: what happens when you and Xaden bond with mated dragons but you're already dating Garrick?

warning: pretty suggestive, some iron flame spoilers.

Kind of part II

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For as long as you could remember it had been you three against the world. Your families had been extremely close so it was inevitable for your three to end up being best friends. And it was like that until you all started to grow up. And once the teenage years kicked in so did the desire to explore and learn new things.

You mingled in this relationship with no boundaries, no labels for a bit. Until Xaden had to uphold his duties. Had to agree to be engaged to a girl just for the sake of power. That of course meant that you and Garrick had been slightly pushed to the side. Xaden was barely free to spend time with you, barely there for your usual nights out. Meaning that you and Garrick fell into this easy rhythm. This bonding over losing a friend you two loved dearly. And without any big gestures. Without any grand signs had fallen in love.

Garrick had always been made of sharp edges, similar to Xaden. Just Xaden used that as a form of self-defense when he needed to be out in the public and Garric... He had always been on the rougher side. Had always been harder to read. To predict. But he was an amazing lover. There wasn't a moment where you felt unseen or unheard. Yes, he had his moments but once he stewed over them, he would always come to apologize. To make it right. And he was so protective. Boy, was he protective. It was both a charming thing because it empowered you even more but... it was frightening too because Garrick's heart was in your hands, he had let you in deeper than anyone else. And you had planned to keep it forever. Had planned but...

But then threshing came. You three were at the top of your squad. Ready to grasp the best spots in the section. Garrick and Xaden were already waiting when you emerged. They had remained close friends throughout the years. Lost had changed and in all honesty it was you who bitched to Xaden the most. "We can do the next shipment after we bond with dragons", Xaden said quietly. There was a revelation brewing. And surprise, surprise Xaden was at the top of it. "I'll get the boys to take the boxes tonight", Garrick said, as his arm sneaked around your waist, "Hey", he muttered pressing his lips to your temple. "Everything's okay?", you asked, earning a nod from them both. "Excited to bond?", you looked across the field as the wind picked up.

"I have my eyes set on a dragon I want", Xaden said firmly. "Of course you do", you rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling the urge to cling to Garrick as if this might as well be the last time you two were gonna see one another. "You're okay?", Garrick wrapped an arm over your shoulders, you hesitated for a moment but... they were your childhood friends after all.

"I just have this weird feeling", you breathed out, "Like something is about to change". Xaden snicked from beside you and Garrick threw him a glare. "We will be bonding with dragons today, princess", Xaden mused. "Might be. Don't be too full of yourself", you bit back, Garrick instantly brought you closer to him, hands on your hips, "Don't bite his throat out, baby". Xaden pushed away from the wall, "I'll see you two there".

You huffed out a breath. You didn't want to be a bitch but that man was grinding your gears at times. He was also putting himself in so much danger and for what? A fucking title? "Tell me about what's worrying you", Garrick cupped your face. Your eyes met his. God, you loved this man. "I just have a bad feeling", you muttered, "I don't think that anyone is dying today but... I think that things are going to be different. Really different". Garrick tilted his head to the side as he watched you. "All I care about is that you come back to me", he muttered, "with or without a dragon, I just want you back by my side". His words clenched at your heart because somehow deep down you had an inkling that that was exactly what wasn't gonna happen.

You had crossed paths with burnt flesh multiple times. Guess this year's threshing theme was roasted cadets for dinner. You were so tired. Sure, this had to end soon and you would have to admit your defeat. And just... A puff of hot air hit your back making you still. You could feel its presence behind you. You took a deep breath in before turning around. And here it stood. The biggest black dragon you had ever seen. "Holly fuck", you breathed beneath your breath.

Your head was buzzing. Every fiber of your skin was on fire. You could believe that you had bonded with a dragon. A black one at that. Black dragons rarely bonded. Lower your ego he snarled in your mind. You slide down his leg ready to give your dragon's name so you can be officially linked when an overwhelming sense of emotions hits your chest. You faltered slightly. Gripping the edge of the table a huge scroll will names was placed on it.

You hand fell on your chest as the edges of your vision blurred. You let out a pained breath as your eyes snapped up and here he stood. On the other side of the field. A blue dragon by his side. Eyes burning holes into you. Hands in fists. What the fuck... you felt an arm wrapping around your waist. Oddly enough wanting to pull away because it just didn't feel right only to find Garrick inches from you, cupping your face. And then everything went black.

Your eyes snapped open with a jolt. The moon was casting faint light over the room. Garrick was passed out beside you. His hand wrapped around your middle. You brushed your fingers through his messy hair when a wave of need rushed through you. Need that wasn't however in any way related to the man that was next to you. Come to me. The voice rang in your head making you jolt. And even if you didn't want to. And even if you tried to fight it. Tried to fall back asleep. Tried cuddling into your boyfriend. Not even fifteen minutes later you were padding through the quiet corridors.

You didn't even have a clue as to where you were going and yet here you were, standing right next to the person that had taken over your mind. "Why the fuck do I feel you in every fiber of my body, Riorson", you said through gritted teeth. Your body grew warm just from the sight of him. "Our dragons are mated", he said bluntly, puffing out a cloud of mirth-root. You instantly crossed the distance between you too, snatching the blunt and taking a hit yourself. The overwhelming feeling eased slightly, but your body still yarned for him.

"We need to sort this out, get this fixed", you muttered, brushing your fingers through your hair in frustration. "How do you plan on doing that? They have been mates for centuries. Fuck, we hadn't even been born back then", Xaden huffed out. "I'm with Garrick, I won't leave him, I...", you muttered in panic, but Xaden's hand that sneaked up your throat made your voice die down.

"They are fucking", Xaden said through gritted teeth, eyes hazy as he looked at you. You could feel it too. Gods, even the smell of him. "We can't... I can't do this to him", you pushed back, trying to keep distance between you two. "Do you think it's not eating me alive?", Xaden growled, cursing under his breath, "I watched Garrick falling head over heels for you. You're it for him, and now...", Xaden turned around, bracing a hand on the wall as he breathed. Please hold your pleasure to yourself you snarled at your dragon. But it's like your words didn't even reach him.

You took in a shaky breath, right as your eyes met Xaden, and within the blink of an eye you were pressed against the stone wall, legs wrapped around Xaden's hips. His teeth buried in your neck as you dug your nails into the back of his neck. It felt as if your body was on fire. As if only with him near you could finally breathe. "We can go back to having an open relationship", Xaden breathed against your ear. You shook your head, "Garrick will never share, we're in too deep", you muttered. Xaden let out a growl, "If he'll want to keep you, he will share, baby". His hands moved up your shirt, Garrick's shirt, and that was a reminder enough for you to push against Xaden's chest. You wiggled till he finally lost his grip on you. "If you'll challenge him for a claim of me, I swear to everything I believe in, I will suffocate you in your sleep", you pointed a warning finger at him. Xaden only chuckled, "You'll be crawling to me", he breathed out. Dark eyes watching you. "Fuck you, Riorson", you huffed, "You'll do that to baby", he mussed right as you turned around. Practically running back to your room. Heart beating in your chest so loudly that for a while it was all you could breathe.

[winterarmyy]

Behind The Facades | Part I

An unrequited pining over a certain super soldier.

Summary: In which Y/N is pining over Bucky while she watch him wrap his arms around someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II || Part III (end)

Words: 1.2k++

Pairings: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst. just pure angst and pain.

P/S: i'm feeling melancholy all of the sudden, therefore this idea was born. It's a very short one but I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Never let your true feelings show." was one and if not the most important lesson Y/N learned from where she was trained before becoming an agent under the avengers program.

It was so deeply etched within her very being, that the habit had became as natural as breathing the air into her lungs.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you." They said.

So, she did exactly that.

She giggled when Bucky told her about how he managed to make a fool of himself when he attempted to flirt a girl that he had fallen for at that bar he regularly went to.

He really shouldn't read those random top 10 pickuplines articles on Google anymore.

Tears were threaten to fall, as her shoulders shook in silent laughter, "Really, Barnes? I thought you were the ladies man back in the 40's"

"Exactly. 'Were' . Now, I am clearly not. Urghh, I can't believe I let that birdbrain convince me that these 'pickuplines' would do the trick."

Despite his gruff annoyance towards Sam, she could see a tinge of red shade on Bucky's cheek; probably feel embarrassed from what happened.

Gulping down whatever drink he had in his glass Bucky huffed, "Honestly, I don't think any sane person would even consider to approach me, let alone date me." His sharp gaze wavered into something more vulnerable.

Though he didn't mention anything about his history but when he shifted his view to the metal of his left hand, Y/N knew what he meant.

Y/N gaze softens, "I'm here with you. Am I not?" Her nails dug into the skin of her thighs as she held back from wanting to touch him, kiss him, hold him; to whisper sweet nothings in his ears in hopes that it would shut whatever doubts he has of himself even for just a moment.

There was a swift glaze over Bucky's eyes. As if he realized something but his words seems to deny his revelation, "I said 'sane person', Y/N."

Y/N gasped with an exaggerated perplex on her expression, "Sargent James Buchanan Barnes..." she purposely called him by his title, hoping it will remind him that he should have the reputation of a respectful man, "... are you accusing me of losing my sanity?"

Bucky shrugs with a face of pure innocence, "In this tower? We all are. But, especially you." a playful smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he waited to witness her reaction.

She stifled a laugh when she heard a knock on her door and then greeted by what looked like a mountain flower, and in between them was Bucky.

He had impulsively bought almost half a dozen bouquet of flowers because he couldn't decided which one of them is pretty enough for his date.

He shyly laughed it off when she told him "You could've face-timed me at the shop instead of ended up buying this much of flowers, Buck."

"God, you're right, doll. Why didn't I thought of that?" He frowned as he sighed.

"Because you're old and forgetful, that's why." Y/N teased as she leaned to the door frame, arms folded across her chest.

Bucky rolled his eyes before sending a glare towards her, "You're not going to stop mentioning my age in everything, are you?" he grumbled.

He might not know it but Y/N managed to noticed a tiny pout on his lips; something only, as they said, Steve can notice. That slight difference on his lowers lips; a very minimal protrude, barely noticable.

But secretly, she can see it too. And it was something she wished she could brag about, something she could tell the world; how lucky she was to be able to notice those little things about him.

She chuckled with an answer, "Never."

Another grumble escaped from Bucky somewhere behind the bouquets, before he presented a particular set towards Y/N, "Anyway, this is for you." He acts reluctant but she knew he was always sincere with actions.

Her eyes skimmed through the gorgeous arrangement of daisies; her favourite.

For a mere second, she let her heart flutter and a genuine smile bloomed on her lips; however the truth was not supposed to surface.

If Bucky was not blinded by the bouquet, he would've seen how the joyous glint her eyes faded even if her smile was still intact.

"Bribery is an act against the law, you do know that right, Sargent?" Nevertheless, her hands reached out to take the gift.

Bucky chuckled in response, "Yes, ma'am. I do."

She smiled when Bucky's love-struck gaze shines when he told her about his first kiss with that lucky lady, during one of those midnight coffee trips she share with him at the pantry.

He should've seen how beautiful he looked that night; free of worries and caught in pure joy.

"It was..." Bucky sighed in content; he was so happy he lost his words. As he tried to find the right description of the kiss, she could see his gaze softens.

Y/N knew he was recalling the kiss, but she couldn't help but to fall for him all over again; not that it's not a recurring event everyday but she really did felt as if her heart stopped for more than necessary.

'He's so happy.' She thought to herself. 'Then, I should be happy for him too'

So she did exactly how it supposed to be done.

"Mirror their feelings; that way your true feelings will never show."

Y/N did exactly that.

That one habit that had lead Y/N to countless of undercover missions.

The same missions that left Y/N with one of the highest rate of successful inflitration, unharmed.

And yet, the facade she wore seemed to failed her this time.

Why didn't work?

Why does it hurts?

The longer she kept the mask on, the more it burns from within.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you."

Then, why does her heart aches as if it was falling apart?

Y/N could feel how weak her knees were becoming, she had to lean on counter tops for support. The slow ballad filling the living room, leaking to the pantry from where she stood and watched.

Oh, she loved this song.

She wrapped her shivering hands around the warm cup of coffee that she made as she watched the couple danced. And the longer her longing gaze linger on Bucky, the blurrier her vision get.

"Y/N..." Natasha softly grazed the side of Y/N's arm. How could she not notice Natasha coming in. Must have been her widow effect.

"You're breaking, honey." Natasha was meaning to imply about Y/N's heart but she was so set on hiding her feelings she thought Natasha meant differently, "I know." She replied as she sipped on the warm drink.

Her facades are breaking.

Her hazy vision remained on the, now shadows of the dancing couple, "I will put up a new one." She didn't even notice how her own voice cracked.

Tears overflowed from the corner of her eyes, "Just let this one crumble." Her lips trembled as she told the truth, "Cause I don't think I can fix this."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I'm thinking to have more of this couple; should i do it? Any thoughts?

[scar-lie]

No One's Savior [Natasha]

Summary : Life is cruel, God gives you the life you wonder if you deserve, a life were you have no one and have to stand up by your own feet

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader

Warning : Being tortured, blood, death, crying

World Count : 2,777

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

"Please, Nat, let's go play around,” you beg her while following her down the stairs. Their mom adopted you a year ago, seeing you in the street trying to make amends to feed yourself and survive another day in the street.

“Your mom said we could play or bike around, please? ”You give her puppy eyes that you know she can't say no to.

"Fine, fine,” she groans, but you jump on happiness and quickly drag her to the garage to get yours and her bike around the neighborhood.

You smile while biking side by side; you never imagine your life will be like this. I mean, you grow up on the street with no one, stealing people’s food, money, clothes, or anything else you can use to exchange for some money.

You were 6 years old when you learned how to steal things, but when you reach the age of 9, you steal something from Melina, but she catches you. She's hesitant at first to get you arrested or put you in the system, but you beg her to let you go, and that's when she decided to adopt you right there and then, and now it's been a year since that day.

Sure, you try to run away after a few days of staying with them, but after a few days away from them, you realize that it's much better to live with them and their strict rules, and you push yourself to adapt to their lifestyle. 

At first, Melina's daughters disagree, but with the command of their father, they don't have a choice but to accept it, so they try to get to know you until they accept you and become friends with them.

Even though Melina didn't get the papers for you to be their legal daughter by law, they still treat you like family, and you're happy to be a part of their family.

But Yelena’s sister, Natalia, is the one who makes you stay with them; she's kind, caring, and looking out for you, even if she tries to hide it.

She also catches your eyes, which makes you want to look at those emerald eyes forever. It's mesmerizing you where you sometimes zone out.

But the happy life quickly washed away when Melina and Alexei took the three of you to the Red Room. You thought it would be fine, but once they took you away, you knew that the happy life you had was now over.

“I don't want to be here, Nat,” you whisper, whimpering in the middle of the night, where only you and Nat are awake. Yelena, beside your bed, is sound asleep.

“It's ok, shh,” Nat whispers to you and reaches out to touch your face and wipe your tears. She wants to hug you and cradle you, but the handcuffs on her right hand are preventing her from doing it.

“We will get out, I promise. I’ll get you out of here. Now stop crying,” she whispered, and you nodded and made yourself comfortable.

“Promise? ”She nodded, smiling at you while she squeezed your hand.

“I promise,” she whispers, then kisses the back of your hand.

You sigh in relief, finding a safe place and comfort in the Red Room after everything you've been through for over 9 years. She still provides you comfort and a safe place, and you already fall for her, and so does she. Even though she won't admit it, she still loves you deep inside.

As long as she's here with you, you'll be okay at the end of the day. Even if your foot will bleed again from ballet, you killed someone, or they give you a punishment, you know you will be okay, and you've been holding on to Nat’s promise over the years that someday you three will be free.

But again, you should have learned the first time that not everything will stay the way it is and that promises—as someone says—are meant to be broken, and they are right.

Promise really meant to be broken, like how Natalia broke hers, how she just left you behind those bars, locked up, begging her to let you come with her.

"Natalia, please don't…don't leave me here.” You begged her when she turned around to leave this place and start her new life.

"Nat, please, I don't want to be here anymore. Please let me come with you, please.” You cry out for her, so she turns around again and puts her hands on your cheeks while she tries not to cry like you, and she smiles at you.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise... I will be back, ok? ”She whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“No, no, please, Nat.” You grip her wrist, not letting her go, but she forces herself to get her wrist back and turns around.

“NAT NO…PLEASE….YOU PROMISED…NATALIA,” you scream, bagging the metal bars and watching her walk away from your sight until she's gone, so you drop on your knees and cry to yourself.

You just wish that you didn't make a little mistake on your ballet so you wouldn't be here in this cell alone, that maybe you're now with Natasha getting out of here.

But you still hold on to another promise, the promise she didn't—again—fulfill, and you're so stupid to believe that she will come back for you.

If you have a thought past in the RedRoom, now your life in there is hell. Since Natalia escaped, they put more security, they doubled the training, and you—your life has become hell.

Why? Since she escaped, you've become the target of everyone. When you were sleeping, they tried to suffocate you. Since the handcuffs are now gone, they can do whatever they want.

They even beat you up, and for the high staff of the Red Room, gosh, they also give you a hard time. They believe that you know the whereabouts of Natalia, so they tortured you.

Drown you, beat you up, hand you up with your hands tied up on your back, and do everything they can to break you, but since you didn't say anything, they turned you into one of the greatest black widows on your program.

And since then, you hate Natalia; you blame her for everything that had happened to you, so you become, though, a cold-hearted person and a killer machine. Dreykov wants

“Uhuh…you're ready! ”He smirked, standing on his chair behind his long table, where you were standing in front of him, emotionless. 

“You've become the greatest widow I can imagine! ”He then lights up his tobacco and goes around his table and to your back, whispering in your ear.

“One of my pride and joy,” he giggled to himself, then went in front of you and sat on his table. 

“What do you think about a mission—a highly top mission, huh? ”He then took a folder, looking inside to see if it's the file he's talking about.

“I’m gladly accepting whatever mission needs to be done, sir,” you said in monotone, so he gave you the folder, and you took it.

“That's what I wanted about you; no second guessing,” he says, smirking and urging you to open up and take a look at the mission he's given you.

When you read what it is, your heart stops for a few seconds, a feeling you didn't know you would be feeling again, but thanks to the training you had, you cover it up pretty well, and then you close the folder and look at Dreykov.

“I will not let you down, sir.” 

“That's what I wanted to do here; no, go and prepare.” With that, you get out of his office and go get the things you need for the mission, to kill Natalia.

“Update to everybody? ”Steve said on the coms while he brought down four guards of the Red Room.

“Clint, east wing”

“Tony, east sky.”

“Thor, at the Helipad.”

“Lower ground in the north, Wanda.”

“Top south, Clint.”

Everybody took their update, but Nat and Steve's hearing nothing makes him worried about the redhead—not that he didn't trust her and her abilities, but still, that's his teammates in the field, fighting. 

“Nat, update? ”He reminded her, and after a few minutes, she replied.

"Underground.” Then Steve nodded to himself and went back to fighting the enemy.

“Augh! ”Natasha then coughs up the dust when she tries to open the locked gate of one of the cells in the underground. 

“I think there's no one here,” she mumbles to herself, and when she turns around and walks a few steps to go back up, there's a sound, coming to the end of the hallway, a cough. It's not audible since she's far from the source, but she's a spy, and her senses are highly activated every time.

So she quickly took her gun out, pointed to the hallway in case someone suddenly jumped on her, and slowly and carefully walked towards the sound.

Then she pointed her gun inside when she finally got to the last cell at the end of the hallway, seeing a woman tied up in the chair, blood and deep, superficial wounds littering all over her body.

She quickly put her gun down and slowly but surely walked closer, but once she's close enough to see her body up close, she freezes, seeing the birthmark on her shoulder. 

“Y/N? ”You then scoff, recognizing her voice—the same voice you've despise the most, the same voice you wanted to get revenge on.

"Natalia,” you look up at her eyes—the same eyes you've adored for years, the same eyes that gave you comfort and a safe place before, but now? Now all you see and feel is her broken promises and the betrayal she has done.

When you look into those eyes for the past few months, all you see is you being tortured over and over again. You wanted her to feel the same way you felt.

You wanted to kill her with your bare hands, but every time you tried to, she dodged it. She always fought back. She will always be greater than you.

That's why you're here now, bleeding to death because you can't kill her, so Dreykov chooses to slowly kill you, making sure to make you feel how unworthy and a failure you are that you couldn't kill the black widow herself.

“What are you waiting for, huh? ...You can now kill me,” you snarl at her. Your left eye is blurry because of the swelling and bruise, and your eyes are bleeding, making it harder to open your eye.

“No, don't say that…” Natasha quickly put her gun to her holster and kneeled in front of you, inspecting every inch of your body, making her shudder in horror.

“What have they done to you? ”She looks up at your eyes; her eyes are glistening with tears, not wanting to cry in front of you, but once you see the pity in her eyes, you scoff.

“Don’t act like you don't like what you're seeing.” You then cough up blood, making you feel even weaker than before.

“Wh-what? What are you talking about? ”She's worried that seeing coughing up blood makes her blood run cold.

“It breaks me seeing you like this,” she then proceeds to untie you while, deep inside her, she's panicking.

“You don't have to pretend like you fucking care! ”You weakly growl, getting angry at the moment.

“I do, I do care, my love, I do,” she firmly said, looking up at you. Her eyes say it all, and now tears run down her cheek, but you don't have anything in you to believe her, maybe because you already learned your lesson and don't want to be fooled once again.

“Really? Then why did you leave me here? Huh? ”Natasha, swallow the lump on her throat and go back, untying you to avoid the question.

“Why didn't you come back like you promised? ”And since your body weight is all forward, Natasha caught you when your limp body got freed from the restraint.

“I waited for you, like a fucking dog waiting for their master to come back! You betrayed me! ”She then put you down, taking you on her lap.

“And don't you fucking dare call me'my love'? I’m not the same person you once knew! ”You spat; you wanted to push her or get out of her arm—the same arms that calm you down—but now it feels like burning.

“Shhh…. You'll be OK. I promise. I’m here now…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sniffs and wipes away her tears while she caresses your cheek, and then again you cough more blood.

“No, you're not fucking sorry, and we both know your promise meant nothing! If it's not, you should have gotten me out of here the first time, like you promised! ”She hugged you while tears streamed down her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m sorry,” she keeps chanting while your breathing is shallow and you're slowly losing consciousness, and Natasha notices it.

“No, Y/N, don't close your eyes... Please...” She quickly taps her intercoms to send someone to her.

“Wanda, Tony, Steve, anybody, I need back up ASAP.” She then keeps tapping your cheeks to keep you awake.

“Hang on, my love... You're going to be okay; just keep your eyes open, please. I'm not going to leave you. Again, just please...keep your eyes open,” she whispered, beg caressing your cheek like she did before.

“You know that I fucking hate you?”She gasped, hearing it from your own mouth.

“I fucking want to hurt you…..I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I want to make you feel what they have done to me! ”You look up at her eyes, tears streaming down both sides of your faces.

“Because you fucking left me here alone! ....I begged you…I called out for you. I even waited for you to come back…but you never came…you didn't fulfill your promises. Instead, you turned your back on me. You left and left me here alone, suffering.” You put your hand on top of her cheek and squeezed it the best you could.

“I was scared, Natalia. I’m scared, and you're not there anymore…I’m always scared” You put all of your strength on your hand to take her hand, move it to your lips, kiss her palm, and put it back on your cheek, squeezing it.

“I know… I know, and I’m sorry, my love….I’m sorry I left you behind….I’m sorry. I didn't mean to leave you, I didn't mean to.” She cries out, and you smile at her, a genuine smile you never did for over a year, but Natasha quickly panics when you close your eyes and your hand drops.

“No…no no no…please dekta…open your eyes…please I’m begging you…open your eyes” she tried…she tried to wake you up but you didn't show any sign of waking up, and now every second the warmth of your body is fading and thinking of them makes her wanna die too, instead she hugged and rocked you back and forth while she cried, savoring the warmth of your body that she knows she'll never feel again.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispers, putting her cheek on yours, and that's when Wanda barges into the room, worried.

“Nat? ”Wanda stopped on her track, hearing and seeing Nat cry.

“What happened? ”She slowly walks towards her and keeps a distance to give Natasha some space.

It broke Wanda seeing her like this; she knows her as a tough, wise, and smart woman who never shows any weaknesses or lowers her ground, but now that Wanda sees her at her lowest, it breaks her.

“She's gone,” Natasha chokes at her own words. It hurts to admit it and get it out of her own mouth that you're gone. She knows she has to accept it whether she likes it or not

A.N : guys I made a video of this one shot, anyone wants to see it?