#It is triad smut though! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vixstarria · 4 months ago

Text

Sweat

Astarion, Halsin and Tav become a triad after the fall of the Netherbrain. This is a story of how it begins, progresses, and eventually ends.

Astarion x named F!Tav x Halsin

porn with (!) plot / character study, but through smut

18+, smut, threesome, double penetration, lots of dirty talk, what else... you know what, just refer to the AO3 tags, link below

In my headcanon, Halsin approaches both Asmodea and Astarion together, rather than just Asmodea alone.

This fic picks up their story where I left it in A Night at the Inn, and is a companion for Chapter 10 of Bloodbang Chronicles (in which Astarion is the one receiving - you can read that chapter as a standalone if you want). All three pieces are threesome smut.

Or, if you want more of Astarion's dynamic with Asmodea, check out Bloodbang Chronicles generally.

Anyway, enjoy!

Approx. 7.9k words

AO3

Each section break signifies a jump forward in time.

Of course the bloody druid was after her too - just about everyone else in this blasted group had been at one point or another. Astarion sighed inwardly as he observed the druid conversing with his lover.

Halsin hadn’t been with them long. He hadn’t mingled much with the rest of the group during the journey from the Emerald Grove, and then, on reaching the Shadowcursed Lands, he had stayed back at Last Light, having only rejoined them recently.

But ever since, the druid had been giving Asmodea increasing amounts of attention. Even now, having just finished talking with her, Halsin's eyes trailed her as he drew on his pipe.

Why should he be any different - just about everyone else had made some advances on their de facto ‘leader’ by then. Only Karlach had always stayed on friendly terms with her – Astarion had worried that might change after that blacksmith Dammon sorted her little tactile problem, but it appeared their bond had remained sister-like.

As for his own claim on the woman – it seemed he was widely disregarded as a rake. Taken for a temporary thing she and anyone else would discard without a moment’s hesitation, if anything more tangible came along. Never mind that his feelings had been growing each day, despite his efforts to the contrary. As had her own, towards him, unless he was blind.

Was she even aware of any of this..? She had to be.

As Astarion pondered this, Asmodea sat down next to him, pressing her thigh against his and leaning against him; as though just a small fragile thing seeking protection or warmth from him – despite the fact she barely needed the former anymore, and he couldn’t provide the latter. Still, it made for an excellent and obvious display for everyone around them. Without thinking, he pulled her against him by her waist, pressing his lips against her temple.

She looked up at him, eyes twinkling in lighthearted glee.

“I know,” she whispered, inclining her head slightly towards the druid.

“I know you know,” Astarion murmured back. Well, now he did, anyway.

“Good,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the lips and turning her attention to the food in front of her.

Astarion glanced at Halsin, who sat across the fire. The druid met his gaze. Not in challenge, but rather with... open curiosity. The druid’s lips curled in a genuine smile, his eyes lingering on Astarion’s longer than generally acceptable.

…Oh. …Hah!

Astarion looked away, amused, smirking into his wine goblet. It seemed he had misread the druid, somewhat. Yes, he knew that look very well.

Godsdamned wood elves…

“Could you go ask Lae’zel for one of her training swords?”

“Why?”

“I’ll show you. ...But also I think she will be less inclined to murder me for wasting everyone’s time, if she’s curious about me needing a sword with my morning bath.”

“She’ll have to murder me and Halsin first.” Astarion grumbled, but left the inn’s bathing room to retrieve the sword.

Him and Halsin… A debaucherous night spent with both of them, lasting well into the morning. Astarion had mostly watched or directed her and Halsin, still not wanting to be touched himself, but it was, undoubtedly, the most they had done since before the night they had their heart to heart in the Shadowcursed Lands.

Halsin hesitated at the door.

“Before I leave this room, I must know... Once this door shuts behind me, is... this-” he gestured at the three of them, “staying behind as well? Or can the future hold something for us?” She knew the druid would have accepted whichever answer he was given, but she could tell he was a hair’s breadth from a pained expression.

She exchanged a look with Astarion. It was he who finally spoke.

“It doesn’t have to stay behind. You’ve been better for us than you might realise,” he said, with a grin. “But let’s talk about that later.”

“I am glad,” Halsin said, smiling, before leaving.

What in the hells had they just started..?

Astarion returned with the blunted practice weapon.

“Most of the others have gone out into the city. And you were right, the moment I asked Lae’zel for a sword, she swapped all murderous intent to curiosity.”

Asmodea took the sword and submerged most if it in the lukewarm water in the tub, channelling a Heat Metal spell through it.

“Old bard trick,” she explained to Astarion, waiting for the water to heat up. “So,” she added, looking up at Astarion. “Halsin.”

“Yes,” he said, thoughtfully. “Halsin.”

They exchanged and held equally incredulous looks, before breaking out into laughter.

“I told you he wanted both of us!” Asmodea exclaimed amid the tittering. “So… What do you think? Truly?” she asked once the laughter had died down a bit.

“It… It was certainly entertaining, sharing you with him,” Astarion snickered.

“And you..? Do you think you would be comfortable..? Being ‘shared’?”

“I’m not averse to the idea... But, for now, he might be more than I can handle.”

“...Well, with enough patience, determination and grease...”

“Why do I even like you...” Astarion muttered, heaving a massive, exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. “That is not how I meant that!” he exclaimed. “...Although that too, most likely.”

They broke into another fit of laughter.

“But I… I don’t see any harm in it. I think it could be good, even,” Astarion said, softly this time, once they had both calmed down. “What about you..?”

Astarion sat on the roof of the Elfsong, watching the streets below. He was most certainly not on the lookout for two figures - a slender one with a disarray of locs on her head, and a robust-looking one that would tower over the first. How long had they been gone now, anyway?

He sipped his wine, straight from the bottle. It was pleasant, but lacked the kick he had grown used to from adding blood to it. Wyll would have agreed to donate some, if he’d only asked, but he couldn’t bear to go downstairs and be seen by anyone. He knew what they were all thinking.

Asmodea and Halsin had been eager to explore whatever it was they had set in motion. As for Astarion, after the initial elation had subsided, he just wanted time to himself to think, and so he had all but shoved them out the door together. Halsin had made it abundantly clear he wanted to include Astarion. Astarion, in turn, assured them both that he was happy for them to spend some time alone that night. And Asmodea… Asmodea had been visibly conflicted, but listened to him in the end.

And now he was hiding out on the roof, not being in the mood to explain to anyone why his lover had suddenly taken off with another. They had tried to be discreet, but you couldn’t sneeze without everyone in camp knowing about it and making it their business, much less have a little… arrangement.

Was that all it was?

He probed at his own feelings as he swirled the wine in his mouth, and found them to be a nonsensical potpourri of jealousy, relief, doubt, giddiness, inadequacy, excitement, fear and hope. The emotions mixed and swirled, constantly replacing one another at the forefront of his mind.

Astarion found himself, once again, contemplating how he himself felt about the druid.

There was a physical attraction, certainly. But also an admiration. A certain peace and serenity was to be found in his company - something Astarion hadn’t felt in centuries. Astarion often found himself discarding all his usual masks with Halsin, disarmed by the druid’s own earnestness.

Above all, he felt safe.

What would it be like..? Having this… gentle giant, to share with Asmodea.

Sweet pondering thoughts switched abruptly to more mundane and grounded ones.

What were they doing now? Talking about him, perhaps? Resolving that he wasn’t necessary after all? Or maybe just happily fucking each other’s brains out, not giving him a single thought to begin with?

Was all this just a massive, stupid mistake?

Thoughts spiralling and racing, Astarion gulped down more of the wine. He could go for more of that herb, whatever it was, that Halsin had given him the other night, Astarion thought - he refused to believe it was really catnip. He surveyed the street below, again. How long could it possibly take?!

Karlach appeared on the roof, holding a bottle of her own by the neck.

Ah, here comes the envoy of the pity committee…

“Hey Fangs. You alright..? Do I need to knock some sense into anyone?”

“I’ll have you know, I had their invitation, and they had my blessing,” he all but snarled, choosing to cut straight to the point.

“Right, whatever,” she said, sitting down next to him. “You elves are fucking weird, you know.”

“Yes, well, after a few centuries you change your perspective on some trivialities,” he snapped.

Karlach only emitted a brief, bitter laugh.

…Shit.

Astarion belatedly realised she was the last person to whom he should have said anything about longevity or life expectancy. He turned to look at her. Her forehead, he now noticed, bore a sheen of perspiration despite the pleasantly cool weather, her breathing was more laboured than usual.

“How’s your engine?” he asked, softly.

“Shit,” she said, taking a swig from her bottle, and drawing her knees up against her chest.

Another nail for his proverbial coffin.

He reached out, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, letting her lean against himself. He didn’t know what to say, but this - this was close enough to what he had done countless times for drunk and newly single women seeking a shoulder to cry on and a dick to ride on, before whisking them to their demise - though he truly meant the gesture this time.

“Saw an old friend of mine today,” Karlach said, quietly. “She’s having a baby. I told her I’d go see her once all this was over.” She sniffed, masking it as a chuckle. “Never going to happen, is it?”

Cazador’s presence still looming over him, tadpole still in his brain, his lover in another’s arms (at his own insistence, no less), AND he could lose his friend any day.

Astarion said nothing and rubbed her shoulder.

He lay in bed when Asmodea finally returned. She seemed hesitant, only giving him a worried look when she realised he was still awake. He wordlessly lifted the edge of the blanket in invitation. With some relief writ on her face, she joined him under the covers. She fidgeted, as though unsure just how to settle down, until he pulled her tightly against himself.

“Do you want to know..?” she asked.

He thought she would smell of the druid. Instead, she smelled like she just bathed.

“Not really,” he answered.

She snuggled against him as she would ordinarily, to go to sleep, but the silence between them was pregnant, and before long, she sighed and leaned away from him, reclining on her elbow.

“Star…”

Astarion opened his eyes and met her gaze.

Gods, but he didn’t want to talk about anything just then.

He pressed a finger to her lips, then stroked her face, gently, looking into her eyes. What was it he read in them..? Concern, maybe. Worry. Pleading? Was that… fear..?

Something twisted in his chest. He couldn’t bear to have her look at him like that.

He pulled her back against himself, pressing his lips against hers, as she melted into him, her tension beginning to dissipate. She wanted to say something, but he kissed her again and again, hands beginning to roam her. If only he could show her all his love... He caressed reassurance into her body, as he knew words would fail him now. Pulled her clothes off so he could feel her, all of her, and be felt. She did the same for him, also having given up on saying anything, turning instead to conveying her affection and longing through touch alone, just as they had done all that time ago, when their blossoming love for one another was still an open but unspoken secret.

But what had happened to this same body earlier..?

Even through the tenderness that had just overtaken him, he found that the thought intrigued him. His mind wandered to images of her writhing with the druid, coming undone in ecstasy, the way he had already witnessed them do earlier. The images caused a warm coil to tighten at the bottom of his stomach. How close were they to reality, he wondered.

As her clothes came off and her body wrapped around his, his fingers probed and sought evidence of her evening. Was she too tender? Too swollen? Did she seem sore? Was she bruised anywhere? The druid had been mindful of his proportions and movements in the night that they all shared together, but who knew, maybe Halsin lost his restraint and had simply healed any damage he had done after.

Perhaps he did want to know.

Lewd thoughts turned to outrage at the very idea that anyone might have possibly hurt what was his. Even if he willingly shared some part of her. She was his.

Astarion’s arms tightened around her, and he deepened his kiss, moaning into her mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair and whimpered, softly.

“Ugh, gross…” Astarion heard Karlach saying a few beds over. “Hey Gale… Gale!”

The wizard produced something between a snore and a disgruntled salutation, and cast a habitual sphere of silence around the pair’s bed, before presumably immediately falling back asleep somewhere beyond the privacy screens.

Astarion’s fingers slipped between Asmodea’s legs, earning him a moan as she spread wider for him. Wet, so wet. For him. As she should be.

He wanted to fuck her hard into the bed, lay his claim on her, but he didn’t want to be compared with the druid so soon after whatever had happened between him and her. Instead, he slipped his fingers inside her, twisting and curling them, digging into the sweet spot within her - where she told him no one before him had ever pleasured her properly. This was his and his only. He pressed his fingers into it rougher than usual, until she panted and whined. Had she made these same sounds for Halsin earlier this night?

“Gods… Please don’t stop,” she gasped.

“Oh I’m not stopping anytime soon, darling,” he whispered in her ear.

Perhaps sensing something different in his voice, she opened her eyes and looked up at him as he leaned over her, his fingers still working inside her.

“How many times did you come for him?”

“Ast-” she began.

“How many?” he asked again, punctuating his words by rolling her clit with his thumb.

She swallowed hard, her cunt already starting to pulse in little pre-orgasm contractions around his fingers.

“Twice,” she said, wetting her lips.

“Then you owe me three.”

He moved his hand faster, mercilessly building more and more pressure.

Mine… Before anyone else’s, mine. Not the druid’s. Not her bloody patron’s. Not the godsdamned Emperor’s. Not that devil’s. No one’s. Only mine.

Her moans were mounting, almost turning into screams. She sat up, leaning back on her elbows, stilling, looking into his eyes and accepting what he was giving her. Just as she threw her head back and released a desperate groan, he sank his fangs into her neck.

Mine, mine, mine, mine…

She came all over his hand, completely losing all control, legs shaking as he stroked her more gently through her orgasm, even as he drank from her.

He broke away from her neck, humming soothingly as she gasped and sobbed quietly in the aftershocks of her orgasm. He kissed up her neck until his lips were at her ear again.

“One.”

Astarion watched Asmodea and Karlach toppling over one another, laughing, as they swapped stories of living in Avernus and living on the road travelling inn to inn (which at times sounded to have been rougher than Avernus). Halsin shared their table. He had been nursing the same tankard of mead for the past few hours, Astarion noticed, probably having gotten the drink solely to avoid anyone else inevitably forcing one on him.

A semi-decent bardic troupe had taken stage, playing something raucous but catchy.

“Come on, Halsin, come dance with me!” Karlach offered.

“I’m afraid I have two left legs, and a bear’s grace besides,” he declined with a smile and firm shake of his head.

“Aww,” Karlach pouted. “What about you, Fangs? Dance with me?”

“Darling, you have to wine and dine me before you get to dance me, and I’ve been carrying your tab ever since we got to the city.”

“Please??”

“No.”

“Ever seen a cat on a leash?” Asmodea butted in. “When it just plops down on the ground and refuses to move, even as you drag it? That’s Astarion when he doesn’t want to do something,” she laughed. “Let’s go, I’ll dance with you.”

And just like that, Astarion found himself left alone at the table with Halsin.

“Perhaps something needs to be said,” Halsin remarked with a coy grin, once the silence stretched too long for comfort. If Astarion hadn’t known any better, he might even have thought that the druid was teasing him.

Oh for hells’ sake…

Without a word, Astarion turned towards the druid, grasped his face with both hands, and pulled him down to kiss him.

Somewhere in the back of Astarion’s mind, he thought that if he had been a poet, he would have said that the kiss tasted something like honey and the warmth of a hearth on a rainy night. But no, the kiss mostly tasted like Halsin’s tobacco mixture, with a subtle hint of the cheap mead he had been pretending to drink. By no means repugnant, but not earth-shattering either.

But then he was pulled against a broad chest by strong but gentle hands, his kiss returned with tender passion and reverence, and something inside him fluttered.

They had taken to sleeping together, tiring of the game of musical chairs when it came to the large bed at their disposal, and the necessity to continuously move their things around.

They hadn’t had another night as debauched as their very first one - a kind of subdued modesty had replaced open lust once feelings were laid bare, their lovemaking treated with delicacy.

It hadn’t yet been long since Astarion had begun allowing himself to fully indulge in sex again, and thus far it had only been with Asmodea, and only privately.

That night, they both happened to find themselves awake next to the sleeping druid. Unassuming embraces led to tender kisses, led to sensual touches, led to unabashed groping and stroking, until they became a tangle of limbs, giggling and shushing at each other, a sheet pulled over their heads as though it would hide or muffle anything they had been doing.

Astarion had been leaving a trail of kisses down Asmodea’s neck when she realised that the sheet was slowly but steadily slipping off to one side. She turned her now uncovered head to see Halsin tugging on the covers, until she and Astarion were laid completely bare before the druid.

Astarion glanced at the other elf but only went right back to kissing and caressing her, like it was the most normal and natural thing in the world to do so before an audience.

Asmodea’s breath hitched as Astarion’s fingers, which had been playing with a nipple, slid lower, to stroke her slit, gliding with no resistance, spreading her slick.

“Hmm, already..?” he purred in her ear. “You like being watched, don’t you?” He grinned and continued to caress between her legs, dipping his fingers inside her.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she said, innocently.

Astarion simply brought his fingers up to her mouth in response, letting her lick and suck her own juices off them, groaning softly. He continued to move his fingers in and out of her mouth, letting her suck and nibble on them.

“Should we show him more, my love?” he murmured, loud enough that he was sure that Halsin heard as well. “Should we show him how I make you come?”

An assenting hum had barely left Asmodea, when Astarion sat up between her legs, reaching to rub and slide his erection between her legs, coating it in her slick.

“My wanton minx… Always so eager,” he purred, before burying his cock inside her.

He plunged deep inside, but only gave her a few cursory thrusts, before leaning over her and beginning to roll his hips against her in hard, rhythmical, circular motions. He kept her stretched and full with his cock, but didn’t give her much inner friction, instead focusing the pressure on her clit. Persistent, knowing, unrelenting. But also gentle and loving. He could keep going like this as long as she needed - not that this ever took long.

Asmodea moaned and sighed in pleasure, the sensation gently but steadily bringing her closer and closer to her peak. She relaxed into it, beginning to pulse and squeeze around Astarion’s length before long, her moans building.

“That’s it, show him…” he purred. “Show him how you come on my cock.”

The sound of his voice brought her over the edge, melting helplessly under him in soft, keening moans. Only then did he really begin thrusting, perhaps being unable to withstand any more of this tease himself.

She doubted it had been much of a display, but the druid stirred next to them with a throaty groan,

“Beautiful…” he whispered.

Asmodea drew Astarion in a kiss, before rolling on top of him, dismounting, and kissing down his neck and torso towards his cock, rock-hard with his own unreleased need.

He breathed hard as she kissed and licked around it, perhaps not entirely unaffected by the presence of another in their bed either.

“Do you want me to do this,” she purred, regarding him from beneath her lashes, as she kissed the tender skin of his inner thighs, “or Halsin?”

Astarion hesitated, cock twitching in desperation to be pleasured by anyone.

“You,” he breathed, finally. She eagerly licked up his shaft and swirled her tongue around the head, and Astarion fell back against the pillows, shutting his eyes and tangling his fingers in her hair. “…This time,” he added.

It was Halsin’s decision to return to Reithwin after the fall of the Netherbrain. He sought to rebuild the city, gathering orphans, misfits and others who were displaced by the Absolute’s army. Astarion and Asmodea chose to go with him, not wanting to be separated, and not having any better ideas or plans besides.

It was a strange time in their lives. Elation at newfound freedom, mixed with the grief for the loss of Astarion’s ability to walk in the sun, and the overall uncertainty of their future. Neither were accustomed to what they had found themselves in.

Asmodea had returned to what she knew best, providing entertainment for the residents of the settlement. The children adored her, to her bemusement, bringing her small gifts: drawings, wreaths made of flowers that now grew throughout what used to be cursed and barren lands, beads they insisted she braid and tie into her hair.

Astarion in turn had been talked by Halsin into giving literacy and history lessons to the orphans. In part because there weren’t many others willing or able to do it, and in part, Asmodea suspected, simply to give him something to occupy himself with - he tried to hide it, but he had been miserable ever since the tadpole was removed from his brain along with all its benefits.

She walked in at the end of one such lesson, the makeshift classroom illuminated by candles and magelights, curtains and shutters drawn securely against the daylight.

“You’re very patient with them,” Asmodea noted with a smile, once the classroom cleared.

“I have an entire eternity to wait while they figure out the difference between ‘d’ and ‘b’,” Astarion sighed.

“Another group arrived today. Lots of kids. They’ll be joining these before long.”

“If they must,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “But can you do me a favour?” he asked. “No more teenage girls - someone else can deal with them. In fact, you take them.”

Asmodea lifted an eyebrow in question.

“They come in here, painted with rouge and charcoal, and try to make eyes at me instead of listening,” Astarion explained. “It’s disconcerting.”

The three lounged on a sofa in the house they had claimed for themselves. At one end, Halsin was busy with some ledgers that had been dumped on him - gods only knew why, he didn’t have a head for this kind of work. At the other, Astarion was likewise quietly busy with some novel, biding his time until the last rays of the sun hid. He would be out the door for a hunt the moment it was safe for him. Asmodea sprawled between them, her head on Astarion’s lap, her legs thrown over one of Halsin’s thighs.

Gods, but she was bored.

She regarded Halsin and the open misery written on his face as he tried to reconcile… What was it? Purchase orders of masonry and tools, against what had actually been recorded as delivered, against what had been charged.

Her bare foot slid between Halsin’s legs and pressed into his crotch, through his breeches.

��Could it be one of the missing hammers is here..?”

“Not now, my heart,” was his response.

She continued to lightly rub her foot against the bulge.

“Or is this one of the pillars..?”

“I must finish this before tomorrow,” he said, though he did not shift away from her, and had indeed begun to harden beneath her prodding.

“My, it’s erecting all by itself, why have we bothered to order any supplies at all when we have such marvels at hand?”

“You are truly testing my patience today,” he said in a low growl.

The ledger went flying across the room as she kicked it out of Halsin’s hands. The druid’s nostrils flared and he gave her a smouldering look.

“I warned you.”

She squealed as she found herself suddenly yanked by her leg down the sofa, off Astarion’s lap.

“Astarion!!” she laughed, reaching for him.

“No, no darling, you poked the bear and brought this upon yourself,” he said, unaffected, turning a page. “Now you must face the consequences.”

Halsin pulled her onto his own lap, flipping her onto her stomach, holding her down firmly with one hand, and pulling her pants down with the other.

“You brute! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” she cried out, trying not to laugh.

Halsin, though a generous, attentive and passionate lover, was not ordinarily one for such games, and getting him into a state of mind for one was a rare treat.

A loud sound resonated through the room, as a smack landed on one of her ass cheeks.

“I am teaching you a lesson.”

It could have been much harder, the druid was holding back, as per usual.

“How dare you?! Release me at once, you savage,” she cried, her voice faltering on the last word, as Halsin delivered another smack.

Astarion shifted where he lounged, now watching them through lidded eyes.

“It’s no use, you know - you’re just throwing more oil on the flames.”

Asmodea gasped as Halsin’s hand slid between her legs, stroking her.

“You’re right. Should I cease?”

She struggled and kicked but remained securely restrained by the druid, his digits now slipping inside her rapidly moistening hole.

“Absolutely not. You must remain steadfast and determined. Perhaps double down on your efforts until you see a result.”

The hand between her legs left and delivered a series of blows on her rear, the slaps now having a sting to them. Asmodea moaned between each one.

She looked at Astarion with her best round-eyed pleading face. His own book had been discarded as well.

“Star? My love? My sweet? Are you just - ah! - going to let him do this to me?!”

“There there, my love… I’ll kiss it better once he’s done with you.”

They lay beneath the stars, bathed in moonlight, the night warm and serene. Asmodea’s head rested on Astarion’s shoulder, their fingers entwined.

“What is the difference between me and him, for you?” Astarion asked, softly. “In the way you feel about us?”

She paused to consider her words before responding.

“With you, I feel like I can take on the entire world. Like we could set it ablaze and stand atop a pile of rubble, holding hands and watching it all burn,” she answered, before growing quiet again for some moments.

“And with him, I feel like maybe the world doesn’t need to burn. ...Or if it does, no matter what, he would be an undisturbed, peaceful grove. A place where one would be protected and nourished. Where they could forget about everything outside. ...Only they couldn’t stay in that grove forever.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Astarion chuckled quietly. “I think I feel more or less the same way. It’s that, and…” he began to say something, but cut himself short, and shook his head, not finishing the sentence.

“And what?” Asmodea encouraged him, smiling. “Tell me!”

“It’s going to sound completely idiotic after what you just said,” he explained, before sighing and continuing, at her insistence. “…And sometimes, it… feels nice, for me, to be the small and delicate one,” he explained, coyly.

Halsin’s cock filled her, thrusting into her in short, rhythmic strokes - he was always so conscious of not hurting anyone, even when they wanted him to simply let go.

She arched her back, legs spread wide, ass raised to meet his hips, and bucked back into him wantonly, sliding on his length. Her back would hurt later, but for now she didn’t have a care in the world.

Astarion’s cock filled her mouth. She worked it with the rhythm of Halsin’s thrusts from behind her, keeping a hand firmly on the base of his shaft, in case any sudden surprises came from Halsin.

“Good girl…” groaned Astarion. “My good, dirty girl…”

“She’s like a wildcat in heat,” followed from Halsin, his voice heavy with lust.

She moaned at the praise and curved her back further, trying to open herself up even more, urging Halsin further, deeper.

He gripped her hips harder with one of his hands, continuing to thrust into her, and dragged the fingertips of the other along and up her ass cheek, until they brushed over her puckered hole.

She groaned around Astarion’s cock as Halsin’s thumb teased around the edge of her asshole, hoping he would do more, trying to buck and grind her hips against his cock and hand harder.

“Careful, it’s me she’ll bite if you make her too desperate,” warned Astarion.

Halsin applied more pressure, rubbing her hole, as she mewled and whined around Astarion’s cock, trying to continue sucking it, but losing any finesse or rhythm. It only made him gasp and bury his fingers in her hair, tugging on it and holding her in place, as he started to fuck her mouth himself.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word,” said Halsin. Fucking hilarious, she thought, considering the things that were happening to her mouth at that moment. Well, they did have other ways of communicating set in place, for just this type of situation.

“She doesn’t want you to stop one bit,” purred Astarion. “Do you, pet?” He tugged on her hair and tilted her head, keeping his cock deep in her mouth. “Look at me,” he whispered. She met his eyes as he continued to slide his cock between her lips. His pupils were blown with lust and want. “Do you like what he’s doing?”

Asmodea could only hum in assent. The pressure from Halsin’s finger told her he was just on the cusp of dipping inside, and it was driving her mad.

“Think your tight little hole is ready for more today..?” Astarion purred, stroking her face as he fucked it. “Tell me.”

His dick slipped out of her mouth.

“Yes, for hells’ sake,” she gasped.

But, to her dismay, the druid slid out of her entirely, leaving her frustrated and empty. Before she could react, Astarion lifted her up on her knees from her position on all fours, and kissed her, caressing and teasing her tongue with his own.

“Do you want to try something new with us?” he whispered, his lips brushing against her own, before leaning away.

Off to her side, Halsin had laid on his back, lazily stroking his cock, which had remained at full mast for her. He beckoned her with his free hand, and, released by Astarion, she crawled on top of him. She wanted to taste him then, but he kept leading her up, until their hips were level, and then impatiently plunged back inside her.

Astarion’s arm wrapped around her from behind, and brought her back up into a sitting position on Halsin’s cock. He kissed and nibbled on her neck as the druid thrusted shallowly inside her.

Had they orchestrated this..?

“Hmm,” Asmodea hummed, with a sly smile. “What was that about tight holes?”

“Oh, this?” Astarion said, distractedly, sliding his fingers along her hip and the cleft of her ass until it reached her asshole and rubbed, teasing. “Why, is there something you want me to do with it..?”

She nearly hissed at him for his gloating, but Halsin chose that moment to pinch one of her nipples, and the noise that came out of her instead was closer to a whimper.

“You’re the one who said something about… wanting to try something new.” she managed, as Astarion continued to rub her hole, smirking. “So what is it?”

“Guess,” he purred against the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Astarion had fucked her ass before. He wasn’t the first person she’d tried that with, but he was the one who managed to teach her to actually enjoy it. It wouldn’t be that, not exactly, but given Halsin’s presence and their obvious smugness - even Halsin appeared cocksure and brash…

“Are you both going to fuck me at once?” she grinned, biting her lip.

“Do you want us to?” he asked, his voice pure velvet. “Say it.”

Gods, this fucking man... Fine, two could play this game. Three, if Halsin was in the mood to go along with it - he usually wasn’t vocal, a contrast to Astarion, who simply wouldn’t ever shut up.

She leaned back, twisting and grinding hard against Halsin, and caught Astarion’s earlobe between her teeth, nipping at it, before murmuring back to him.

“I want to feel both of you, at once, fucking me, filling me. Now will you stop dallying? I want you inside me.”

Astarion let out what sounded like an involuntary groan, but before Asmodea could claim moral victory, she found herself thrown against Halsin’s chest, still stuffed with his cock, ass up.

“Inside you..? Where? Here?” Astarion asked, innocently, just before crouching down to tongue her asshole.

She gasped and laughed, squirming at the sudden sensation. But at last, it appeared Astarion had had enough of teasing her, as he retrieved a vial of oil, and hastily but generously coated his fingers with it, spreading it over her puckered hole as well.

She ground lightly against Halsin as Astarion inserted one finger, and then, at her obvious ease and eagerness, another. The druid was holding her down, not giving her much friction, and she mewled in protest at being restrained so.

“I thought you’d like that…” Astarion breathed in her ear. “More..?”

His fingers were a teasing promise of everything he was about to do to her, and she found she simply could not wait, and could not allow Astarion to find any reason to keep holding back.

“Please…” she begged.

“Please what?” he rasped.

“Please fuck me.”

She heard his breath hitch at her pleading. His fingers slipped out, and moments later, at last, she felt the tip of his cock against her entrance, slowly but insistently pushing its way in. She gasped as the sensation became overwhelming. There was no possible way that she could fit a single millimetre more of him, couldn’t be stretched even a hair’s width wider - and yet he kept going, cooing at her wide-eyed whimpers, until he filled her completely, pressing his chest against her back.

“Well look at you, filled to the brim with elf cock…” Astarion’s taunt didn’t carry its usual edge, given the way his voice trembled.

“I think she’s earned a little reward for that,” said Halsin, reaching up to cup and tenderly caress her breasts.

“I think so too,” said Astarion.

Astarion’s fingers, still covered in some of the oil, snaked down her stomach to her clit, and began drawing circles around it. Asmodea shut her eyes and threw her head back against Astarion’s shoulder, moaning.

The sensation, starting off as a building warmth, quickly grew more intense as his fingers sped up, gliding over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips began to twitch, but were held down securely by Halsin, as he started to thrust up into her.

“This is your reward for being such a good girl,” Astarion whispered in her ear, his fingers now flicking her clit quickly.

She was caught off-guard by how quickly an orgasm overtook her, suddenly finding herself melting, helplessly pulsing and clenching around the hard lengths inside her. The sheer force of it had both Astarion and Halsin groaning and gasping, in short order.

“Gods… We have to make her do that again,” laughed Astarion.

“You’ve read my mind,” the druid said in agreement.

They both began to thrust into her, gently but persistently, rhythmically, and all she could do was pant and whimper at the stretch of both their cocks inside her, even as they talked around her.

“She’s so incredibly tight like this,” Astarion groaned. He paused, briefly, with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “I can feel you through her,” he gasped. “I can feel you thrusting.”

“Can you..?” Halsin rasped, and sped up, gripping her hips tightly, making both Asmodea and Astarion pant. Astarion swore through his teeth and picked up his own pace, unable to hold back any longer.

Asmodea found herself thrown atop the druid’s chest once again, as her lovers lost their reserve and began fucking her vigorously.

Good, it felt so fucking good, this intense pounding in both her holes, and she tried to voice as much, knowing how much Astarion loved it when she talked or praised him during their lovemaking, but any words she tried to say came out as unintelligible babbling.

It was a wonder how easily they’d found this maddening rhythm, working seamlessly to bring her and each other over the edge with their thrusting - but she supposed they had a combined 500 years of experience on her, at least.

She gave up on trying to say anything and simply moaned into Halsin’s neck.

“Is our little vixen going to come for us again..?” Astarion had crouched over her, keeping her sandwiched between himself and Halsin.

Her clit was pressed tightly against Halsin’s pelvis, and between that, the way the head of his impressive cock dragged against all her most sensitive parts with each thrust, as well as the sensation of Astarion’s hips mercilessly snapping against her ass, burying himself in her again and again, another orgasm began to wash over her.

Feeling her walls throb, nearing another climax, the elves also lost all control, chasing their own release within her body with reckless abandon. Her world became nought but bucking hips and the sound of grunts and smacking flesh. She could no longer tell where her body ended and theirs began. Her legs shook as everything between them convulsed in shockwaves resonating through her entire body. Astarion bit down on her shoulder with a strangled groan just as Halsin gave her a final hard thrust with an animalistic growl.

Asmodea’s vision blurred, and she must have passed for some moments, as she came to, to find that the frantic pounding had once again been replaced by gentle rocking, as final orgasmic aftershocks were ridden out.

Astarion slipped out of her first, leaving a trail of tender kisses down her shoulders and back, as Halsin simply embraced her, pressing his lips against the crown of her head, while she continued to lie on his chest.

“Did you like that, darling?” Astarion whispered, as though he had any doubt about the answer.

“Uh-huh,” she managed, remaining on top of Halsin as Astarion got up, somewhat shaky, in search of a towel.

“Are you well, my heart?” Halsin murmured to her.

“Yep,” she susurrated. “I’m just going to stay right here for now - I don’t think my legs are willing to listen to me yet.”

The druid chuckled and held her closer.

A bead of sweat rolled from Halsin’s forehead, down his nose, and dropped right into Asmodea’s eye.

She blinked and rubbed at it, trying to do it quickly, without drawing any attention to it, so it wouldn’t break the mood. It wasn’t a big deal, but gods was it irritating when it happened... …Gah, she had been so close, too.

The sex was great, truly, but this - the godsdamned sweat - was an area where Astarion won by a landslide - his body being much cooler, he simply did not perspire anywhere near as much as Halsin. His body would heat up from exertion, or from absorbing the warmth of his surroundings, but it was rare for his skin to even grow damp. Meanwhile, a prolonged cuddle session with Halsin, not to mention laying with him, inevitably ended with Asmodea lying or sliding in a puddle.

Astarion didn’t mind the heat radiating from the druid, and in fact preferred to wrap himself around Halsin when sleeping, but not possessing his own body heat, this only served to cool the druid down. Asmodea could not boast the same.

A multitude of other little things that once seemed endearing had begun to grate on her nerves as well, of late.

Halsin’s insistence on the orphans being welcome to run rampant through their home, including when she just wanted some peace and quiet. The ever-present aroma of tobacco - she enjoyed it when it was fresh, but after living together it seemed to permeate everything, including all of her possessions. The silent but disapproving sadness in his eyes when he brewed her fertility suppressant teas. The way he always forgot that the automatic pens did not need to be dipped in ink, or his blatant refusal to believe that their wall clock was accurate and reliable, instead opting to judge the time of day by the position of the moon or sun.

Astarion didn’t seem to mind most of that. In fact, his connection with the druid had only grown since their little triad had become official.

At wasn’t as sexual for the two of them – that aspect had always seemed to mostly hinge on Asmodea’s presence. Rather, they took on roles not unlike an old married couple’s - not necessarily approving of, but being resigned to each other’s routines and ways, and finding a quiet comfort in each other’s company.

And a comfort there was, for all of them. Serenity in their closeness. The pleasure of long, fascinating conversations about anything and everything, held over cozy nights. The simple security of being with those who would never cause harm or disrespect (unless they were asked to very nicely, anyway). The sheer strength of sexual attraction. Even if, for Asmodea, it all had never held quite the same spark as it had with Astarion. The same desperate need to love and be loved, needing the other the way one needed air. That part of her had always been Astarion’s.

Though Astarion hadn’t voiced any complaints about the druid, he had taken to frequently grumbling about their surroundings, saying his blades and wits had been growing dull.

He had been losing his mind from boredom. Being confined within a small settlement grated on him. Though reluctantly accepted by the residents, he was viewed as an oddity and was generally avoided. In turn, he was completely disinterested in the town’s affairs and its success. The teaching had become a joyless chore. He was stagnating.

Asmodea lay contemplating all of this in his arms later that morning, once Halsin had gotten up for the day. Increasingly, these thoughts wouldn’t leave her mind. Instead, they had become a constant haunting presence.

“Is everything okay..?” came a murmur from Astarion.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s just… I think…” She hesitated, not knowing how to even begin putting any of it into words.

“You’re no longer happy,” Astarion said quietly.

“Mmhmm,” was all she managed, suddenly finding herself choked up.

Astarion went silent for a short while, before speaking.

“Is it me?” he asked. “Please just be honest.”

“What? No! It’s just… It’s the…” she paused, sighing, before words began spilling out of her. “Halsin, for instance. He’s just so damned good. And so certain in his knowledge, so set in his ways, so adamant about everything he feels needs to be done… And he’s so damned patient, too.”

“All his virtues are an absolute travesty, yes.”

“And in his patience,” Asmodea continued, “he makes me feel like I’m a child that he’s waiting to grow up. And I won’t. Because I’m not. …Does that make sense? ...Fuck, I don’t even know where I’m going with this. And then there’s all this,” she said, gesturing around them, “it was always his. It never became mine, or yours, I don’t think.”

“No,” Astarion whispered.

“I think… I think I just don’t want to be here, and as long as I stay here, I feel like no matter what I do, I’m being unfair to him, or to you, or to both. I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes watered. “I only know how not to be unfair to myself, and that means leaving,” she whispered.

“It’s not working anymore, is it, darling?” Astarion said, giving her a sad smile that made her heart clench.

“You can stay here, if you want,” she said, uselessly. “I can see how close you are.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I want to stay here, much less stay here without you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and hugged him.

“Where to, then? Back to Baldur’s Gate..?” he asked.

She nodded, wiping at her eyes.

“I think that’s the best option. It’s not that far, we could always write and visit.”

“We could,” said Astarion.

“I’ve had enough of tramping around, I want a place of my own, without any screaming children. And with proper walls. Locked doors. And plumbing.”

Astarion chuckled.

“And whatever shall we do in Baldur’s Gate, besides anything we damn well please?”

“I’ve been thinking about that… We could see just how far our ‘hero’ status can take us, capitalise on that…” Asmodea said, beginning to relax.

“And then? You’re grinning like you already have a plan.”

“More a dream than a plan. Promise not to laugh?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. So I’ve always wanted to open and run my own theatre...”

~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this, check out A Night at the Inn and Bloodbang Chronicles!

Find the fic on AO3 as well.

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Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird

@brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna

@mj-bites @bardic-inspo @twirlywhirlywriting

#astarion #halsin #astarion x halsin #astarion x halsin x tav #smut #astarion smut #halsin smut #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x oc #astarion x f!oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x asmodea #bloodbang chronicles

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ellieslaces · 10 months ago

Text

NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!agent!reader x ashley graham

synopsis: ashley graham's biggest weakness is attractive people, especially kind, attractive people. she was not expecting to be saved by two of the hottest, kindest people she'd ever met, much less to end up crushing on the both of them

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; tension; lots of flirtatious banter; ashley shooting her shot for an entire fic basically; mentions of reader being bisexual; light smut; kissing (f!f & f!m); one bed trope; forced proximity; no real smut bc idk how to write a threesome :(

notes: takes place on the way back from Spain (technically post RE4R); one bed-ish trope (r&leon share a bed, and a room with ashley); ashley is sort of confused about her sexuality; semi-established relationship (r&leon); really more of a sibling dynamic between ashley and leon (it sounds weird, but its balanced in the actual fic, i promise)

word count: 6.13k (i’m so sorry)

chloe talks: was this entirely inspired by @postersofleon ? yeah, i read this post a week or so ago and i'm losin' sleep over it. so full credits to @postersofleon for the plot! luv their lil' drabble :) also, sorry this isn't more of a threesome fic. if it were a triple female threesome, i could work with that, but add a dick into it, i'm clueless. anyways, enjoy ashley fumbling for this whole fic (luv her, i just can't help embarrassing her shes so cute). also, please appreciate this, i wrote around 80% of this while i was supposed to be studying for an exam. that’s on adhd and procrastination :)

now playing: Nohings Gonna Hurt You Baby; Cigarettes After Sex

It is entirely possible that blondes were, indeed, your weakness. Sure, over the years, you'd come to realize there was something especially alluring about lighter hair - possibly the way it reminded you of the sun, or how each strand looked like spun gold. Although, what seemed to seal your fate was the ever dangerous pairing of blonde hair and blue eyes. Oh, how alluring and damning was the color of icy blue coupled with silvery, silken strands.

For a time, you believed your weakness was encompassed only within your field partner, Leon S. Kennedy. God, how handsome was that agent. Not only handsome, but brave, and kind - awkwardly so, but it really is the principle of the thing. It was painstakingly obvious to everyone, other than Leon it seemed, that you were completely and forlornly in love with him. It seemed you were equally as blind to the evidence that Leon Kennedy was also miserably in love with you.

But the one person who noticed it upon first glance was Ashley Graham. Not only for the clear obviousness of the situation, but because the feeling was entirely, and unfortunately mutual. And it was this girl who also awoke the realization within you that Leon was not the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed person you found enticing.

Though, you were not the only one in this clandestine triad who had an impending weakness for certain types of people. No, you were not, Ashley had an Achilles heel for graciously kind people. Not just kind, but attractive. Not in a shallow or superficial way, but to say more that a person would catch her eye. She had no pre-existing physical type - no particular hair color, eye color, or even height preference. Just that they be kind. And much to the First Daughter's dismay, you were both horribly kind. In your own respective ways, of course.

Leon — as aforementioned — was awkwardly kind, despite how well he meant. He never knew exactly how to word his concern, or how to come about comforting someone. It was usually said in simple phrases such as “you okay?” or in way of one of many snarky comments he had stored in the deep recesses of his mind. Ashley thought he was funny; sometimes.

You, on the other hand, were painfully sweet to her. Always reassuring her that she was okay, and you were going to keep her safe. Field medic, that’s how Leon explained your role in her rescue. You were there to keep her and Leon healthy and in one piece, which you were startlingly good at. Any bruise or cut she procured was immediately treated by your sweet disposition and skilled hands. She liked how gentle you were with her.

So yes, Leon was kind in an awkward manner, and you were kind in a practical sense. And that devastating combination was her inevitable downfall.

From the moment you and Leon found her in that church, she knew she was fucked. Because, how could people look that good while doing the sort of jobs you had? There was no way, no way she would ever be able to form coherent sentences around you two. But, somehow, by some miracle, she got on with you both quite well. Despite the obvious moments of third-wheel-ism because you and Leon were so close.

There where multiple reoccurring occasions where Ashley suspected the pair of you may be together. Or at least fucking on the side. Because no two people who are just partners have that dynamic. The constant tension, the way Leon could be protective or even overbearing sometimes. The way you would rush to his side to patch up his wounds — no matter how small and minuscule they were — after a fight. Sometimes, despite how endearing it could be, Ashley was annoyed. Sure, you two had known each other for an extended period of time and had just met Ashley that day. But, it became so aggravating when you would consult each other without the inclusion of Ashley.

Many times you would apologize to her, expressing how sorry you were for leaving her out of conversations or hypothetical battle plans. It wasn’t that either of you thought she was stupid or couldn’t handle it. No, it was more along the lines that you were used to it just being the two of you. There was rarely ever a third party involved — other than Hunnigan chatting away in your ear pieces of course — in these types of situations.

Ashely was smitten, to put it lightly. She’d made several attempts to quote-unquote ‘shoot her shot’ with Leon. Little comments of how brave he was, how thankful she was for his saving her. Even calling him her ‘hero’ on one occasion or another. His name had posted permanent residence in her vocabulary it seemed.

However, her means of flattery with you was completely different. She was a little more bold with you, seeing as you were more of an open person than Leon was. She partook in the cliche, yet never failing flirtatious mannerisms — simple touches, giggling at your jokes, or simply sticking to your side in dangerous situations. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice, no, you just turned a conscious blind eye to it all. Ashley was a college girl, a sorority girl, a privileged girl. She was probably used to using flattery to get what she wanted, to gain the attention she so desperately thrived on.

Though as your time in the hostile Spanish village went on, you came to realize that it wasn’t superficial, Ashley’s flattery toward you and your field partner. Absolutely not, far from it. You realized after Leon had carried her to Luis’ laboratory and you managed to get the machine working to expel the parasite from her body, that Ashley was totally and completely smitten with the pair of you. She was attached in the worst way. And that would be your inevitable downfall.

Leon was consciously blind to it. Your partner — no matter his selfless tendencies and his awkwardly kind nature — was melancholic. He had a firm belief he was predestined to be miserable. That there was always another shoe waiting to drop. He didn’t deserve happiness, peace, love, a good life. So, he ignored it. He ignored how Ashley was equally as taken with him as she was with you. He didn’t bring it up, he didn’t even act like he noticed. Oh, but you did.

You saw the attachment so clearly by the time the three of you had managed to escape the crumbling island via Ada Wong’s gifted jet ski that Ashely was so attached to the pair of you. She’d offered positions on her own personal detail to you, claiming she could put a word in with her father. Denials were made, kind smiles and the shaking of heads. Too kind of an offer and you liked your jobs, is what you’d told her. That wasn’t at all what you were thinking though.

Post a Hunnigan meltdown over your earpieces, the three of you were told to stay the night in a shabby, rundown little local hotel in a larger town a couple dozen miles south of the village. Still in Spain, still tired, still craving a warm shower. One room, two beds. Great, one of you was stuck sleeping with someone. Ashely offered for one of you to have a bed to yourself, she’d sleep with the other. Not a great idea. You and Leon — having spent many awkward and difficult missions together, so this was not strange to either one of you — decided on giving Ashley a bed to herself and taking the other together

If you’d been alone, oh how your lovestruck little heart would have burst. Sharing a bed with Leon Kennedy, the object of your affection. The sole performer in your wildest — and wettest — dreams. But you weren’t alone. Ashley was in the room, a matter of feet away, in her own double sized bed.

If she hadn’t been — to be vulgar and completely honest — nothing would have stopped you from fucking him then and there. The tension between the pair of you had been growing thicker since your arrival in Spain. It was thick, painfully so, and also horrifically obvious not only to you, but yet again, to Ashley. For the longer stretch of the mission, she’d expected a grand confession at any moment. A breakdown caused by a dangerous situation that ensued a moment of emotional and even physical vulnerability. But, to her dismay and yours, that never happened. Because, above all things, Leon was professional for a lack of a better word. He wasn’t going to allow his emotions to jeopardize the mission.

And so no breakdown of emotional distress and vulnerability played out. No confession of hearts bleeding for the other were cried out. Part of you was glad it hadn’t happened that way. But the larger part of your soul which was dedicated to Leon had wished it had. You longed for the day he realized he needed you too. But, to maintain professionalism and dignity, neither of you made such admissions.

Warm showers were taken in rotation in the tiny excuse for a bathroom. The shower was small and permanently stained with grime, but really was clean as the owner swore. The shower head was one of the older ones from the seventies that made the water come out in a dribble, then a forceful rainfall that hurt your back. The toiletries provided by the hotel were small and cheap, but you were clean. That’s all that mattered.

Sans dried blood and grime, you sat on Ashley’s bed, cross legged as you patched up each one of her injuries. Ashley had been the first to shower, after a fifteen minute debate with the two of you over who should go first. She had a few bandages and exposed scrapes that needed to be re-cleaned. So, with gentle hands you did so as Leon took use of his turn to shower.

“Looks good, no signs of infection so far. But, like I said before, I can’t tell too much without the right equipment.” You reassured Ashely as you finished patching up a cut on her arm and began to put your first aid kit back together.

“Thanks,” Ashley nodded, inspecting her scrape riddled skin. Small bruises and surface cuts were beginning to make their appearance, telltale signs of the brutality the three of you had endured in that village.

“Let me know if you feel feverish or see any swelling. That could mean infection.” You offered, being kind but stern.

“‘Kay,” the girl nodded, smiling up at you as you let out a sigh, leaning back on your hands on the bed.

You looked at her, smiling softly as your head tilted to the side a little. “Need me to kiss it better?”

At this, Ashley’s eyes went wide, her cheeks dusted with pink. You felt a little bad then, you just tried to ease the tension. “S’okay, Ashley. I was just playing.” You laughed, your tone lighthearted as you placed a gentle hand on her knee with an equally gentle smile.

It seemed the touch was worst than the comment. Ashley’s entire face went aflame, her eyes wide, and large as she stared at you. An uneasy ache settled in your chest, uncertainty lingering in the air as your smile faded. The initial shock between the pair of you didn’t last long as the door to the bathroom swung open.

“Jesus, you could’ve left me some hot water.” Leon grumbled as he stepped out into the room, lips downturned and brows etched in an annoyed frown.

The three of you were now paused as Leon’s eyes fell on you and Ashely — or more-so on the hand that rested on Ashley’s knee. Reality seemed to snap into place all at once for you, yanking your hand back and standing up.

“Let me check you out.” You mumbled, clearing your throat as you picked up the first aid kit and took residence on your own bed.

“No, I’m fine. Check on Ashley,” Leon shook his head, damp blond strands sticking to his forehead.

“Already did. Just finished. Your turn, whether you like it or not.” You stated, your tone final as you looked up at Leon, brows raised.

The agent let out a huff of agitation, grumbling something indiscernible as he sat down on the bed beside you. You began to gently inspect Leon's wounds- some small, others more intense. Despite his prior hesitation to be taken care of, he was stoic about it all. He sat still, unmoving, silent as you worked to disinfect and cover each wound with fresh bandages. The silence in the room was loud, startlingly uncomfortable as you patched Leon up.

A quick glance over at Ashley as you finished bandaging a deep cut that you'd quickly stitched up on the field showed her wide eyes. Wide baby blue focused on the way your fingers gently worked, how graceful and careful they were again the alabaster tone of Leon's skin.

"Doing okay over there, blondie?” Leon inquired, a small smirk playing on his face as he spotted Ashley's startling gaze on the wounds decorating his skin. He had mistook her fascination of your hands as nervousness of his wounds. But you knew. You could tell what her gaze meant.

"Oh, yeah. M'fine." Ashley recovered very quickly, to your surprise. Well, maybe it wasn't just your hands that had her enraptured, Leon was sitting on the bed, shirtless.

"Alright, hero-boy, all better." You smiled at Leon as you patted his bicep - earning a small, almost inaudible grumble from him - and moving to close your medical kit. You stood, tucking away in your pack and let out a sigh. "’Kay, l for one, am fucking exhausted."

“Yeah, me too,” Ashely murmured, an aura of discomfort still radiating from her. She offered a kind, if not awkward smile to the pair of you before settling into the bed, pulling the overs over her shoulders. “G’night.”

“‘Night,” you smiled, shuffling over to the bed you and Leon were sharing. You sat down on the edge, eyes trained on the back of Ashley’s head — the blonde hair, how it shimmered against the dim light of the single lamp in the room. You felt almost as if you weren’t really there.

“Need me to check you?” Leon asked, snapping you back to reality. You jolted a bit, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Oh, nah, I’m okay.” You shook your head, clearing your throat as you settled into the bed, flicking off the lamp.

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, getting into the bed too, still in just a pair of pants. Everyone was in the barest of clothing. You in a tank top and underwear — Ashely in the same. It was all you had. All your clothes were soiled with dirt, and grime, and blood.

Thinking of nothing in particular, you laid there, staring up at the ceiling of the dark room. The walls creaked every once in a while, odd drafts filtered in from cracks in the ceiling or from the window. It was too quiet. And it stayed that way for a long while.

“Everything okay with Ashley?” Leon asked, his voice quiet, as not to wake the subject of conversation.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You mumbled back, turning your head. He, too, was on his back. Both of you too afraid to face each other in bed, seeming too personal. “Why?”

“Just making sure.” His response was quiet, a little too nonchalant, as if he’d forced it to be casual. “It was awkward earlier.”

“Earlier?” You decided to play dumb, despite knowing that Leon wouldn’t believe it. He was well aware you knew what he was talking about. The touch. How Ashley had frozen when you’d touched her leg.

“Whatever, play stupid.” He scoffed with a half smile — a knowing smile. The bastard. “Just saying, she seems attached to you.”

“Oh, and she’s not with you, her hero?” You bit back with a hint of humor. Your voices were still low, hoping Ashely was asleep — or she couldn’t hear you if she wasn’t.

Leon laughed quietly, a rough scoff sound that echoed in your ears. You smiled at little at that sound. “Whatever you say,”

You frowned, gaining the confidence to shuffle onto your side, facing him as you contemplated what that simple, yet heavy ‘whatever’ meant. “What do you mean, whatever?”

Leon sighed, rolling onto his side to face you too. His eyes, still so blue even in the darkness of the motel room, bore into yours. It seemed he didn’t carry the same awkward feeling about this topic as you did. Or, maybe he did and he just hid it exceptionally well. But knowing him, that didn’t seem right.

“She’s just attached to you. Always at your side, or chatting your ear off. And what the hell was with that earlier?” He continued, brows furrowed in their eternal frown.

“I was patching her up. Making sure none of her cuts were infected.” You half shrugged, trying to play it off as something simple, even though it was so complex.

“She looked like she wanted to kiss you or something.”

“Oh, my God,” you rolled your eyes, trying to push away the way your chest tightened at the though. “You’re so fucking dramatic. She wasn’t gonna kiss me.”

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, his tone final and casually dismissive. Like he was finished talking about it. Like he didn’t believe you but didn’t want to say so.

“She was not going to kiss me.” You pushed, voice quiet yet firm. Your own brows were pulled into a frown, like what he’d said was offensive.

But it wasn’t. Kissing Ashley wasn’t a bad thought. It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed another girl before. The first time you had was in the training program for USSTRATCOM, your training partner who made you realize that all girls don’t look at other girls that way. She was the first, others followed.

Ashley was pretty, very pretty. Tall, pretty lips, and the blonde hair, blue eye thing, of course. Kissing her wouldn’t be so bad, really. It would probably be very nice. But nothing like kissing Leon, though.

“Okay.” Leon said again, shifting to lay on his back again, letting his eyes close. The finality of it all aggravated you. So, you asked him a question maybe you shouldn’t have.

“What if she did?” You asked, eyes narrowed and trained on him. A smile bloomed on your face at the way his eyes opened, his brows furrowing deeper at your question.

“What about it? It’s not my business.” Leon grumbled. But the tone he used made it wound like it was very much his business.

“M’kay.” You nodded, quietly celebrating to the way you’d seemed to have stumped him, surprised him.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He stared at the ceiling, and you stared at him. It was deadly quiet, the rhythmic sound of Ashley’s breathing the sole sound in the room.

“Did you want her to?” Leon asked, mumbling quietly. His eyes stayed on the ceiling, as if he were afraid to look you in the eye when you answered. Afraid you had an answer he wouldn’t like.

“I dunno.” You admitted, honestly. You didn’t know, truly you didn’t. Kissing Ashely wouldn’t be so bad, but you hardly knew the girl. Not to mention her heavy attachment to you. It could get worse if she kissed you.

Leon nodded, not sure of how to answer your admission. He laid there, your eyes on him as you laid on your side. You wished so desperately for him to kiss you, or hold you, or do something. It was painful, the thought that he didn’t feel the same.

“Would that bother you?” You dared to ask, voice so low it was almost inaudible as you spoke.

Leon was still quiet for a long moment, maybe considering whether to answer seriously or with his usual dry humor. The latter won. “Not something I’d wanna walk in on.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Why? Because we’re girls?”

“Because she’d be kissing you.” He responding, saying it lightly, like the meaning of that simple sentence wasn’t the heaviest thing you’d ever heard.

Your mind did circles, your heart raced. Did he mean that because you were his partner? Or did he mean it out of jealousy. God, you hoped it was jealousy.

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned, voice apprehensive and unsure.

Leon shrugged, a soft, unintelligible grunt falling from his lips. He didn’t look over at you, his eyes still trained on the ceiling. The nagging feeling that was ever present in your chest worsened. The silence was deafening, painful. Then, finally, he spoke.

“It’d just be weird. It’s Ashely, it’d be weird.” He mumbled, like even he didn’t believe his own answer.

Leon’s words befuddled you, made you frown in contemplation. “Because it’s Ashley? What you mean by that?”

“I mean it’s Ashley. It’d be weird.” He repeated, not clarifying at all. This annoyed you.

Eyes narrowed, lips in a line, you scoffed. “Thanks for the explanation.”

“Anytime,” Leon clipped back playfully. But you were in no playful mood.

You huffed, Leon picking up on your attitude as you sat up in bed. “Seriously, what’d you mean by that?”

Leon let out a scoff of his own, rolling his eyes as he looked over at you. “I mean it’s just a weird thought. You and Ashley. We, we just met her, okay?”

“Oh,” you nodded, wishing you hadn’t jumped to your own conclusions internally. You’d thought he meant it was weird because she wasn’t him. Or maybe that he wanted to kiss you. Not such a simple and obvious answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, letting out a small sigh to stifle a yawn. “Look, can we get some sleep now? Kinda have a long trip home tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” You mumbled, lying back down on your back, eyes on the cracked ceiling once again.

It was quiet again, the discomfort of silence present once more as Ashley slept in the bed next to yours, and Leon tired to sleep beside you. Your mind buzzed with a thousand variations of the same question: why did Leon actually care so damn much?

“Go to sleep. You think too loud.” Leon grumbled, shifting to lay on his side, back facing you.

“At least some of us think,” you quipped quietly, earning a scoff of a laugh from him before he went silent for the final time that night.

Of course Leon woke up at dawn. The asscrack of fucking dawn. And it wasn’t like he was quiet either. Shuffling of his feet as he stumbled to the bathroom, the sink creaking on. You tried so hard to stay asleep, but your stupid internal alarm clock was ringing too. Oh to be in D.C. where it was still dark.

“C’mon, get up. We need to get moving.” Leon said, his voice somewhat gentle as he rested a hand on your shoulder once he’d emerged from the bathroom, fully changed.

“I’m up. You’re loud.” You mumbled, voice muffled as you pressed your face into the pillow.

“Jesus,” Leon whispered under his breath. “Even Ashely’s up.”

“Good for her,” you nestled deeper into the pillow, hearing a second set of footsteps head toward the bathroom. Less than five short seconds later, Leon yanked the covers from your body, sending a muffled yelp from your lips.

“Up, we need to move.” Leon said again, giving your leg a small shake as you grumbled on about a lack of sleep. His gentleness was gone now, replaced by urgency.

Technically, you were still on ‘enemy grounds’. You weren’t safe until you were back on U.S. soil, and even then there carried a risk with Ashley in tow.

So, with more sour encouragement from Leon, you got up and changed into your now dry clothes. Once Ashely used up her turn in the bathroom, you took yours. And not long after, the three of you were heading back toward the lobby of the shabby motel.

You managed to convince Leon to stick around for an extra thirty minutes for a shitty cooked breakfast in the sad excuse for a dining room where the motel offered complimentary breakfast.

Once full of frozen scrambled eggs, stale toast, and really bad coffee, the three of you were on the move once more. It was tricky, getting home like this. Hunnigan had promised that of you made it to a certain location a few miles north of the motel, there would be a chopper waiting to pick you up. Hunnigan hadn’t failed you yet, so you didn’t doubt her.

“How much further?” Ashley asked, her brows creased, forehead already glistening with sweat as the three of you walked through the winding streets of a small village as you had been for the past few hours.

“Not too much. Tired?” You asked, slowing your steps to walk alongside the girl.

She nodded, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Sympathy panged in your chest — Ashley wasn’t built for this like you and Leon were. The two of you had trained for exhausting situations such as these, she had not. You frowned.

“Need some water?” You asked gently, holding out a canteen from your belt. Ashley nodded vigorously, taking the canteen and drinking deeply.

You motioned to Leon to stop for a moment, he frowned, but did nonetheless. You stood with Ashley as she drank, taking a break before going back to drinking the water.

“Thanks,” she smiled, handing the canteen back to you — now half empty. “Sorry, I drank a lot.”

“That’s okay. Can’t have you passing out on us now, can we?” You smiled, taking a sip yourself before latching it back on your belt.

Leon, noticing that Ashely was finished with her break, began walking again. You and Ashely followed, keeping a small bit of distance between you and Leon.

“Hey, I um, I overheard you and Leon talking last night. Not everything, but some of it.” Ashley confessed, her voice a bit hesitant.

“Oh, that so? What’d you hear exactly?” You asked casually, worry springing in your chest.

“Just, I’m sorry because I know you guys have a like, groove or whatever. And I mess it up and I make it weird.”

You frowned for a moment, thinking about her words. Then it hit you — she didn’t hear about the kissing discussion, just the last bit about her being new to the trio.

“Oh, Ashely. You don’t make anything weird. Leon and I… we weren’t talking about you making things weird.” You promised, lips curved downward as you and Ashley walked behind Leon.

“Then why’d Leon say that?” Ashely asked, the insecurity obvious in her voice.

You hesitated, unsure whether or not to say it to her face. That he’d thought you two were going to kiss. After a moment of consideration — and seeing Ashely’s sad, curious eyes — you decided to just say it. Consequences be damned.

“Because he thought you were going to try to kiss me. When he came out of the bathroom last night.” You explained gently, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal. When it kind of was.

The girl was quiet for a long moment, her brows creased, lips turned downward. She swallowed, looking back at you from where she’d been staring at her feet. “And he meant it’d be weird if I did kiss you?”

“Yeah, that’s what he meant. Not because we’re girls,” you were quick to interject your previous statement. “But because it’s just… that you and I don’t really know each other that well.”

Ashley nodded, walking beside you as you followed Leon along the uneven stone paths. Every once in a while, he’d glance backward to make sure you weren’t lingering behind or somehow gotten lost.

“Okay,” one simple word carried such finality. It shook you — Ashley was uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird. I just wanted to be honest.” You tried to explain gently but firmly. You didn’t want her to think you were strange.

“You didn’t make me feel weird.” Ashely shook her head, eyes squinting in the mid-afternoon sun as she looked over at you.

You smiled a little, relieved you hadn’t put her off or made her uncomfortable. That really was the last thing you wanted. “Good,”

The three of you continued to walk along, and a little further up, you demanded a break. Leon huffed, claiming you didn’t have time for a break. But the sun was warm and you were quickly running out of water.

So, you stopped for a quick fifteen minutes before setting off again. Leon was walking much quicker than before — dead set on getting to the extraction point before sundown. Which was very much possible as you were a mere four miles away.

There was a chopper waiting, just as Hunnigan had promised. God, you’d mentally decided to name your first born after her, so thankful to finally leave Spain and sit your ass down.

You sat beside Leon in the back compartment of the chopper, all three of you sporting massive headsets to protect your ears. You chatted away with the pilot — a friend of Hunnigan’s named Danny who was funny, and reminded you of the late Mike who died in pursuit of getting you and Leon out of trouble in the village.

With the promise of a good meal and actual hot showers, Danny flew the three of you home. You were busy looking outside the chopper when Leon nudged your knee with his, earning a slightly venomous glare from you before he pointed to Ashley. Who was dead asleep across from you.

The ride back to D.C. was long, around six hours. Most of which were spent talking with Danny or falling asleep, slumped against Leon’s shoulder. Around twenty minutes before you were set to land — you and Leon had been previously discussing what you were doing first, eating, sleeping, or showering — you shook Ashley awake.

The poor thing was groggy and half asleep as you all filed off the chopper and bid goodbye to Danny — whom you’d made a promise to meet up with and have drinks in honor of Mike at his favorite bar he’d mentioned before he tragically died.

A government issued SUV waited for you, instructing the three of you to pile into the back so you could be taken straight to the President, then to testing. Which you put up a damn good fight. Who the fuck cared about testing? You were hungry and tired and dehydrated as hell. Leon shut you up quick though, despite not being happy about the arrangement himself.

Unfortunately, the car ride was around a half an hour. The driver — not as intimidating had he’d first appeared — flicked between radio stations ntil he landed on one he knew was Ahsley’s favorite. (Apparently he’d been the one to drive Ashely to college, so he knew what music she liked).

Much to Ashely’s dismay and deathly embarrassment, the fucking Backstreet Boys were playing. The driver turned it up, also having the knowledge that this particular track was one of Ashley’s favorites.

Unfortunately, you knew the lyrics too. You mumbled along with them, Leon biting back a smile at how ridiculous his own field partner could be.

“You like the Backstreet Boys?” Ashely asked, her cheeks a bit warm as you bopped your head to the beat and hummed along.

“Nah, but don’t be embarrassed.” You shook your head, smiling at the girl who was sitting between you and Leon.

“Music is music, blondie.” Leon agreed, nodding his head with your positive attitude. He looked back over Ashely’s head at you, trying hard not to smile at your antics. God, you could be so stupidly immature sometimes.

“Oh,” Ashley mumbled, slinking down further in her seat as the driver made the final turn and parked the SUV.

Leon exited first, then Ashley, and you to follow up the rear. You and Leon were armed, still charged with protecting Ashely, no matter the fact that you were indeed on U.S. soil again, and at the White House. The President didn’t greet you outside to your surprise, but you were ushered immediately to his office.

There he was reunited with his daughter, the emotional moment making you have to quietly clear your throat because it even choked you up to see Ashley so happy to see her father again.

You and Leon were thanked profusely, promised your compensation and the highest of honors and awards. To which you didn’t really want (except the money, fuck, you wanted the money), but you knew better than to even try to deny.

With that, you and Leon were quickly dismissed, told you were being led to government testing to be sure you really were clear of the parasites. You gave Ashley a quick goodbye smile and hug, Leon giving her a pat on the shoulder, telling her to behave herself.

She looked so unsure, so strange standing in the Oval Office, clothes grimy and blood stained, hair mussed as she watched you and Leon being escorted from the room.

The First Daughter felt a strange sort of emptiness in her chest then, watching you leave. Her brows furrowed as her father spoke incessantly to her about how worried he’d been and how much he missed her. You were agents, assigned to bring her home and leave. No more, no less. So why was she so devastated to see you go?

Of course, you felt a little sad to leave the girl behind. Despite spending only around forty-eight hours with Ashley, you found yourself realizing you’d miss her. Her smile and her comments and her laugh. The way she always asked if you were alright when you should have been doing so to her. How she tried her hardest to defend you and Leon, despite her chronic helplessness.

These things were not spoken to Leon though as you two walked out of the White House together, followed by guards back to the SUV you’d arrived in. But, even though you didn’t say it, you knew Leon felt it too. Somehow, in forty-eight short hours, Ashley had left a mark on you. The both of you. And you missed her already.

“Wait!” You stopped in your tracks, you and Leon almost simultaneously looking over your shoulder to see Ashley running out of the White House after you. She was panting, trying to catch up.

She ran to Leon first, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking the agent by such surprise it made him stumble backwards a bit. Leon wasn’t much of a hugger, you knew this personally. But, despite the action being hesitant and awkward, he hugged her back.

After a few moments — which you knew in your bones were long for Leon �� he gave her a quick pat on the back. Ashely took the motion in stride and unlinked herself, smiling at him.

Then, she turned to you. Of course, you expected a hug as well, and you got one. She wrapped her arms around your neck too, you wrapped your arms around her middle, hugging her back with no hesitation. But what you hadn’t expected, was for her to lean back and press a kiss to your lips.

You paused, frozen, eyes wide as Ashley kissed you. What the fuck? She wasn’t a bad kisser, actually. You felt a little bad, not kissing her back as Ashley pulled away, letting go of you and taking a step back. You sort of wished you had kissed her back. But, as the girl stood there, she held no contempt for the fact that you hadn’t. She knew she’d taken you by complete surprise.

“Thank you, both of you. I know I already said it, but thank you for saving my life. It, it means a lot.” Ashely said, her lips — which had been as soft as you thought they were — curved in a sweet smile. Baby blue eyes darted between you and Leon.

Leon who was as shocked as you that Ashley had kissed you with such little hesitation. He was still recovering as well.

Ashely said no more, just offering one last wide smile before turning around and walking away. Her guard — which had followed her outside, running behind her — escorted her. She didn’t even look back, didn’t get a second look at the still shocked look on your face.

“Holy fuck,” you said finally, looking away from Ashley’s retreating figure to look at Leon. He was shocked as well, brows raised as he blinked for a moment.

“Yep, that was weird.” Leon mumbled, nodding as if in affirmation. He said no more, turning around and walking to the SUV, leaving you in momentary silence.

You blinked yourself back to the present, realizing Leon’s comment. You frowned, turning and quickly walking to the SUV as well. “So I didn’t just have a dehydration induced hallucination? She actually kissed me?”

“She actually kissed you,” Leon nodded as he buckled in the SUV, you climbing in and sitting beside him. The car started and rolled out of the parking lot.

“Oh my God.” You said, brows raised, shaking your head. You were unsure of what else there really was to say. You were at a total loss for words.

“Fucking weird.” Leon shook his head, whispering again.

This caused you to look over at him, brows raised. “Why? Because we’re girls?” You brought up your challenge from the previous night, knowing full well you’d get the same damn response.

“No, because it's you.”

You frowned deeper, lips downturned. Oh, you liked a good fucking challenge. “You think I’m like, un-kissable, or something, Kennedy?”

Leon rolled his eyes, exhaustion obviously catching up to him. He looked tired — physically and mentally. “I didn’t say that. It’s just weird.”

“See, that’s not an explanation. Just like it wasn’t last night.” You chided, eyes narrowed.

“Christ,” Leon mumbled under his breath as shook his head, clearly regretting ever speaking in the last five minutes. “It’s just weird to see my partner being kissed like that.”

You took this as your chance, a grin forming on your lips. “By another girl? Or just in general?”

“General.” Leon responded, obviously not caring of how bored it sounded.

“Jealous or something?” You challenged further, lips pulled in a shit-eating grin.

Oh you’d gotten him there. You could tell by the way Leon’s shoulders tensed and his too casual expression that he was, indeed, sickeningly jealous. An idea — stupid, one that may ruin your dynamic — popped into your head.

You turned your body to face Leon in the backseat, grinning as he frowned at your sudden closeness. With no hesitation or moment for him to react, you leaned forward and kissed him. Square on the mouth. It must be a thing for blondes to have really soft lips.

Leon didn’t say a word, didn’t pull back, didn’t move. He just let you kiss him. Which was strange in and of itself. You placed a hand on his cheek, him a hand on the back of your neck. Eureka, he’d wanted to kiss you all along. Fuck yes, that’s all you could think.

Leon was a decent kisser too, a really good kisser actually. You scooched a little closer, allowing him to hold you by the back of your neck, your body relaxed against his as if it were natural to do so.

Was this what Ashely was feeling when she’d kissed you? Absolute elation and joy? You didn’t let yourself wonder too much, getting swept up in the fact that you were kissing Leon. His hand was gentle yet firm on the back of your neck, your hand on his cheek drifting down to rest against his chest. This moment, God you wished it could last forever.

Which unfortunately, it didn’t. You heard someone clear their throat, the driver looking at you through the rear view mirror. You pulled back, cheeks a little warm. You must look like some sort of girl. Someone who got around maybe. First the First Daughter had kissed you, now you were verging on making out with your field partner in the backseat of a government vehicle.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pulling away from Leon and sitting back on the seat.

Leon scoffed to himself, letting his hand fall from where it’d been resting on the back of your neck. “You’re stupid,”

“Excuse me?” You let out a small laugh. You’d kissed him and he was calling you stupid? What the hell?

“I can’t believe it took you that long to realize.” Leon shook his head, making you roll your eyes. He’d been jealous the whole time. So the comment of how weird it’d been that Ashley would kiss you — and actually had — was exactly what you thought. Huh, you were some amateur detective.

“Shut up,” you smiled, mumbling as you crossed your arms over your chest, sinking into the seat.

“Nope.” Leon shook his head, making you smile wider.

Maybe these tests wouldn’t be so bad, now that you had two kisses to think on. One you could only ever remember, and one you could receive a million more of once all this was over.

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy x reader x Ashley graham #ashley graham #ashley graham x reader #ellieslaces

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imaginesandbandfiction · 17 days ago

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Triad Part 10 — Putting in the Work

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Series Masterlist

A/N: This POV switching is either incredibly hot or completely unhinged, you be the judge.

Warnings: Forgive me father, for I have sinned. A lot. Smut, anal sex, crossdressing (just a little bit, as a treat), long distance sex, unprotected sex (they’re faeries. i think they take a potion for that or something), edging, slight daddy kink and dom/sub vibes

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It’s not all sunshine and rainbows and happily ever afters, but you learn how to supplement each other’s magic through the bond and the boys learn to separate Az and Cas from Azriel and Cassian. Out on a mission? That’s Azriel and Cassian. But at home, or in the safety of a private, warded tent? Az and Cas start to spill their softness onto each other.

Trust and vulnerability are built in the bedroom first. It’s the easiest (and most fun) way to let your guards down, to let each other in.

Slowly but surely, that comfort starts to seep out into everyday life. It’s subtle, at first. Reassuring hand squeezes, soft smiles, quick pecks on cheeks, foreheads, lips; seeing your mates open up to each other makes the bond (and your heart) swell with love.

The first time Az calls Cas baby outside of the bedroom, you practically disintegrate.

Somewhere along the line, the edges blur a little bit. Cas will pull Az into his lap when they’re in Rhys’s office debriefing after a mission, needing to feel the beat of his mate’s heartbeat against his hand as proof that he’s still alive, or Az will send the cool, calming presence of his shadows to give Cas extra strength on the battlefield.

And tucked away in the relative privacy of a safe house, well…

“Cassian,” Az’s low growl slips through the crack beneath the door into the bathroom where Cas stands in front of the sink brushing his teeth. He pushes the door open and, toothbrush dangling out of one corner of his mouth, pokes his head out.

His face twitches with amusement at the sight of his mate’s narrowed eyes and furrowed brow; the dark brown sweater that usually pulls taught across Az’s chest sags, hanging loose in the shoulders. Cas’s face disappears for a second so he can spit his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and then he stalks into the bedroom, crossing the distance between him and Az in long, lazy steps.

“You ruined my favorite sweater,” Az grumbles, swatting at the arms trying to snake their way around his waist.

“Sorry, baby, I couldn’t help it,” Cas responds, sending a flash of burning red magic towards his mate, tugging him back into Cas’s chest. “I missed you, and it just smelled so good…” Cas buries his face in Az’s hair, breathing that scent in.

“We’re supposed to be packing, you know,” Az murmurs, letting his body sink against the broad chest behind him. He’s in no hurry to leave, though he probably should be.

Cas trails his lips up until they’re hovering above Az’s ear.

“I know, I know. I’m worried about Y/N, too.” Cas pauses to clear his thickening throat. “I’ll finish packing—why don’t you take her down to the cafe for coffee and bring us back breakfast?” He ducks down to suck on Az’s earlobe, relishing in the way the supple flesh gives way to his teeth.

“You sure?”

“Yeah—go spend some time with our girl, make sure she feels special before we leave.”

While Cas finishes packing, Az takes you on a short walk to the nearest cafe, stopping at a flower cart to buy you a bouquet of beautiful red roses accented by baby’s breath and the most gorgeous, deep blue thistles.

When you return, Cas is seated at the kitchen table, the bags all packed and set next to the front door. The sight of them makes your stomach tighten and your mates feel a flutter of sadness tickling the bond.

Az starts setting out the food and you climb into Cas’s lap, straddling him with your flowers still cradled in your arm. His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you steady, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Aw, did Azzie buy you some pretty flowers, baby?” he asks, running a hand up your back to thread his fingers in your hair.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “They’re red and blue to remind me of you while you’re gone.”

—

On the first morning of their mission, Az wakes up to the sound of Cassian’s grunting and heavy breathing outside the little cabin they’re staying in. He peeks out the window to see his mate running through his morning training exercises and lets a smile take over his face at the familiar sight of tanned muscles straining under pressure.

Unfortunately, Az has to get going. He can’t linger, so he trudges over to his bag and digs out some clothes. Black pants, loose-fitting white tunic, a slim-fitting Illyrian leather vest, socks and… underwear. He can’t find any underwear. Just as he’s about to stomp outside and chew out Cas for forgetting to pack such an essential article of clothing, he remembers the pocket sewn onto the front of the bag. Unzipping it reveals a brightly-colored mess of silky, lacy underthings. Your underthings.

Frustration gives way to amusement as Az’s lips curl up into a smirk. He’s a man of opportunity, so he takes the challenge presented to him. Two can play at this game. He pulls out the pair he knows Cassian loves the most and layers his clothes over them, heading outside to drop a kiss on Cas’s lips before he leaves for the day.

—

It’s late. Too late, Cassian thinks as he twirls the glass in his hand, the deep red goblin-made wine swirling against the inside. Taking a long sip, he lets the alcohol sink in, dulling his worries so you and Az don’t feel them through the bond.

He drains the liquid and gets up for a refill, settling himself back into the armchair in front of the roaring fireplace. When his cup is nearly empty again, the old, wooden door creaks open and cool shadows stream in, brushing against Cas’s skin.

Azriel toes off his boots, leaving them on the mat next to the door, and grabs the half-empty bottle of wine off the kitchen counter before crossing the room to stand in front of Cas’s chair.

Cas eyes the bottle and tugs on Az’s free hand, pulling him closer.

“Rough day?” he asks, burying his face in Az’s chest.

“You could say that,” Az says, scowling a bit as he takes a swig straight from the mouth of the bottle.

Cas hums, knowing that if Az wants to talk about it, they’ll get there eventually. For now, he’s content to settle Az in his lap, letting the Shadowsinger use him as a chair. Az leans back, wings settling against Cas’s broad chest. His head fits perfectly perched atop Cas’s shoulder. The General’s hair is falling out of its messy topknot and Az twists the stray locks in his fingers as Cas works loosening the ties that lace up the back of Az’s vest until he can slip his hands under the soft tunic beneath the leather. Az’s lips tighten to prevent the smile from breaking on his face as Cas explores the expanse of skin now available to him.

The Lord of Bloodshed takes his time, trailing his fingertips lightly up and around the base of Az’s wings. Slowly, he moves further down, halting when he feels a rough patch situated just below the dips on Az’s lower back.

Cassian doesn’t attempt to hide his shit-eating grin. Instead, he lets it split him open and tucks his chin over one of Az’s shoulders, pushing the tunic up higher so he can get a good look at the panties peeking out from the tops of Az’s trousers. Red silk, trimmed with matching lace—Cas’s favorites.

“Did you like the surprise I packed for you, baby?” Cas asks, nudging Az up with one thigh so he can slip those pants down. Az complies readily, malleable under Cas’s touch, and it melts the General’s heart. He was worried that Az would be upset or embarrassed; the few other times they’ve been alone together have been rougher. Growling and fighting for dominance as their bullheaded Illyrian genes kicked in.

Not this time, though. This time, Az nods against Cas’s shoulder as the other male cups his hands beneath Az. The panties are cheekier on you, the soft flesh of your ass spills out the sides in such a beautiful way, but they hug Az’s pert, muscular cheeks perfectly, too.

Hey, princess, I have something to show you. Are you alone? Cas asks, opening up the bond to reach out to the third member of their Triad.

You’re back home, soaking in the tub after a grueling day of work. The clinic has been overloaded with refugees from Under the Mountain, mostly women and children, mostly victims of the tensions rising within the Court of Nightmares. That’s why you aren’t with your mates—Rhys couldn’t justify pulling you away from Madja to tag along on a routine, three-day reconnaissance mission.

You shift in the tub, lifting your hips and running a hand down your stomach, sending the image through to your mates. Excitement flares up between the three of you, and your effort is rewarded with a peek through Cassian’s eyes. The sight of Azriel on display in a pair of your panties sends heat to your core and you squirm, tucking your fingers down to graze against your clit.

Enjoying the view? Cas asks, chucking to himself as he feels your arousal pulsating down the bond. You answer with another image, this time one of your finger circling your hole, distorted by the water.

Az feels his skin heating up and turns slightly to bury his face in Cas’s hair.

“Aw, baby,” Cas coos, clutching Az closer. “Feeling shy?”

“No,” Az grumbles. “‘M just tired.” It’s true; Cas can feel Az’s weight pressing down on him as the Shadowsinger lets all the tension release from his body.

“That’s okay. I’ll take care of you, Azzie. You just gotta sit there and look pretty while we put on a show for our girl. Think you can do that for me?”

Cas bumps his nose against Az’s, then presses their lips together when the other male nods his assent. While Az is distracted, Cas tugs his vest all the way off and unbuttons his tunic, letting both fall to the floor. Then he helps Az clamber off his lap, swallowing his mate’s disgruntled huff as he maneuvers them both into a standing position so he can push Az’s pants all the way down. He has to pull away to shed his own clothes, which he does in record time, and then he settles back into the chair.

He takes a moment to appreciate the view in front of him; Az’s cock bulges, straining the thin fabric encasing it. Cas hooks his fingers into the lacy waistband, rubbing his thumb over the small bow that rests just above the wet spot where Az’s tip rests trapped against his lower stomach.

Through the bond, you can see everything, and the sight of Az tucked into a pair of your panties has you dipping two fingers into the wet heat of your pussy.

Cas moves his thumb lower, pressing against the wet spot and coaxing a needy whine from Az.

“C’mere, baby,” Cas murmurs, “sit on my lap again.” Azriel obeys, turning around and lowering his ass until it rests against Cas’s bare cock. Reaching one hand down, Cas adjusts himself so his cock is pressed between the Shadowsinger’s thighs. He grabs Az’s waist and guides him into rocking back and forth, feeling the soft silk rubbing against his own rock-hard length. “That’s it, good boy, already so wet for me, aren’t you?”

Az whimpers, grinding down in search of more friction, and your walls tighten around your fingers.

Cas lets one of his hands drop down to palm Az’s clothed cock, feeling the fabric dampen even more beneath his touch. With the other, he slips beneath the silk to trace one finger around Az’s rim, slowly coaxing him open.

By this point Az is oozing precum, so it’s easy for Cassian to slide forward and collect some with his fingers, using it to help ease first one, then two, then three inside. Az squirms in Cas’s lap as his body opens up to accommodate the intrusion.

What do you think, sweetheart? Cas asks you through the bond. You think he’s ready for me?

Yes, you say, your mental voice just as breathy as it would be if you were speaking out loud. Yes, he’s ready.

Cas senses your impending orgasm and waits, curling his fingers inside Az to make him whine.

Wait, love, he coos at you. Your hand stills, obeying his orders even from halfway across Prythian, but you can’t stop your thighs from quivering with the force of holding back the waves of pleasure building up inside you.

He knows what he’s doing and relishes in the satisfaction of being able to pull you back from the edge with just two words. Making sure the link is wide open so you can see it all, he uses two fingers to pull the panties aside and spread Az open.

Why don’t you go get one of your toys, princess, Cas tells you as he sinks his cock into your shared mate. Chest heaving, you push yourself up and clamber out of the tub on shaky legs. You swipe a towel off the rack on your way back into the bedroom and toss it down before you collapse into the plush mattress. Reaching over to the nightstand, you dig around in the drawer until your hand wraps around the smooth, flesh-like material.

You give Cas a glimpse through your eyes at the dildo as you slide it between your aching lips.

Good girl, he tells you, grunting as he picks up his pace, snapping his hips to fuck up into Az in deep, punishing strokes. Back in Velaris, you increase the speed of your hand, trying to match his.

Cas’s magic is soaring, bubbling up within him as he absorbs the raw, desperate need flowing into him from his mates. He tightens his grip on Az’s hips with one hand, nails biting into the Shadowsinger’s flesh just above the hem of his panties. The other slips around front to slide down Az’s abs and settles with a flat palm pressing against the soaking, silk-covered bulge.

“Fuck, you’re both so wet for me, aren’t you?” He moans, squeezing Az’s length. Az bucks up, grinding against Cas’s touch in sloppy, desperate circles.

“Please, Cas, I need to—“ Az whines, moving one foot up to the edge of the chair to use as leverage, to get into the exact right position where he can feel Cas’s dickpressing against his prostate and Cas’s hand pressing against his cock, the delicious friction of damp fabric against sensitive skin…

Please, Cassie, you echo, shoving the dildo up until it bottoms out, your thumb pressing against your clit in just the right way…

Cas is close to bursting, but he pushes through the desire tugging all of the blood away from his head and into his cock. He pushes through the red hot flames circling his groin from the inside out enough to snarl, “Cum for me,” offering sweet release to his mates. The loves of his life.

He watches through your eyes as your pussy flutters around the dark pink toy, can feel wet heat filling the fabric beneath his hand as Az releases into those Cauldron-damned panties.

The General bows his head to his mates, hair cascading over one shoulder as he pulls Az flush to his chest. The Shadowsinger sighs and it’s the sweetest goddamn thing Cas has ever heard.

He explodes. The force of his magic pulsing down the bond sends aftershocks straight to your core and you whimper, slowing but not stopping your thrusts.

Azriel sinks back against Cassian, boneless and spent, content to wait in the tight embrace of his mate until Cas’s thrusts slow to a stop.

It takes a while for Cas to come back after that. He just clings to Az, rests his head, chin hooked over one lean shoulder. You lay in bed, toy slipping out of your slickened hole, and muster enough energy to send a bit of shimmering, deep purple magic his way.

Cas feels it settle into his veins, and his breathing slows. He feels warm and sated and sticky but in a good way. Blinking eyes take in the sight of those panties, stained a shade darker than they’d been when Cassian saw them there, folded up in the laundry like that. Taunting him with the promise of shadows wrapped in red silk, tanned thighs trimmed with lace. Practically begging to be taken.

You owe me a new pair, Azzie. They can feel you pouting through the bond. Az chokes, sputtering against Cas until you put him out of his misery and coo, you look so pretty in those. I want you to keep them.

Smirking against Az’s shoulder, Cas sends a chuckle down the bond.

I’ll buy you a whole new drawerful, darling. He pauses and nips at the skin beneath his lip, picturing his mates wrapped up in new lingerie like pretty little gifts from his former self. One for each of you, if you want.

—

Slowly, you feel your magic boiling hotter, even when you aren’t all physically together. Between work and the constant back and forth of scouting missions, of political visits, late nights spent pacing by the fire just waiting for that burning to stop, for them to get home safe…

In between the uncertainties of a brewing insurrection, you and your mates grow closer than ever.

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638@hnyclover@anutellaa@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog@queerqueenlynn@brujitafantomatico@nickishadow139@starcrossedsan@dustyinkpages @moonyscherry @nickishadow139 @daisy94788 @liquormoneysex

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pearlwithgirl · 6 months ago

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Legato, Staccato

Ghoap x gn!reader

Fluff - 981 words

The barest hint of smut. Something soft and sweet.

The snow is coming down like falling cotton while the wind howls like a banshee, but it still doesn’t stand up to all the warmth around you.

Johnny will be meeting you outside any moment now and Simon will follow soon after. It’s hard not to spend hours perusing the carefully curated shelves of books, and a happy Si is a happy triad. There are plenty of new works from local authors, but it’s the older finds that draw him in - crinkled and delicate with intricate illuminations and richly coloured bindings.

It’s a quaint place - warm oak and brass inside, cornflower walls with creamy white trim on the exterior. There are twin waves of built up snow curling in from the flaked paint of the window frame, swirling fractals meeting in the middle. You’d like to scratch at the tiny needles, to run your fingers through the glassy little stalactites hanging from the sill.

You could reach out and place a warm palm on the window to feel the crystals morph and melt around your palm, put your own mark amongst them, be a part of something beautiful. You wouldn’t want to ruin it, though.

“Your mind’s wanderin’ again, hen.” He always sees right through you. You were so lost in allusion that you didn’t even hear him come out.

He scoops up a little dollop of powdery snow and blows it at you, flakes catching the wind like the wispy fluff of a dandelion. Your noise crinkles as a giggle trickles out of your upended frown. His gaze follows yours to the pattern on the window.

“Mm, pretty, isn’t it?” There’s a fondness in his voice, but it’s light. Thoughts floating like a silvery feather as opposed to your own, which carry the weight and overinflated gravitas of a lead ballerina.

He presses a thumb into the crunchy ice until it gives way and runs down the window in a frigid rivulet. He grabs you by the hand, pulls off the mitten, and presses your thumb down to melt a little heart into the window. A golden orange light flickers and thrums through the joint fingerprints from a candle just beyond the pane.

As he turns to you, there are fluffy flakes clinging to his lashes, and his cheeks are a little rosier than before. He’s not alone in that - you feel the blood rushing to your own face as he tips your chin up, appraising you under the streetlamp’s light.

He brushes his lips against yours, and the moment crescendos fast. It doesn’t let up, and you can feel the sizzle and pop as you heat up. His tongue meets yours and you feel lost and completely tethered all at once.

Your reverie is interrupted, but it’s welcome. Simon exits the shop as a little bell chimes above his head. Warmth floods you as he strolls closer, and you don’t know if it’s the heat escaping the building, or if it’s just *him*.

There’s a brown paper bag under his arm, folded up tight to shield new books from the blizzard. He looks at you, then at Johnny, off toward your frozen heart, and back to Johnny again. His eyes crinkle at the edges, a telltale sign that the knife-kissed edges of his mouth are quirked up under the mask. In the dim of the night, their faces are lit up like a Christmas tree.

Simon squints at the print that’s slowly frosting over and melts it anew, splaying his whole hand out beside it. He crowds you against the worn, wooden facade and frees his mouth from behind the fabric. It’s a soft kiss, languid and warm. Comfortable. A hand creeps up beneath the wool of your coat to draw you even closer, and it’s fucking *freezing*. You stiffen and squeal into his mouth before he barks out a laugh and presses another kiss to the powdery crown of your head. He retracts his clammy hand and gives a gentle swat to your rear.

“Time to go, sweetheart.”

You’ll go to that cozy little nook for a pint while they prepare your takeout order. Something hearty, something sticky and saccharine for dessert. Maybe ragout and blueberry bread pudding. Extra butterscotch sauce.

You’ll lean into Johnny while Simon pays the bill, licking the last sticky drop of cider from your lips. He’ll taste the cinnamon on your tongue as he loops an arm around your waist to pull you out of the booth.

You’ll fill your belly as you sit on the floor cradled between broad, jean-clad legs, and probably get rich sauce on your sweater after being roused by some ridiculous quip. It’s not the tv that makes the viewing fun - it’s the commentary.

You’ll fall into their bed to be disarmed and disassembled, laid bare. It’ll be a sweet cacophony between the three of you, a symphony of harsh grunts, soft sighs, and wails of pleasure. A resplendent choir will resound in your head at that staggering peak. A myriad of colours will align and blind you with pure octarine and bright white light. They’ll put you back together again with a care you’d never have expected.

You’ll fall asleep bracketed by two exhausted hunters, pomarine and polar, hunger fully satiated once more.

How do they look so soft?

You’ll wake up to the smell of coffee and honeyed cream, bitter and sweet. There will be bright mandarin in the air - preserves, fried eggs and briny bacon to pile onto buttered toast. One more layer of trepidation will crumble away as the morning routine dictates.

It’s tangible - you can feel yourself falling into an easy rhythm with them. You don’t know how they do it, how they always know the right time for legato or staccato or when to break you out of the shell of a nagging thought.

You suppose you could get used to it.

#Pearl muses #simon riley x reader #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x you #soap x reader #soap x gn!reader #soap x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #ghoap #ghoap x reader #call of duty fluff #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #banner by cafekitsune

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ur-sick-and-married · 18 days ago

Text

BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE (Christmas special)

READ PART 2

(Julien Baker x Lucy Dacus x reader)

TW: polyamory, (brief) smut with plot

SUMMARY: what happens when you get snowed in with a couple?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I can make a part two if anyone wants it :)

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

“Dammit…” You grumbled when you turned the outside light on. All you could see through the small windows in the door was white. Snow filled the air, and covered everything in sight.

There was no way you were making it to the airport. There was no way your flight was happening.

“Wow…looks like we’re not going anywhere.” Lucy said from beside you. “Where’s Julien?”

You and your two friends, Julien and Lucy, who were also a couple, had crashed in some tiny Airbnb. Weeks before, you and Julien were talking on the phone. Christmas was brought up, and you discovered you had flights on the same day. Julien was tagging along with Lucy, who was going home for the holidays, just like you. You all agreed to carpool to the airport. It would be nice to see them.

The day came, and they picked you up. They would’ve taken turns driving, if the ride hadn’t been cut short. A snowstorm was brewing, which made you all nervous on the road. You were too far from home, yet not close enough to the airport. After a bit of contemplation, stopping at an Airbnb for the night seemed best.

So you ended up huddled on a couch with Lucy, both of you wondering where Julien had gone, and praying that the heat would defrost the house.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and Julien appeared, wearing only a coat, a beanie, and jeans. She had an armful of firewood.

“Julien! It’s, like, four degrees out!” Lucy exclaimed.

“It doesn’t feel that cold.” Julien shrugged, which made her shiver. Her nose and cheeks were red from the frigid temperature. It was kind of adorable.

She quickly piled the wood in the fire place, then added some sort of paper, and took out a lighter. The wood lit surprisingly fast, and, just like that, you had a fire.

“Come here, before you freeze.” Lucy said, waving her over.

Julien slipped her boots and jacket off, and discarded them by the door. She plopped down on the couch, next to Lucy, who put some of the blanket you two were sharing over Julien.

“If you get a cold, I’m going to be pissed.” Lucy told her.

“I’ll be fine, Luce,” Julien sighed. “I have a great immune system.”

“Um, did you forget about the Webster Hall incident?”

“We don’t have to talk about that.”

You smiled, watching them bicker. You couldn’t deny that they were perfect for each other. It almost made you jealous. You didn’t have someone like that. You’d never connected with someone the way they had.

“You look cold.” Julien told you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’m good.” You answered. You were a bit chilly, though.

“You feel cold.” Lucy said after she held your hand to feel the temperature.

“We’ll keep ya warm.” Julien said.

She got up and moved over you and Lucy, so she could sit on your other side. Squished between them, it was warmer, and cozy.

“It’s probably that ratty shirt that made you so cold.” Julien teased you. “There are more holes on that thing than fabric.”

She wasn’t wrong. The shirt you were wearing was strictly for hanging around the house. There were many holes, since you’d had it for years. It was just so soft, you couldn’t bear to get rid of it.

That day, you had worn it under a hoodie, since you planned on going straight to bed once you arrived home. In the rental, you wanted to at least feel a bit more at ease.

“It’s comfortable!” You said.

“It won’t be comfortable when you lose an arm.” Lucy nudged you playfully.

Even being teased, you were happy to be included in their banter. Feeling both of them surround you had you warming up.

You’d never admit it to anyone, not even to yourself, but you did often wonder what a triad could be like. You always wondered after seeing Lucy and Julien. You blamed it on wanting a relationship, completely dismissing your underlying feelings.

There was a part of you that was definitely poly. You just didn’t expect that part to be so big.

Whenever those thoughts crossed your mind, you quickly shook yourself, and thought “I will not barge into someone’s relationship” repeatedly.

So…what if you were invited?

Julien turned on the old TV, and fiddled with the remote, trying to find something to watch. Waiting out the storm was all you could do. You’d probably fly out late the next day.

Once the TV was playing some Christmas movie, you started to relax. You focused on the movie, keeping any strange thoughts at bay.

The girls were unexpectedly struggling to do that. As you relaxed, you sunk into the couch, causing your head to very lightly lean on Julien’s shoulder. It was all she could focus on.

Lucy’s arm rested on the back of the couch, a classic move. You thought it was so she could have some contact with Julien. They were like that, always needing a little connection. In reality, Lucy hoped it’d keep you warm, and…maybe she wanted contact with both you and Julien.

The room was dim. It was slowly warming up. It felt intimate.

Lucy and Julien exchanged glances over your head. Old conversations came to their minds. Open relationship, non-monogamy…

“Hey…” Julien cleared her throat. “One of the last times we talked, you mentioned you were…seeing someone. How’s that going?”

Lucy gave her a look. Could have made that more discrete.

“Oh, yeah…” You said quietly. You tried to sound oblivious, and not flustered. “That didn’t really go anywhere. We had different…I don’t know, morals?”

“Hmm. Too bad.” Julien hummed.

Later, Lucy would definitely tease Julien about her choice of words.

“Damn morals.” Lucy added, making you laugh a little.

“Why do you ask?” You said.

You looked to Julien as you spoke, and found that she was already watching you. Immediately, you held eye contact. Your body felt as if it was on fire. The room was completely silent, besides the TV.

And suddenly…you were kissing. You didn’t even know who initiated it, but it was happening, and it was passionate.

The second the kiss was broken, Lucy’s hand was cupping your cheek, turning your face towards her, and then she was kissing you.

You barely had a moment to breathe, though you didn’t care. God…it was incredible.

The two of them continued to take turns kissing you. Eventually, they had to let you breathe, no matter how badly they just wanted to keep making out.

“You taste really fucking good, you know that?” Julien whispered, her voice raspy with desire.

You caught your breath, watching them, somewhat shocked. “We just…”

“Yeah,” Lucy said softly. “And I’m hoping you enjoyed it, because I did.”

“Me too.” Julien agreed.

“I…yes…same.” You said, still breathless. You were flustered, barely able to speak coherently.

“You’re blushing so much…” Lucy muttered, and touched your burning cheek.

That wasn’t the only thing burning. Under the blanket, you squeezed your legs together, trying to soothe the sensation there. They caught it, of course. Instead of pointing it out, they went back to kissing you. Before you knew it, Julien was (consensually) palming at you through your pants. You knew you were a goner.

That’s how you found yourself hooking up with the queer music industry’s best couple.

***

You had one leg tangled with Julien’s, the other being held up by Lucy, your foot on the coffee table. Under the blanket, you were spread wide, your head lolled onto Lucy’s shoulder now. Julien’s head was on your chest, her hand softly rubbing your lower stomach. Your underwear had just been slipped back on. Your shirt was never removed. Turns out, it offered easy access.

“It’s, like, one in the morning.” Julien whispered.

“We should probably get to sleep.” Lucy said quietly.

“I think I am asleep.” You mumbled.

They laughed softly. You were a bit out of it. Overwhelming pleasure could do that to a person.

To their dismay, they got up slowly, careful to not jostle you. You lied down, ready to sleep.

“What are you doing?” Lucy said, confused.

“Huh?” You looked up at her. She was extending a hand, as if to help you up.

“You really think you’re sleeping alone after that?” She said.

“Oh.” You whispered. “I can. It’s fine.”

Julien scoffed. “I was just knuckles deep-“

“No way.” Lucy told you. “Come on…it’ll get cold out here anyways.”

She pulled you up, and you slid your sweats back on.

“You steady?” She asked once you were standing.

“I’m good.” You smiled a little. You’d never been so thoroughly cared for.

They brought you to the only bedroom in the cabin. It was small and pretty empty. They’re suitcase (I like my suitcase) was already in there.They managed to pack all their stuff in one bag.

They got the bed ready, while you watched, your legs feeling weak.

“Are you sure it’s fine that I sleep in here?” You asked. “I don’t know if we’ll all fit.”

“We’ll make it work.” Julien shrugged.

“Julien doesn’t take up a lot of room.” Lucy smiled.

Julien glared at her, making her smile wider.

Once the bed was made, you all got in. Julien laid between you and Lucy. On the edge, you could easily slip out or adjust the blankets.

“See? It’s nice and warm here.” Julien said softly. “Can I…?”

Her arm was hovering over your waist, waiting for your permission. It was almost amusing that she hesitated with these small gestures, given what happened half an hour before.

You nodded, and she wrapped an arm around your waist. Above her head, Lucy rested her arm on the pillow, so she could stroke your hair.

“You don’t have to…do all this.” You whispered.

“Do all what?” Lucy asked, her chin on Julien’s shoulder.

“Like…” You sighed. “I don’t know. Take care of me and what not.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Julien said, surprised. “We just did something intense with you, we want to make sure you’re alright.”

You always appreciated how kind they were. This was a whole new level. For a hookup, they were being incredibly loving? You were starting to wonder if it was simply a hookup.

You couldn’t wonder for long, though. You were starting to feel exhausted. Their soft touches were adding to your drowsiness.

“Thank you, guys…” You whispered.

“For what?” Lucy said.

“Being so…considerate.” You mumbled.

They both smiled at your half asleep state.

“Just go to sleep, okay?” Julien murmured.

You were asleep before you even heard the end of her sentence.

#Spotify #boygenius #julien baker #julien baker x reader #julien baker fan #boygenius x reader #lucy dacus #lucy dacus julien baker #lucy dacus x reader

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suebswrites · 5 months ago

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20 Questions for Writers Game

Thank you for tagging me, @yanny-77 and @caeli0306!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 14! Plus a bunch on fanfiction.net from back in the day...*checks* 23. 23 works on FF.net that I will not share with you unless you are my friend, lol.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 114,162 words

3. What fandoms do you write for? The Empyrean (Fourth Wing) is the only fandom I currently write for, including one crossover with Bridgerton. All of my back-in-the-day fanfiction was for Harry Potter, but I don't write for anything other than the Empyrean anymore.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Just Ask - 1,087 Xaden POV: At Samara - 350 Throne Scene: Xaden POV Microfiction - 170 Dear Brennan - 117 Bridgegiath - 110

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! At least, I try to. Though when I get an influx of a lot of comments at a time, I get overwhelmed and a little anxious about wanting to respond to them all, and then I get avoidant, heh. So it may not be right away, but I try to respond to as many comments as I can, and often will go back weeks later and then respond to them once I'm less anxious. As any writer will tell you, comments absolutely make my day and I read them over and over again, even going back and reading them days or weeks (or months) later.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably Happy Birthday, Violet, which is a drabble I wrote for the "birthday" prompt from the RQ War Games events in June. It's not necessarily angsty so much as sad. (I was hurting again about Liam at the time, lol.) It's tiny and short, you'll be fine.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I have no idea how to answer this. Almost all of them are happy! I think. Uh. Okay @yanny-77 tells me that the answer is Ridoc Talks To The Dragon, and I believe her.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Nope! Well, never on AO3 or Reddit. I got, like...three negative comments on my biggest HP fic on FF.net years ago, but they were only three comments among over 400, so whatever, lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes! I have written M/F and M/F/M. I only want to write sex if there are feelings involved, though, so I don't write any pwp. I don't know that I could, to be honest. The only fic I've written that had smut, outside of Just Ask, is canon-compliant TO Just Ask, and leans on the context built in the main longfic, heh. So...therrrrrre you have it!

10. Do you write crossovers? Yes! But only one. Bridgegiath is a Bridgerton-Empyrean crossover fic where all the characters from Fourth Wing are in a Bridgerton-world, more or less following the plot from Bridgerton Season 1. The most common comment type I've gotten on it is "the crossover I didn't know I needed AND I NEED IT SO MUCH", lol. It's hilarious and delightful and I plan to get back to it once the summer is over and I have more time to write again!

Bridgegiath - a Riorgail, Bodoc, Immrick, Jesiam fic, featuring (among all the others), Lady Durranbury as Lady Danbury. It's a blast.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I will steal @yanny-77's answer and say that I am not cool enough for that. Lmao

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hell yes. Co-writing has become my love language. I've co-written with @yanny-77 and @sarahydeart and all four times were fucking awesome.

Dear Brennan The Book Cat Garrick's Snorkel Ridoc Talks To The Dragon

14. What is your all-time favorite ship? My favourite ship is Liam/Violet/Xaden, for many reasons, which I will list now lol.

I adore each of the dynamics in this triad: the obvious friends-to-lovers, protect-you-with-my-life, slow burn fall of Violet and Liam; the explosive chemistry between Violet and Xaden; and the love that would grow between Xaden and Liam, born of being fostered together after the trauma of losing their parents, being separated for two years when Xaden went to Basgiath, and then meeting again once Liam gets there--and then they both fall for the same person.

I think Liam balances out a lot of Xaden's dark-and-broody energy, and could bring out a more relaxed version of him. And I think Xaden could bring out a harder edge to Liam that would be incredibly sexy. Liam and Violet's dynamic I obviously adore, and I think the way they take care of each other is fucking delightful and healthy and sweet. I think there's such an easy likelihood that both Xaden and Liam would fall for Violet.

I genuinely don't consider either Liam or Xaden to be bisexual, but I think they could fall for each other in this specific scenario, because of the unique dynamic of trust they have with each other.

All of this to say...Liam/Violet/Xaden is my One True Polypairing, heh, and one day I might write it. But that is a very distant, very pipe-dreamy one day.

Shoutout to Harry/Hermione, though. I'll die on that hill to this day.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Oof. I absolutely intend to continue Bridgegiath once I'm less busy, this summer has been absolutely bananas, and I'm REALLY hoping I'll be able to take it to a satisfying conclusion eventually.

16. What are your writing strengths? I have been told, and I think I agree and hope that it's true, that I'm able to wring quite a wide range of emotions out of my readers. I have it on good authority that I can bring you from thrilling tension to desperately turned on to heart-stopping angst without missing a beat, and have a decent eye for knowing when to insert a funny little exchange to ease tension before diving back in.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I hope I won't lose my fanbase if I honestly say "finishing", heh. Though looking back at my history, I actually did finish both longfics that I wrote for Harry Potter, and I'm on track to finish Just Ask in a timely manner. I'm not too worried about Bridgegiath, because I know I'm much more likely to be invested in it again once I'm done Just Ask. It's just my original stuff that I struggle with I guess...

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I would rely entirely on Google translate if I ever did this, and thus would probably butcher any attempt.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter, waaaaay back in 2007, two days after Deathly Hallows came out. I couldn't accept that Harry and Hermione didn't get together. (And I still can't.)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Just Ask. It's probably the best thing I've ever written. I started writing it to deal with my intense book hangover after Iron Flame, I'm still writing it, and it will be finished before the release of Onyx Storm. I am fiercely proud of it.

---

Tagging: @taumoebaa and @ubiquitouslyme and @copperfirebird

#fanfic writers #20 questions game #ao3 writer #the empyrean #fourth wing fanfic #the rider's quadrant #fourth wing #ao3 fanfic #iron flame #suebswrites #my wips #just ask #bridgegiath #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #archive of our own

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vodika-vibes · 1 year ago

Note

May I request the „I want you“ „then come and get me“ for delta squad’s Boss? Maybe while he’s doing some late night sparring with the reader? And perhaps smutty?🫣

💖💖

Training Session

Summary: You've had a bad day, and decide to work out your frustrations on a punching bag, Boss, however, has different plans.

Pairing: Clone Commando Boss x F!Reader

Word Count: 2164

Warnings: Smut. Smut with plot.

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: So, Wookieepedia says that Boss is "Taciturn", which I took to mean quiet and intense. I really want to write a letter to the Star Wars people and ask for a detailed personality profiles of all the clones. Just. "Dear sir or madam, please write a complete personality profile for all 2 million clones. Yes. All of them. Thanks." Anyway! This isn't so much sparring, because I wasn't sure how to write that, but I hope this is okay?

Divider by Saradika

Your fist slams into the bag over and over again. You’re long past the point of trying to improve your form, right now you’re just trying to exhaust yourself to the point where you can sleep without nightmares.

A tall order, you’re sure, but anything is better than laying in bed and watching the men you serve with die over and over again in your dreams. Your nightmare flashes to the front of your mind again, and you grit your teeth as you slam your bare fist into the bag even harder than before.

If you cared, you would have grabbed a glove from the box against the wall…or even grabbed some tape to protect your knuckles. But you don’t care. Can’t bring yourself to care.

At this point you’re probably going to break your fist…and you can’t help but wonder if that will help you feel a little better.

You go to slam your fist into the bag again, only for a strong arm to shoot past your head to tightly grip your wrist, holding you still. “You’re going to break your hand.”

Boss’ voice is low and stern, and while normally you would apologize for being in his way, and existing in his space, because the gym is his space, tonight you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

You try to tug your wrist free, and fail spectacularly, “Do you always manhandle people, sir?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“I do when they’re acting recklessly.” He counters.

You hiss under your breath, and use your long, almost forgotten, self-defense lessons to try and twist out of his grip.

All you manage, though, is turning your body so you’re face to chest with Boss. You glower up at him, and he arches an unimpressed brow, “Nice try.”

“Well, not everyone can have superior fighting abilities.” You snap as you uselessly try to try your wrist from his grip.

“You’re a Doctor, you don’t need superior fighting abilities,” He mocks your words with an inflection that you’ve never heard from him before.

“I should still know how to defend myself,” You snap, without thinking about it.

“Can you?” Boss asks.

“Can I what?”

“Defend yourself.”

Your face burns with anger and embarrassment, and you turn your head away from him, “I do just fine.” You retort, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in your voice.

His gaze is even, and you bristle under his gaze. Stupid judgemental genetically perfect man. With his stupid perfect hair, and his stupid perfect face and his stupid perfect voice-

“Punch my hand.” Boss’ comment interrupts your mental triade, and you blink up at him, genuinely startled, not even noticing that he released your wrist.

“What?”

“Punch my hand.” He repeats, his gaze serious.

“I am not punching you!” You blurt, eyes wide.

His eyes narrow, “What are you going to do if clankers get by me or my brothers and make it to your medical tent?”

“I’ll…die. Probably.” You retort honestly.

He scowls, “Unacceptable. Punch my hand.”

“Why?!”

“I want to see your form. Just do it.”

“I…you…that’s…” You throw your hands up, “Ugh! You’re such a…a guy sometimes!” You snap, “Fine! Fine. I’ll punch your hand.”

You do as you said you would, though it’s not anywhere close to being a proper punch. And Boss recognizes that. He closes his hand around your fist, “Try again. And do it properly this time. You can’t hurt me.”

“You know, when you say stuff like that it makes me want to hurt you,” You grouse.

“Good. Maybe you’ll take this seriously.”

“Oh, come on! Why do you even care?”

“You’re a medic. My medic. And you’re my responsibility. But I won’t always be there to protect you. So you have to learn to defend yourself.” Boss replies, his voice short and matter of fact.

“Okay, so, first of all. I’m not your medic-”

“Yes,” He interrupts, “You are.” Boss’ gaze is intense, and your words die on your tongue, “Try again.”

This time, when you slam your fist into the palm of his hand, it’s a proper punch, though it’s a little clumsy. In your defense, you’ve not taken a self defense class since you were a child.

“Better. Again,”

You sigh and punch his fist again, and again, and again.

And then, when you’re about to punch his fist again, “Why are you awake, anyway?”

You stumble in surprise, your fist glancing off the palm of his hand and hitting his chest, “I…sorry.”

“You’re fine.” Boss says quietly.

You hesitate, and shrug, “It’s dumb.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I kept going over everything that happened today and what I did wrong, and…” You shrug, “Sometimes I think you all would be better off with a better doctor.” You punch his fist again.

“You saved half of my brothers today.” Boss points out, closing his hand around your fist to make you look at him. “They’d be dead if you weren’t here.”

“Or maybe more of them would be unhurt with a different doctor.” You point out.

“No. I don’t agree.” Boss says, opening his hand as you pull your fist back, “You know, I chose you, right?”

“Chose me?” You ask.

“Of all of the natborn medics in the GAR, I picked you.” Boss confirms, “Because of your skillset, because you refused to be cowed when one of my brothers yelled at you, because you were polite in spite of us being clones.”

“You’re still men.” You say with a sigh, “Everyone else is just dumb.”

His lips quirk up until a small, amused, smile. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe, definitely.” You shift your weight onto your heels, “I didn’t know that you picked me.”

“I did. And I keep picking you. Everytime we get the option for another doctor.”

“I just don’t get why.”

He folds his hands behind his back, “It’s easy.” You’re pretty sure he stands at attention when he’s trying to mask his emotions, and it works really well, “I want you.”

“Like…in what way?” You ask as your stomach flips nervously.

“In every way that matters. Romantically. Sexually. Platonically. All of them.” Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. “But I’ll go at your pace.” He continues, “And if you’re not interested at all, then that’s fine too.”

“You want me.” Your voice is low, thoughtfully.

“Yes.” He doesn’t even sound remotely embarrassed about it.

“Okay then,” You reply slowly, “Okay.” You flash a small, impish, smile, “Then come and get me.”

His hands fall to his sides, and he smiles, something slow and predatory, and you feel arousal shoot down to your very core.

He advances on you, and you lightly hook your fingers around the collar of his shirt and you walk backwards until your back hits the wall. Boss cages you between his arms and his lips crash against yours, his kiss both hot and demanding.

You moan into the kiss, and your hands slide down his chest to slip under the top of his blacks. His muscles jump under your touch, and you know, immediately, that you want more.

So you tug on the hem of his shirt, and pull away from his kiss just enough to speak, “Off.” You order, or plead. You’re not sure.

Boss groans, low and deep, in the back of his throat, “Yes, ma’am.” He replies, his voice a low rumble that you feel all the way down to your bones. He pulls away long enough to grab the collar of his shirt, and he pulls it off in one smooth motion.

Your hands are immediately on his chest, smoothing over hard planes, and lightly tracing the raised skin of the scars dotting his body. He melts into your touch, and his lips find purchase against your jaw, your throat, your neck, your shoulder-

Boss’ hands burn a trail down your sides, up your back, and then back down over your plush rear. And then, to your surprise, he sinks to his knees in front of you. He looks up at you as he slowly slides your leggings down your legs.

You set your hands on his shoulders for balance as you step out of the clingy material, and you shiver as he kisses your hip and then lazily trails his tongue down your outer thigh. And you can feel yourself getting more and more wet with every passing second.

“Boss…” his name falls from your lips in a soft moan, more of a sigh than actual words.

You feel him smile against your leg, and then he lifts one of your legs and sets it on his shoulder, and he turns his head to press a soothing kiss against your inner thigh. And then he turns his gaze to the junction of your thighs, and he releases a deep sigh of pleasure.

His hand slides up the back of your leg and you jolt when you feel his finger pressed against you through your underwear. “You’re so wet,” Boss murmurs as he leans in and presses a light, lingering kiss over the wet spot on your underwear, “Is all this for me?”

You card your fingers through his hair, “Wasn’t that the point?” You ask, slightly breathlessly.

Boss’ gaze meets yours, a slightly amused smile lifting his lips, and then he turns his head slightly and kisses your inner thigh again. “Tell me, cyare.” He murmurs against your skin, as his gaze drifts back to your core, “Are you overly fond of these?” He asks as he gestures to the underwear shielding you from his gaze.

“Not especially,” You reply immediately.

“Good.” He grips the material in one hand, and before you realize what he’s planning, he’s managed to tear it off of your body.

Boss drops the shredded cloth to the side, and he presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to your thigh, before he moves and drags his tongue along your wet slit.

Your grip in his hair tightens as you moan, and he groans in return. “You taste amazing,” Boss breathes out as he pulls away for a moment to press a light kiss against your hip, and then he dives right back in, his lips finding the little bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

He slides a single finger to your opening, and you release a louder moan. His fingers are so much longer and thicker than your own, and so, when he curls his finger and gives a particularly hard suck on your clit, your legs nearly buckle.

Boss chuckles and he pulls away for a moment to look up at you, “Sensitive, cyare?”

“It’s been awhile.” You admit, your voice slightly breathless. And when he eases a second finger to join the first one, your hips jerk towards him.

He smirks at you, lazily fucking you with his fingers, “You’re so tight, cyare.” Boss says, his voice low, “I have to prep you for my cock.”

You shiver and moan softly.

He twists his hand slightly and flicks his thumb over your clit, pulling a louder moan from you, and then he carefully, very carefully, eases in a third finger to join the first two, and you clench down on his fingers.

He curls his fingers as he fucks you, and his thumb lazily circles your clit in time with his thrusts, and it’s almost too much. You can feel the coil in your abdomen tightening, and you know you just need a little more. “B-Boss, please.” You plead breathlessly.

“Shh. I have you, cyare.” He kisses your hip again, “Going to make you feel amazing,” Boss promises, “And then I’m going to ruin other men for you.” His fingers start moving even faster.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and he grins sharply.

“Cum for me, mesh’la.” He orders, his voice soft but unyielding.

“I-”

“Now.”

And you’re helpless to do anything but obey as he plays your body like a fine tuned instrument. The coil snaps, and you fall apart on his fingers, with the sound of his voice, low and soothing, murmuring praises up to you.

When you come back to yourself, you’re sitting on your knees, and you’re still trembling slightly. Warm hands smooth down your back and sides, and you blink hazily at Boss, “Are you back with me now?” He asks, quietly.

You nod once.

“Use your words, cyare.” His voice is still so gentle, “Are you okay?”

“M’okay.” You mumble.

“Good.” his fingers ghost against your jaw, and then he sets your leggings in your lap, “Put these back on.”

You stare at the pants, and then at him bewildered, “But…you didn’t-?”

He laughs and leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry, cyare. I’m not anywhere close to being done with you.” He murmurs, “But I’m not fucking you in here. So get dressed.”

You grin up at him, delight running through you once again. “Yes sir.”

#star wars #tcw #clone commando boss x reader #boss x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #18+ fic #answered asks #clone thirsting

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burlowbeanie · 2 years ago

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Sword-marriage in TLT

Yes, Pal and Cam and Dulcie were all in a relationship. What kind of relationship? Well in our-world terms, who the hell knows. It was a guy and his bestie-bodyguard-cousin who wants nothing to do with sex and his long-distance crush who he never met who he started corresponding with when he and his bestie were 12 and she was 19; there's a whole lot of factors going on there. But by the creation of Paul, we do learn that both Cam and Pal care so deeply for Dulcie that they seem to see her as their soulmate to some extent, hoping to reunite with her upon Paul's eventual death. In HtN, Dulcie seems to indicate similar sentiments. They are a trio, not only "a romantic couple and also Cam" or "a bestie duo and also Dulcie."

One of the fascinating pieces of lore in the GtN extras that has not come up again since is the concept of a sword-marriage, "wherein a necromancer and their cavalier married to one outside party as dual spouses" (452). Mx. M. Bias, as (based on their admittedly hilarious name) a typical second house wet blanket, dismisses this as "almost certainly the invention of the fiction writer, or more likely, the pornographer" (452). It does however seem to be the closest in-world equivalent to whatever the fuck is up with that triad though, and I am inclined to believe that within the 10,000 years of this society's existence it's gotta have been a thing Somewhere at Some Time. Regardless, it's existence within the fictional realm alone leads to some interesting possibilities...

...Anyway, all that to say in this essay I will be arguing that Palamades' sequel to The Necromancer's Marriage Season scrawled on wallpaper in his river bubble was definitely a shameless self-insert work in which he worked through his grief over losing his semi-girlfriend and being separated from and unaware of the fate of his bestie who also just lost their girlfriend through the use of the sword-marriage romance novel trope. This work dealt with themes of what it means to grieve someone who you already knew was dying and the grief of being separated from those you love but was somehow also extremely sexy and would have won eighteen different romance novel awards if Camilla had allowed him to write it (it had an immense amount of smut which she refused to have her body contribute to the creation thereof) and he had managed to send it off to the houses for publication (don't think the necromancy elements would go over well in the publishing industry outside the houses).

#tlt #locked tomb #camilla hect #palamedes sextus #dulcinea septimus #gideon the ninth #I kind of wish I had the writing skills to create a fic for this #but even writing skills aside i do not think that i have the SexyTimes(tm) tolerance to convincingly create it #(me and camilla hect shaking hands meme)

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 2 years ago

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Slip of the Tongue

Warning: Some smut, a little bit of drinking, some drug use, talk of sex

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Steve has an accidental bisexual awakening in Starcourt Mall and a year later makes another discovery.

Steve was higher than he had ever been in his entire life. He wasn't sure what were in those drugs that the Russians had given him and Robin, but he really didn't care. Robin was giggling and watching the movie beside him. He wasn't sure what was going on. Was that mom trying to bang her own kid?

"I have to take a piss," Steve stood up.

"Gross," Robin giggled.

After Steve returned from the bathroom, he had a hard time finding his seat, but he managed it without help. He turned to face Robin but found himself looking at a pretty girl with long brown curly hair and big cow eyes. Her cheeks were stuffed with popcorn.

"You're not Robin," Steve said, trying to squint to see better through his swollen eye. The girl shook her head. "You're pretty, though. Wanna make out?"

The girl quickly chewed her popcorn and swallowed before nodding. Steve leaned forward and kissed her. It was the best kiss of his life. Her lips were soft, sticky with butter, and he could taste the popcorn on her tongue. They molded perfectly against his own lips. The girl slipped her hand into his hair, cupping the back of his head, and gently pulled on his hair. Steve moaned into her mouth. He slipped a hand underneath her shirt, resting his hand on her abdomen for a moment before trailing up to cup her breast. Huh. He froze. She was extremely flat chested, but she did have a nipple piercing, which he found very hot. He rubbed his thumb over it and began to play with it. The girl moaned and bit down on his lip. It was getting heated, and he could feel arousal stirring below. He moved his hand back down and slipped his hands into her pants. Oh. She wasn't flat chested. She was a he, and he had a dick that Steve was currently touching. It was the first dick that he had touched that wasn't his own, and he liked it. Holy shit. He liked it. He was about to gently massage it when he was grabbed by the back of his neck, and he had to let it go.

"Seriously, Steve! You're making out with some girl when we're supposed to be watching the movie!" Robin exclaimed. "You have to help me find the bathroom, I found it, but then I lost it again!"

"Call me!" Steve exclaimed. "I'm in the phonebook!"

Steve didn't find out who had been his bisexual awakening until a year later. Spring Break had occurred. They had defeated Vecna, and Eddie Munson had become one of his closest friends. Steve was also crushing on him pretty badly. It was embarrassing. They older teens were currently at Steve's hanging out. They had all ended up coming out to each other after a few drinks in. Robin had accidentally revealed she was a lesbian so Steve told them he was bisexual. Eddie revealed he was gay while Nancy revealed she was in like a triad with Jonathan and Arygle.

"So, Jonathan and Argyle really do everything together," Robin had giggled with Eddie. "What? I'm drunk. Like you guys aren't?"

"So, Stevie, who was your bisexual awakening or did you always know you like men?" Eddie asked, batting his eyelashes at him.

"Ooh! I know this story!" Robin exclaimed.

"We've told you about Starcourt. Well, after we got drugged, we ended up hiding in the theater, watching Back to the Future. I went to the bathroom and ended up sitting in the wrong seat next to who I thought was a girl. We ended up making out pretty heavily, and I found out she was definitely not a girl. Turns out, I really liked it. Was unable to find out who it was because Robin had pulled me away," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

Robin and Eddie were rolling on the floor laughing. Eddie managed to calm himself down before crawling over to Steve and leaning his elbows on his knees.

"So. . .did the guy have nipple piercings?" Eddie asked coyly.

"Yeah, actually. . .wait, how do you know?" Steve asked.

Eddie laughed and lifted up his shirt, flashing him. His one nipple was pierced.

"It was me, baby, all this time. . .that damn dark theater. I never knew who that man who looked like he had been mugged was, but he slipped his tongue into his mouth, and I completely forgot to ask for his name," Eddie giggled.

Steve grinned and pulled him into his lap.

"Hi, my name is Steve," he said smirking.

"Hi, Stevie, I'm Eddie," he giggled.

"It's very nice to meet you," Steve said and kissed him.

Eddie grinned against his lips, breaking the kiss.

"One of these days, we're both going to be sober when we do this," Eddie said.

"One day," Steve promised, kissing him and sticking his tongue into Eddie's mouth.

"Okay, I love you guys, happy for you, really, but. . .I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THIS!" Robin exclaimed.

"Speak for yourself, Buckley. Excellent form, dudes," Argyle said.

"I don't know, Eddie could do a little better," Jonathan said and Eddie flipped him off while continuing to kiss Steve.

"Steve definitely deserves a 9.2," Nancy giggled.

"Are we also going to commentate on how they fuck too? Because if so, shoot me," Robin groaned.

"I'll go make the scoreboards!" Argyle yelled and took off.

Steve laughed against Eddie's mouth, and soon, they were both laughing.

"We are NOT having sex in front of them," Steve said.

"Aww. . .why not? Able to fight an interdimensional wizard with his friends but unable to fuck in front of them. Got it. I love learning new things about you."

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction

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voiceoffenrisulfr · 2 months ago

Text

Near Misses and Nearly Missed - Chapter One Loved or Lost?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James "Bucky" Barnes x Original Nonbinary Character (Soldierbug)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The soulmate part was just the way the world worked. The car crash? That was a little more unexpected. Sometimes a 'crash-into hello' is a little more... Crash-y.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 9039

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Smut, Car crash (mild), distress

𝐀/𝐍 -> Less Romance, More Smut. Sorrynotsorry.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers by us!

Chapter Two ->

Prompts used (boards at the end);

- ‘Obsession’ – Any Fandom Dark Bingo( @anyfandomgoesbingo) ; - ‘First Meeting’ – Build-a-Bucky Bingo (September) ( @buckybarnesevents); - ‘Soulmate AU’ – @eclipsingbingo; - ‘Laughing While Kissing’ – Eclipsing Bingo (Dark); - ‘Wet Dreams’, ‘Scarring’ – @fandom-free-bingo Bingo (Flight); - ‘Double-Ended Dildo’, ‘Walking in the Snow’ – Fandom-Free (Frosty);

- ‘Fleshlight or Dildo’ – @julybreakbingo (5x5); - ‘Car Crash or Trapped in a Burning Building’ – July Break Bingo (6x6); - ‘Accidental Confession or First Kiss’, ‘Meeting someone they’ve been having romantic/sexual dreams about’, ‘Unexpected’ – July Break Bingo (7x7); - ‘Trust or suspicion’ – July Break Bingo (Kofi Exclusive); - “Why Are You Looking at Me Like That?”, ‘Cabin in the Woods or Stranded Without a Signal’ – July Break Bingo (Summer);

- ‘Dom Space’ – Kinky Things Happen Bingo (deactivated?); - “Taste So Good… So Sweet…” – @lgbtqbingo; - ‘Character A's Deepest Thoughts Begin to Mark Character B's Skin Wanting to Do Dirty Things. It Could Be Embarrassing at Times, and Character B Can't Wait to Fuck His Soulmate’ – @multifandom-flash (Soulmates); - ‘Crash-Into Hello’ – Multifandom-Flash (Valentine’s Day); - ‘Fuck Me’ – Sweetheart Bingo ( @sweetspicybingo);

‘It’ll happen for you one day… Right?’

I slammed my hand against the steering wheel, seething. How dare they? Just because they’re married now, they think they can accuse me of being a… A…

Snarling once more, I jerked hard on the wheel, the tyres skidding on loose asphalt as I skidded around the bend.

Just because I haven’t met them yet doesn’t mean they’re not still out there. I’m twenty-seven – I’m not that old. There’s still time. I’m not Lost. I’m not.

There was nothing in this world society pitied more than the Lost. Everyone had one – at least one – perfect person, a match just for them – be it platonic or romantic, as they needed. Usually in pairs, though triads, quads, or even bigger groups had been known to happen. The only given was that the Older, or Olders, were alive when the Younger turned eighteen. Usually, they met within a few years.

Which meant that either my Soulmate was younger than expected, or…

When the Younger was old enough, each time they thought of touching their Soulmate, the touch would show on the Older’s body, just for a few moments. It was thought to be so the Older knew it was time.

I’d never known a Younger who’d gotten past twenty-five before meeting their soulmate.

But maybe I’m just really unlucky. There’s stories about Soulmates living in different countries and not meeting until they’re both well into their thirties. Sure, it’s really rare, but it’s possible; it’s gotta happen to someone, why not me? Or – yeah, maybe they’re just younger than I thought. But I’d know if they were gone.

Right?

That was the other option, of course. The one only hinted at, or whispered about behind cupped hands.

The only guarantee for Soulmates is that they’d both be alive when the Younger turned eighteen.

That didn’t mean they’d live long enough to meet.

And that was the greatest fear for so many of us, increasing steadily as the years ticked by. The Lost weren’t rejected or ostracised from society – but they were very clearly other. As if not meeting your Soulmate wasn’t bad enough, you also lived life as a sad example of the height of loneliness and isolation. There were other Lost, of course – but people just seemed to view that as even worse, because ‘isn’t it just so sad, wanting what they can’t have?’

The Bonded didn’t have Lost friends. It’s just the way it was – no hard feelings. Bonded had weddings and playdates to attend to; how could a Lost understand or fit into that world?

And it was happening to me already. Rhodey and Pepper had been shooting me sympathetic glances all evening – the first time they’d hosted since they married the month before. I was the only Unbonded there – not Lost, not yet, but close. And I suppose she’d tried to be reassuring in a way, implying that there was still time, but…

But I just felt even more like the other; I already knew that it was only because of Steve that I was even still invited at all. We’d been best friends our entire life and served in the 108th together for four years – I’d looked after this scrap of boy, carrying his unconscious body to safety, collapsing from blood loss at the sight of an Allied convoy, my exhausted body finally giving in. I knew he’d argue in my defence, pointing out that I saved his life – but it wouldn’t work forever. Eventually the invitations would stop coming, and that would be that.

Lost.

I stood in my boxers in front of my mirror every night, hoping against hope that I’d see a glowing palm – or, hell, I’d take a fingertip – brush over my body. Everyone had said you could feel it – a gentle warmth of skin-on-skin - but I checked anyway, just in case.

And when I slunk to bed at last, flesh cold and heart sinking, I sent out a message of my own.

Just in case.

I pictured trailing my thumb gently over a delicate lower lip. I imagined cradling them to my chest, safe and warm. I fantasised about tucking a stray hair behind their ear, pressing a tender kiss to a sleep-warm cheek.

And sometimes, in the dark of night when I couldn’t sleep, I thought about other things, too.

That lip pulled between my teeth, applying gentle pressure until they groaned aloud and held me tighter. My hands holding them tight to me as they panted and gasped euphorically. Fingers tangled in their hair, face buried in their throat, lips pressed to their skin as we finally made love…

I wondered, as I found desperate release, metal fingers clinging frantically to the sheets, if there was someone out there who was shivering in pleasure at the warmth of my touch, driven to mind-numbing climax without ever having to raise a finger, their body glowing in the darkness.

I wondered what it would be like to hold them against me as I drifted off, hoping that someone somewhere, was smiling in their sleep and curling around a strip of soft light at their waist.

All I’d ever wanted was to meet my Soulmate. When I was younger, I’d never even considered the fact that I may not get the chance.

And now others had started to notice I was still Unbonded… It was the first step to being Lost.

Despite my anger and fear, the thought of touching them – in both the most innocent and sensual of ways – acted as the distraction it always did, my hands softening on the wheel.

I was going too fast, and I wasn’t paying attention.

When I rounded the next bend straight into a set of high beam headlights, I hissed and tugged instinctively on the steering wheel, eyes narrowing automatically.

But I was going too fast, and I wasn’t paying attention.

My wheels met the loose gravel at the side of the road once more, and I yelped as my tyres spun in a spray of asphalt, uselessly seeking friction as I fishtailed. My body jerked as the edge of my bumper clipped the passing car, and I pumped the breaks, turning into the skid and coming to a stop, heart pounding.

I sat still for a moment, inhaling a few shaky breaths before I was able to uncurl my fingers from the steering wheel, my mouth dry as it occurred to me just how close I had been to a far more serious accident. Climbing from the car, I intended to take a moment, inhaling the cool night air to let my annoyance dissipate- but the sight of the other car idling 100 metres down the road had me stopping in my tracks, nausea rising.

Fuck. Fuck…

What if they’re hurt?

What if-

The door opened slowly, one muscular, short-clad leg revealed as a foot found the ground uncertainly. Then came another, followed by tanned hands grasping door and frame firmly, the occupant stumbling as they rose from the car.

I stepped closer instinctively, though my concern was somewhat abated by their capacity to stand. “Are you alright?” I called hesitantly, apprehensive about moving my 6ft, well-muscled frame closer to this individual several inches shorter than myself – and likely shaken – on a dark, relatively remote country road. They leant heavily against the hood, poking thoughtfully at the bodywork as I moved nearer in response to their silence. “Hello?” I pressed, concern building once more at their silence and blatant refusal to look at me. “Hey! Are you okay? I’m so sorry; I didn’t even-”

I was ten paces away when they straightened and turned, arms crossing over their chest as they settled dark eyes on me, shining in the low light. “I’m fine,” they snapped, the slight tremor in their voice undermining the ferocity. “What the hell were you doing? Why did you swerve like that?”

I furrowed my brow in confusion, stunned into silence for a moment before shaking my head hard. “Your lights were too high; why didn’t you turn them down when you saw me?”

Their mouth opened furiously, but they paused before it snapped closed with an audible click, cheeks flushing dark. “You shouldn’t have been on the wrong side of the road!”

“I couldn’t fucking see!” I snapped, fists clenching by my sides in irritation. “Why weren’t you paying attention?”

They blushed harder, overwhelmed tears pricking their eyes. “I-… It doesn’t matter. What about you? If you’d seen me coming and not dropping my lights, you should have flashed me! Forget about me; why weren’t you paying attention?”

The question had me casting my mind back, and I couldn’t help but smile softly to myself, thinking once more of my hands resting lightly on my soulmate’s back. The person before me shivered, drawing me reluctantly back to the present once more, and I frowned. “Cold?”

“No, it’s a beautiful evening,” they deadpanned, sparing a glance to the snow falling steadily and rolling their eyes. “Of course I’m cold; I wasn’t expecting to be getting out of my car whilst driving through upstate New York, at night, in November. I didn’t really dress for the weather.”

I took them in once more, eyeing shorts and tee, topped with a thin checked overshirt that did little to keep out the chill. “No,” I agreed, pursing my lips, pausing only briefly before shrugging off my thick leather jacket and offering it to them wordlessly.

Their large, brown eyes remained oblivious to the proffered clothing, fixated instead on trailing the length of my arm, t-shirt offering no covering to hide the segmented metal of my prosthetic from view. The silver shone faintly in the low light of the moon, and I grimaced at their stare, looking away. “… You want the jacket or not?” I quipped, biting back a smirk as they turned crimson, ashamed of having been caught out.

“I- Yes. Sorry. Thank you…” They took the jacket timidly, hardly able to meet my gaze, and I sighed as their cold fingers struggled to manoeuvre the leather into position. My metal hand closed once more around the collar, and they dropped it quickly, earning a frustrated sound and an arched eyebrow.

“Are you going to do that every time you can see my arm?”

They reddened once more, scuffing a foot and looking away uncertainly. “Sorry,” they murmured with a guilty grimace. “I’ve just- I’ve never seen… I mean, I-I’ve not…”

I sighed as I moved around them, helping them slide their arms into my body-warmed leather. “I get it. I��d stare too.” My fingers flexed of their own volition as I smoothed the collar down gently, and my lip curled. “I did, actually. Saw a few guys come back from the front with replacement limbs not twelve months before I shipped out. Damn sure I stared at the first guy I saw; both of his legs were prosthetics. I remember thinking it was… Amazing, in a way, the things we could do now, but…” I shrugged a shoulder, eyes lowering as I took a half-step back. “I also remember thinking how much it sucked that these things were needed.”

They grimaced sympathetically, head half turning. “Yeah… I wish it weren’t necessary.” They paused for a moment, and I watched with curiosity as snowflakes clung to their eyelashes, each dendrite visible at their proximity. “… Does it… Does it hurt?”

Humming thoughtfully, I looked down at the metal fingers, watching those same snowflakes land on the surface without melting. “… It… Sometimes, I guess. Mostly at the shoulder, but…” I shrugged, jaw tight, trying to ignore the searing, insistent discomfort that burned along the line where metal met flesh each time I thought about my injury. With a firm shake of my head, I looked back at their car, and the snow beginning to fall heavier. “We should get out of here. This storm is gonna break soon, and we don’t want to be on the roadside when it does.”

A worried glance to the sky had them frowning a little, and they nodded, pulling out their cell. They sighed as they held up their phone, scowling deeply. “Of course there’s no service… Why would there be service when I need a tow?”

I cocked my head, eyebrow raising. “I only clipped you – surely it’s driveable?”

“Popped a tyre when I hit the loose gravel,” they muttered sullenly.

“No spare?”

They hesitated, blushing once more, feet shifting with embarrassment. “That was the spare. I put it on a few weeks back – guess I figured there’d always be time to pick up a replacement…” The second eyebrow joined the first, and their scowl deepened. “What? I struggle to remember these things; don’t act like you-”

“Who, hey,” I soothed, hands raising defensively. “I’m not acting like anything; I was just thinking what could have happened if you’d blown it while you were up here alone. It’s a little treacherous in the snow – most locals take the longer way, and we don’t get many tourists. It could have been days until anybody passed through,” I added, concern lacing my voice.

They shivered, pulling my jacket closer around themselves and gazing uncertainly into the woods at the dramatically timed howl of a coyote. “Oh…” A think smile flickered at their lips, and their eyes flicked back to mine. “Guess I’m pretty lucky you were here then, huh? Though I am still stranded out here,” they added, chewing uncertainly on their lower lip.

“You can spend the night at my place, if you like. Or I can call a tow when I get home,” I added quickly, throat bobbing when they eyed me uncertainly. “I get it if you don’t want to crash at a random guy’s house – it’s a dangerous world out there, after all.”

Something in my tone made their taut muscles relax minutely, though they still glanced at me with shy appreciation and apprehension.. “I… That would be good. Thanks.”

After I’d helped them move their car fully free of the road – and readjusted my slightly misaligned wing mirror – we were on our way, their small, trembling frame seemingly swallowed by the heated seat that cradled them. I drove carefully through the steadily increasing blizzard, sobered of my previous anger by the bizarre turn of events.

“Mars,” they blurted suddenly into the silence, hands extending to be closer to the heater, their fingers flexing with a slight grimace. “That- I mean, that’s my name. Mars.”

I chuckled softly, shaking my head at my own forgetfulness. “Mars… Cool name. I’m James, but most folk call me Bucky.

They frowned, digits stilling for a moment as they considered me. “Why? Do you hunt deer or something?”

The laugh this time was louder, joined by a grin at the disapproval evident in their tone. “No. My middle name is Buchannan – my friend thought it was cute when we were kids, and it just kinda stuck. I’ve been ‘Bucky’ for way longer than I was ever James – only my mom calls me that now, really.”

They hummed and nodded, relaxing once more at the reassurance – as if my vow that I didn’t kill Bambi was a comment on the likelihood that they were in danger. “…Won’t your Soulmate mind you bringing back a stranger in the middle of the night?”

The probe was obvious, but I didn’t let it rattle me, simply shrugging light-heartedly. “Unbonded,” I offered before shooting them a wry smile. “What about yours? Didn’t fancy a little near-death experience?”

“I’m Unbonded, too,” they replied readily, scowling when my eyes shifted automatically to the silver flecks in their raven-black hair. “I’m not Lost, even if I am a little older than most. My Soulmate is a Younger, and I know they’re still thinking of me.” I just nodded in response – it was a common lie in the community of the Lost from those desperate to avoid the label, impossible to disprove as it was, and so it was hard to put much faith in without proof – and their frown deepened. “I know you don’t believe me, but just you wait. They think about me all the time, you’ll see. I’m not Lost.”

I nodded again, more firmly this time, hands raised with an imploring expression. “Whoa, hey – whatever you say. I don’t have any particular feeling about it one way or the other.”

They watched me for a moment, eyes narrowed, before turning back to face the snow falling thick and fast against the windscreen. That’s why I’m out here, you know. I’m not from here.”

I snorted softly as I turned into the dirt trail that constituted my driveway. “You don’t say?” I deadpanned. “The English accent definitely didn’t give it away.”

They chuckled. Shaking their head. “I mean, technically, I’m not from England, either. Mum met Dad while she was working as a nurse in Egypt, and he was doing his mandatory service; I was three when her contract expired, and she wanted to move home more than Dad wanted to stay in Egypt, so…” They shrugged, looking out of the window with an inscrutable expression. “I’ve lived in London ever since then. Visited family in Egypt a couple of times, though. It’s pretty fun, even if it is a bit of a culture shock.”

“And now you’re here?” I pressed gently, bringing the car to a halt with the engine idling, too enraptured by their story to consider such mundane practicalities.

“And now I’m here,” they agreed, glancing back to me. “I hit thirty-five, and I just… Couldn’t wait anymore, you know? So I travelled around the UK a bit, hoping to bump into my Soulmate. When that didn’t work, I figured I’d just… Keep going.” They shrugged a little, eyes sliding past e and widening as they focused on the building behind me. “This… You live here?”

I nodded, scratching the back of my neck uncertainly. “Yeah. I know it’s not much, but… It’s quiet, y’know? Out of the way. Keeps me out of trouble, at least,” I added with a wry grin.

“It’s beautiful,” they murmured, still taking in my cabin with wide eyes. “Very cottagecore.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I replied with a snort, shaking my head in amusement. They shot me a broad, impish grin, and I smiled back, captivated by the small dimple that formed in their left cheek.

I wonder if my Soulmate has any cute, unique things like that? I mused to myself, then grinned a little wider, imagining skimming a thumb over a similar dimple as I reached for my doorhandle, looking back as an icy blast of wind sucked the heat from the vehicle immediately. “Jesus, it’s cold – we should get inside befo-”

My voice died at the sight of a brush of warm lift over their cheek, trailing directly over their dimple and making their smile grown ever wider. “See?” they breathed, practically squirming with delight. “I told you. They’re still out there, and they think about me all the time. I’m going to find them,” they added determinedly, fingers knotting together in their lap with barely contained glee.

Coincidence. It – it’s probably just a coincidence. I shouldn’t get my hopes up – not until I know for sure.

But anxiety and fear had stilled my thoughts, and I could only blink dumbly. They all but scampered from the cat, warbling away with passionate energy, their own misgivings forgotten in the excitement as I followed slowly behind.

“I just spent a week in New York – man, is that place busy or what?! – and now I’m heading up to the Northeast for a couple of months; I hear Vermont is beautiful in the fall – does that extend to the winter, too? I hope so; I love the snow. Is it always like this?” They hopped into a snowdrift that covered their bare knees, cackling happily. “I hope my soulmate lives somewhere cool. It’s kind of funny, being half-Egyptian and all, but I really can’t deal with hot weather, not like my sister. Well, she handles it better than me, at least, but my cousins in Egypt handle it best! They came to the UK once, and they-”

Their incessant chattering was cut off with a yelp as they tried to leap from the snowbank, feet landing on a patch of hidden black ice that had their arms wheeling dramatically. I moved instinctively, fingers closing around their wrist to keep them upright, earning me a broad grin when they found their footing once more. “Christ – thanks! I bet it would’ve really hurt if I’d-… I…” Their eyes had dropped to follow my gaze, the glowing of their skin as I released them bold and unmistakable against a monochrome backdrop, finally rendering them silent. It wasn’t until the light began to fade that they blinked at last, oblivious to the snowflakes gathering in their hair.

“… Huh.”

My gaze shifted to their face, our contact finally breaking my mind free of its restraints, and envisioned reaching out to brush a thumb over their jaw - not a faceless stranger, but specifically this stranger, the oddball stood before me with a glowing stripe emerging across their skin.

They blushed, assessing their feet intently, still shyly unable to meet my eye. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You always knew I existed,” I replied with a soft shrug. “You knew I was out there somewhere.” While they struggled to look at me, I found myself quite unable to look away, captivated my small mole on their cheek and the delicate curve of long, dark eyelashes. “I worried that you… That we’d never get to meet.”

Their flush deepened as they glanced at me uncertainly. “But you never gave up hope. You reached out, every single night, holding onto me, and-” They cut themselves off as they turned crimson, teeth digging into their lip when they recalled what often came after. “That- that’s how I knew I had to find you. You were still hoping, even after all this time, and I loved that about you. Figured the lease I could do was help you out, y’know?”

I snorted, shaking my head. “And then I go and almost kill us both by being too busy thinking about you to pay attention to the road.” My eyes immediately lowered to their lips, remembering the fantasies of holding them close, sharing kisses from sweet and chaste to hot and heavy. They grinned shyly as their body glowed in response, and I smirked, one eyebrow raised. “So… Now what?” I pressed uncertainly, barely audible over the swirling of the wind, and they chuckled as they looked about themselves pointedly.

“I’m pretty sure the first step is to go inside; you know… Get out of the blizzard.”

I snorted, shaking my head at my own absent-mindedness. “Good point.” They smiled warmly and moved to take a step forward before crumbling with a whimper. I caught them as they fell, a hand beneath either forearm keeping them upright. “Are you okay?”

They lifted their foot with a wince, lip curling in discomfort. “I think I sprained my ankle when I slipped,” they grumbled, narrowing their eyes at the ground with distaste.

Chuckling, I shook my head once more. “Poor little critter… C’mere.” I offered my arms, and they blushed softly, wrapping their own around my neck obligingly. When I lifted them easily, holding them close to my chest, their body lit up along each inch of contact, casting a warm, comforting glow that set the snow around us aflame with refracted light, and I let out a quiet sound of wonder. “I didn’t expect it to be so… Beautiful,” I breathed, eyes wide, and they grinned, head resting gently against my shoulder as they nodded.

“It’s one of my favourite things in the world,” they agreed, gazing at the scattered illumination with a sense of adoration borne through familiarity. “I, uh… I actually used to have a whole bunch of crystals hanging all around my room, so it looked… Well, kind of like this, whenever you thought of me,” they admitted shyly, cheeks colouring.

I couldn’t help but grin at the confession, one hand shifting to find my keys as I loped up the steps. “That’s deeply adorable,” I chuckled, holding them a little closer while I unlocked the door. They squirmed happily, before becoming immediately distracted as I nudged the door open, head raising to look about themselves.

My cabin wasn’t much, but it was the work of my own two hands – and a few dozen others – and I couldn’t have loved it more. I offered them this information as I placed them gently on the wooden island in the centre of the kitchen, and they smiled, fingers trailing appreciatively over the mahogany.

“It seems idyllic,” they breathed, looking around once more. “You put a lot of work into this, huh?”

I shrugged, face heating a little as I turned away to peer in the cupboard under the sink, distracting myself with searching – far more than necessary – for my first aid kid. “Yeah, well,” I murmured, snagging the green bag. I didn’t say anything more until I was on my knees before them, their boot resting gently on my thigh as I untied their laces. “… I wanted to give my soulmate a beautiful life. I… Built this place for you, I suppose.”

The back of my neck burned as I removed the boot, and they sat silently for a moment. It was until I held their bare foot in my hands that I dared risk a glance up, startled to find them staring down at me, tears shining in their eyes. “… I’m sorry. I- Did I say something wrong?”

They laughed softly, wiping their eyes. “No. God, no. I just- I worried you’d think I was crazy, working so hard to find you. But you were doing a big, beautiful thing all of your own, weren’t you? I love that.”

I chuckled, gaze dropping shyly once more to probe at their slightly swollen ankle with gentle fingers. “It’s not much. I just… I had to do something to keep myself hoping, you know? Everyone was pairing up and finding their soulmates, and it was getting pretty tempting to just give up. I didn’t have any proof, after all. So I guess I… I decided to do something ready for if- when I found you.”

I didn’t look up as I spoke, focusing on wrapping their ankle in a supportive bandage, but the moment I was done, their fingertips brushed my arm, drawing my gaze to their soft smile. “I love it,” they murmured reassuringly, thumb still caressing my bare skin. I found myself blushing once more, clearing my throat as I stood, rubbing the back of my neck uncertainly.

“You’ll be okay. It’s a pretty bad sprain, but nothing’s broken; I’d recommend not driving for a few days, though.”

The words came automatically, and it wasn’t until a heavy silence hung between us that I realised the implications, both of us freezing with our eyes locked on one another uncertainly, before opening our mouths in unison.

“I can call a cab if you-”

“I’m happy to drive you somewhere, if-”

We broke off simultaneously, each letting out a soft chuckle, and they gestured me on, indicating for me to speak first. “I’ll drive you wherever you want to go, if that- I mean, unless you… You’re welcome to stay here, of course - that is, if you’d like to. I built it for you, after all,” I added, grinning sheepishly.

They nodded and blushed, assessing their wrapped ankle intensely. “That sounds nice.” They paused, they let out a short, sharp laugh, startling me. “Man, is it always this awkward? This seems like a terrible way for these things to work! We’ve just met, and we know we’re destined to spend the rest of our lives together? How the hell do we get from A to B? It should come with an instruction manual – I don’t know, icebreaker questions or something, you know? This is a lot of pressure!” They laughed again, and I snorted, shaking my head fondly.

“Okay – icebreakers,” I nodded, hopping up on the counter beside them, humming thoughtfully. “Any other siblings?”

They smiled gratefully and shook their head. “Just the older sister – Alice. You?”

“The same. Rebecca.”

Another nod, and they glanced around, seemingly searching for inspiration. “What do you do for work?”

I glanced down as my shoulder ached pointedly, flexing my metal fingers. “I got a pretty impressive payout from the Army for this, and that paid for a lot of the cabin, but I guess… I mean, I sell some stuff. Enough to get by, I suppose.”

“What kind of stuff?” they pressed, head cocked, and I blushed lightly.

“Photos and paintings, mostly.”

Their eyes widened, and they looked around eagerly as I chuckled. “You’re an artist? That’s awesome! Do you have anything you can show me?”

Snorting, I gestured at the wooden staircase ascending from the lounge. “My studio is upstairs – I’ll give you a tour in a little while, after you’ve rested that foot some. So, what about you?” I added, leaning into the centre of the table to snag a couple of water bottles. They took theirs with a polite smile, taking a long drag before answering.

“I’m a dog trainer,” they replied eventually, their grin stretching a little wider as they spoke.

“You love it,” I noted, and they nodded, eyes alight with joy.

“I do. Dogs are way better than people; there’s always a reason, you know? They’re not malicious for the sake of it; if they’re nervous or reactive, there’s a motivation or a cause behind it, even if we don’t always understand what that is right away. I like trying to find it out.” They paused for a moment, then nodded, as if confirming their thoughts to be accurate.

I couldn’t help but smile at that – the eclectic blend of logic and emotion with which they offered their reasoning. “That’s a beautiful approach to it.”

Their cheeks coloured once more, uninjured leg swinging absently. “Hm…” Their face grew darker, and they lowered their eyes shyly. “… First kiss?”

I barked out a surprised laugh, eyebrow raising. “… Lucy. I was fifteen. You?”

“Marty. Fourteen.” They picked at their fingernails, unable to meet my gaze, lips parted as they prepared to speak once more, held back by their shyness. “… Virgin?”

My jaw opened with my shock this time, and I blinked silently at them for a moment, dumbfounded. Sex before Bonding – or even after – was rarely talked about, regardless of how prevalent it was; most people weren’t too bothered about waiting, and I knew that less than half of people hadn’t had sex before they met their soulmate. I knew Steve had lost his virginity in the Army, but other than that, I had no idea as to the pre-Bonded relations of my friends. The idea that I might one day be answering that question myself had never crossed my mind.

I scraped absently at the label on my water bottle, chewing on my lip. “… Yes. You?”

“No.” I looked up, and they shrugged. “Virginity is a societal construct – I only use it as a convenient shorthand to ask about your experiences. I’m not worth less because I wanted to experience pleasure. People who haven’t had sex before they get designated Lost quite often never do; I wasn’t risking that, and I had several years before I started having Touches. So… Yeah, I had a couple of short things. I wanted to know what it was like, just in case, you know?”

I shook my head quickly, hands upheld. “No judgement. I’d probably have done the same.”

Frowning, they cocked their head to one side. “Why didn’t you?” they probed gently, and I stiffened infinitesimally, looking away. “You don’t have to tell me, not if y-”

“I’m transgender,” I murmured, still fiddling with the plastic in my hands. “I didn’t- I was never… Comfortable. I kissed a friend once, when we were younger, but…” I shrugged, blushing minutely at the memory of Steve and I at sixteen, awkwardly bumping lips in an innocent experiment, before determining we were definitely not attracted to one another. It would have been easy, had my soulmate been him – platonic, but simple. I could have lived that way. And if I’d been attracted to him, I could have had the experiences that being Unbonded, and later Lost, would have denied me, if I never found someone else I trusted so implicitly. But the spark simply wasn’t there, and the only thing that I feared more than never knowing what it was like was ruining my friendship with the man I’d known my entire life by us pushing through a cripplingly awkward experience.

They nodded once, leaning against me lightly. “Yeah, that makes sense. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world for me; no chance in hell of me taking my shirt off! But I don’t regret it; I called the shots, so I did what I could to make myself comfortable, backed out when I realised I wasn’t up for it…” They nodded again, hand finding mine to rub their thumb comfortingly against my own. “I’m sorry you never had anyone you could feel comfortable with like that.”

Smiling gratefully, I rested my head against theirs, soothed by the soft touch and their calming pressure against my side. “Well… I mean, I always hoped you were out there. I figured I’d get the experience one day, if it were true.”

They chuckled quietly as a blush crawled up my neck, turning their head to press their lips lightly against the curve of my throat. “I’d be honoured to show you the things I learned, Buck.”

A low whine escaped me, the heat in my face intensifying at the sound and earning a quiet cackle of amusement in response. “I- hm. That… That might be nice. I mean… I guess you- you’re universally chosen for me, and everything… I’ve never heard of soulmates being anything other than a perfect match, after all… I guess you- we… It…” I fumbled uselessly, and they smiled, squeezing my fingers softly.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to – now, or ever,” they soothed, and I felt my muscles relax, leaning back into them.

“I know. Thank you,” I murmured, squeezing back. “I… Would definitely like to see how it goes.” My face flamed at the admission, but they simply smiled, pressing another tender kiss to my exposed throat.

“Well… I’m here for the next few days – at least,” they added, chuckling under their breath. “And we have… Well, forever, I guess. There’s no rush.”

I blushed and nodded, looking down at the hand entwined with mine, sun-kissed beige and warm olive wrapped together closely, the glow where their skin touched mine casting reverent light over our grip. My eyes dropped to their head, and I couldn’t help but imagine tipping their chin up gently, lips finding theirs in a chaste, perfect moment. I felt myself cringe inwardly from embarrassment as their face reflected my thoughts, and they grinned, glancing up at me. “I’d ask what you’re thinking about, but…” They smiled a little wider, free hand raising to smooth a thumb over their lower lip thoughtfully. “… I remember the things you thought about when I wasn’t in front of you – and this embarrasses you?”

“I didn’t know there was definitely anyone listening then… And you weren’t, you know, right there,” I added, chuckling self-consciously.

They gazed at me for a moment before their eyes dropped to my mouth, lips parting. “… Can I… Can I kiss you?”

I blinked in surprise, stunned to a brief silence by their boldness. “I- Yes. Please.”

I swallowed nervously as their hand shifted to cup my jaw, smoothing the stubble-roughened skin gently. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” they murmured, smiling softly. I had no time to formulate a coherent reply before their lips skimmed mine, soft and warm and intoxicating. The feeling of their mouth moving against my own was far more intense than I ever imagined, and I found myself whining softly in pleasure, hands finding their hips to pull them closer needily, letting out a low groan when their teeth skimmed my lower lip.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasised about this,” I breathed when we broke apart to reluctantly drag in lungfuls of air, and they smiled shyly, cheeks tinged dusky pink.

“Pretty sure I know exactly how often you’ve fantasised about it,” they purred teasingly, forehead resting against mine. “You woke me up more than once, thinking about me in the middle of the night.”

“I’m very sorry,” I chuckled insincerely, skimming my lips against theirs once more, unable to help myself.

“Don’t be,” they whispered, hand moving to tangle lightly in the air at the nape of my neck. “The amount of times I wake up just in time for me to- And, I- Sometimes during…” They trailed off at the half-formed admission, cheeks flaming and eyes dropping with embarrassment.

“That’s exactly what I was hoping,” I murmured, a soft, breathless undercurrent to my voice. With a resigned, surrendering sigh. I lifted them easily, depositing them on my lap with a knee either side of my hips as they squeaked in surprise. “The thought of you knowing I was thinking about you – that I couldn’t sleep because I wanted to touch you so badly – and making you moan, wherever you were out there…” I trailed off with a shiver of delight, my fingers tightening on their waist when they squirmed minutely. “It saw me through many a dark and lonely night, imagining what I’d do when I finally had you at my mercy.”

They grinned shyly, arms resting on my shoulders. “Well… I’m here,” they noted, glancing around pointedly before fixing their eyes on me once more. “So… I offer myself up to your mercy, Sergeant.”

The blood thrumming in my veins heated as they pressed themselves to my chest, and I groaned, my hands travelling down to their ass to lift them as I stood, my mouth finding theirs desperately. Fingers knotting in my hair, they crushed themselves against me, mewling needily against my mouth.

“Still wanna see the studio?” I breathed as I climbed the stairs, drawing back just far enough to offer them a teasing grin. They laughed aloud, legs tightening around my waist.

“After,” they murmured, mouth flirting my own once more.

“‘After’, huh?” I whispered playfully, their cheeks turning crimson in realisation, and I nudged open the bedroom door with a shoulder. They sprawled willingly when I gentle deposited them on the bed, arms stretched over their head to offer themselves to me. Rapturously, I trailed kisses up their throat, spurred on and taking direction from their soft gasps and moans of appreciation. My body pressed closer to theirs unconsciously, one hand tangling in their hair as I kissed them again, leg falling instinctively between theirs. They mewled and arched against my thigh, fingers clenched around my biceps as quivered, legs parting eagerly. The movement caused their own short-clad thigh to press against me, and I grunted in surprise, eyelids fluttering at the contact. With a hum of delight, they pressed harder, shifting minutely, gaze lighting up when I moaned softly.

“That’s cheating…” I murmured, blushing infinitesimally, returning my mouth to their skin and leaving a trail of light bruises over the glowing flesh of their throat.

“Hm?” they purred, still rolling a leg against me teasingly, a playful smirk tugging at their lips despite wide, innocent eyes.

“I’m new to this,” I offered with a weak whine, hands shifting to their hips to pull them closer despite my half-hearted complaints. “You already know all the tricks…”

“You’re better than you think you are,” they assured me softly, lips ghosting over mine. “You’ve rendered me speechless a hundred times from a thousand miles away… I’m sure you’ll be even better in person.”

With a faint blush and a slow, steadying breath, I nodded, moving in to kiss them once more. They sighed happily, eyes closing as their lips moved against mine.

They were right, of course. By their own admission, my late-night fantasies had brought them plenty of pleasure. But it was easy to be skilled in my own fantasies… Reality was a different matter.

Nervous though I was, however, there was no way I was letting my performance anxiety getting the way of something I’d wanted for years. One trembling, inexperienced hand inched under the edge of their shirt to brush a thumb over the soft skin of their hip, relishing in their subtle tremble of delight. The way they reacted to my touch spurred me on, and my fingertips worked under their waistband, smirking when they nodded eagerly at my clarifying glance. The fabric travelled easily over their thighs, and I dropped to my chest between their legs, fingers dancing over damp cotton. A quiet sound of need and pleasure radiated in their chest as I trailed my lips over the tender flesh of their inner thigh, thumb pressing against their wetness, earning a sharp gasp. Hands tangled in my hair, and I looked up, silently prompting.

“Please,” they whispered, eyes wide with desperate desire. “Oh God – please, James…” Groaning weakly, I tugged down the thin, black underwear, wetting my lower lip unconsciously at the sight before me.

Their legs fell wider apart as I shuffled closer, driven by an irrepressible need to explore slick folds offered to me so willingly. The instant my tongue grazed over their wetness, they let out a pitiful mewl, pulling me closer unconsciously and eliciting a ragged moan of delight from my parted lips as I buried myself eagerly between their thighs. Their back arched to press nearer to my enthusiastic tongue, intoxicated as I was by their sweetness, one of my hands moving to probe at their entrance as they squirmed in delight.

The feeling of their body stretching and clamping around me frantically had my hips shifting in a futile attempt to ease the ache between my own thighs. With a quiet, breathless chuckle, they tugged gently on my hair, drawing my gaze to theirs. “Good?” they breathed, eyes flicking pointedly to my needy writhing. I could only hum against them in response, refusing to ease my ministrations for even a moment to confirm my pleasure, hand and tongue shifting in unison as they shuddered and twitched. “God, that- that feels- Fuck, Bucky…”

With a soft groan of delight, I buried myself deeper between their eagerly parted thighs, relishing every tremble and moan as their fingers tightened in my hair. “Buck- Bucky, James, fuck, I can’t- I-I’m going to-”

Whimpering desperately, I rutted in vain against the sheets as they arched against me, body tightening and spasming around me, a frantic wail echoing around us as they came undone under my tongue.

I was quite unable to come to a halt, fingers still moving slowly inside them as my mouth needily chased every last ounce of their wetness, delirious with delight and pleasure. My own core was throbbing and dripping with desire - but I steadfastly continued my ministrations, reluctant to stop before I had to. Eventually, however, they tugged weakly at my hair, guiding me away from their trembling pussy with a soft whimper.

“H-holy… Fuck…” they breathed shaking, a minute wince flickering across their features as one leg stretched out along my side, bones groaning with the effort of movement. I rest my cheek on their thigh, panting as I gazed up at them with wonder and want, relishing the encompassing taste of them still overwhelming my senses.

“You taste like the stars,” I whispered rapturously, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “I can’t believe how fucking good you taste.”

They blushed minutes as I looked up once more, flushed pink with pleasure and joy. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

I swallowed dryly, mind whirring at the possibilities, and I froze with indecision. I’d been fantasising about this day for a long time, and I’d covered a hundred different scenarios, each one now flashing before my eyes in a rapid rotation of pleasurable experiences I now had the opportunity to fulfil. “I don’t know where to start,” I admitted softly, and they offered me a tender smile, fingers caressing my hair.

“C’mere,” they murmured, tugging gently to draw me up beside them, oppressing close to my chest, one arm around my neck as the other hand found my hip, dipping lightly under the edge of my shirt to caress my skin tenderly as their mouth found mine. I sighed into the kiss, my own fingers curling into their hair needily.

“I’ve had so many fantasies that I just… I have no idea where to begin,” I breathed, earning a small, coy smile, their now-bare thigh pressing between mine and eliciting a quiet whine and a shuddering jerk of my hips.

“There was this one fantasy,” they mused playfully, slowly kissing along my jaw. “You had it a lot… I could feel your legs around mine, and you were stretching me out so much…”

I gulped, feeling my body tense at the thought. I knew exactly what they were referring to – an act that divided all those who tried, and one I was frantic to attempt. A wide line of light appeared over their thigh, and I blushed as they grinned broadly. “You like that idea, hm?”

Nodding weakly, my fingers flexed with desire, tongue passing over my lower lip dryly. “I love it,” I admitted faintly, and they beamed, fingertips shifting to my fly as they met my eyes, seeking my consent, the sound of my ripper deafening in the tense silence when I nodded.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears as they shed my jeans with tender, patient movements, pressing adoring kisses to the scarred skin of my thighs as each inch was revealed. They didn’t ask, but I knew they understood, each gentle pass of their lips over laddered flash soothing a disquiet anxiety in my soul of which I hadn’t registered the presence.

By the time the material was dropped to the floor with a hushed, heavy thud, my muscles were loose, the ache between my legs more intense than ever as their heavy-lidded gaze met mine. Settling themselves beside me once more, their fingertips danced lightly over my abdomen to tug gently on the hem of my shirt. This time, I found myself only too eager help, shifting upright to pull the clothing over my head with only the barest of thoughts for the scarring at either chest or shoulder, lost in the feeling of their hands mapping my skin attentively.

“You’re so beautiful,” they breathed as I lay back beside them, pressing a gentle kiss to my chest when I blushed, hyperaware of the warmth of their hand resting on my abdomen. “Can I touch you, James?”

I swallowed and nodded, breath catching as their fingers slid under my waistband, passing over short hair to reach between my legs.

The air rushed from my lungs at the first brush of their fingertips against me, the surreal experience of someone else’s touch caressing my wetness eliciting a quiet whine of delight. Reassured, they pressed closer to my side, one leg draping over mine as they trailed their palm along me lightly. “Mm, Bucky…. You’re so-” They cut themselves off, pausing in their ministrations as they looked at me for clarification.

“Wet,” I finished with only the barest hint of a blush, nodding reassuringly and rutting against them. “Fuck- you make my pussy so goddamn soaked…”

They groaned softly, face burying in my throat to nuzzle and kiss the delicate skin they sound there, fingers mercifully resuming their gentle caresses along my slick folds. “So soaked, my beautiful boy… I just want to make you feel so good…”

With a quiet whine, I hooked a thumb into my boxers, pushing them down needily and earning an affectionate chuckle for my desperation. The second I lay nude before them and their hand found me again, I let my legs fall apart, offering my dripping core to them shamelessly. Their purr was pure joy as they stroked and probed, searching for each spot that made me twitch ang groan and mewl pitifully.

My back arched when their finger slid inside me, an exhilarated moan falling readily from my lips, hand tightening in the sheets as I frantically pressed closer. The knowledge that this person, chosen for me by the universe, could make my nerves sing so sweetly – that they’d be able to do so for the rest of our livers together – made my head spin. Emboldened, I licked my lips, leaning over to my bedside table to draw out a long, black length of silicone, the flush barely rising up the back of my neck as I clutched it tightly.

“This what you want, hm?” I purred, my free hand knotting in their hair to kiss them deeply, grinding against their palm. “Best of both worlds, huh – stretching out that gorgeous cunt while I rub my soaked, desperate pussy up against it?” They gasped and nodded, hips already shifting against my thigh once more, the feeling of their juices coating my skin making me only more eager for them. With a reluctant groan, I shifted away from their tender touch, hungrily pulling their legs apart to offer their soaked heat to me once more and earning a shiver of delight at the motion. The sight of them spread before me, offered and leaking, eyes blown wide with lust and skin shining with ghosts of my thoughts, gave me pause for a moment, enraptured by my good fortune.

I was shameless as I shifted between their knees, my own legs parting, relishing the way their gaze consumed every inch of my exposed flesh just as ravenously as mine did theirs; I could feel myself getting wetter at their eyes on me, and couldn’t help but let out a soft moan of utter bliss.

Their own wetness lit up as I thought about pressing myself against them, and they mewled quietly, shifting closer. “Please… Please, James, fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long, don’t make me wait anymore…”

With a trembling exhale, I shifted the dildo between us, watching with a heavy-lidded gaze as it slowly stretched out their dripping hole. They whimpered and gasped, back arching to force it deeper before their hand took over for mine, eyes moving to my own proffered entrance. The feeling of the toy pressing into me as they moved nearer was more intense than I could ever have imagined, a deafening groan leaving me as I rutted closer, frantically taking more of the thick length in an effort to find some merciful friction.

When their wetness brushed my own, my mind snapped, and almost feral kind of need overcoming me. My arm wrapped around their thigh to jerk them closer and pin them to me, my pussy squarely meeting theirs, our wetness mingling in a lewd cacophony that had my pleasure spiking even higher.

The way the moaned and moved against me, grinding with an urgency that even my wild fantasies couldn’t have predicted, quickly had the blood in my veins fizzing with my impeding release. My hands grasped at them in a futile attempt to hold them closer, fingernails carving rivulets into their flesh, whimpering with desperation as their eyes met mine, hand closing around my metal wrist to cling to me. “Please,” they gasped, somewhere between a cry and a groan, their gaze flat black as their movements against me became irregular.

“Give me everything, sweetheart,” I grunted, sweat beading along the nape of my neck, losing myself in the building tremble of their muscles and the soaked cunt rutting frantically against my own, clit grinding and nudging until their back arched as they wailed.

Their pussy clenched and quivered, jerking the toy inside me, tears rolling freely down my cheeks as they cursed and sobbed, fucking themselves desperately through their climax. The sensation of their wetness intensifying, flowing freely and mixing with mine as they spasmed, dragged me over the edge, and I pressed closer desperately as I groaned, nails breaking skin as I fought to bury myself deeper, to have as much of our bodies in contact as I could.

Their name fell from my lips as a cry of utter ecstasy, vision darkening around the edges as I rocked through my orgasm, hips finally slowing and easing up as Mars’ body fell still, limp and depleted and whimpering softly in pleasure. When I halted at last, they half-lifted their head to meet my faze, aftershocks sending gentle jerks through their body. “I… Oh God, that was…”

I laughed weakly, shivering with the fading adrenaline. “Yes… Yeah, it… Fuck, it really was.” My movements were slow and clumsy as I drew back, relishing in their shaky whimper as the toy left their quivering body and letting out my own soft groan of pleasure and delight at the mess leaking from their stretched hole. “Beautiful,” I breathed, wincing with sensitivity at the drag of the toy over my own overstimulated pussy, dropping it aside to collapse beside them and pull their spent body to my chest carefully. “You okay?” I murmured, trailing a fingertip softly over the delectable curve of their jaw.

They nodded and grinned shakily, releasing a soft sigh of contentment. “I didn’t know it could feel like that,” they admitted quietly, and I pressed a gentle kiss to their hair.

“I didn’t know I could feel like that,” I agreed, my eyes drifting shut of their own volition as Mars burrowed closer into my side, one leg hooking over mine to press themselves nearer. “Stay,” I breathed as my muscles grew sleep-heavy, and they half nodded against me.

“Yes,” they mumbled, fingers tightening a little against my skin. “Yes, please.”

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rosesradio · 5 months ago

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if Jason, Leo and Nico were in a polycule, do you think it would be a V-kinda sitch with whomever as the hinge or a whole-ass triad? I've come to ship any of these three in any combo so like...why not all? 🤔

I've never read any fics with valdi'grace or whatever, but if you happen to have any fic recs for them off the top of your head feel free to shout them out owo

i ship all three ships as well but for some reason i can’t picture them as a thruple. whenever i have an ot3 i usually like to picture them all three dating because that seems like the most “win win” to me (mainly i’m thinking of the ot3 portbowell from hsmtmts, a ship so rare at its peak it had like 5-10 people in the tag), but i think it’s because valdigrace (Or Whatever) doesn’t have the love triangle tension in canon, so it’s hard to picture it.

i could see the V situation though, mainly with Jason dating both Nico and Leo while valdangelo remains platonic, playfully bickering about spending time with their boyfriend. i could also see Jason and Leo both dating Nico, where valgrace remains best friends & Nico gets the best of both worlds with both a twink and a twunk boyfriend.

as for fics, unfortunately I don’t really read other fics, but if anyone seeing this post has any poly fics they wanna rec, that’d be very much appreciated 🫶

there would be so many interesting dynamics to explore—as someone who’s written a medium-length fic for an ot3 (with part of the pairing already together!) that shit is hard. but like all fics ofc, it’s so worth it. perhaps there’s an AU out there where i write some poly longfic with them that captures a perfect dynamic with the three of them and makes everyone ship it. but alas, not right now.

also i know i literally just said i was pausing summer of smut yesterday, but this makes me wanna explore a little smutty drabble with the three of them 👉👈

#none of these words are in the bible #i hope this makes sense #thanks for the ask!#jasico #valgrace #valdangelo #valdangelace #is that it?? beats me #pjo #rose’s asks

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sitp-recs · 1 year ago

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HP Rec Fest, Day 24

Happy Christmas Eve! Today’s prompt surely feels big, I can feel the pressure 🫣 it was hard to come up with something fresh right after posting yet another Christmas rec list but I appreciate that @hprecfest went for a holiday theme, which I reckon doesn’t necessarily need to be Christmas, right? This rec could very well be about the holiday vibes instead: fun trips, hot smut weather, cozy homes, happy friends, freedom to be and to love.

So in that spirit - and mindful of the fact that not everyone celebrates or cares for Christmas, I decided to go for something a bit different here. These two short fics bring me so much joy whenever I revisit them. Not only they were written by two very dear friends of mine (who I’m happy to be celebrating today!) but they fill my heart with warmth and an all-encompassing peaceful feeling of joy and celebration to see my favourite characters just lazing about and being stupidly in love together. Maybe these picks are a bit too subjective (honestly though, when are they not?) but I’m ready to feel seen! If you’re like me and appreciate a good mix of sexy, light and sweet, here are two perfect holiday-themed fics to light up your night ✨

Day 24) a holiday fic:

Drarry

The Last Star Falling by @tackytigerfic (M, 1.4k) - implied future Dronarry

A destination wedding, an afterparty, and an unexpected guest. Seamus is getting married, Portugal is hot, and Ron has nowhere to stay for the night.

destination weddings are the superior trope (note to self: make a reclist later) and this hot, vibrant and dreamy ficlet encapsulates the lush summer heat perfectly! between the constant flirting, the evocative church aesthetics and the delicious hints to Dronarry I could almost taste their sweat in my mouth, sultry and tantalizing. like all of Tacky’s fics, all scenes are full of tiny details that pulls me right into the Irish scenery and gives all characters so much personality. I love the playful and curious tone there, never crossing the Dronarry line but definitely toeing it with a sexy ending full of promise. it’s wistful, unpretentious and full of inhibited want as all summer romances should be. btw if you vibe with this triad make sure to check this year’s A Time, Dark and Divine by @moonflower-rose, which was inspired by this fic! ily Tacky 💜

Rare pair

Mischief Managed by @maesterchill (Harry/Sirius, E, 1.7k)

Nothing has been said, nothing solemnly sworn, but they both know what's going to happen. They've known from the minute Sirius suggested this weekend away by the beach.

this is one of my most cherished gifts and it makes me cry and yearn for Sirry every time I revisit it. this this this is what I want for them, to be alive and safe and loved. this might look like an innocent (and deliriously hot) PWP but in fact it slaps me in the face with so many feels my body can’t decide between horny, tender or devastated and if you ever thought no fic under 2k could make you feel this emotional turmoil I’m here to prove you wrong 😂✌🏼to be clear, this is a happy ending story!!!! they’re so happy and in love, finally getting some time away from everything and allowing themselves to enjoy the good life and fuck like rabbits be together after so much longing and anticipation. speaking of which the UST here is unbelievable, I thought I’d combust from the dirty talk alone, but then… hello, the tenderness?? the bathtub scene, the wall sex, Sirius calling Harry ‘pup’??? there’s only so much my body can take and my heart belongs with them in this dreamy getaway house, in this magical summer holiday, forever. ily maester 💜

#hprecfest2023 #day 24 #holiday fic

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imaginesandbandfiction · 11 months ago

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Triad Part 9 — Reunion Part 2

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is 3200 words of self-indulgent smut that ALSO moves the plot forward and then a 1100 word funny/sweet little gift at the end that ALSO ALSO moves the plot forward. If you want to skip the smut, just reading the bit beneath the *** will give you enough of an idea of what happened and why it’s going to be important in less explicit terms. Listen to Total Control by DJO if you want additional ~vibes~ and see if you can guess the two other songs that inspired/are referenced in this part. First person to guess each wins a drabble of your choosing (word choice tbd by the vibes I’m feeling while I write it lol).

Click here to be added to the taglist so you never miss an update!

Warnings: Pure smut with dom/sub undertones, choking and restraints included. Buckle up folks!

When Az wakes up a few hours later, his chest hiccups with a sharp intake of breath. With his brain still stuck under the mountain, he struggles against the restraints confining him to the bed.

His thrashing startles you and Cas awake, and while the male loosens his grip and scrambles backwards, you tighten your arms around Az’s waist. Shadow swirl all around you, just as confused as their master.

“Shhhh,” you whisper, rubbing soothing circles around his belly button. “It’s okay, you’re safe. It was just a dream; you’re back home now.”

You keep whispering sweet reassurances as the shadows start to settle, wrapping you and Azriel in their calming chill. Slowly, he stops trying to wriggle away and relaxes in your arms, eventually twisting around to look at you.

“‘M sorry,” he mutters, voice still hoarse from sleep. You check the clock on the wall, noticing that it’s well past dinner time already.

“Don’t apologize,” you say, raising your hands to wipe the tears from his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. “It’s our job to take care of you, Azzie.”

“And we love our job,” Cas quips, crawling across the bed with a steaming mug in one hand, which he holds to Az’s lips. “So be a dear and let us do it, yeah?”

Azriel rolls his narrowed eyes, but dutifully takes a sip anyway. The hot liquid merges with his insides, soothing aches both physical and mental.

Once the tea is gone, Cas reaches over for a croissant and lifted it up to Az’s mouth.

“I can feed myself, you know,” Az complains, reaching out to try and swipe the pastry from Cassian’s grip. Cas laughs and pulls it away, teasing him.

“Please? Just this once?” He pleads, eyes widening as he sticks out his lower lip in a pout. “You weren’t the only one affected by shutting off the bond, you know.”

The look Az gives him suggests that there will be hell to pay for this later, but Cassian’s entire face lights up when Az parts his lips. He takes small bites and chews slowly as both males stare at each other, bond shimmering with pleasure at the intimacy of the act.

It’s a gesture of trust on both parts and you watch, breathless and teary, as the intensity of their gazes deepens with each bite. After Cas shoves the last bit in, he lets his fingers linger longer than necessary, ghosting against Az’s lips.

Az swallows, smirks, and then sucks Cas’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue

“So that’s how you want to play this, huh?” Cas growls, patience draining from his body. You see it in the way his muscles tighten, a sign that he’s desperately clinging to the last of his self control.

Saying nothing, Az just hums around Cas’s fingers and it’s fucking hot, the way your usually dominant mate can so easily slip into a submissive role while still holding onto all the power. But through the bond, it’s clear that they both need this.

Cas needs to burn off some of the anger and frustration that had built up during Azriel’s absence, and Az (though he’d never admit it out loud) needs reassurance, to feel loved and desired. Letting his mates have their way with him is a sure fire way to calm the insecurities that have grown like ivy during his prolonged isolation.

Besides, he’s never fully defenseless. If things go too far, his shadows are always there to lend a helping hand in regaining control.

You make eye contact with Cas over Az’s head, matching grins on your faces as the possibilities flash down the bond, filling your minds with the most delightful images.

Letting his lips fall open again, Az runs his teeth along the fingers that start to drop just hard enough to send a shudder of pleasure down Cas’s arm. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, heart working double time to accommodate how rapidly his body awakens.

“On your back,” Cassian whispers, the power he’s trying to contain escaping through his voice where a hardness sharpens the edges of his words, turning them into weapons.

“Or what?” Az asks, scooting away from you so he’s fully facing Cas. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow, a half-smirk grazing the corners of his lips.

Red magic flutters out of clenched fists, siphons struggling to contain it all.

“You’re acting real smug over there,” he hisses, leaning in closer to Az, “for someone who’s seen me tear armies limb from limb.”

The darkness seeping into Cas’s eyes has Az straining against his tight sleep shorts, the confines of which are a sweet kind of agony.

And Azriel is smug because he knows exactly which buttons to push to get what he wants.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he whispers, eyes darkening as he smirks at Cas from across the room.

It’s a callback to when they first met, when Cassian had made it his personal mission to make Az’s life a living hell. Things came to a head one night after they’d been out drinking and they ended up fighting behind one of the seedy dive bars littered throughout Windhaven and the surrounding forest.

“RHYS DOESN’T NEED ANOTHER BROTHER,” Cassian bellowed, feeling his magic sparking beneath his skin.

Something in Cassian broke when Azriel’s lips had hardened, the Shadowsinger’s steely gaze piercing straight through Cas’s heart as he growled “I’m not afraid of you.”

It made Cas feel squeamish which, in turn, stoked the fires of his internal rage. His veins stung as red-hot flames licked their way through his body. Clenching his jaw and then each muscle below it, he used brute force to tame his errant magic.

He raised his arms, ready to shove the infuriating Shadow Master away when shadows swirled around him, tightening into shackles around his wrist. His eyes widened; he’d finally found someone who could give it back to him as hard as he liked to give it.

With one eyebrow raised, the silent Shadowsinger held out a hand. The shadows only released their grip when Cassian slumped forward with laughter tumbling from his lips. Cassian and Azriel clasped hands and were brothers from that day forward.

And though Cas’s jaw twitches now just like it did then, it’s not laughter that escapes his lips but a Cauldron-damned snarl. In a flash of red, he surges forward to clamp a hand around Az’s neck, shoving until messy curls thump against the headboard.

“You do look so pretty in blue,” Cas hums, candlelight reflecting off his teeth as he bares them in a wicked grin.

“Come here darling,” he says, reaching over to you with his free hand. You slip your own smaller one into it, mirroring the look on his face as he tugs you closer. “You keep quiet,” he says to Az, tossing his words out like an afterthought as he turns to look at you.

You look up at him all batted lashes and blown out pupils and he melts, all of the lines on his face disappearing. He pulls you into his side, letting his arm snake around your waist.

“And you, sweet little thing,” he whispers, lowering his lips to brush against your pulse point, “can get comfortable riiiiight here.” Cas arranges you on Az’s lap, straddling one of his thighs with your ass just barely brushing against his cock.

He squeezes Az’s throat a little harder, just for a few seconds, and then lets go completely. Az is completely silent, staring up at Cas with wide, eager eyes.

“Good boy,” Cas says, patting Az on the cheek before turning his full attention to you. His eyes flash a deep, blood red as he waves a hand behind him like an afterthought. From his fingertips, red magic shoots out like twirling arrows that wrap around Az’s wrists, pinning them to the headboard.

If he wasn’t so horny, Cas would be in a state of shock, but it’s like it doesn’t register that he shouldn’t be able to do that. Or at least that he’s never done that before. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and from the burning, crackling blue magic flowing through the bond from Az’s side you think that Az would agree if was capable of coherent thoughts.

Az’s wrists are bound tight enough that he can feel the restraints pressing into his skin, but they’re still malleable and comfortable. His shadows surround the red bands, curious and excited.

Cas leans in to press a firm yet gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring against them. “He’s being so good, isn’t he, angel?”

You agree, letting the desire buzzing in your body ooze out through your words. “So good.”

Then you stick your tongue in between Cas’s lips, coaxing a breathy moan from the male knowing it will have Az frothing at the mouth. He loves making the two of you put on a show for him, so you’re going to give him exactly what he wants. Except you make the rules this time, so you take your time exploring every crevasse in Cas’s mouth. Eventually, his hands slide up your waist, shoving up your thin top.

“Off,” he commands, leaning back to watch you slip the fabric over your head. You toss it aside and arch your back as you fold forward to press your hardened nipples against his bare chest.

“Pants, too,” he instructs, waving a hand at you. Within seconds you’re completely bare, cunt soaking Az’s pajama pants. Instinctively, you rub your clit against his thigh a few times and your ass brushes against Az’s clothed dick.

It has him rocking his hips back and forth, needing just a little bit of friction to take the edge off of his overwhelming desires. Keeping his mouth shut is taking too much of his focus so his body’s getting antsy.

“I think he liked that,” you say, acknowledging Az without turning around. Instead, you scoot forward, pressing your knees into Cassian’s sides to lift yourself and free up space for you to reach down, freeing his cock from its cloth prison.

Cas hums, saying nothing as he tightens his grip on your hips, lowering you onto him. He bends his legs, propping them up next to Az’s hips, and stretches you open, slowly easing himself inside. Behind you, Az whimpers, making Cas smirk as he tugs you down until your chests are flush. That gives Az a full, unobstructed view of what’s going on.

Once you’ve adjusted to Cas’s size, you start to ride him, chasing a rapidly building high. Cas guides you, chin on your shoulder so he can stare straight at Az while he says “I want you to come on my cock, can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you hiss, grinding yourself down so his tip circles that sensitive spot deep inside you.

“Then we’re gonna get at least one more out of ya before it’s Az’s turn. He made us wait, so now we’re making him wait.”

Az is squirming behind you but staying silent—Cas never said he couldn’t move, only that he had to keep quiet. Like he can read Az’s thoughts, Cas laughs; a sharp, growling chuckle like a predator messing with his prey. “And I know you think you’re getting away with something back there, but I can feel you moving. Keep going, if you want, but you’ll pay for it later.”

This new side of Cas has you mumbling nonsense, just fragmented words and phrases conveying the message to keep going, right there. He uses his bent legs to his advantage, pounding up into you. The hands on your hips squeeze tighter and you hope they leave bruises behind so you can match Az.

It doesn’t take long for you to find your release, milking every last aftershock until you slump onto Cas’s chest, boneless and breathless.

“Got another one in there for us?” He whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I can try,” you mumble against the curve of his pecs.

“Good girl.” He helps prop you back up and, from his spot behind you, holds a hand out towards Az. The glowing red bonds dissolve, freeing his wrists, and he immediately scoots forward. Cas lifts you up, grabbing your ass to make room for Az to shimmy down flat on his back and then settling you with your knees next to his ears.

Two thick fingers dip into your dripping cunt. Cas collects some of your slick before shoving you down onto Az’s waiting lips.

He moves those fingers lower, circling the rim of Az’s hole to ease it open. Az whimpers, finally getting the touch he’s been wanting and it’s almost too much too fast.

Cas slides his free hand down the curve of your ass and onto Az’s neck, curling his fingers around to press against his mate’s pulse point.

“I told you to keep quiet,” Cas snarls. Shadows nuzzle up against the hard planes of Cassian’s body, murmuring apologies that only Az can hear.

You feel Az still beneath you but are so close to your second peak that you keep grinding against his face. It only lasts for a few seconds before Cassian loosens his grip.

“You better make her cum. If you want me to fuck you, I want to hear Y/N scream your name,” he whispers, leaning down to graze his teeth against the skin behind Az’s ear.

“Please, Az,” you whine, fingernails digging into the headboard as you writhe against his mouth searching for your release. His tongue darts into your folds and then he sucks on your clit, lapping up towards it with the flat of his tongue. “Fuck, do that again.” He obliges, wanting nothing more than to feel your walls fluttering against his tongue, to please you, to please Cassian. It’s getting to be too much, having Cas’s fingers working his hole open and you humping his face.

When he dips his tongue into you again, you stutter into your climax. Your hips thrust up until your clit hits Az’s nose and then you grind down, each small movement sending shockwaves through your system.

“Az,” you cry, slumping back against Cas as you’re hit with the full force of a second orgasm without getting the chance to recover from the first. It hits just on the pleasure side of the pain/pleasure spectrum and you ride it out, pulsing walls sucking his tongue back in.

“Good job, honey,” Cas murmurs, wrapping an arm around your chest to pull you in as tight as possible. You let your core fall away from Az’s mouth and Cassian helps you crawl off of Az. Collapsing on the bed next to Az, you curl into his side, seeking out his warmth.

Love you, you mutter through the bond, sending a flutter of purple magic his way. Shadows wrap you in a soothing cocoon in answer.

Cas tugs Az down the bed, flipping him onto his stomach and pulling his hips back so Cas can slip his tip into the loosened hole.

“You ready for me, baby? Think you can take it?” Cas asks, low and breathy since he’s teasing himself as much as he’s teasing Az.

“Yessss,” Az hisses, trying to tip his hips forward to take more. Cas barks out a laugh and smacks a flat palm down on one of Az’s cheeks.

With your head curled to the side, you have a perfect view of the slight jiggle of Az’s ass. Cas’s other hand tightens around the sloping waist leading down to toned hips, and then he slaps again two, three, four times.

“I never said you could speak,” he scolds. Az’s eyes are bright and glinting with unshed tears as he grasps desperately at the last remaining shreds of his self control.

Cas waits for a full two minutes, slowly pushing his cock in deeper. Az stretches to accommodate him, tight rim tugging to try and speed the process along. “Fuck, you take me so well.”

When his pelvis is flush against Az, he bends down and slides his hand into the dark hair standing out against the white sheets. He tips Az’s head to the side, exposing one ear so he can mutter against it. “Okay, you can speak now, baby. You’re doing a good job, Azzie.” Azzie. The nickname shouldn’t arouse him like this, make him clench even tighter around Cas. It’s the name that you call him when you’re feeling sweet, when you really want something, or when you’re trying to get his attention when he’s really, really broken. Az isn’t sure which one of these things Cas is trying to communicate. All three, probably, with the way he’s nipping at Az’s earlier hard enough to break the skin.

“Cas,” Az groans, arching his back to rub his dick against the silk beneath him. You scoot down and push him up on his forearms, slipping into the space beneath him to line your head up with his leaking tip. Cas starts thrusting, strokes wild, deep, and messy as he loses himself in the feeling of Az’s tightness, pounding against his prostate.

“Not gonna last long,” Cas grunts, body frothing with lust and magic after spending so long teasing his mates.

You suck Az in between your lips, swallowing as much of him as your current position will allow, and feel him twitch against your tongue.

“Me ‘neither,” Az mumbles against the curve of your stomach, right below your belly button. His lips ghost against your skin, sending cool shadows in the direction of his breath.

He fucks into your mouth every time Cas bottoms out in him, pushing him even deeper. Cas doesn’t last long, spilling into Az with a strangled choke. Azriel speeds up, hips bucking wildly as he takes

“Gonna come for us, baby?” Cas rasps, running his hands up and down Az’s thighs, slumping forward to keep his dick inside, softening against Az’s prostate.

“Y-yes,” Az keens as he spills himself into your mouth like all he was waiting for was permission. His cum drips down the back of your throat and you swallow it all, sucking him through the aftershocks of his orgasm until he whimpers, overstimulated and wriggling in between you and Cassian.

Cas pulls out and guides Az until he’s laying back with his head and shoulders propped up by only the biggest, fluffiest pillows. You curl up against his side and lift your hand to Az’s neck, grazing the darkening bruises there. Within seconds, Cas has his hand wrapped around your wrist, squeezing it tight as he pulls your hand away.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, letting his own free hand settle atop Azriel’s collarbone, fingertips following the trail of marks at the base of his mate’s neck. “I want him to wear them like a necklace.”

Az flushes the prettiest shade of red you’ve ever seen and you hum in acknowledgement. You turn to face Cas, grin as wild as your post-fuck hair.

“Next time, I want you to choke him ‘til he’s blue in the face.”

Golden, molten-lava lust oozes through the bond followed by a bright white flash of shame that’s engulfed by shadows in less than a second.

***

Az is up early the next morning, needing a moment to himself before his mates wake up. Alone at the kitchen table with only the slowly rising sun to keep him company, he works on shrouding the memories of last night in the darkness at the very back of his mind.

When his shadows alert him that someone’s coming up the walkway, he bolts to the door to catch them before they knock or, Mother forbid, ring the bell and wake his slumbering mates. He still has his coffee in one hand when he swings the door open, scowling

“Why, good morning, Shadowsinger,” Rhys drawls, a shit-eating smirk spreading across his face, smooth as butter. “I can come back later if you’re currently indisposed.”

And—oh. Az’s free hand flies to his neck, fingertips ghosting over the bruises littering his throat. In his haste to get to the door, he forgot to deal with those.

Rolling his eyes, he swings the door open wider, beckoning his brother in.

“Come in, you mongrel. But if you wake my mates, you’ll choke on my shadows.” The threat is light-hearted but completely serious when paired with the ice cold glare pinching at the corners of his eyes. Shadows nip at Rhysand’s heels as he follows Az into the cozy little kitchen, sinking into one of the worn, wooden chairs surrounding the table.

Azriel opts to lean against the counter, one leg propped up and a hand clutching the cool marble. Rhys waves one hand, pouring and summoning a cup of coffee with a flick of his hand.

“Show off,” Az snorts into his mug as he takes a long sip of his (black) coffee.

“Somebody’s jealous,” Rhys teases as he adjusts the cream and sugar levels until they’re just right.

Az lowers his mug revealing a nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Of you? Never.” Disgust lasts mere seconds before laughter is bubbling out of his mouth, rumbling deep in his chest. It helps him breathe a little easier.

“I wouldn’t mind swapping places with you for a few days.” Rhys winks as he lifts his mug to his lips.

“You’d have your hands full with those two.” Az waves his mug, gesturing vaguely towards his neck. “This is an anomaly.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. Cassian always did like being thrown around a little bit too much.” Both males laugh, thinking about a younger Cas holding the full force of his power back in fights, grinning up at his opponent with a mouthful of blood and asking Is that all you’ve got?

It’s quiet for a while as they sip their coffee, but then Rhys sets his mug down and leans forward, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on the table.

“It’s okay if you liked it, though. They’re your mates, brother. It’s a safe way to be vulnerable, to let your guard down.”

Az’s hazel eyes narrow and his shadows spring into action, swirling around his feet. Rhysand waits patiently, knowing that cracking Azriel’s hard exterior would take time and a delicate hand.

Eventually, he speaks.

“I…enjoyed myself. Cas’s magic is much more powerful than I thought.”

“Oh?”

“It was damn near refined. I’ve never seen him have that much control over it, not even on the battlefield.”

Rhys hums and cocks his head, picturing the explosive bursts of red that had cleared battlefields many times before.

“That makes sense, actually. Cassian’s always been afraid of his power, more comfortable using physical force than magic. It could be a mutually beneficial exercise for the both of you—for all three of you, really. By letting your guard down, you likely allowed Cassian to tap into some of your self control. And the unequivocal trust that stems from bond ensured that both of you felt safe enough to let power flow freely through the bond. I suspect that if you keep practicing, Rhys pauses to flash a wink and a cheeky grin at the blushing Shadowsinger, “then eventually you’ll be able to borrow from each other outside of the bedroom, too.” He punctuates his sentence with a shrug; after all this Triad Bond was rare, so his ideas were merely conjectures.

“So you’re saying we can strengthen our magic by having sex?”

“Sex is a powerful act—of love, of trust, of acceptance—it could become a safe space for you to explore the depths of your powers together.” Az twists his face up in a (hilarious, in Rhys’s opinion) mixture of confusion and intrigue dusted with disgust.

“This isn’t one of Y/N’s trashy romance novels.”

“Or…maybe it is?” Az’s eyes narrow and his shadows stiffen like they’re offended. “Is it really so hard to believe that you’re worthy of a grand love story, brother?”

Azriel frowns, but before he can answer you stumble into the kitchen with Cassian a step behind you to prevent you from falling. Your feet are heavy as your body tries desperately to cling onto sleep. The sight of Azriel leaning against the counter with a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips and one of Cas’ oldest sweaters with the sleeves bunched around his wrists prompts you to scurry faster—the soft version of the Shadowsinger is your favorite.

“Morning, Azzie,” you mumble against his shoulder as you press your face into the soft wool, arms around his waist squeezing tight. Behind you, you hear the familiar low rumble of Rhys’ laughter and are grateful for the opportunity to bury your head further into your mate to hide your blush. You hadn’t noticed him; tunnel vision took over as soon as you saw Az looking sweet and cozy with his baggy clothes and steaming mug of coffee.

“Oi, I’m here, too,” Rhys teases, prompting Cassian to pull him into a bear hug.

“Good morning, Rhysie,” he croons, peppering sloppy kisses all over the High Lord’s face. Rhys chokes on his laughter as he tries to shove the brute off of him.

Cassian is stronger, though, and only tightens his grip further.

“Careful, brother,” Rhys drawls, suddenly stilling as he catches Az’s dark and stormy gaze locked on them, a slight twitching of his jaw betraying his well-concealed jealousy. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble later.”

Cas loosens his grip and turns towards Az, grinning at the sight of his mate’s narrowed eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping will happen,” he says, swatting at the errant shadow nipping at his neck.

Rhysand backs away, hands held up in surrender.

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it. And, Azriel, do try to keep your mind open, trust is a powerful magic.”

With that, a cackling Rhysand disappears, leaving you and Cassian to deal with the sputtering Spymaster left behind.

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